Leona

After Ronny left, Leona didn’t step out of the apartment for two weeks. In another century somebody might’ve wondered if she died, but now nobody notices you bed-rotting, eating takeaway, watching Netflix for days, clawing the sheets from which his fragrance is fading.  

Briarwood’s going crazy about some vampire rumor. Social media is flooded with hot takes, although nobody has actually seen a vampire. That’s what Ronny would do first. By now he’d have befriended these so-called vampires, interviewed them, published a twenty-page report on the misrepresentation of marginalized monsters.

Fucking Ronny.

She should think about literally anything else, but ten years haven’t left Leona with many thoughts that don’t feature Ronny. She should radically reinvent her life—as if, at thirty-seven, all eternity is laid out for her, as many lives as she wants. Maybe she’s the one in need of meeting some vampires.

“Well, I’m not going to stop seeing Liz.”

That’s not ethical polyamory, she argues with Ronny in her mind. How’s it “ethical” if his primary partner—correction: his only partner—refuses to accept this change in their relationship status? But is it cheating if he never really tried to hide it? If Leona wasn’t such a coward, she’d have left him first. 

She doesn’t have any contact for Liz. That girl’s too young to have any social overlap with Leona. She looks up her LinkedIn and calls her workplace: the School of International Affairs at the university.

“Hello.”

It takes all of Leona’s self-control not to hurl the phone at the wall. Ronny’s girlfriend’s voice is exactly like hers from her twenties. Like some kind of a twisted joke.

That doppelgänger voice sounds surprised to hear from Leona. “Wow—I’ve no idea where Ronny is! The last time we spoke was, let’s see . . . back in February.”

Listen you little bitch—

“Listen.” Long breath. “You can keep Ronny. I don’t care anymore.” How long has she needed to get that off her chest? “But can you guys return my dog? I had Sugarbean for years before I met Ronny—she’s mine!”

“My god, Sugarbean’s missing too?”

“Let’s please cut the crap,” she snaps. “I just want my damn dog.”

“Believe me, Leona, they aren’t with me.” The girl sounds miserable. “Our relationship wasn’t like that. Ronny was always clear that he wouldn’t leave you.”

And then, her stomach drops.

A whole half-minute later, Liz mumbles, “You’ve asked his friends?”

Their friends, whom she hasn’t spoken to since they collectively replaced her with Liz in their circles.

“Relatives, maybe . . . ?”

None in town.  

“He disappeared on March 11, you said? That’s six days before, you know—”

Six days before this vampire rumor went viral, but nobody knows how long they might’ve been around already.

Liz pauses to talk to someone outside, then returns to the call. “Hey, let me give you my number. If you hear anything about Ronny—”

“If I hear anything about my husband,” Leona grits her teeth, “I’ll take care of it myself.”