Her green eyes, flecked with an inner ring of yellow, met mine. Straight brown hair, pinned to the top of her head, sparkled with several silver strands threaded throughout.
Is her hair grayer, or have I been too busy to notice?
“I’m fine, or will be soon enough.” She patted my hand. “I saw old Mrs. Chapel at the grocery store today, and she began reminiscing about when we were neighbors. It brought back memories of Mikael.” Bowing her head, she squeezed her eyelids for a couple of seconds. “It’s weird. You’d think I’d never forget the little details about your dad’s face, the way he stood sometimes, or even the curve of his cheeks. And then the days and months turn to years, and I find myself desperately trying to recall all those details and more...” Her gaze grew distant, and she stared at the opposite wall with its torn wallpaper and water stains near the ceiling.
Such grief weighed on my heart. I understood her sorrow because I bore its burden, too. Dad’s presence had been a shining light bathing us in his glow. When he’d disappeared, our little nuclear family had turned cold and dead.
“I love you, Mom.” I bent toward her and embraced her bony shoulders, inhaling sugar and smoke. “Do you wanna talk?”
“No.” She shook her head then stuffed the photos into a metal lockbox. “No, but thank you. I think I’ll stay here for a little while and tidy up. I can’t sleep anyway.”
She rarely slept more than five or six hours a night.
“Then I’m going to bed. Got an early class in the morning” I placed another kiss on her cheek. “Night.”
“Did you eat supper?”
“Yeah, I grabbed a sandwich from the cafeteria when I went on break.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and she nodded. “Good night, Phoebe. Love you, too.”
I trod to my room at the back of the house. It might be small, but it had always been the one place I felt safe. After flipping on the light switch, I tossed my backpack to the floor and kicked away a pile of dirty clothes in desperate need of a hamper.
I’ll do it tomorrow.Too drained to even think about straightening my room, I dropped onto my mattress and reached under, searching for my stash.
Hard, straight edges meet the pads of my fingers, and I grinned. “Dark chocolate’s the best kind of medicine for days like these.” I popped the box’s top open, plucked out a chocolate-covered pretzel, and chewed, relishing the sweet crunch. Sliding the phone from my pocket, I pulled up a playlist and started “Devil’s Backbone” by The Civil Wars, shoved in my air pods, and lay back to stare at the ceiling, willing my muscles to relax.
Those pictures of Dad stirred the old, anxious memories I usually kept tucked away. He’d taken me to the zoo for a Daddy-Daughter date, and after we’d seen the animals, he’d placed me on the carousel sitting in the middle of the twenty acres of exhibits.
It had been blustery with a fine mist drizzling from the gray clouds, but I didn’t care. Once a month, he’d always made a point to take me somewhere, just him and me, and I treasured those times.
“Come on, Phoebe.” He’d lifted my nine-year-old self onto an acrylic horse who pawed at the air with a hoof.
The orange mane had seemed to shine against the murky atmosphere. On that cold, wintery day, he and I were the only people in the vicinity, and the child I’d been had loved the feeling, as if we’d been suspended in our own private pocket of the world.
The animal moved up and down with the cheerful song playing from the speakers above my head, and Dad held on to the golden, twirling pole, smiling at me. His pale-blue eyes sparkled, and his blond hair fluttered in the damp breeze.
“Daddy, you come ride it, too.” I’d patted the horse’s rear.
“Afraid I can’t, precious girl. I’m too big. That horse is for you.”
I’d given a pout, but he shook his head and scanned the area, his eyes always scouring the vicinity anytime he took me anywhere.
The bright, happy music played, and I clapped, drawing his focus.
“Do you know how much I love you, Phoebe?”
I spread my hands apart a foot or so. “This much!”
“That much times infinity.” He gripped my wrists and lowered his gaze to mine. “Do you know how much infinity is?”
I frowned. “What’s in-infility?”
A burst of laughter shook his shoulders. He pecked my cheek, wrapping me in his smell of dark spice and fabric softener. “Infinity. It means forever.”
“How can I measure forever?” The concept of time made my childish brain ache.
“You can’t. That’s the beauty.” He leaned back, and the smile left his lips. “The next time we go into the backyard to look through the telescope, I’ll explain it to you. But for now, imagine my love being as big as the distance from here to the brightest star, okay?”
