Page 87 of Eleanor & Grey
She’s here. She’s OK. She’s here. She has to be.
I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and dialed 9-1-1.
No signal.
Dead zone.
I felt sick but couldn’t just stand there and keep trying to dial the number. I had to find my daughter.
I kept shouting. I needed her to hear me. She had to be there. People didn’t just disappear.
When I turned to my right, I saw her, a small figure sprawled out in front of two trees. There was blood on the tree in front of her, as if she slammed directly into it. She looked so small and still.
So very still.
The stillness was what scared me the most.
“No...” I whispered, hurrying over and falling down beside her. “Karla, it’s me, it’s Dad. Wake up, honey. Wake up,” I begged as tears streamed from my eyes, intermixing with the rain that mocked us as it fell from the sky. “Karla, wake up. You’re OK, all right? We’re OK. We’re OK. We’re OK.”
“Oh my God,” a voice called out. I turned around to see headlights shining toward me as someone walked forward. “Are you OK, sir?” the stranger asked.
I narrowed my eyes at the figure as it grew closer. “We need help,” I cried, thankful to see him. “I can’t g-get a signal, c-can’t call for help.”
“OK, OK.” He nodded once, his fear setting in as his eyes fell on Karla. The way he stared showed me the truth I knew—she wasn’t OK. I couldn’t deal with that idea, though.
“She’s fine. She’s OK,” I promised, even though my promises were much more likely lies.
“You’re bleeding,” the man said quietly, his tone coated in concern.
What? No.
I unbuttoned my jacket and touched my side, crimson staining my fingertips.
My eyes glazed over as I looked down to my white shirt, which was tainted red. Realization set in as my body began to sting with pain. Vomit began to rise from the pit of my stomach as the man moved in closer. “Let me help you.”
“No, I’m OK,” I told him, feeling far from fine. I felt sick, nauseous, faint. “Just go call for help.”
“But—”
“Please!”
He nodded in agreement and hurried away.
I kept holding my daughter in my arms, lowering my forehead to hers, wanting nothing more than for her to be OK, for her to open her eyes, to look my way and tell me she was going to be OK, but she couldn’t. So I kept repeating the words over and over again. “You’re OK, you’re OK, you’re OK...”
She couldn’t hear me.
She couldn’t see me.
She couldn’t feel that I was there.
My vision blurred even more as I waited for help to come.
“Karla...” I whispered, shaking her. “Karla, answer me... please...” I cried, “Karla!”
35Eleanor
“Karla, do you want to join us for dinner?” I asked as she walked past the dining room to get her dinner from the kitchen. I asked her every night, and every time she gave the same monotone response: “Nope.”
