There is carelessness with people's actions and precise precision in their speaking.
This lesson was imparted upon me when I caught my boyfriend of three years cheating on me with a random woman at his shop.
It was his actions that stole my voice a...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
MAJOR CONTENT WARNING: Self-harm
My phone ringing so early in the morning should have been a premonition to my sleep-addled brain. Nobody calls at this time unless it's an emergency or someone has died.
My hand smacks along the nightstand until I feel it under my fingers and bring it to my ear, not bothering to open my eyes to see who it is.
"Hello," I mutter.
A loud sob comes across the line, yanking my eyes open. Scrambling to sit up, I pull my phone away and glance at the screen.
"Mom," I call sharply.
"Rune," she cries, her voice breaking into so many pieces that I can barely understand her.
"What's going on? Talk to me."
"He's gone."
As soon as her words land against my ear, coldness hits my core, and my brain shuts down.
"When?"
She doesn't notice the void in my voice since she's drowning in her grief of my father leaving her.
I don't know why she's surprised. It was only a matter of time until he did.
"Last night. He had a brain tumor and didn't tell me. He didn't wake up this morning."
It takes me a minute to realize that she doesn't mean he went to them. She means he's gone. He's not coming back. That realization should have me feeling something inside, but it doesn't. Without the chaos slowly building under my skin, I'd be empty of feeling anything.
I haven't experienced it since Deyanira stumbled her way into my life. The thought of her has the uproar cooling to a simmer, but it's still there, creeping under my skin, waiting for the right moment to come out and play.
Mom continues to cry, and I sit here listening, wishing I could comfort her the way she needs, but I don't have it in me. How the hell can I comfort her when I can't find it in me to care that he's dead?
"My condolences," I mumble.
Mom lets out a shocked cry of my name, but why is she surprised? She knows how I felt about him.
"I love you, mom. I'm sorry you're having a hard time with this. What do you need me to do?"
Mom works to control her crying. "Nothing right now," she says quietly, sniffling. "I just needed to hear your voice, kiddo."
"Right here whenever you need me, ma."
We don't say anything else for a bit. I just let Mom have whatever comfort she's getting from listening to me breathe.
"Love you, Rune. I'll keep you updated."
"Love you too, ma."
My father is gone. He's no longer in this world, but my trauma from the life he chose to live still has me in a grip, and it's bubbling inside me again.
