Taken over by fear

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I don’t normally blog about intensely personal things, particularly things to do with my relationship. But I had such an emotional time last night, I need to write about it. Here’s what happened.

My fiancée was working yesterday at a contract job about a half hour’s drive away. He expected to finish up about 9pm. I got a text from him at 9.30pm saying he was nearly done and would be home soon.

But he wasn’t.

I waited another hour before calling and texting. Got messagebank, no response to my text. I went to bed. I could not sleep. I kept telling myself that nothing was wrong, he had probably been delayed or sent to another job for a few hours. He had told me earlier that day that his boss was talking about sending him to another job for a few hours after his first shift ended. He had also mentioned his mobile was playing up.

I couldn’t sleep, and C didn’t come home. I started calling his mobile every half hour, the last two times the line went straight to messagebank without even ringing. I lay there trying not to think about what might have happened. He has been riding a motorbike recently with his truck off the road (yes, again, please spare me the rolled eyes) and has borrowed a mate’s bike to get around.

I hate motorbikes. As a child, my friend’s father was killed instantly when a woman ran a stop sign and ploughed into him. My brother nearly killed himself on the farm bike numerous times (once our dog lead us up the paddock to find him unconscious after knocking himself out riding over a contour bank). I have explained that in my opinion, motorbikes get you killed, but C would tell me not to worry, he is a good rider. My response: it’s not your riding skills I’m worried about – it’s all the other drivers on the road who don’t see you in their blind spot.

After a while my thoughts turned morbid. I thought about him lying dead on the road somewhere. I prepared myself for a call from the police. I thought about what time I should start calling hospitals to see if he had been admitted. I thought about what I would do if he died. While thinking about this and crying a bit, I fell asleep.

At 1am I heard the motorbike pull up the driveway. I raced outside, and it was really him. I cannot tell you the relief I felt. Turns out he had been sent to that other job for a few hours. And his mobile was stuffing up. He assured me he had tried to call and text me heaps of times, and when I had rung him his phone wouldn’t let him answer the call.

So, other half not dead. Emotional rollercoaster of fear thankfully over. But I’m not liking Apple right now.