CHAPTER 7: Specters
"Move over, Philippe. I want that seat."
Voices. Voices fill the emptiness in my head.
"Philippe! Dinner's ready, can't you smell it? Mmmm…"Laughter echoes on the four walls of the house and out through the door.
"Come on, let's go outside for just a moment, Philippe! The air's so fresh tonight, don't you think so? Oh… It smells… heavenly…"
And for all of those declarations of mirth and innocence, I had a retort ready for each of them.
"You move % I got here first." "I'm working, can't you hear that?" "Not now, Emma. That air will always be there for you to smell. My work and the promotion coming with it won't be waiting for me."I moved a little bit on the couch I was sitting on.
There, Emma. There's space for you now.
I just got fired from my job… no, I quit it… so I'm not working now.
You're right. The air's always fresh here, and it smells wonderful. It's why we bought this house in the countryside, right?
I decided to use my voice. The silence is me.
"Emma? I'm here now…" Can't you hear me? I tried to continue, but my voice just died out.
Because she can't hear me. How could she? She's gone…dead… and here I am, on the verge of insanity, talking to specters in my mind.
Then, suddenly, tears burst from my eyes. Uncalled for, uncontrollable, unstoppable.
Alone in the house we once built our dreams upon, I screamed out my maddening grief for the time wasted on things that were really trivial, the time that was denied, not to me, but by me, willfully, and knowingly, shutting out the only one who really mattered.
Curled up like a helpless , I lay on the empty couch which soaked all those bitter tears before exhaustion drove me to the cold and dark arms of the sleep that became my only escape from this painful reality.
