His Release (Short Story)
The blankets were warm and enveloping, however his absence jarred her awake. She watched him leave the room, scooping pants off the floor to clothe himself. The phone lit up as he swiftly dialed a number, briefly illuminating his face before he disappeared into the hall.
The stove light flicked on, creating a soft glow down the hallway, marked by his silhouette. She could picture him now, talking, leaned casually up against the counter, arm crossed to support the one pressing the phone to his ear. How many times had she seen him in that position? His voice murmured from the other room, barely carrying to her ears.
His voice was soothing, soft, but she was determined to be awake when he returned. She could slip into a bathrobe and walk out to the kitchen, but the bed was warm and it could wait until he returned. He had been making an excessive amount of late night calls lately, and he needed his sleep so badly. She wished he would not make those calls. His voice rose slightly, and spoke in urgent tones.
“No, she's asleep” drifted into her hearing, and then he slipped into being inaudible once more. He suddenly stopped talking, so she assumed he had hung up the phone. Keys jingled as they were claimed from the counter, and the stove light was turned off creating darkness. He opened and shut the door as softly as he could manage, but he could not hide the lock. The sound of the deadbolt sliding back into place resonated. It sliced through the air and making the silence that followed choking.
His spot on the bed was starting to cool, so she moved out of the warmth of hers to curl up where he used to be. The bed smelled like him, completely comforting and filled the aching in her chest that opened after he left without whispering he'd be back. She shivered, despite the warmth that surrounded her, and squeezed his pillow to her chest.
Minutes ticked by, each one seeming like an hour until a key scraped against the lock from outside. Once more, the door opened and closed, still gently, and he was home. She returned his pillow to its place and waited as he removed his shoes and put his keys back. He padded back into the room, kicking off his pajama bottoms and crawling back into bed with her.
She moved over to allow him to sink into the warm spot she had left, and touched him to let him know she was awake. He started,
“I thought you were sleeping.” he spoke into the darkness that swallowed them.
“You're freezing!” She exclaimed, drawing her hand back in shock.
“Sorry. I needed a walk.” He shifted away from her, but she turned him back towards her and wrapped herself around him in an attempt to warm him up.
“Who was on the phone? Was it her again?” She asked lightly, and she could feel his muscles tense.
“Yeah,” He swallowed audibly, “They don't think he'll make the night. It’s really bad this time.” Wordlessly she hugged him to her chest and he choked on his emotions.
“I,” his voice was thick with unshed tears, “I thought he would pull through like he always does.”
“I know.” her voice was heavy too, close to breaking. She clutched him tighter, offering what little support she could. At least he was warming up.
“I wish we could see him, you know? He's too damn far away.” His fists clenched, but he surrounded her in his arms and held her closer, finally shedding the tears that had been pent up for the past few years.
“I know.” She muttered into his hair, running her fingers through it. Trying to memorize him, trying to hold on to what she knew so that it would never be taken away from her, “But the facilities there were the best chance he had.”
“Not good enough now was it?” He spoke bitterly, “And it was their medications that are killing him!”
“They did the best they could.” She didn’t want to argue with him, not really, “What happened?”
“The chemo shot his immune system and he got sick. Apparently they can’t just stick him with one of their super cures and make it go away.”
“You know they can’t.” she was close to tears now too, remembering the joyful boy she had met when they first started dating.
“He’s my little brother. He shouldn’t have to die like this. He’s too young.” There were no words to argue that, not a single thing could be said in consolation. So she finally let her own pain show through, and her tears mingled with his.
They would all find release, of one form or another. One found release from pain, another from finances, and the couple lying in bed crying in the middle of the night? They had once more found each other. It just wasn't the way any of them wanted.
