>Hosea. (part 2)

>…continued from Hosea. (part 1)

He awoke in the early hours of the morning, startled.  Fumbling around in the dark of the bedroom, he reached his arms over to the other side of the bed.  The sheets were empty…and cold.  She’d been gone for awhile.  His heart raced.  Where would she have gone?  What’s happened?  He tried to reassure himself with his thoughts thinking maybe she had just gone downstairs to sleep on the couch.  After all, it did sometimes get hot in their bedroom.  He glanced at the digital alarm clock… 2:45 AM.  The carpet felt cold to his feet as he padded his way across the bedroom to the hallway, and down the stairs.  The couch was empty.  By this time, a feeling of deep dread began to well up within him … the dread of the thing he had always sensed but had refused to acknowledge.  And then he saw it.

The coatrack.

And hers was gone.  Maybe she needed some late night medicine from Wal-Mart.  His thoughts drifted momentarily back to the first time he met her…they immediately fell in love, starting dating.  Two weeks into the relationship she got sick, and he was appointed to make late night Wal-Mart runs for Tylenol.  She was a knockout: the kind of girl that captures attention.  She was charming, full of life, and he loved her more than anything.  The thought of how much he loved her collided in that moment with the dread of where he feared she had gone, and a sickening feeling welled up in the pit of his stomach.

The clues should have added up.  The string of emails he had found.  The random texts late at night.  The time he woke up and she was on her laptop, on Facebook talking with someone.  When he asked her, she immediately closed it and assured him it was noone.

“Where are you?”  his phone vibrated as he texted her the words.  No response.  He grabbed his coat and his car keys and opened the front door into the brisk winter air.  Snow covered the ground of their front yard.  He began walking quickly towards his car.  Just as he was getting in he saw the object of all his fears… the small little post-it note on the ground that shattered all his hope… on it was written an address.  He knew the address.  He knew who lived there.

He sped through the snow covered streets running stop lights and taking turns a bit too sharply towards his destination.  It can’t be true!  I refuse to believe it!  As he neared the street of his destination he knew that the moment he turned the corner he would know… whether the only woman he had ever loved was in the arms of another man.  He approached the stop light at the intersection, and for a moment there was a stillness in his soul.  Snowflakes continued to fall and melt on the defrosted windshield.  All was silent except the whir of the engine and the wipers whooshing it off.  His mind raced.

The light turned green.

He turned left onto the street and began driving down towards the house.

The memory of that moment would later be as clear and as sharp as glass.  The Volkswagen.  The truck. The hope of it being someone else’s vehicle demolished by the sight of the familiar license plate.

He approached the house, now knowing that it was true.  By this time, fear and hurt had mutated into anger … rage … and he shut of his headlights, pulled up to the driveway, and got out of his car…

…to be continued…

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