cold.

II

•Anais•

There was only silence over the phone.
Then, I heard his breathing.

"What could you possibly want, Anna?" it sounded like a statement, not a question. But, there was an edge to his tone.

"You're the one who sent Emory to tell me something. So, talk." I say.

"God Anna. You're so painfully straightforward. Fine. I-" he stopped.
Only his breathing reminded me that there was still a living, breathing human being on the other end.

"I'm sorry."

His words hit me. Like a baseball to my chest. I don't understand why. I guess I wasn't expecting an apology.

Only a year ago,
Atlas and I had been great friends. I had confided in him with almost everything.
Almost.
Ever year, I told him that I couldn't be at school during the winter because I was easily ill.
Well, that's what the whole school thinks. I have to have a reason for my sudden disappearances, every year.
For 7 years now.
But every time he tried to call, just before the shift, I told him this:
"Oh sorry. I won't be able to talk. My family is on a vacation."
But last year, he learned that I didn't have any family vacations.
But he didn't know the whole story.
And I never plan to tell him.

"Whatever." I reply, cold and heartlessly.
Then I hung up.

———

I arrived home soon after that.
My chest ached.
Why? It's not like I care.
But there was a voice in the back of my head.
'Yes you do.'

I sat on my worn-out couch, feeling the comfort of the tired velvet.
I opened the book I am currently enjoying.
Only a few pages in, the doorbell rings.
I inhale deeply.
Leaving the book faced-down on the couch, I walk towards the door.
I hesitate and consider checking through the peephole.
Screw it.
I open the door slowly.
There's no one there, but there is a bouquet of roses.
Yellow ones.
I pick them up.
Upon closer inspection, there is a white tag.
In cursive handwriting I recognize, the delicate letters unfold into a beautiful script.

'I'm sorry.'

"Me too." I say to myself.

I go inside, and pick one and put it in a tall glass of water. I place it on the counter. I walk to the back door, and open it.
Without stepping completely outside,
I throw the rest outside, and drop the plastic wrap in the trash on my way back in.
I then pick up the 'chosen' rose. I slip the tag from the bottom up, resting it over a leaf so it wouldn't slip.
I place the rose back in the glass.
The front door unlocks with a click, and I wince.
My dad walks through the door.
I relax.
"Hey, Ice." He says, looking like he always does, sleepless. The bags under his eyes and unkept stubble show me he has been avoiding sleep again.
"Go to bed." I say, without a proper greeting.
"Okay, but what's that?" He asks, his shoulders still drooped.
"From Atlas." I say.
My dad looks at me, understanding.
"The rest are in the backyard."
"Is that so..." he trails off, and heads towards the old white stairs.
"Caspian Jace Devereaux, please get some sleep. For your daughters sake." I demand, keeping a cool, but confident tone.
He keeps walking, but gives me a thumbs up.
Alright then.