Guarded Hearts and Broken Wings || S.R.

22 - Dreadfully Empty

If someone could have hit the weekend with a pipe, it would have rung like a great empty metal drum. After he left, she spent more time than she cared to admit retrieving her bedding from the basement and wrestling with the fitted sheet. She lost it all over again the second time the sheet popped away from the opposite corner, causing her to succumb to defeat and slump into bed with the sheets merely thrown over the mattress. She could hear her mother calling her dramatic in the back of her mind. Her tears dried up after that. Instead, she was just empty like that metal drum.

Monday morning came with the creak of her bedroom door and the dipping of her mattress as a warm body curled against her back. Marcie was home. Napping together had been the peek of their sleep-deprived hangouts in college, and it had not changed since. Mel was sure that the week with her family had been exhausting. Marcie was the quiet one out of the loud, sociable Italian bunch, and though she adored them, she was always drained when she got away. They had known each other long enough that Mel understood her silent gesture as a delighted, warm announcement of her return home without ignoring her need for sleep. Mel smiled to herself when Marcie started snoring.

Two hours later, Marcie stretched like a cat and mumbled into the comforter. "Hey."

Mel looked over her shoulder then rolled onto her back. "How was it?"

"Oh so good," Marcie smiled.

"How was your zia? The one that got married."

"Absolutely glowing. You would have thought she married Jesus Christ himself. She wouldn't stop showing him off. It got a little annoying towards the end there, honestly."

"And... who won the cook-off this year?"

Marcie rolled her eyes and sat up. "Dad, of course."

"Every year," Mel huffed.

"They're all just a bunch of suckers for the classics. I always try something new, and they claim I'm 'destroying tradition'." Marcie shook her pinched fingers together in front of her in frustration.

Mel laughed at her hand gesture. Without fail, every time she spent time with her family, no matter the duration, that classic Italian gesture returned to Marcie's mannerisms in full force. It would be weeks before it was not added after the majority of her sentences.

"What?— Oh. Leave me alone." Marcie swatted at her shoulder and lowered her hand. "As if you don't get an accent after you talk to your Mama."

Mel rolled her eyes and ignored the comment with a smile."Maybe you should cook something traditional next year."

"And where's the fun in that?" Marcie grinned.

They chuckled until the inevitable question hung in the air in front of them, How was your week? There was no way Marcie had entered their apartment and not seen the answer to that question on display in the living room for anyone to see.

Marcie knew they both knew this so instead cut straight to the point. "Dr. Reid, er, Spencer called me."

"He did?!" Mel was suddenly terrified he had told her about their fight and was convinced Marcie would fuss at her for pushing him away.

"Hey," Marcie returned in surprise at her outburst. "He didn't call because you were mad he didn't make you a sandwich. He called because you-" Marcie stopped herself before she could continue. But Mel knew the rest of the sentence from her tone alone - lost your shit and destroyed your life's work.

"What did he tell you?"

"Only that something had triggered your memories and that you let it out on your work. He didn't go into many details because he said he wasn't sure of them himself."