the taste of stone
rated t
They say April is cruelest month, but March hit Hawkeye Pierce like a lead pipe.
His children blew through the house like ghosts. They sat shell-shocked in the kitchen reading the slim paper. Hawkeye watched them from the living room. At seventeen and fourteen, they looked very much like minature versions of their parents. The occasional mumbles that passed between them were lost in the sound of the fireplace.
Their mother slept upstairs. She was constantly at full throttle the past two days and it all caught up to her earlier that morning. He found her at the window, head bowed and steaming up the glass with her breathing. Somehow Hawkeye found the strength to carry her to bed.
A knock at the door meant more food. His daughter exchanged a few pleasantries and was then talking to her younger brother.
"...think we should cut it..."
"...save some for Mom or Dad...not eating much, I guess..."
Hawkeye found him. He wasn't at the office. There was no smoke coming from the chimney. The paper was still on the porch. The house was unnaturally cold and silent.
That was Monday. This is Wednesday.
A log popped in the fireplace. He watched the sparks fly and realized how terribly empty everything felt. Seeing Ellie looking so dazed at the airport. Ben picking at his food. Hawkeye went upstairs and found Margaret spread out on their bed. He slid into the cool sheets beside her and let the warm tears run down his cheeks.
Tomorrow he'd bury his father.