Silent

46. I don't know what to say

Michael stared at the phone on the table and the photo of his parents next to it, the photo he had been able to tape back together after Jean had torn it. The phone number hadn't changed, and he still remembered it. His heart was pounding, nerves making him shiver. Michael looked up and saw Sam in the kitchen doorway looking at him, smiling softly.

"Do you want me to be here, or do you prefer to talk to them in private? I could go for a walk," Sam offered.

Michael had finally decided to call his parents. The decision was finalized during their visit, especially after Michael's talk with Ellen. 

Samuel's mother had first asked to talk with Sam privately, confessing that she recognized Michael as the boy who had gone missing from Plymouth five years earlier but hadn't wanted to make Michael or him uncomfortable with voicing her suspicion before making sure. 

Sam appreciated how discreetly his mother had handled it. He didn't tell her all the sordid details but confirmed that she was right and Michael had met someone who had been abusive and cruel and kept him from contacting his family. He was thankful that she didn't persist on the details further, understanding that Michael wasn't ready to account for them. She also promised to keep the knowledge to herself until Michael would be ready to share it with the rest of their family. But she had a long conversation with Michael that had successfully boosted his confidence in making the necessary step.  

Now it was already close to three in the afternoon, they had returned from Nice earlier before noon and Michael had kept postponing the call until then. 

"Maybe they're not home," Michael thought. Before, when he had lived at home, Sunday afternoons had been family time. First, morning at Church, then perhaps going to a local pub to enjoy a Sunday roast. But sometimes they had gone to eat later and... He knew he was overthinking and that he should just try his luck and make the call.

"You won't know if you don't try," Sam pointed out as he walked closer, sat next to him, and lowered his hand to his own. "And if they don't respond, try again later today or tomorrow."

"I don't know what to say," Michael sighed. "I haven't talked to them in nearly five years, what can I say?" He looked at Samuel, hoping he would have the right answers, but Samuel merely shrugged, smiling softly at him.

"The words will come to you, I am sure of it." He assured him, took the phone off the table, and placed it in Michael's hand. "Well, this is as good a time as any, right? I'll go to the kitchen and prepare some tea for us in the meantime," he said and got up.

Michael followed Sam with his eyes until he disappeared into the next room. He sighed and slowly dialed the numbers on his cell phone. He felt the tension rise, his hand trembling. What if they didn't want to talk to him after all? But then he reminded himself what Ellen had said, assuring him that his parents had genuinely been anxious to find him and that they would never get rest until they would know what happened to him.

Eventually, Michael persuaded himself to press the call button. He felt a tight knot of nerves squeezing his stomach, the phone peeping in his ear at regular intervals, and that little moment felt like an eternity. He was already about to end the call when suddenly the phone was answered.

"Evelyn Wills." Michael let out a suffocated sigh as he heard his mother's tired voice. He had often feared that he might never hear her voice again and all his emotion rushed to the surface, making him so overwhelmed that he had trouble finding his voice.

"Hello?" His mother sighed with a slightly agitated tone. "Who is it?"

"H-hey Mum..." Michael whispered. He heard his mother breathe out, he heard her shaky breathing, and it was quiet for a moment. "Mum, are you there?" Michael asked cautiously.