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The morning light burned red through Kate’s eyelids as it stirred her awake. The painful reminder of her sorrow quickly reappeared. Her night had been restless. Happy dreams of Marco and Renzo laughing at the dinner table, the three of them sitting in front of the TV, had transformed into nightmares of Renzo calling out to her, his bloodied hand stretched out, reaching for her. Darkness surrounded him. She couldn’t see his face. Only his bloodied hand, which she couldn’t reach.
Mom. I can’t find you. I’m scared. Are you there, Mom?
The memory of that nightmare made her moan.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand and startled her back to reality. Her body ached as she reached for it. She looked at the screen.
Mom.
She wasn’t ready for her yet. She put the phone back on the nightstand and let it go to voicemail.
Ding.
The voicemail message had arrived. She’d never listen to it but would call her later.
Kate lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling. The house was so quiet. She inhaled deeply and held it, before letting it out and upward so it hit her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to sit up. The heat was running, but still, the room felt cold making her shiver. She hated to leave the warmth of her bed. After a wave of lightheadedness passed, and the brief throbbing in her temples subsided, she forced herself to her feet as she glanced at the clock on her nightstand.
Ten-fifteen.
Later than she’d thought. She needed a shower but didn’t have the energy. Coffee first. She put on some warm wool socks and grabbed Marco’s fluffy sweater, her favorite—because it was extra-large and cozy—before heading down to the kitchen.
She left the living room blinds closed and walked into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Soon, its aroma filled the kitchen.
On normal days, she’d inhale it slowly, savoring it. On normal days, she’d turn on some music and sway around the kitchen as she waited for the brewing to finish.
But nothing was normal anymore. Today, silence was all she was given, and it was all she could handle.
After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she sat at the kitchen table and stared blankly at the swinging door, willing Marco and Renzo to walk through it in their usual loud and chaotic fashion. Instead, the silence continued. She sat there sipping, but not tasting, the coffee as the throbbing in her head slowly crept back near the base of her skull.
Her buzzing phone startled her.
Mom, again.
She wasn’t sure why, but these calls were making her angry. To make them stop, Kate answered.
“Hi Mom. Yes, I’m fine. Mm-hmm. I showered. Yep. Eggs and toast. Just tired. Really tired. Mm-hmm. Love you too. I will. Okay. Bye.”
The call was quick and her mother seemed to believe her. Kate hoped this would keep her away, at least for a few hours.
She walked to the fridge and opened it but found herself mindlessly staring into it. She went back to her seat at the kitchen table, wrapped her hand around her cup and closed her eyes. A cold chill startled her back to reality. With her hand still wrapped around the now cold cup, Kate glanced over at the clock on the stove.
Eleven-ten.
She looked around the kitchen and put her hands to her face as the tears again burned up and out. The pain in her heart and chest grew—fast this time around—and she found she couldn’t contain the tears.
Why? Why was this happening? Please. Let this be a dream.
She stopped crying as suddenly as she’d started, and again stared at the swinging door. She wanted to be up in bed, in the dark, but had no energy to climb the stairs. She lowered her head into her arms and rested them on the kitchen table. She stayed in that position until the phone buzzed.
Mom, again.
She let it go to voicemail. The clock read one-forty.
Kate willed herself up to bed and slipped away into darkness. She was beginning to like it there.
