Just You and I, Your Starless Eyes Remain

Just You and I, Your Starless Eyes Remain

Part 20

Frank’s P.O.V.

It was as if I was moving around through a cloudy haze.

Everything seemed murky and dark.

It was weird how one person, one amazing, special person, could affect me so. Alice was my everything; my life, and, when she wasn’t here, even the brightest colors vanquished. What made it even worse was that I had no clue as to where she was. I imagined horrors if I allowed my mind to wander. My mom was actually understanding about the whole situation. She missed Alice almost as much as I did and she knew how much she meant to me.

“Frank,” my mom yelled from downstairs.

On days like today, when she knew I really wasn’t up for anything, she let me stay home from school.

“Yes,” I yelled back.

“I’m gonna go to work now. I just put some coffee on in case you want any.”

“Thanks Mom. Bye, I’ll see you tonight.”

And with that I heard the front door close and, a few moments later, her car pull out of the drive way.”
I stumbled drowsily down the steps and into the kitchen. I poured a cup of coffee and added a splash of milk into it, causing a little coffee to splatter out. I didn’t feel up to looking for the sugar, nor did I feel up to having something sweet, so I passed on that.

I stared into the mug distantly.

It had been six days without Alice. Six days. I had no contact with her since that day in art class, and, even though her phone seemed to be out of service, I always persisted to call at least five times a day. I needed to make sure I never missed an opportunity to talk to her. Most of the time I felt as if as soon as I hung up the phone, her cell would regain service for just a quick moment.

But that; that was extreme hopefulness.

I picked up the phone and dialed her number.

I heard some loud pitch and then a generic voice picked up, “Sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service. Please-“. I cut off the automated voice by hanging up.

As soon as I hung up I heard a knock at the door.

Probably the mail man, I said to myself as I dragged my reluctant self to the door.

I was right; the mail man handed me the daily dosage of junk mail and bills. I shut the door after a quick ‘thank you’ and dumped the mail on the table. It spilled all over it; the many letters scattering. That’s when I noticed it.

A white envelope with only my name and address on it written in smudged ink.

Alice’s P.O.V.

I need to get out!

I heard Bill’s drunken footsteps pound around the ground floor as if to pack it down into the dirt. Cathy’s sobs were leaking out from behind her locked door. It had been six days since I was here and already I’ve acquired a large black eye and bruises along both my arms and one on my ribs. Cathy, on the other hand, had it worse. I think, on top of everything, she had a fractured rib and a broken bone.

The front door slammed and I knew Bill had left. I took advantage of this moment and ran to Cathy’s room to make sure she was okay. I didn’t know how long Bill was going to be out so I had to race to her door.

My hand pounded against the cool surface in a rush of panic.

“Cathy…Cathy, please open the door.” I heard her muffled cries from behind the wooden panel diving us.

“Please, I need to know if you’re okay!” I held my breath and listened closely. Her shift in weight from against the door to a standing position was audible, yet hushed. The door cracked open and I soon was faced with a beaten and worn down Cathy. She was not the same Cathy I met when I moved in. No longer a picture of a perfect, boring woman was I presented with. Instead I was now being displayed a Cathy, the real Cathy, who was an imperfect, scared girl. She was still beautiful, and if you didn’t think so physically, her hardships and survival proved she was.