If Ever

by Angie Stanton

  Christ, what the hell am I supposed to do? I toss her phone on the cluttered dressing table and it rings loudly. I startle and stare at it as if I somehow made it ring. It rings again. It's Anna calling.

  "Hello?"

  "Tom?" Anna's confused that it isn't Chelsea.

  "Yeah, it's me. Have you heard from Chelsea?"

  "Uh, no. That's why I'm calling. She was supposed to call me back and never did. Is she okay?" Anna asks hesitantly as if really asking something else.

  I stand and turn away from the mirror. "I don't know. When I got home, she was gone. Packed up and moved out."

  "Oh, no!"

  "But she forgot her phone. Please tell me you know where she is?"

  "All I know is that she was really upset and dreaming up scenarios of why you didn't come home or call her all day."

  I rub my head. "Today was a total cluster. I had no idea she was upset."

  "Now you do," she says with a little bit of bite.

  Fine. This whole mess is my fault.

  Anna continues. "Ever since she ran into her dad, she's been hurting again."

  "I thought she was doing better."

  "She's good at hiding her pain. I guess today pushed her over the edge."

  Of course. Her dad run in, then seeing me with Tanya, and then Barbie. "Anna, is there any chance she's flying back to Iowa tonight?"

  "She didn't mention it, but it's possible."

  Five minutes to places sounds over the intercom.

  "Could you call if you hear anything at all? I can't imagine where she went and I hate the idea of her on her own."

  "What's your number, so I can call you direct?"

  We exchange numbers. "I'm sorry, but I've got to run. I'll call after the show. Hopefully she'll have contacted you by then."

  But after the show, Anna still hasn't heard anything. I walk home in the bitter cold feeling desolate as I look up at the dark windows of my flat. Chelsea, where are you?

  40

  The Uber drops me in front of a brick building. With my suitcases piled onto the sidewalk, I dig in my shoulder bag for my phone to text Dominic that I'm here. He's agreed to let me stay with him at his friend's place, but there's so much junk in my bag I can't find my phone. I rifle around but come up empty. I check my pockets, still no phone.

  Despite the cold night, I feel hot and have a headache. I lean against the building and unzip my coat, taking a moment to catch my breath. Then I squat down on the sidewalk and pull things out of the bag, one by one, lining them up until all that's left is a few pens and loose change. No phone.

  Shit. It must have fallen out in the Uber. There's no way to contact Dominic, and my phone is likely gone forever. I drop my toiletries back in the bag, ignoring the people walking by and staring as if I'm a homeless person, which I suppose I am.

  I'm so tired, and my whole body hurts as I sit on the sidewalk next to my bags and wait.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  "How long have you been here? I never got your call."

  I look up to find Dominic. "Not sure. I left my phone in the Uber." I'm miserable from breathing the frigid air. It's like rubbing sandpaper over my raw throat. I struggle to get my frozen body off the sidewalk. Dominic offers a hand and pulls me up. It's good to see him. "Thanks for letting me crash. But I'm getting sick, so stay back."

  He eyes my luggage. "You're not exactly traveling light."

  "Yeah, it's a long story that I'd rather not get into."

  Dominic frowns but takes the largest of the bags and opens the door for me to pass. On the way to the fifth floor apartment, he makes small talk about his upcoming tour. I try to smile supportively, but all I really want is a bed.

  "Here we are. I'm upstairs in the loft. You can crash in the extra bedroom, but let me get some clean sheets for you. A friend of Paul's was here for some auditions a couple days ago."

  He leads us down the hall to a small bedroom. "The bathroom is across the hall. There's another bath upstairs, so this one's all yours. The kitchen and living room are around the corner. Help yourself to anything, but there's not much."

  "This is perfect. You're a lifesaver. I didn't know where else to go." I can't keep the sadness from my voice.

  Dominic offers a smile. "Things will blow over with Tom."

  I shake my head in doubt, kick off my shoes, and climb under the covers.

  "Wait. Let me get the sheets."

  "Unless someone's been filming porn in here, I really don't care. I'm exhausted and I ache all over."

