Calling Mr. Nelson Pugh ✔️

*** THREE ***

I paced by the window, the phone pressed forcefully against my ear. Each step carried with it a tinge of pain and I noticed that I had begun to limp. The bruise on my hip might have been worse than I had originally believed. Yet I could grunt and bear through the pain.
On the other end of the line I could hear nothing. Eleanor had left the bedside phone and headed off to the foyer, and from there would be off to our daughters' room. I had no choice but to wait and wonder.

As each moment passed, the stress mounted. My whole body had wound up coiled tight. Each step back and forth brought with it an internal war. I didn't know if I should seek calm and continue to keep the panic at bay or if I should delay that peace and continue planning. Should I try to stay ahead of the conversation and figure out exactly what to say to convince my wife of eighteen years that she had to get out of that house? Was I sure that the danger was real? Could the voice have been nothing more than panicked delusion – part of one more episode in a long chain of nervous breakdowns?

The answer eluded me, but whichever side I chose I would still lose. In one scenario my family was in no danger, in which case my anxiety had driven me to this place of madness. This would constitute evidence that I had lost all touch with reality and I would seriously need to consider drastic steps to curb myself before I could no longer function in everyday life. In the other of the two scenarios, my sanity would prove intact, but I would be left a feeble, panicked, and psychologically flawed husband and father struggling to convince my family of a very real threat. My pre-existing mental state and the lack of trust that said state had generated over the years would drastically diminish my chances at opening my wife's eyes to the danger in which she and our daughters found themselves. Add in that the extra dose of Lorezapam had begun taking effect causing my thoughts to be increasingly clouded and I knew that I did not have the mental acuity to make Eleanor understand. As such, I had to face the very real possibility that I would lose her and our daughters. The choice boiled down to one of rapidly diminishing sanity or the loss of my entire family, an event that would eventually lead to the same end. No greener pasture existed.

I pushed these dismal thoughts aside, or at least did my best to do so. I couldn't dwell on the worst-case scenarios. That thought pattern did not help. More than that, I had to move. I had become dangerously drowsy and had to do something to counteract my anxiety pills. I jogged in place for a moment but to no great effect. Returning once more to the mini-fridge, I fished inside and pulled out an energy drink. To hell with the cost. I cracked it open, took two quick gulps, and hoped for the best.

The caffeine beginning to feed into my system, I glanced about the room, my eyes stopping on the window. I yanked apart the curtains, no longer willing to stare through their dusty veil, and desperate for some distraction while I waited for my wife to return. Below I saw the parking lot, only half full. A few pedestrians walked by the street corner, hugging their arms close and breathing into their cupped hands. I could see their breath rising in smoky tendrils. Their lives continued on, oblivious to my own discontent. It was more than discontent; it was my desperation.

I turned from the window realizing that this distraction held no value. Outside waited parked cars and the faint hints of city life. The trees of Durant Park had faded to nothingness and the calming image of its lake proved unattainable.

I listened closely for any sign of Eleanor on the line. So quiet. For a moment I thought that I could make out my wife's footsteps plodding up the stairway. Perhaps she had picked up the foyer phone, but if she had, she had not bothered to speak and let me know that she was there.

"Elly?" My voice came out meek, trying to catch her attention. I needed to hear her voice. I wanted her to pick up the line and for this entire night to be nothing more than a fever dream. I called to her, again.