The Mistaken by Nancy S Thompson

against the closed door.
“Jillian, come on, don’t do this.” I called out again and again,
but she refused to say another word, even after I threatened to
kick the door down.
    She unlocked it in the morning, but when I tried to
approach her before I left for work, she closed herself in the
bathroom with the excuse she wasn’t feeling well. So I left without
so much as an “I love you ” or “goodbye.” I knew I’d have the
opportunity later when she cooled down.
    Although Jill and I rarely fought, I learned early
on that it was better to just leave her alone than try to talk
things out before she was ready. She wouldn’t stay angry for much
longer, and I wanted her to approach me. She had to know that, in
this case at least, I was the one who had the right to be angry.
After all, putting risk aside, she went to Nick behind my back.
That in itself was a serious betrayal.
    Still, I was surprised at how long it was taking her
to call. Jill wasn’t the belligerent sort. In fact, she often
apologized even if she was right, just so we could get over it and
make up. I bargained with myself, agreeing to be patient for
another hour at most before I called her. I’d been waiting
forty-five minutes when my cell finally rang, but it wasn’t Jill,
nor was it a number I recognized.
    “Yeah, who’s this?” I answered impatiently, not
wanting to tie up my line.
    “Tyler Karras?” the voice asked urgently.
    “Yeah, this is Tyler. Who are you?”
    “Mr. Karras, my name is Officer Matthew Reynolds.
I’m with the Napa Police Department. Are you the husband of Jillian
Karras?”
    “Yes. Why? What’s wrong?”
    “Sir, I regret to inform you that your wife’s been
involved in a serious car accident. She’s sustained significant
injuries and has been taken by helicopter to the trauma center at
San Francisco General.” He paused. “I’m very sorry.”
    It took a few seconds to absorb what the officer had
said. A strange skittering cantered up from my feet and settled in
my chest. It was déjà vu, all over again. In an instant, my whole
life constricted to a single pinpoint in time, a moment of dread
down deep inside, as if I were about to be swept over a waterfall.
I stood silently, my senses too stunned to reply.
    “Mr. Karras? Are you still there?”
    “I don’t understand. Jillian was in an accident? In
Napa? Are you sure it’s Jillian Demetrio Karras? She drives a red
Camry and has long—”
    “Yes, I’m very sorry. You should probably get to the
hospital as soon as possible.”
    “Is she...um…you know…?” I couldn’t get the words
out. I felt strangled by a thickness caught deep in my throat.
“Please, tell me…she’s not…dead, is she?”
    “I honestly don’t know. She was alive when she left
the scene, but her injuries appear to be severe. You really should
get to the hospital. Again, I’m very sorry.”
    “Right…right…okay. Um…thank you,” I said and ended
the call.
    My feet were like dead weights anchored to the
floor. If I moved, even an inch, I would be that much closer to a
future I dared not face. I sucked in a large breath and willed
myself forward. I ran to my truck and sped off to the hospital up
on Potrero Avenue.
    After abandoning my vehicle near the emergency room
doors, I stumbled into the hospital and called out my wife’s name.
My voice rose in high-pitched hysteria as tears pooled up and
clouded my vision. A nurse jumped in front of me and pressed her
hands to my chest, an ineffective gesture to halt my progress. She
shushed me like she would a child and asked if she could help,
retreating backwards against my forward momentum. I tried to step
around her when she blocked my path, but tumbled into a loaded cart
left in the hallway. I fell, careening through the medical
paraphernalia I’d scattered across the floor. At least dozen faces
turned to stare, some concerned, others annoyed.
    I scooped up what items I could and held them out to
the nurse. “I’m