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The doorbell rang and Kate greeted her parents with a fake smile.
She knew her disguise hadn’t worked when her mother’s jaw fell at the sight of her.
“Kate! You look awful.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Her dad kissed her cheek. “You alright, Kate?”
“I’m fine,” she lied.
Kate sat on the sofa, prompting her parents to join her. She sat quietly for an hour while they chastised her about her health, eating, drinking fluids, getting rest, and getting out into the world. Her mother even suggested drinking wine.
Kate smiled and agreed with everything they’d said. She cried occasionally as she talked about missing Renzo and Marco, but had to admit the comfort and companionship of her parents felt nice.
Her mother made Kate eggs and pancakes which she didn’t want, but ate them anyway. They offered her words of comfort, all while her mom sent her not-so-subtle hints.
“You know you can’t stay pent up in this house all alone forever, Kate.”
“Yes,” Kate snapped. “I am aware of that.”
“Well, I’m sorry, dear. I’m not trying to upset you. I’m just trying to give you a little motivation. Maybe you need a project. Keep yourself busy.”
“I’m sorry. What do you want me to do? Take up knitting? Huh? My family was murdered two weeks ago, Mom. Your son-in-law. Your grandson.”
“Don’t use that tone—”
“Alright, alright,” Kate’s dad interrupted.
“Come on, Louise. Time to go.”
Louise opened her mouth to protest but shut it fast. “Fine.”
Kate walked them to the door where they exchanged hugs. “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to—”
Her mom shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m rushing you. I don’t mean to push, honestly. I don’t.”
“I know.”
“Let us know if you need anything,” said her dad.
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll talk to you guys later.”
Kate noted the setting sun, as her parents drove off. The renewed silence of the house hit her. She sat on the sofa with her head back, staring up at the ceiling, as she began to cry for the millionth time. When she’d settled down again, her mom’s mention of wine prompted her to go to the kitchen and open a bottle.
She returned to the sofa with a glass of chardonnay in one hand, the bottle in the other. The living room was dark, but she left the light off, welcoming that mood, as she put up her feet and slowly sipped from the glass.
When half the bottle was gone, she took it upstairs. In her bedroom, she slid to the floor and leaned against the side of her bed. As she stared at the white slatted closet doors in front of her, she drank straight from the bottle. After a couple minutes, she leaned over and pulled open the closet doors.
She stared at the messy shelves of shoes and bags, before crawling in and rustling through Marco’s clothes, chuckling at his bad habit of throwing everything into a pile in the corner. It had always infuriated her, but now, she’d do anything to have him next to her doing just that.
She flipped through Marco’s stuff, inhaled his t-shirts and sweatshirts, and imagined him sitting there with her. She closed her eyes and pictured his face, his thick black hair.
After a couple of minutes, she blinked to clear her tipsy head, as she stared at the closet wall. A tan canvas bag was wedged inside a cardboard box of old car magazines she’d begged Marco to toss. She didn’t recall ever seeing that bag before. It clearly looked as though Marco had been trying to hide it from her.
Kate crawled toward it. It felt oddly heavy. She dragged it out from under the magazines and into the bedroom. She dug her hand deep into the bag and pulled out a large silver pistol.
