Grey Skies, White Lies - Larina | [COMPLETE]

Chapter 28 | 'Things.'

- Marina's POV -

That coming weekend, I received an unexpected phone call. I only usually got calls from Charli, or work, and occasionally some of my other friends, but this one was definitely unexpected.

"Hello?" I queried, cautiously as I picked up my phone, displaying an unknown number.

"Marina, it's me." A soft, familiar voice spoke at the other end of the line. It was Lafina.

"Lafina!?" I exclaimed, both shock and confusion taking over me.

"Marina." She replied. "I have something to tell you..." She began, though her tone was far from positive.

"Go on?" I pressed.

She paused. "It's Dad..." She began, trailing off at the end of the word.

"What about him?" I pressed further.

"He's sick, Marina." She said, repeating my name for what felt like the 50th time, as if she felt the need for hitting me with reality.

"Sick?" I repeated. "What do you mean, sick?" I added, still overwhelmed by the sound of my sister's voice at the other end of the phone.

"His lungs. They're giving up." She explained, though still not very specific.

"Well, is he dying?" I asked, bluntly, my casual use of the word 'dying' casting a shock through me.

"We're not sure at this point, Mum called me earlier today, I just thought you deserved to know." She automatically justified, almost as if she could sense my utter shock from merely having her communicate with me, especially in regards to my Father.

"I-I don't know what to say." I admitted, honesty behind my stutter.

"It's okay. I know this is all a bit sudden." She consoled, sighing as she spoke.

"Thanks for telling me, I guess?" I replied, the difficulty off the conversation really taking its toll.

"How are things with you anyway, Marina?" She asked. I wished she'd stop repeating my name, every time she did so, it brought me face-to-face with reality. What level of vaguity was she going for, asking me about 'things'? We hadn't spoken for near enough eight years, a brief, light-hearted discussion about 'things' wasn't going to bring back the near decade we missed being in each other's lives.

"They're fine, thanks." I settled on, matching her with her vaguity.

"I'm glad, I was thinking of you on your birthday, Marina." She said, softly.

Why didn't she call?

"I wasn't thinking of you." I snapped back, childishly and as spiteful as I felt.

"I'm glad you're well, it's good to hear your voice." She replied, practically disregarding the angst tone I proposed.

A short silence fell upon us, only broken by Lizzy walking through the front-door holding a carrier-bag on each arm. "I've got to go." I said to Lafina.

"Okay, take care, Marina." She responded, letting a short pause to allow me to put the phone down first.

"Hey babe, who was that?" Lizzy asked, placing the bags filled with our usual weekend food on top of the kitchen counter.

I pondered, I wanted to tell her but I didn't want to have to recall everything said. "My sister." I settled on, an apprehensive tone carrying my voice.

"Oh, really?" She exclaimed, seemingly as shocked as I was. "What did she want?" She asked.

"She just wanted to see how my birthday was." I white-lied, subconsciously fiddling with the phone in my palm.

"She's about a month late." Lizzy queried, raising her eyebrows as she unpacked the bags hoisted onto the counter-top.

"I know." I replied, shrugging my shoulder and sliding my phone back inside my black-jean pocket.

"Was it good to talk to her?" She asked, though I'm sure she only meant well, I couldn't help but crave this conversation to come to an end.

"Yeah." I lied, well, effectively it wasn't a lie, as such. I guess another white-lie would define it, I didn't know how it felt to speak to my sister after all these years, I didn't know how I was supposed to feel, if I was even supposed to feel?

"That's good!" She replied, unraveling the second carrier bag. "Look what I bought!" She cooed, finally diverting the topic of conversation and revealing a big tub of strawberry ice cream.

I smiled, half-heartedly, as Lizzy turned to grab two spoons from the drawer. "Your favourite." She explained, offering me a warm smile as she handed me a spoon and nodded towards the bedroom. "I thought we could have a cosy night in?" She suggested.

My heart sunk, guilt overriding me. Her suggestion was so thoughtful, so heart-warming, yet all I really wanted to do was drown this newly-triggered anxiety with a bottle of vodka.

"Sounds great." I white-lied, through gritted teeth. It did sound great, but not tonight.