  He laughs. At least one of us is in a good mood. "All right, but at least let me bring your bags in."

  "Whatever you like." I close my eyes and sigh, my muscles melting into the bedding as he moves around the room.

  Then the mattress dips next to me. "You want to tell me what's going on with you and Tom?"

  My throat tightens with emotion and I squeak, "It just didn't work out."

  "Does he know where you are?"

  I shoot upright. "No! And promise you won't tell."

  "Chelsea, did he hurt you?" he asks with alarm.

  I shake my head and lie back down. "Just broke my heart is all. And he doesn't even know he did."

  Dominic puts a warm hand on my shoulder. "Aw, kiddo. I'm sorry."

  "Me, too." I choke out with a cry.

  "Hold on while I get you some water."

  I'm warmer now, my fever is kicking back into gear, so I wiggle out of my coat and glance around the room. There's an overturned crate on each side of the bed with an album cover on it serving as nightstands. A bookcase rests against one wall, closet doors on another, and two windows with shades pulled on the other. The walls are bare.

  Dominic returns with water and a bottle of pain relievers. I take two and grimace each time I swallow. My throat burns.

  Dominic frowns. "I hear the flu is really bad this year. Did you get a flu shot?"

  "Of course not. That would have made sense." And I remember that Tanya was out sick. Did I get the flu because she was kissing Tom? That's just great.

  "Are you sure I can't call Tom?"

  "Don't! I just want it over. I can't bear to see him again."

  Dominic frowns, but nods. "All right. You get some sleep."

  * * *

  I swept up the dead plant and once and for all dumped the remnants of Barbie into the trash. After a sleepless night worrying about Chelsea, I'm out of my mind. As of eight this morning, Anna still hasn't heard from her, but promised to contact the other girls to see if they know anything.

  I wrack my brain to think of who she knows in the city, and other than a couple people in the cast, I can't think of anyone. I'm at a level of panic over her disappearance where normally, I'd call her parents, but with Chelsea that isn't an option. Maybe she just went to a hotel for a few days and will come back when she's calmed down. I hope. Please don't let it be the airport.

  I can't think of any other bright ideas, so I head to the theater for the matinee. My mind is filled with images of Chelsea stranded in the cold somewhere, or at the Port Authority waiting for a bus. I pull up the collar of my coat as the wind whips. After talking with Anna, I understand why Chelsea freaked when I left. I'd had no idea my leaving with Barbie would dredge up her abandonment issues, which makes me an even bigger ass.

  At the theatre, I check to see if anyone stopped by with a message, but nothing. Now's the time I need to pull myself together and put personal matters away, but until I know Chelsea is safe, I don't know how the hell I'm going to manage that. Everyone mills around going about their business as if it's a normal day. I duck into my dressing room unnoticed. There on my mirror is the snapshot of Chelsea and I from Celebrity Dance Off. Her twinkling eyes and exuberant face smile back at me.

  "Chelsea, where are you?"

  41

  "Chelsea? Are you awake?" Dominic's voice brings me out of my fog.

  My head pounds with a jabbing pain and every muscle hurts. I open my eyes. It's light ou
t. I roll over to face the doorway. "Don't come in. I'm worse." My voice cracks.

  He steps back. "What can I get you? Do you want me to run out for anything?"

  "I could use a drink of water and a painkiller. I left the bottle in the bathroom last night."

  “You bet.”

  I wish I was home with Tom, and not in a stranger's bed, but we're past that now. I replay all the painful parts of yesterday over and over, where Tom ignores my begging him to stay and leaves me behind.

  Dominic returns with a fresh glass of water, two pills and sets them next to the bed. When I sit up, my hand shakes, so I use both hands to lift the glass. The water tastes good, but hurts going down.

  "You're freezing." He pulls an extra blanket from the closet. "Do you want something to eat before I head out?"

  "I'm not hungry. Maybe I'll find something later." But my throat burns so bad I can't imagine swallowing anything.

  He spreads the blanket over the rest of my bedding. "Sorry I have to leave you here alone."

