Absence

“Are you coming tonight?”

Although Mary had the liveliest voice, she still sounded tinny on the other end of the line. Anne pressed the phone to her ear, biting her lower lip in concentration as she counted to three and flipped the last pancake. She breathed out a sigh when it effortlessly flipped. Thank goodness it didn’t stick to the pan this time. It was only after she took out the bacon in the pan next to said pancakes that Anne realized she hadn’t answered Mary’s question.

“Oh…n - no, I’m not going to be able to make it. I’ve got plans tonight.”

When Mary replied, she sounded a bit disappointed, “Oh…okay. Are you sure you don’t want to come? You love Halloween parties…”

I did, the bitter thought crossed Anne’s mind before she could filter it, and the pang in her heart returned. “I love Halloween, but I’m super busy. I’ve got to write another news article on the subway infrastructure. It’s due in the morning and my boss will grill me if it’s late.” Her stomach twisted at the lie. Anne was never one to lie - but if she gave the actual reason, it would mean admitting it out loud. And she didn’t want to. “Look, you and Pete go and have fun. You guys really deserve a night out, it’s been super stressful lately and I just know you guys will have the cutest couples’ costume. What’re you guys going as, anyway?”

Mary scoffed, “He originally wanted to go as salt and pepper shakers, but I decided we’d go as Daphne and Fred from Scooby-Doo!”

A half-smile tugged at Anne’s lips, “That sounds way cuter than his idea. I think you should go for it.”

“If you come, we can go as Peter Pan, Wendy, and Tinkerbelllllll,” Mary sang, one last plea. 

“Can’t. I’ve got work.” As Anne she set down the plates of food, she realized that - once again - she had made breakfast for two instead of one. 

There was a pause. “Please tell me you’re not punishing yourself.” Mary said, suddenly serious.

“I’m not,” Anne said curtly, “why would I punish myself?”

“Look, Anne…I know today makes it a year.” Mary’s voice was soft and gentle. 

The words fed the cold pit in Anne’s stomach, and it twisted, churned inside of her. “I’ve got to go. My mom’s calling on the other line, it’s probably important.” Anne lied before abruptly hanging up. She slammed her phone facedown on the counter and took several deep breaths. 

It’s fine. It’s just Halloween. You love Halloween. You’ve always loved Halloween.

Anne put on a smile for her own benefit and took the two plates. She turned to the table by the stove, realized yet again that she had made breakfast for two.

“…food’s ready.” She weakly mumbled.

Living with Ben for so long made Anne far too complacent - or at least that was what she feared. She was used to the never-ending shuffling in his room. The way he left the water running while brushing his teeth. The way the TV was always on the soap opera network (a guilty pleasure of his). 

One year. 

Today officially made it one year since Ben didn’t return home one fateful Halloween night.

Her fake smile slowly dropped, and she chastised herself for doing too much spring cleaning months before. She had reorganized the entire apartment they shared, and it was only as she stared out into the den that she realized there was nothing that was his in the room anymore. His socks weren’t lying in a haphazard pile in the corner. The coffee table didn’t have his signature coaster he used for his drinks. His shoes were missing from the welcome mat. The only shoes by the door were her own. 

“I can’t afford to move out.” She whispered to the chair beside her. 

She knew it was silly. It was ridiculous to mumble to no one. But sometimes she could swear she heard him say what he always said to her. Relax. Don’t think too much, Anne. Would it kill her to pretend he was here once in a while?

“I can’t afford to move out.” She said again. She eyed the plate that would go uneaten, the untouched second plate of his favorite foods.

“…I don’t…know if I want to…” 

Why? He was always so curious and inquisitive.

“Because then I lose everything that reminds me of you.”

Anne closed her eyes tightly, tried to imagine his face. But time was cruel, and her memories of him were already growing fuzzy. 

“You know I’m sentimental.”

Go and have fun tonight, Anne. You work too damn hard sometimes. Would it kill you to take a break once in a while?

“Crime and violence never sleep. News never sleeps.”

Don’t give me that. 

“I don’t want to go out tonight.”

You want to sit and mope and wallow.

“Is it so wrong to spend the night remembering you?”

Mary and Pete love you. They don’t want to see you like this.

“Well I don’t want them to see me like this.” Anne took a deep breath, realized she was arguing with herself. Ben wasn’t here to talk sense into her. He wasn’t here to calm her down. He would never be here again.

“I’m going insane,” she whispered. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. She’d done so much of it. But no matter how much she willed herself not to, it never failed. She sniffed once, twice, and the shaky breaths became tiny sobs. She dropped her fork, buried her face in her hands to cry. 

She could at least remember how Ben would look now. He would sit beside her, and he would let out a long sigh before resting a warm and calloused hand on her back.

Aw, Anne…

He would hug her, he would say something to make her laugh. 

…tonight’s episode hasn’t even aired yet and you’re already emotional…

Anne couldn’t laugh. How could she? 

You’ve gotta stop beating yourself up.

“Someone has to. You - I don’t want to forget you. And I’m forgetting you. You’re so fuzzy…I…I don’t want to wake up one day and I can’t remember what your face looks like. Or how your voice sounds. Or how warm you were.”

If it helps, I look like Pete…we ARE brothers, after all.

Anne wiped her nose with her sleeves. “I miss you.” She admitted out loud.

I miss you too.