Chapter Two:
Shifting silence
Izzy
The quiet hum of the clock continued as the night went on, the seconds stretching between us like an endless chasm. I could feel Carl's presence beside me, but it was like we were both trapped in our own worlds, unable to bridge the gap that had formed between us, He shifted slightly as if he was going to say something, but he didn't, I didn't either, Maybe we were both too afraid of what might come out if we do.
I wish I could reach across the divide, and tell him what was really going on inside me, That it is not just the fatigue from long hours of work, or absence of time together that is eating me up, it is something deeper, something I have been avoiding for far too long, But how do I say it? How do I voice the things that have been buried so deeply inside me?
Carl's phone buzzed on the coffee table, breaking the stillness; he picked it up without a second thought, glancing at the screen. His expression tightened, and for a split second, I saw something flicker in his eyes, a look I couldn't quite place.
"Work?" I ask, trying to keep my tone light, but the curiosity is too much to mask.
"Yeah," he replies, his voice flat. "I need to head in for an emergency case."
I nodded, though the weight in my chest grew heavier. This is what our life has become. It was a cycle of him disappearing into the hospital and me staying behind, waiting for scraps of time we could share. The irony doesn't escape me, he is a surgeon, dedicated to saving lives, but it feels like we're both losing ours, bit by bit.
He stands up, gathering his things, and I stay seated on the couch, watching him, wondering if this is what we've become, two people existing in the same space, but living entirely separate lives.
"I'll be back as soon as I can," he says, his voice a little softer now, as though he's trying to reconnect with something that's slipping away between us. But the words feel hollow.
I forced a smile, though it didn't reach my eyes. "Be safe."
As the door closes behind him, I'm left in silence once again. It presses in on me, suffocating, as though the walls of this apartment are closing in. I stand up, pacing back and forth, trying to shake off the suffocating feeling. I'm used to this—the loneliness, the quiet. But tonight, it feels different. Tonight, it feels like a warning.
I grabbed my phone, staring at the blank screen, unsure of what to do with the sudden rush of emotions flooding me. I thought about calling someone Pat, my friend, maybe even my father, but I didn't. Instead, my finger hovers over the contact for Carl, the one person I should talk to, the one person who should understand. But I can't bring myself to call him. I don't know if he'd even answer.
I drop the phone back onto the counter and move to the window, staring down at the lights of the city once more. There's a restless energy in me now, something that I can't ignore. It's like a storm brewing inside, and I don't know if it's about to break or if I can stop it.
And then, just as the weight of everything starts to feel unbearable, my phone rings. The number on the screen is unfamiliar, but something about it makes my pulse quicken. I hesitate for a moment before answering.
"Hello?" My voice sounds strange and distant as if I'm speaking from somewhere far away.
"Izzy," a voice says, and my breath catches in my throat.
It's Carl. But it's not the Carl I know. There's something in his voice, something urgent, something that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"Izzy, I need to tell you something," he says, and for a moment, I wonder if it's just another call about work, another emergency that I'll have to let go of. But then I hear it in his tone—the weight of his words, the gravity of whatever is about to happen.
And I'm not ready for what he says next.
"I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner. But there's something I need us to talk about. Something that might change everything."
My heart races, and suddenly, the silence in the apartment feels deafening. Something is about to shift again. And
this time, I'm not sure I can hold on.