Paul looked out the huge kitchen window and into their back yard as he finished washing up the pan he had just used to cook breakfast. He turned to the table and sighed. It was set for two. Maybe this time she would actually join him. He was just about to go call for her when the door swung open and almost hit him right in the face.

"Wow! You almost knocked me out," he said, a small smile on his face. It quickly disappeared when he saw what was becoming to be her familiar hollow expression.

"Sorry," she muttered as she walked around him and to the fridge. She pulled out a bottle of water and took a long pull.

"I made us a late breakfast. I thought we could eat together before going to your parents later," Paul said hopefully. He moved to the table and pulled out a chair for her, his eyes pleading with her to sit down. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when she did.

Stephanie fiddled with her cutlery as she took in the food on her plate. Eggs, toast, bacon, a side bowl of fresh fruit and a steaming cup of black coffee. Her husband really did know her inside out. Managing a small smile, she began to pile some eggs onto her fork.

"So, do you have any idea what your dad wants to talk to us about?" He was so damn thankful she was eating. This was probably the first thing she had eaten in a while. He had to get her out of this rut, he just had to.

"No."

He took a deep breath and bit his lip in attempt to hide his growing anger. He felt like a stranger in his own damn home and all because she was shutting down. She never spoke to him. Just like now he was pretty much having a conversation with himself and he hated it. They should be clinging to each other and trying to get over this together. Instead she had pushed him to the side and he was left trying to cope on his own. And coping he was not. Every time he fell asleep all he could dream about was the image of the tiny white coffin as it was lowered into the ground. And when he woke up all he could feel was the overwhelming pain that engulfed his heart, a pain only made worse by his wife's distance. It had been over three weeks now, three long, hard weeks but he was still here. It hurt like hell but he was still here. He only wished that his wife could fight through like he was. Taking another calming breath, he tried to pick up a conversation again. "Well, maybe he just wants to see you, make sure you're OK."

For the first time since she sat down she actually looked at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Huh?" Paul looked at her in confusion.

"Make sure I'm OK? What am I, huh? Some fragile piece of glass that everybody is walking on eggshells around?" she raged, her voice getting higher and angrier as she spoke.

Her outburst took him completely by surprise. It was the most she had spoken to him in days. Yeah, maybe it wasn't panning out the way he wanted it to but at least she was talking. "Nobody is walking on eggshells, Steph. You..."

"Yes! Yes you are, I can feel it every time somebody looks at me, every time you look at me and I can't stand it anymore!"

He wanted her to talk but he didn't want to fight. Bowing his head in surrender, he held up his hand indicating for her to stop. "I'm not going to do this."

"Do what?"

"This, Steph! I'm not going to fight with you over something so stupid..."

"So you think it's stupid that I feel this way?"

Paul ran a hand over his weary face and closed his eyes, desperately trying to keep his anger in check. She was lashing out but the last thing they needed was another fight. He kept his head low as she continued to rant.

"Is that what you're saying, Paul? That my feelings are stupid? That I don't..."

"For fuck sakes, Steph!" he yelled immediately cutting her off. "Just stop, alright. I'm not having this fight with you right now, not when you're acting like this." He slowly got to his feet, his expression sombre as he looked her in the eye and tried to read what she was really thinking. Because this wasn't his wife, this wasn't Stephanie.

Stephanie could feel a deep pain in her chest. He looked...defeated and it broke her heart because she knew it was her fault. All she wanted was to fall into his arms but that would be too easy. They had just lost their daughter; nothing should be easy, not when she felt like curling up into a ball and crying until she could cry no more. He held her gaze for what felt like forever until he finally just shook his head and walked away. The sound of the door swinging on its hinges was all she could hear as she squeezed her eyes shut tightly in an attempt to stop the tears threatening to fall. God she was a mess. And what absolutely terrified her was the fact that she didn't see a way out of this hole she had fallen into. And no matter how many times Paul had reached out to help her, he was always just that little bit too far away. Giving up on her battle to stop the tears she eventually let them fall. Almost as if nothing had happened, she reached for her knife and fork and started to pile eggs onto them. She felt numb again. At least this way, she didn't have to hurt so much.


Paul sighed impatiently as he waited for somebody on the other end of the line to pick up. He was just about to give up when his mother's breathless voice filled his ears.

"Mom, it's me."

"Oh Paul! How are you, son? I was just thinking about you," Patricia said as she walked back to her living room and sat down on the comfortable sofa.

"Oh, I'm fine," he lied, trying his best to sound upbeat. "I just wanted to call and see how everything is with you and dad."

At that admission, Patricia's red flags went up immediately. She knew her son inside out and while they were a super close knit family, it was usually her or Paul Sr. calling him because he was so damn busy that he forgot to call them half the time. And now here he was, calling her out of the blue when he had just lost his child and asking if she was OK. "We are good. Your dad is just out at the store right now and I'm, well I was wasting my time watching daytime TV," she chuckled. "Enough about us though, how are you feeling, Paul? How is Stephanie?"

"I'm fine, mom, really."

"You just lost your daughter, Paul. If you're fine then I'd start to get a little worried."

He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "It's just...some days are hard you know. But, it's slowly getting easier I guess."

"And Stephanie?"

He tried to mask a groan and failed miserably. God damn his mother was like a pit-bull sometimes. Maybe he shouldn't have called her. All this was going to do was alert her that something was wrong and he didn't want anybody poking their nose in. He didn't need it and neither did Stephanie. "Steph's...well, she's getting there."

Patricia's face fell before her expression turned to one of confusion. She's getting there? What the hell type of answer was that? "She's getting there?"

"Yeah."

"What does that even mean?"

"I don't know! What do you want me to say?" he snapped. There was a delayed silence and he sighed. He hadn't meant to snap at her. Jesus this was accomplishing nothing. He should just hang up now and be done with it. "I'm sorry mom, I just..."

"You don't have to be sorry, Paul. I can't even imagine what you are going through. But you and Stephanie, you guys need to help each other through this together. I know you, son. You need your wife and I know that she needs you. If something is going on..."

"There's nothing going on," he stated firmly. "Listen, I have to go, we are heading to Vince and Linda's but I'll call you soon."

Patricia could only shake her head as she said her goodbye's and hung up the phone. The second she saw them up by the bench at the funeral she knew that things weren't good. This was only confirmation. She didn't know all the details but it didn't sound like Stephanie was coping at all the poor girl. But these things took time and she had to have faith that time would heal her daughter in law's wounds, as well as her son's. With a heavy sigh she set the phone back in its stand and tried to focus on getting back to her day.