“Hi Mama, hey Dad! I miss you guys! It’s been so long since I’ve been there to see you two, but I promise I’ll visit soon. I’m just having so much fun at school, meeting new people, learning so much. Dad, you were so right, the pizza here is horrible. We’ll have to go to Marienne’s when I get back to eat a proper pizza dinner! Oh, and Mom, how’s Pepper? I found this adorable bed for her, she’s just gonna love it! I miss my sweet puppy!
Anyway, I should get going! I miss you guys, and I’ll see you soon! Love you!”
The voicemail ended, and my heart sank. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
My husband looked at me, face as pale as his collared shirt. He swallowed, hard, a sweat formed on his brow. I opened my mouth to speak, yet nothing would come out.
This wasn’t real.
You’re dead.
You’ve been dead for eight years.
“Molly. . . It’s a prank. It has to be,” my husband stammered, licking his lips. The sweat gleamed on his temple.
“A prank? Who on earth could pull such a sick thing like this?” My voice broke, tears had formed in my eyes. “She-She knew about Pepper. Pepper got hit by a car two years ago. And Marienne’s!”
“Anyone could know about that! Anyone! This-” He ran an exasperated hand through his graying hair. “This is a small town. Everyone knows everything.”
“She’s dead Howard!” A sob escaped my mouth. “She-”
“Get a hold of yourself!” Howard shouted, stopping my sob in my throat. I blinked quickly, hiccuping to keep the tears down. “This is a prank. Delilah died, Molly. She died when she was ten. She’s gone.”
I nodded slowly. A prank. A horrible, horrible prank.
“Y-Yea. . . You’re right. Yes, a prank,” I agreed, wiping my eyes. “A prank.”
Howard nodded with me, taking my shoulders in his hands. He squeezed hard, comforting me. I leaned into him, clenching my eyes shut. This wasn’t real. You’re dead. You’ve been dead for eight years.
“I’ll delete the message, alright Molly? Go take a shower, calm down. Then we’ll go get some dinner, okay?” Howard always knew what to do. Always.
I looked up at him, my tension melting away as I looked into my husband’s eyes. He would always make sure I was alright.
“Okay. . . I’ll go do that.”
“Good.”
Howard kissed my forehead, then gently nudged me towards the stairs. I carefully walked up to our bedroom, my eyes glancing at the single pink door to my left, just before the guest bathroom, across from ours. I forced them away, entering our bedroom.
I tried to wash away the thought of your voice with the steaming water. You sounded older. . . Eighteen, if you were alive.
No, I’m not thinking of you.
Howard and I decided on pasta for dinner. A quaint place, the place he took me on our first date. It always felt warm and loving, reminding me of a simpler time, a better time.
We were happy.
I was content, calm. Everything was normal again.
Until we came back home.
You have one new voicemail.
My heart jumped into my throat, blood rushed to my ears. No. It couldn’t be.
