Greg's POV:
My dreams are all of her; I see her every where I look. Abby is asking me to come to her, but I am frozen in a dimension that I cannot transcend. I watch her drift away; she's smiling. Abby looks so different than the body that was rendered helpless last night. She looks so happy; even in my dreams, I look so sad.
I wake to see Nick sleeping in a rocking chair and Sara sleeping on the loveseat. For a moment, I forget why they are here. I sit up; I am severely disoriented in my own home. My brain does not know what to tell my body to do. I see pictures of her every where; I see the pictures of flowers I thought she might like. The room suddenly feels too small.
I retreat to the kitchen. There are groceries on the counter; I don't remember getting groceries this morning, last night, or the day before. My kitchen is clean; it smells of bleach and lemons. I don't know what I'm looking for in the kitchen. I grab a beer out of the refrigerator and I retreat to the deck.
The deck is the only reason that I bought this house. The deck gave me a magnificent view of suburbia. I was surrounded by perfect little houses, with perfect families and perfect children. I was the only single male in the neighborhood; I was the imperfection in the neighborhood. The perfection was an odd comfort; the weekends were filled with the sounds of children playing or people barbequing. It brings back some of the memories that seemed to fade over the years.
Today, the neighborhood is quiet. Children are still at school and their parents are at their perfect jobs. I hate the silence. When my parents were alive, the house was always filled by chaotic noise. There was always someone talking; there was always someone asking you how your day was. My mom would sing while she cooked. That's why I always took comfort in Sara's absentminded melodies when she was engrossed in work. Abby would also sing; Mom bought her a Disney tape when she was three. Abby promptly memorized all the lyrics; she put on concerts for us frequently. At eight years of age, I thought it was a punishment to have to sit through Abby's concerts; now, I realize the importance of those memories.
"I didn't know where you were," Nick said as he sat in a chair next to me. He yawned. I wondered if he had gotten much sleep this morning.
"I didn't know that I was lost," I replied.
"Should you be drinking that at two in the afternoon?" Nick referred to the beer that I drinking; I hated beer, but it was the only alcohol in the house. I bought it three days ago in preparation for the arrival of Abby's boyfriend.
"It's not going to kill me. Besides, I have no where to go," I replied.
"Marc is flying in this afternoon," Nick replied. I didn't want to have to meet Abby's boyfriend; I didn't want to have to watch another person grieve.
"I need to plan a funeral," I replied.
"Sara said that she would help," Nick replied, "I'll pick Marc up from the airport."
"That would be good," I replied.
We sat watching the emptiness around us. There were no more words that needed to be exchanged. There was nothing that could be said to make this better, but I still longed for something to fill this void.
"Catherine and Warrick have some leads," Nick commented. I didn't really care; this wasn't about revenge. Revenge wouldn't bring her back; the feelings of emptiness were so much more potent than my desire to confront the person that did this.
"Does it matter anymore?" I asked.
"She deserves justice," Nick replied.
"It's not going to bring her back," I replied. I stared at the neighbor's black lab. She must be home for lunch. She waves to me. I wave back. Her dog, Scooter, races over to join Nick and me. I normally have a treat for the hyperactive dog, but today, I have nothing to give. She collects her dog and disappears into her perfect world.
"Are you hungry?" Nick asked. The conversation was awkward. My earliest memories of death were the awkward conversations that people had. At my parents' funeral, I remember people talking about the weather and food like it really mattered; like the fate of the human race depended on what type of potato salad would be served at the lunch following the funeral.
"No, I think I just want to sit here for a little bit longer," I replied.
"Sara is going to be pissed if I don't make you something for lunch," Nick replied with a chuckle.
"Better you than me," I replied. I took comfort in the mindless banter. I took comfort in the fact that I could picture Sara yelling at Nick for not feeding me, like I was incapable of making decisions for myself. They were good friends; I often thought of them as family. Abby always said she wanted to meet them; I wasn't sure why I never introduced her to my coworkers. She was always bringing over one of her friends from school. Abby might have lived in San Diego, but she spent the majority of her free time in Las Vegas.
"Thanks for putting my neck out on the line," Nick replied.
"So Sara's going to be pissed?" I asked.
"She made me go grocery shopping so you wouldn't starve," Nick replied mocking Sara.
"I think starvation is the least of my worries," I joked, "You talk about her like she's your wife."
"Might as well be. Bosses me around like a pro," Nick replied laughing.
"I think you two better shut up," Sara replied. It caused both Nick and I to jump. She was standing with her hands on her hips. I wondered how long she was there. The angry expression on her face made me laugh; it made me laugh uncontrollably. Her face softened . . . she mock punched my shoulder.
"Nick, don't you have to get to the airport?" Sara asked as she tapped the face of her watch.
"Going, honey," Nick said as he quickly stood up and made his way back into the house. I could hear Sara mutter something under her breath. Nick heard it; he told her to simmer down. Sara told him to start driving.
"Did you sleep okay?" Sara asked as she took up residence in Nick's chair.
"You know; what about you?" I asked.
"Good enough. Greg, I need to talk to you," Sara said with a sigh. Her eyes were fixed on something in the distance. She looked serious. It sent chills down my spine. It was the same feeling I had when the doctor said that Mom and Dad were dead.
"What is it? Whatever it is please just tell me," I said. I was becoming panicky.
"Greg, Catherine and Doc finished the post on Abby. Greg, did you know that Abby was pregnant?" Sara asked. Her eyes were still glued on the horizon. I was frozen. I was holding my breath . . . I didn't even know what to say about that. A baby. My baby sister was going to have a baby.
"Is Doc sure?" I asked.
"The pregnancy hormone was present in the blood panel. Doc says she probably knew; Abby was about six week pregnant," Sara said.
I could feel my heart stop. Abby was starting a family. It was something that she always wanted. It was something I always wanted for her. I was going to have niece or nephew. Mom and Dad would have had a grandson or granddaughter. I couldn't even breathe. This made it ten times worse; this was the loss of a beautiful woman and the loss of someone that could have done great things . . . someone that wasn't even given a chance.
I wasn't sure what was going to happen to me after the shock wore off.