Living in a small town suburbia felt like the dream, you knew most people on your street or even the block. I, Kathrine or just Kat, had a husband and an 8-year-old child. Life felt a little like those "perfect" movies, every day being the same exact thing; Wake up, brush teeth, make breakfast, go to work, come home, make dinner, sleep. The only difference would be the choice of clothing for the day. Jamie, my child, would go outside with his friends and go on the swingset just across the street, he always came home around 5-6 pm and goes to do homework in his small room. Whilst my husband, Lee, is a local activist and a feminist. He also works at a grocery store since we recently moved in, Lee had to find a filler job since bills are expensive in the current economic inflation, and didn't want to end up living on the streets. About 3 weeks ago, I was cooking food for the family, Lee wasn't home yet, I just brushed it off and thought he was working overtime or something. Jamie had asked me where he was, I was in my head overthinking everything and didn't hear him the first time.
"MOM!" He yelled
"Where's dad?" He looked at me innocently
"Uhhhh, I'm not sure" I answered being half zoned out. I reached out to grab my phone on the counter nearby and called tried to call him. No response. I called about 4 times but it always went straight to voicemail. I tried to brush it off, maybe his phone is dead, I don't need or want to be a clingy wife. It was getting very late, Jamie was already long asleep. I had become worried, 11 pm and he still isn't here, he usually finishes at 8. I called him about 4 more times but still nothing. Out of frustration, I called one last time. Finally, he had finally picked up. But all I could hear was static for about 40 seconds.
"Lee where are you" I said sounding worried.
~Static~
"Lee?"
"Oh... Hi, Uhm, don't worry I'm coming home now" he said calmly. I felt a wave of relief, I was becoming so worried that I shut out people around me, brain fog had already taken over completely from the stress. I went up to bed. By the time he was home I had already been half asleep, I heard him enter the house but not him coming to bed. The next morning, I woke up to see blood marks on his hands. I was of course very concerned as to why he had blood on his veiny hands. The casual morning routine of minty toothpaste aftertaste with hot cheap coffee. As soon as Jamie went to the school bus, I closed the door and instantly turned to Lee.
"Why do you have blood on your hands?" I stared at him with a resting bitch face.
"I had a bloody nose right before bed, and forgot to clean it off in the morning" He said almost instantly like he already had planned to say that.
"Uh huh?" I stood there skeptical
"Right go get ready for work"
He turned around and went to wash off the blood. I just left for our garden, I had a little patch of flowers I love taking care of. I don't have to go to work since I'm basically a stay-at-home mom, Whilst I do sell my flowers and make a profit. I suddenly got the feeling that something off, something was about to happen, I couldn't put my finger on it. Maybe something was up with the food last night, but I just moved on and started working on my flowers. The feeling grew stronger and stronger until I got a phone call. I picked it up.
"Hey, Uhm..." Silence followed it.
"Your husband Lee..." Silence again. I stood there all confused.
"Uh, who are you exactly?" I asked all confused.
"Lee's dead"
The world went gray, this massive tsunami-like wave of heat hit me.
"What?! How?! Who are you?!" My thoughts started racing. The phone call ended. I quickly called him to see if it was true. To my surprise, the phone picked up.
"I told you, he's dead" the same voice could be heard.
"Do not bother the dead..." The phone hung up
I stood there in shock. This felt all fake, How did he die? Was he actually dead? Who was the person on the other side? The feeling of being overwhelmed took over my body, tears rushing down my cold, pale face. All I could see was the world distorting as my tears were quickly forming.
