folklore; conrad fisher

45: almost, always

The conversation was casual. We told each other about the events of our weeks. He went out with Adam and Jeremiah and got a tailored suit for the wedding. He told me that Adam announced that he was seeing Kayleigh for the first time, only Conrad knew this wasn't a recent development.

"I wanted to tell him off so badly," He said, "If it weren't for Jere, I would have."

"That's really frustrating," I said, trying to sympathize, but all I could focus on was the intensity of my nerves as he brought himself closer to me.

I looked around the room in front of us, admiring all of the decorations. Conrad put them back up almost identically to the way they were before Susannah passed away.

"Hey, Conrad. There's something I've been meaning to ask you."

He set down his fork and plate, "What is it?"

I circled the rim of the glass of lemonade he brought for me, "Does it feel weird, coming back without Susannah here?"

He leaned back in his seat, biting his lip as he circled back through his thoughts. He looked up at the ceiling before finally responding.

"At first, yeah," He said, "Now it's different. It feels kind of like walking into a movie set. Like, I go to the kitchen and I have all of these memories of her––like scenes I remember from a film. But without her here, it doesn't feel real, it just seems like something familiar instead."

As he spoke, he too scanned the room. His eyes searched through the bookshelves in front of us as he reminisced about his mother. The moment was sweet, yet tragic. I understood what he meant, though. Being in this living room, I could recall the many times I'd laid here with Susannah. I remembered her petting my hair as we watched T.V together on quiet Summer evenings.

"Does it make you sad?" I asked.

He scratched the back of his head, "At first it was devastating. There were things I couldn't bring myself to look at, like old family photos, or crafts she made. I would walk past her old room and pretend it didn't exist. But I think over time I've come to terms with it. Of course I'll get sad every so often, but it's not everyday, anymore."

"You're really strong, Con."

He offered me a gentle smile, "Nah. You just get used to these things, eventually."

I wrapped my arms around my legs, "I don't know how you manage it all."

"You've got your shit too. It was hard for you when your grandpa died."

"It was," I said, swallowing deeply, "But he was old, we kind of knew our time with him was dwindling. Susannah was different."

"We knew it was coming too," He said.

Maybe he was right, but at the time nobody would admit it. We all hoped that she was going to make it out of that sickness alright.

He grabbed his plate again, and we both resumed eating, chewing softly as a brief silence grew around us. My hand trembled as I reached for my lemonade glass, drinking it slowly before eventually setting the emptied cup down. When I looked at him he was finished eating, but he still didn't leave the couch.

"Thanks for dinner," I finally said, after finishing my plate.

"No problem," He replied, while eyeing me carefully, "Wait, come here."

I leaned in towards him, and he brought his face next to mine, his focus on my mouth. I noticed him concentrating on something before he brought his hand up to me. He pressed a finger into the slit between my two front teeth, before scraping it downwards.