Voicemail // Kabby

January 28

"Hello, this is Marcus Kane. Sorry I can't get to the phone right now, but if you leave a message along with your name, I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you, may we meet again."

BEEP

Silence. Abby didn't know what to say.

She sat on her bed, slipping her heels off with her feet. Her feet ached from standing all day for the past two days. Her body ached as well. Her eyes were red, tired, and puffy from crying. No matter how much she cried, her body still shook and got chills. She felt empty.

The phone was placed firmly on her ear as if waiting for his voice to say, "Hello gorgeous."

She knew better. All she was answered with was silence, deafening silence.

Outside, the sun was setting as fresh snow began to fall. The snow from five days before had halted in its passage as if guessing the weather needed to permit to today's activities. Now, the storm continued.

The image was fresh in her mind: the spot where Marcus now laid being covered lightly by snow.

When she finally spoke, her voice was raw. "I don't know what I'm doing," was all she could get out before tears sprung to her eyes and she broke down into a sob.

The sound of her sobs echoed into the silent room. She felt as if the tears never stopped; she felt as if the pain wouldn't stop. She felt empty. All that was left behind after January 23 were the shreds of her heart that was torn apart.

"What do I do?"

Her voice was raw from crying for hours at the service and then for hours at night. Restless naps during the night didn't help the circumstances. Every time she fell asleep, his face would appear. If it wasn't his face, it was voice. If it wasn't his voice, it was something that resembled him.

A shaky breath escaped her as a shaky hand ran itself through her hair that curtained around her face. "It doesn't feel real."

Lifting her head, she looked to the bedroom door. It was closed. She barely whispered, "I keep expecting you to walk through the door." A second of silence passed before she sobbed out a half-hearted laugh. "But you're not going to."

Another heart-wrenching sob escaped her as she bit into her knuckles. She whispered, more to the air than into the phone, "You're not coming home."

She took a slow glance around the room. The room was left the exact same way it had been by Marcus the morning of January 23. His glass of water he kept by his bedside was still half full. His novel he read laid beside it, the bookmark sticking out. His reading glasses laid on top of the novel.

"There's so much I want to tell you--do with you, but that isn't an option now."

Panic began to rise in her as the reality of that statement began to settle in. She scrambled for words as memories flashed before her eyes: their last kiss, their last hug, their last contact, their last "I love you", and much more.

"If I had known this was going to happen, things would have been different. I would've gotten up even earlier that morning to make you breakfast. Pancakes with strawberries on top with butter. I would've made your coffee just the way you like it: black with a little sugar."

Abby was standing now, removing her black dress that she had worn for the burial. As she pulled the drawers to their conjoined dresser open, her eyes landed a specific sweater. "I would've asked you to wear that forest green sweater that you know I love." She picked the same sweater up and slipped it over her tiny frame. It easily went to mid-thigh. It felt like him.

Cuddling into it, she climbed into the only side of the bed that wasn't made. Hers had been made the morning of January 24 and hadn't been touched since. Laying on his side of the bed, she curled into the sheets, her head resting against his pillow. It smelled distinctively of him.

"I would have requested you take the day off work so we could have a day for the two of us." A sad smile graced her tear-streaked face. "Knowing you, you would've said something about the greater good needing your assistance and that you couldn't take it off."

She fiddled with the end of the sleeves of his sweater. "I would've kissed you goodbye, just like I do every morning. It wouldn't have been a small peck. I would've poured the ten years of our marriage and all the love I have for you into that kiss."

She didn't notice the fresh tears running down her cheeks. She didn't notice the chills that traveled throughout her body despite wearing a sweater and cuddling into heavy sheets. She didn't notice how the hand holding the phone began to slightly shake. She choked out in between a sob, "I would've done everything I could have to make it better, more special. Anything."

After her sob quieted down, silence filled the room. The clock on the wall ticked as the time neared nine at night. Usually around this time Marcus was in bed reading his novel if he didn't get held up at work. Soon after he would start reading, hushed snores would slowly begin to fill the room as he fell asleep. Now, the only noise was the occasional sniffle coming from Abby.

Pulling the phone from her ear and looking to the timer, she realized she had been on voicemail for about ten minutes already. She thought back to everything she had just said and felt a little flustered. Marcus had always told her that she could ramble on for hours when she got emotional.

She switched her attention out the window as the snow continued to fall at a slow pace. It seemed as the whole world had slowed down. She felt as her world had halted for the past four days and was slowly starting to move again. She wasn't so sure if she was ready for life to continue again.

The feel of the rough wool from his sweater tickled her skin. The smell of him from his pillow filled her senses. The sight of his reading glasses revived an old memory of her teasing him when he first bought them. The sight of his mug that held the water brought back memories of when she and Clarke bought it for him. It felt like home.

And she wasn't ready to let it go.

She stared at his name on her phone before whispering, "I can't say goodbye yet."

CALL ENDED