Erica Spindler by In Silence

removing her things. Facing this empty room night after night. She’d asked him if he needed help. She had offered to come and help him clean out her mother’s things. Looking back, she wondered if he had sensed how halfhearted that offer had been. If he had sensed how much she hadn’t wanted to come home.
    â€œI’ve got it taken care of, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
    So, she hadn’t. That hurt. It made her feel small and selfish. She should have been here. Avery shifted her gaze to the double dresser. Would her mother’s side be empty? Had he been able to do what she was attempting to do now?
    She hung back a moment more, then forced herself through the doorway, into the bedroom. There she stopped, took a deep breath. The room smelled like him, she thought. Like the spicy aftershave he had always favored. She remembered being a little girl, snuggled on his lap, and pressing her face into his sweater. And being inundated with that smell—and the knowledge that she was loved.
    The womb from her nightmare. Warm, content and protected.
    Sometimes, while snuggled there, he had rubbed his stubbly cheek against hers. She would squeal and squirm—then beg for more when he stopped.
    Whisker kisses, Daddy. More whisker kisses .
    She shook her head, working to dispel the memory. To clear her mind. Remembering would make this more difficult than it already was. She crossed to the closet, opened it. Few garments hung there. Two suits, three sports coats. A half-dozen dress shirts. Knit golf shirts. A tie and belt rack graced the back of the door; a shoe rack the floor. She stood on tiptoe to take inventory of the shelf above. Two hats—summer and winter. A cardboard storage box, taped shut.
    Her mom’s clothes were gone.
    Avery removed the box, set it on the floor, then turned and crossed to the dresser. On the dresser top sat her dad’s coin tray. On it rested his wedding ring. And her mother’s. Side by side.
    The implications of that swept over her in a breath-stealing wave. He had wanted them to be together. He had placed his band beside hers before he—
    Blinded by tears, Avery swung away from the image of those two gold bands. She scooped up the cardboard box and hurried from the room. She made the stairs, ran down them. She reached the foyer, dropped the box and darted to the front door. She yanked it open and stepped out into the fresh air.
    Avery breathed deeply through her nose, using the pull of oxygen to steady herself. She had known this wouldn’t be easy.
    But she hadn’t realized it would be so hard. Or hurt so much.
    The toot of a horn interrupted her thoughts. She glanced toward the road. Mary Dupre, she saw. Another longtime neighbor. The woman waved, pulled her car over and climbed out. She hurried up the driveway, short gray curls bouncing.
    She reached Avery and hugged her. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.”
    Avery hugged her back. “Thank you, Mary.”
    â€œI wish I’d gone to Buddy or Pastor Dastugue, but I…didn’t. And then it was too late.”
    â€œGo to Buddy or Pastor about what?”
    â€œHow odd your daddy was acting. Not leaving the house, letting his yard go. I tried to pay a visit, bring him some of my chicken and andouille gumbo, but he wouldn’t come to the door. I knew he was home, too. I thought maybe he was sleeping, but I glanced back on my way down the driveway and saw him peeking out the window.”
    Avery swallowed hard at the bizarre image. It didn’t fit the father she had known. “I don’t know what to say, Mary. I had no…idea. We spoke often, but he didn’t…he never said…anything.”
    â€œPoor baby.” The woman hugged her again. “I’m bringing some food by later.”
    â€œThere’s no need—”
    â€œThere is,” she said firmly. “You’ll need to eat and I’ll not have you worrying about