My husband and I moved in with my parents whilst waiting for our own place to be ready. They’ve got an extra room and besides, my parents do lots of voluntary work overseas and sometimes are away for weeks on end.
Two days ago they left again, this time for 15 days. The school they were volunteering at was in the midst of preparing to move into a new classroom block, so that’s why my parents decided to spend that long there.
I’m in bed reading when my husband gets back from his run.
“They’re back so fast?” was the first thing he said when he saw me.
I frowned as I tried to understand.
“Your parents, they’re back already? Wasn’t there some school project?”
“Honey, what’re you talking about. They just left two days ago, they’re still there,”
He shrugs, “well I dunno, on the way to our room I spied them in theirs, lying down. I figured they came back whilst I was out running,”
At this point I’m kinda confused, but I know my husband doesn’t make things up. So yeah, maybe they got back, but then why so quietly?
I put my book down and get up. On my way out the room I hold his hand and pull him with me; I don’t know why but something just didn’t feel right.
We head over to the master bedroom, and the door was open. The room was exactly the way my folks left it, clean and neat, the sheets tight and perfect.
“Honey there’s nobody here, are you sure you saw right?”
I turn to look at him, and the blood has drained from his face.
“Yeah I did, I mean, I can’t be seeing things, I feel fine. I really did, honey, they were there, I didn’t see their faces but I saw… What looked like them, lying in the bed,”
It’s weird but somehow we find a way to dismiss it and go on with our day.
The next morning I’m up first, as usual, and I’m greeted by the sight of two plates of breakfast sitting on the dining table. It smells warm and delicious, freshly cooked. Scrambled eggs, toast, sausages and a pot of tea. I can’t help but feel impressed with the man. He even cleaned up the kitchen, it was spotless, as if nobody cooked anything there.
I go back into the room and kiss him. He rolls over sleepily and peel his eyes open.
“Good morning, chef,”
“Yeah well done, breakfast and all,”
“What are you talking about, love,” he rolls over on his back and rubs the sleep from his eyes.
“Honey didn’t you make breakfast, cos there’s breakfast outside on the dining table,”
He looks at me weird and then my heart starts to race.
“Honey… I’ve been asleep. What breakfast?”
My mind goes into overdrive as I try to figure out an explanation and before I know it I’m dragging him to the dining room and there it is, two plates right there, except… They’re nearly empty. Bits of egg and sausage remain, sorry crumbs, and the pot of tea is nearly empty.
To be continued…