Calling

The ambulance's lights flickered in the rearview, casting an erratic glow across the dim, narrow space. My heart pounded in my chest, every bump in the road making my stomach churn. I kept glancing over at Nat, her pale face almost unrecognizable in the flickering light. She was unconscious, her body still, hooked up to machines that beeped in steady rhythms.

I couldn't keep my hands still, my fingers tapping nervously on the cold metal of the stretcher. My head was spinning with worry, rage, and a sense of utter helplessness. I couldn't believe this was happening. Nat—my Nat—was lying here in front of me, broken. And I'd been too late.

I pulled out my phone, feeling the weight of it in my hand like an anchor I didn't want to drop. The frustration that had been building ever since I left the cafe flared up again. I had to make them hear me. Someone needed to understand that this was on them. They had failed her.

With shaking hands, I dialed the number for the cafe. The phone rang a few times before it picked up, and I was met with the same voice—the barista's voice—the one that had barely looked up when I'd walked out of the cafe.

"Green Bean Cafe, this is Claire," she said, her tone light and almost too casual.

I didn't waste any time. "Claire, it's Billie. Where the hell is Nat?"

I could almost hear her pause on the other end, the casualness of her voice cracking slightly. "Uh, hey, Billie. She's, uh... she's not there today."

The words felt like a slap in the face. My hands trembled, but I gripped the phone tighter. The ambulance's siren wailed in the distance, but all I could hear was the pounding in my head and the hollow rhythm of my own breathing.

"What do you mean, 'not in'?" I asked, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. I glanced over at Nat's unconscious form. She looked so fragile, so not herself. "She didn't say a word to anyone, not even you? She just left?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, she's been working a lot lately, so I figured... y'know, she was probably just taking a break," Claire said, her voice still oddly detached, like she didn't understand the weight of the words she was saying.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to push down the rising panic. I couldn't let the fear take over. I couldn't lose my grip. Nat needed me to hold it together right now, but the anger kept boiling up, demanding to be heard.

"No," I snapped, my words hard and tight. "She didn't just take a break, Claire. She's been falling apart, and you didn't see it. No one saw it. And now she's in an ambulance because you let her go without even checking in on her. You didn't even care enough to make sure she was okay."

There was a long, painful pause on the other end. I could hear Claire breathing slowly, but I wasn't done. "She's been breaking, Claire. She's been pushing herself too hard for months, and you—all of you—sat around, pretending it was fine. Pretending that because she was showing up and working, that she was fine. But she wasn't. You should have known."

"I... I didn't know," Claire's voice was smaller now, more unsure. "She's always been so... tough. She's always handled everything. I didn't think she was... I didn't think it was that bad."

I bit down on my lip, trying to hold back tears. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to scream into the phone, but I didn't have time. I couldn't fall apart now—not with Nat in the state she was in.

"Well, now you know," I said, my voice hard and shaking with frustration. "You know just how bad it is. And you still didn't care enough to look out for her. You think you know Nat? You don't. She's not some robot who just powers through everything for you. She's a person. And you all took her for granted."

I could hear Claire's breath hitch on the other end, and I knew she was finally starting to understand the gravity of the situation. It wasn't enough, though. It was too little, too late.

"I—I didn't mean to..." Claire started, but I cut her off.

"Don't," I said sharply, my voice cracking. "Don't apologize now. It doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is Nat. All I care about is making sure she's okay." I took a shaky breath. "I'm not saying this to make you feel bad, Claire. But you need to own this. You need to understand that Nat gave you everything. She gave all of herself to this place and to you, and you all failed her. Now, it's time for you to step up. If you really want to make it right, start by caring about her. Not just the business, but her."

Claire was silent for a long moment, and I could hear the weight of what I was saying sinking in. For a second, I wondered if she even knew what to say. But I wasn't here for apologies. I was here for Nat.

"Listen," I continued, my voice softer now, but still firm. "I'm going to make sure she's okay, but you need to check in on the others. Talk to them, because if you don't—if you let this go unnoticed again—you're just as much to blame as anyone else. This can't happen again. Nat deserves better."

Claire's voice was small when she spoke. "I'll... I'll do better. I'll make sure we all do."

The sirens grew louder as we approached the hospital, and I could feel the shift in my chest—part relief, part fear. I hung up the phone, staring at Nat one last time.

"Please, Nat," I whispered, my voice cracking as I reached for her hand. "Please be okay. Please come back to me."

The ambulance doors swung open as they pulled into the emergency bay. My heart was racing. This wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot.

But for now, I had to stay strong. For her. Always for Nat.