As Abbey started down the steps that morning it has occurred to her that she had not touched her plate of food she took out of the fridge last night. How could she? There was so much that needed to be done? Explained?
She would have sprinted to the kitchen, reheated the delicious lasagna and ate every last bit before reality th old house on Webster street, but she stopped in her tracks when she heard her parents. It didn't sound like their normal arguments.
Their voices were hushed.
Toned down.
Unable to make out their words she moved closer, instantly regretting her decision. Now she will never be able to look at him in the same light again… She had caught her father mid sentence.
"… her child is dead."
"Keep your voice down, Abbey shouldn't know any of this. She is far to young and wouldn't understand."
"Have you spoken to him, yet?"
"No, but I will. There should be a reasonable explanation for his recent behavior."
"I think he needs to be escorted to the closest psych-facility"
"Elanor, you are being over dramatic. How can we help our son, if he is petrified of being sent away by the only people who should trust him and protect him?"
"He should have thought about that before getting up from that diner seat and getting involved."
Silence…
"I did not raise my son to act like this!"
"Neither did I…"
This is getting out of hand, was my first thought. He should never have come home and expected everyone to just accept it.
Just like that Abbey retreated back to her room - her safe spot should protect het form the oncoming dangers.
Before entering her room, she caught a reflection in the hall mirror. Could it possibly be true? Has he come home in this condition?
Our eyes locked and he mouthed - "You knew?"
