Page 96 of The Sound in Silence

“Work, actually. I have to drive to a few of the clubs to complete some rounds. Haven’t been to any of our locations in a while. Besides, it keeps me away from the house for now, while Doc checks on Ariella.”

“Gotcha.”

I drive off, without looking into the rear-view mirror. Without looking back at that man’s corpse.

Killing a man wasn’t the most striking part of my day so far. Learning that someone wants me or Ariella dead—or both—is.

Ariella

“Hey,” I greet as soon my sister answers the phone.

Seated by the fish tank, watching the multi-coloured creatures go around and around, I’m waiting for Erico’s family doctor to arrive. Entirely unnecessary, but at this point, I’m so used to every variety of professional, what’s another one to add to my roster?

“Hey!” she replies, her voice almost tinging with a question. “You calledme…and you sound well.”

“I feel good.” Better than in a long time. The darkness hasn’t creeped up at all today.

Yet.

Stupid annoying, inner voice. It’s entirely incorrect. The nice feelingwillstick.

“That’s…great.” She chuckles. “So Erico’s treating you better than the beginning?”

“Yeah, that’s actually what I called about.” I pause, my thoughts formulating into statements that’ll make sense for us both. “Della, I managed totalkto him.”

Silence.

Three seconds pass.

Ten seconds.

“Della?”

“That’s…wow. Not what I was expecting you to say. So, like…you…like…what?” For once, my articulate sister is so tongue-tied, I laugh.

“I really don’t know. Every time I tried to in the past, my throat gets clogged. Like I can’t force it out. The memory of—”

Crash!

Metal scraping against metal.

Tires squealing.

“Anyway,” I continue, without losing myself down that train of thought, “it was different this time.”

“This time,” she repeats, still in that questioning tone. “What madethistime so different?”

If I admit everything, Della’s protectiveness will return and she’ll freak out that I joined him for the race. Admittingwhyand what got me to speak would mean telling the rest.

I go with a partial truth: “I don’t know how it works, or what was in my head. I called his name, and then…kept going. That was yesterday. Late last night, I guess. This morning, I woke almost convinced I dreamed the entire thing.” I pause, thinking over my next words, my excitement for them not tapered down. “I’m able to talk to my husband. Iwantto talk to him.”

After all that, she only replies with two words. Words that are already facts to me. “You’re happy.”

The sun smashes through the final dimness.

“I am.”

“You care for him. I’ve never heard you sound like this.” Her tone is edged, concerned almost.

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