Lusting, Losing, Loving

“Don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“Darius,” Sara pleaded grabbing hold of his sleeve, “don’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t stay.”

Darius gently tugged his arm away from Sara’s grasp. Her arm fell with a thump and Darius didn’t look back as he left the room. Sara fell back onto the bed and curled into a ball with her arm touching the place where she held most of her memories of Darius.

He told me in the beginning that he wouldn’t be able to stay.

Sara sighed and tears began rolling down her cheeks.

He told me that he would have to leave. I knew he would have to eventually go.
Sara started to full out sob.

He never said that he loved me. I knew he couldn’t. I never wanted him to.

Her head began to pound with the pressure of her sadness.

He was just a rebound. I only started sleeping with him to get over Jon.

Her palms started to throb.

I shouldn’t be so upset. I barely even knew him.

Her vision blurred with a sudden influx of tears.

He didn’t mean anything to me.

A pain shot through her chest.

I think I might have loved him.

. . .

Darius looked out the window at the setting sun over the clouds, trying not to wonder what Sara was doing at that very moment. He never let himself feel for anyone. He couldn’t. His job would not permit it. He was required to move quickly and often change identities.

What is it about that woman? Why do I still care about her?

Darius never cared about any of the women he slept with, even when his relations with them lasted for a few weeks.

What is so special about her that makes me want to go back?

He felt his arm where Sara had been tugging just a few hours before.

Did she hypnotize me somehow?

He knew that she couldn’t have, Sara was just a weak woman, lonely and desperate for human companionship. She wasn’t a double agent.

Am I getting too old?

He thought back to his last birthday celebration: 2001, he had turned eighteen and just opted to join the Force. He wasn’t even thirty yet.

Am I just getting tired of having to leave everyone I meet?

Memories of past relationships flooded his mind: all of them were inconsequential, all
but the one he had with Sara. He remembered everything she had ever told him while he held her in his arms before leaving each morning.

Is it just that I’m falling for her?

Darius didn’t have an answer for himself right away, and didn’t get the chance to find one. A voice came on over the speaker from the captain’s cabin. It wasn’t the captain speaking.

. . .

Sara stared at herself in the mirror. She didn’t like what she saw: a red-faced, puffy-eyed woman still in her night gown in the early evening. She laughed at her pitiful self and splashed water on her face, in an attempt to wash away the sadness from her skin.

After cleaning up some, Sara went into the living/dining room of her tiny apartment and turned on the 8 o’clock news. A plane from the town’s airport had been hijacked. It crashed in the neighboring state, in her parents’ hometown.

She picked up the phone and had to pause for a moment to remember the number she hadn’t used in long time, before calling.

Sara didn’t know why she was calling her parents. She didn’t know anybody on that flight. Probably.

What if Darius is on that flight?

The phone finally connected and began to ring.

Was. What if he was on that flight. . .

The phone rang again.

Why would he be on that plane?

It rang a third time.

Why should I care?

Her call was sent to voice mail.

But, what if Darius is dead?

She didn’t leave a message.

. . .

Running to the cabin door, shouts of anger, pain, then a bright light. Those were the last things that Darius remembered before blacking out. He opened his eyes now to a white ceiling and the steady beat of a heart monitor.

It took him a few minutes to realize that he was hearing his heartbeat. He lifted his head and took in his surroundings. Both his legs were in casts. His left arm was gone and he found that he couldn’t hear anything from his right ear. But he was alive.

. . .

“Sara? It’s mom. I noticed that I missed your call. I and your father were out. I hope you are doing alright. Sorry to have missed you. Beep.”

Call time: 7:33 am. Of course they would call that early in the morning, four days after she had called them.

She rolled over to look at the clock; it read 1:54 pm.

They’re probably out by now. I’ll try calling again later. Maybe.

She sighed heavily and struggled to get out of bed.

Eventually, I will run out of sick days.

Sara looked at the calendar, June 14th.

But, not yet.

She smiled to herself and went to her miniscule kitchen to prepare a snack. She had left the television on. The plane crash from a few days prior, had left only one, unidentified man alive. There was no other information given.

Sara dropped the eggs in the sink and grabbed her keys. She didn’t know why the story bothered her so much. But she just felt like she had to find out who the man was.

. . .

“Excuse me? Sir?” an attractive female nurse questioned the sole survivor of a horrible plane crash.

Darius lifted his eyelids in response, looking at the young nurse.

“You’re lucky to be alive. God must have smiled down on you, a person has better odds of winning the lottery three times in a row than surviving what you survived.”
He groaned in recognition that he had understood her.

“You don’t have to speak, but can you blink your eyes once for no, twice for yes to answer some questions?”

Darius blinked twice.

“Very good! Now, do you know your name?”

Again, he blinked twice.

“Great! Do you remember how you got here?”

After an internal sigh Darius blinked twice, again. He realized it was going to be a long time before the survey was completed.
. . .

“You want to see the man from the plane crash?” the receptionist asked skeptically.

“Yes.” Sara responded confidently.

“I’m sorry ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

“You don’t understand,” Sara pleaded. “That man, he might be my- my finance! I have
to see him!”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

“Please! I have to know. Please. Just give me a chance.” Sara looked the other woman square on and begged with her eyes.

“I could get into a lot of troubled.” The receptionist chewed her bottom lip.

“I- I love him.”

“Room 414D. Go quickly, good luck!”

Sara raced down the hallway and onto an elevator.

Room 414D. Room 414D. Darius.
. . .

How many more questions could there possibly be!

“You’re doing great! Almost done sir! Do you remember who your high school history teacher was?”

Jesus. Save me from this. This is worse than water boarding.

There came a knock on the door. The young nurse looked up, apparently surprised by the intrusion. She got up and answered the knock.

Darius heard some mumblings coming from the doorway, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. All he caught was the tail-end, “okay, but only for a few minutes.” The young nurse left the room.

Soon, a beautiful, blond woman was standing over Darius. Sara.

“Darius?”

He blinked twice.

“I know, I heard everything you said, but I just had this feeling that it was you on that plane, and I had to come and check, because I’ve missed you, and doesn’t matter how you feel about me, I’m just glad that you’re okay.” She sputtered out the words in a hurry.

Sara. He blinked his eyes twice. I missed you too. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before. I love you.

“I love you, Darius.” Sara leaned and whispered into his ear, reading the emotion in his eyes.

She took his hand in hers.

“I’m not letting go this time.”

You don’t have to.