The Way We Feel

Chapter 19

It was quiet when my phone started ringing. At first, those kinds of silences between us were awkward, a little bit tense as we wondered what to say to each other, but not anymore. Now...

Now I didn't really mind these periods of quiet.

I glanced down at the name on the screen and sent the call to voicemail, knowing I'd be in for it, but also not wanting to talk to her just yet. Mostly because I didn't know how to.

"Shouldn't you get that?" Frank's grumbly voice asked from across the room.

I looked up at him, turned my phone over on the light blue fabric couch cushion beside me and said, "I'll call her back."

Frank didn't answer except for a nod and a quick rub over the top of his balding head. His glasses were perched on his nose, and a full cup of tea was no longer steaming on the table beside his worn chair, its existence completely forgotten from the moment he'd set it down.

I crossed my legs, stared into the bottom of my own cup—there was only a sip or two left—and sighed. Looked up. Around. I'd always thought this was the coziest home I'd ever been in, filled with warmth and light and covered with pictures of family. Nowadays though, cozy wasn't the word I'd use to describe it.

Lonely was more like it. The pictures of Frank and Ceci's children were exactly where they'd always been—everything was. It almost seemed like Frank hadn't moved a thing since Ceci had died last year, and I couldn't blame him. But that loneliness in this house—it's what made me keep coming back even though she was gone. I couldn't leave him alone in it for too long, knowing that most of his kids were far away and only made it out to seem him every so often. Harry and I had made it a point since Ceci passed to get over here and visit him, even though getting Frank to talk was like pulling teeth.

Still, every time we came, he'd put on the kettle, just like Ceci always did, and offer us a seat before taking his own. He'd ask a couple questions about what we were up to, how we were doing, where Harry's career might be taking us next, and nod or grumble a little in response. Like all he wanted to do was keep us talking so that we wouldn't ask him too many questions.

It wasn't vastly different from the conversations we'd had when Ceci was still here. Frank had always been quiet, only speaking when absolutely necessary, and showed very little personality even when he did. But since Ceci—it was like someone had turned the light in him down. Dimmed him enough for me to notice that he actually had been lit up before. That she was the source of his light. It broke my heart. Because as much as I missed Ceci, I couldn't even imagine how much he missed her.

Being here today—a week after returning home, after dealing with another loss myself—the absence of Ceci in this apartment was almost too much to bear. I missed her running around trying to do for me, fussing over me when I walked in, gripping my hand with her knobby, shaking one. And I really missed her kind eyes, her constant chatter, her warm smile.

It wasn't fair that she was taken from us—from Frank. She'd survived one stroke several years ago, and she'd rebounded well with physical therapy, though she was just that bit shakier from then on. But that second one...

It had taken her too quickly.

Frank cleared his throat then, distracting me from missing her. He crossed his leg. Didn't say anything. Didn't even meet my eye. I'd been here for barely half an hour, and we'd already exhausted conversation topics.

"Where's Harry?" he'd asked.

"Working," I'd said, hoping not to reveal how it worried me. "He's doing some writing with friends."