It takes him a while to process the fact that she's gone, and when it does sink in it hits him like a brick.
Soon enough he's running to his mother, for reasons other than comfort.
"You did this!" he shouts. A small table's flipped soon after.
"Noah..." May says, reaching out for her son.
"You did this!" he shouts. A glass hits the wall and shatters soon after.
"Mom, what's going..." Sarah comes down the stairs and says.
"You wanted her gone from the beginning!" he shouts. A pillow flies across the room soon after.
"Sarah, go back to your room dear. Noah and I have to talk," she tells her daughter, who immediately runs up to her room.
"Why?" he asks, close to a shout. "Why did you let her just leave like that?!"
May sighs, hands now on her hips.
A tear slips from his eye.
May walks forward and embraces her son.
He cries into her shoulder, holding into his mother for dear life.
"I don't want to lose her," he tells her. "I don't want to lose either of them."
"She needs some space, Noah. To think. To breathe. To really process everything once and for all."
"I can't lose her, Ma. I can't lose either of them."
"Give her time," she whispers, rubbing his back. "Just give her time."
It's close to midnight when he hears his cellphone buzz on the nightstand.
Reaching over, he grabs it and answers it, mumbling a greeting into the receiver.
"She misses you."
Her whispered voice rings clear through the phone. It's almost enough to wake him up.
"She hasn't stopped kicking since I went to bed. It's like she can tell you're not here with me."
"There's nothing I can do about that from here," he whispers. That knot in his throat is back, and it's making this worse.
"Fall asleep with me on the phone? It might make her think that you're here so I can sleep."
He mumbles a yes, placing the phone on speaker as he settles himself.
"Goodnight," he mumbles.
"Goodnight," she whispers.
They fall asleep to the sound of each other breathing. Safe to say, that kicking wasn't really a problem in the first places.