  "I wouldn't be very good company." I pull the blanket up around my neck. My head throbs with a fuzziness that leaves me unable to think clearly.

  Dominic leans against the doorframe. "I really think Tom would want to know where you are. Especially with you so sick."

  I shake my head. "His old girlfriend showed up, and after claiming she was subletting the other bedroom and whispering secrets to him, he left with her. He never came back, and he didn't answer any of my texts or calls." The image of Tom's retreating form haunts me. "We had a lot of fun, but it's run its course."

  Dominic frowns. "Don't make any rash decisions. Sleep on it."

  42

  I stare at Chelsea's phone, hoping she'll call to see if someone has found it. But it remains aggravatingly silent. I've charged it and kept it near me at all times, other than when I'm on stage. Despite my efforts, I still can't get past her security code to find out who she last called, so it lays there useless in my hand.

  Did she fly back to Iowa? If she did, why hasn't she called Anna? If Chelsea's goal was to disappear, she's done a damn good job of it. But what if something terrible has happened? New York can be dangerous.

  Concentrating on the show is killing me. I can't turn off thinking about her, put her disappearance in a drawer, and pretend it's not tearing me apart. But I have a responsibility to the audience and the other cast members. Both Paige and Wes ask what's wrong. I need to pull myself together.

  The next morning, after another miserable night alone, my soulmate missing, I call a few budget hotels to see if she might be registered, but no luck. I stop by our favorite coffee shop, but there's no sign of her.

  Forcing myself through another night at work, a call comes through to my dressing room that I have a visitor at the stage door, an unusual occurrence right before curtain. I pray for Chelsea to be standing there. But she's not.

  I'm taken aback when I see Dominic. I nearly double over with relief. "You know where she is."

  He nods, and all my pent up stress and fear lift. "Thank God. I've been out of my mind."

  "I'm sorry, man."

  "It never occurred to me that Chelsea could be with you."

  "She insisted I not tell you, but she's really sick. She's burning up with fever and mumbling a lot. I fly back to L.A. in the morning and I don't think she should be left alone."

  An image of Chelsea alone and suffering flashes in my brain. I need to see her and make sure she's really there. "Give me two minutes. I'll come with you now."

  Dominic glances at the people hustling about and looks confused. "But you have a show.”

  I try to come up with an excuse to skip out, but can't. I kick the wall.

  "I gave her something to help with the fever. I don't think there's anything more you could do right now. I just couldn't put off telling you any longer."

  I shove a hand through my hair dislodging my mic. The five minutes to curtain call sounds over the intercom. "Shit!"

  How am I supposed to concentrate for the next two and half hours? But I don't have a choice. "The second the curtain closes I'll be there."

  Dominic lets me in the apartment, and I follow him to a small bedroom smelling of sweat and sickness. A bedside lamp casts a soft glow. Chelsea is sprawled on her back wearing her skimpy black tank top and panties. My instinct is to block her from Dominic's view. I know he treats her like a sister. Still, it bothers me. Her hair is dirty and the covers are tangled in her legs. The way she lays limp scares the hell out of me.

  "She keeps kicking off the covers," Dominic says, reading my thoughts.

  Sitting on the side of her bed, I pull the sheet up. She's like a furnace; her breathing is rapid. Dark circles mar the delicate skin below her lashes. I take her hand and she doesn't stir.

  "Do you have a thermometer?" I ask, not taking my eyes off her beautiful face.

  "I'll look." He disappears.

  I touch Chelsea's cheek, her face is rosy with fever and her dry lips are cracked. "Oh, Chelsea, love. I'm sorry." Then I notice the unicorn necklace I gave her. It lays against her heated skin and mocks me. Chelsea is as skittish as the fabled creature.

  Dominic returns with a thermometer. I lift her arm long enough to slide the thermometer in place. "You're going to be okay. I'm here," I whisper.

  "Mom?" she mumbles.

  Dominic and I share a glance. "Shh," I say to soothe her.

  She moans, "I want to go home."

  My heart breaks.

