Lifeline
"Are you sure you're feeling better?"
"Of course I am, silly man." Her voice is still hoarser than he likes, but there's a chuckle in it. "Who would know if I didn't?"
Bertie can't answer for a minute. She sounds so much like herself again, great waves of relief are crashing over him. "I . . . I'm so glad." Paltry words, but all he can get out.
"The question is, how are you?"
A pause. He thinks of the dinner ahead of him. No Elizabeth to smile soothingly at him across the table, to smoothly turn the conversation away from him whenever she senses him struggling, to turn the whole ordeal into a joke afterwards. Without her, his family gatherings are like drowning in a sea of harsh lights, and voices, and faces.
"I am . . . about as you'd expect."
"I'm sorry, darling." The warmth in her voice reaches through the telephone, feels like a hand caressing his cheek. "I wish I were with you."
He's gripping the receiver like a lifeline. "I miss you."
"I miss you too, my dearest. But I'll see you soon."
Bertie closes his eyes. "Yes. I'll see you soon." Thank God.