The Day I Lost My Taste for Love, and for You Chapter 05
Morning light came through the blinds and cut parallel bars of brightness across the hardwood floor.
Oliver woke up to a sudden, raging thirst.
He rubbed his aching temples because he had drunk too much at the bar the night before taking shots on Jessica’s behalf.
How he had gotten home was already a blur.
“Anna…”
He called toward the door out of habit.
“Bring me some warm water with honey in it.”
Nothing answered him.
The apartment was quiet enough that the second hand of the clock on the wall was the only sound.
Oliver rolled over and assumed I had gotten up early for breakfast, the way I did on weekends.
He groped for his phone on the nightstand, and the screen was empty with no new messages on it.
He climbed out of bed slowly and shuffled into the living room in his slippers.
“Anna?”
Nobody was there.
—
The kitchen was cold and unused, and the counter I had scrubbed the day before was spotless with no sign that anyone had cooked.
Oliver poured himself a glass of cold water and drank it down, and it cleared his head a little.
He walked toward the bathroom.
He stopped in the doorway.
The mirrored cabinet over the sink stood open, and the second shelf, which had always been crammed with bottles and jars, was bare.
My cleanser and my toner were gone, and so was my pink electric toothbrush.
Every trace of it was gone.
Oliver’s brows came together.
He turned and walked quickly back to the bedroom and pulled the closet open.
My side of it was more than half empty.
All that hung there were a few expensive coats he had picked out for me that had never fit right, alone on their hangers.
His eyes moved slowly to the vanity.
My key to the apartment lay quietly beside the jewelry box.
Next to it sat a diamond necklace still in its packaging, along with every gift he had given me over the years.
The whole arrangement was as neat as a museum display.
—
Oliver stared at that key for a full half minute.
“She’s throwing a fit again.”
He muttered it under his breath and reached back to rub his neck.
It had happened before.
Jessica had called in the middle of the night once, saying she was scared and wanted him to come over, and he went.
The next day, I packed a bag without a word and slept at the office for three days.
He had ended up buying a carrot cake from my favorite bakery and waiting downstairs for four hours before I let him coax me back.
“This time she’s learned to pack her clothes.”
He shook his head, and the corner of his mouth even lifted into a rueful smile.
He took out his phone and called me.
“The number you have dialed is powered off.”
The recorded voice came through the speaker.
Oliver threw the phone on the bed and went to wash up.
“Give her two days,” he told his own reflection. “She’ll come back once she’s cooled down.”
Right then, Jessica called.
“Oliver! What’s going on with Anna?”
—
Her voice on the other end sounded frantic and injured.
“Why did she leave the group chat? She even blocked me!”
Oliver’s hand stopped halfway to his face.
“Blocked you?”
“Yes!” Jessica said furiously. “I posted the group photo from last night and tried to tag her, and it says I’m not on her friend list anymore. Is that necessary? It was one game. Her temper gets worse by the day.”
Oliver dried his hands, and his brows pulled into a hard knot.
“She’s not home. She took her clothes.”
The line went quiet for two seconds, and then her voice came back louder than before.
“She ran away from home? Who does she think she is, a soap opera heroine?”
Jessica let out a cold laugh.
“Listen to me, Oliver, do not go running after her this time. You’ve spoiled her so much she’s climbing all over you.”
Oliver listened to her go on and on, and an irritation he could not name rose up in him.
“That’s enough, Jessica.”
He cut her off, and his tone was still mild, but it had less of its usual indulgence.
—
“She’s out there alone and that isn’t safe. I need to find a way to reach her.”
He hung up and sat down on the edge of the bed.
He called my number again.
The line was still powered off.
He opened WhatsApp and sent me a line.
Oliver: [Anna, stop this. Where are you? I’ll come get you.]
The message landed with a single gray check mark.
It stayed that way.
There was no second check mark, no “Delivered.” and no reply.
Oliver’s hand clenched around the phone.
He had been blocked.
She had actually blocked him.
In five years, it had never happened once.
A small, sharp panic went into his heart like a very fine needle sliding in along his fingertips, silently.
At that same hour, I was on a long-distance bus a hundred and eighty miles outside that city.
Farmland and low rolling hills fell away past the window.
Early winter sun came through the glass and lay on the back of my
—
hand with a faint warmth in it.
I had just snapped my old SIM card in half and dropped it in a trash can at the bus station.
It was a new city and a new number.
I typed one line into the notes app on my phone.
[Starting today, I get to know the world again.]
Having no sense of taste did not matter.
At least the air was clean.