  "I'll give you some privacy." Dominic backs out of the room.

  I rest my forehead to the back of her hand, her slender fingers delicate in my grip. The thermometer beeps. I hold it under the light, 103.2. That's really high. The pill bottle is on the nightstand, but the water glass is almost empty.

  While in the kitchen for a refill, Dominic is filling a bowl with cold water. "How long has she been like this?" I ask.

  "All day. She's been steadily worse since she showed up Tuesday night."

  So, she's been here the whole time. I open the freezer and drop ice into the glass. Part of me wants to smack him, but he did finally break his word to Chelsea and come to the theatre.

  "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. She was adamant that she didn't want to see you." He puts a clean dishcloth in the bowl.

  "Yeah, I fucked up." I fill the glass with tap water.

  Dominic hesitates for a minute. "She told me you left with an old girlfriend. Chelsea didn't think you wanted to see her again."

  I hang my head. "Barbie showed up out of nowhere. She dropped a bomb that I didn't expect and then threw herself at me thinking I'd fall for her old tricks. Barbie was a mistake. She was always a mistake. I'll fix things with Chelsea."

  Dominic nods and hands me the bowl. "Try to cool her down with a damp washcloth. Maybe it'll help."

  "Thanks. I'd like to stay here with her if you don't mind."

  "Sure. There are more blankets in the closet if you need them. I fly out early tomorrow, but I talked to my buddy Paul, and you guys are welcome to stay as long as you need.

  I nod. "That's great, but if I have anything to do with it, I'll have her home soon."

  He nods. "I'll leave keys on the kitchen counter. Good to see you."

  "Thanks again." I smile sadly and return to Chelsea.

  I brush a strand of hair off her cheek. "Chelsea, honey. I need you to take some Tylenol."

  She tosses her head, deep in a faraway place.

  I slide my hands beneath her back, it's like slipping them into a hot oven. "Let's get you upright." She's pliant in my arms as I raise her up. "Come on. It'll help you feel better."

  Her eyes crack open a sliver. I place the cool glass to her lips. Her hands automatically come up to lift it, and she gulps greedily, cringing after each swallow. She pushes the glass away.

  "Good girl. Now give me your hand." I place two pills in her palm, she slowly manages them into her mouth, and I raise the glass again. She drinks deeply, heaving a breath between
each gulp.

  "That's good." I set the glass down when she's had her fill, pull her close, and kiss her hot forehead. "I'm so sorry."

  My voice must have finally registered. Her eyes open but don't focus. "Chelsea, it's all going to be okay," I whisper, but I feel like an ass for making her so miserable she thought the only option was to run.

  I lower her back to her pillow and lay the damp cloth on her forehead. "There you go." I dab it over her cheeks and mouth and chin. Her body relaxes. I wring it out again in the cool water then lightly wipe it down her neck and arms.

  She doesn't fight me, and honestly, I'm not even sure she's aware I'm here, but her breathing slows, which must be a good sign. I place a fresh cloth on her forehead hoping this will help lower her temperature.

  When I heard a bad flu was going around, I had no idea. The last time I fell sick with the flu I was a teenager. I lean forward and brush her hair away from her neck and shoulders. I whisper in her ear. "I love you, Chelsea, from the first day I set eyes on you." She doesn't argue, so I'll call it a victory.

  43

  My head is entrenched in a thick fog. I seem to ping pong from freezing cold, to so hot I'm sweating the sheets. Once in a while I hear the soft strumming of a guitar. It's beautiful and soothing, but it's too hard to pry open my eyes. I don't remember ever feeling this miserable, so I let myself spiral back down to sleep.

  The next time I wake I'm shivering again, I open my eyes enough to see that it's day. I tug at the covers.

  Suddenly hands are tucking the blankets closer around me. "There you go." I hear Tom's voice.

  I turn my head and he's at my side, gazing at me with the sweetest concern. I take a second and look around to get my bearings. "You shouldn't be here," I whisper, my voice hoarse.

  "Hi, there." He smiles and looks so perfect and happy. I turn away, my eyes fill with tears.