Chapter 82: Daily Life

Chapter 82: Daily Life

His phone lit up. A message from Seer.

[Klaus got discharged. He went to Europe. He says—he's not coming back.]

Kyle stared at the screen. Didn't reply.

He set the phone down. Irene looked at him.

"Kyle. He left?"

"He left."

She nodded. Said nothing.

That afternoon, Kyle went to pick up Amy. The school bus turned the corner, brakes squealing. The door opened, and kids jumped out one by one. Last one off—blonde hair, blue backpack. She wore a red sweater with the sleeves rolled up twice. She jumped down, saw him, and ran over.

"Kyle!" She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight.

They walked back. She moved fast, didn't talk. At the front door, she stopped.

"Kyle. Is anyone coming today?"

"No."

She nodded. Pushed the door open and ran inside. "Mom! Kyle says no one's coming today!"

Irene stood at the stove, spatula in hand. "Got it."

Amy climbed into her chair. Kyle sat down beside her. Irene brought out the food—tonight's dinner was especially good. Steak, pasta, seafood soup. Amy picked up her fork, grabbed a piece of beef, and put it in Kyle's bowl.

"Kyle. You eat."

He picked it up and put it in his mouth. Tender.

"How is it?"

"Good."

She smiled. Ate her own food. Took one bite, then stopped.

"Kyle. Is that person coming back?"

"No."

She nodded. Kept eating. Finished everything in her bowl, jumped down from the chair, and ran to the mantel. The crayon box was still there, next to the keys, birth certificate, textbook, list. She looked at them for a moment. Opened the crayon box, took out the yellow one, looked at it. Put it back. Closed the lid. Ran over and grabbed Kyle's hand.

"Kyle. Will you take me to school tomorrow?"

"Yes."

She nodded. Let go of his hand and ran to the stairs. "I'm going upstairs to draw." She ran up.

Kyle stood, walked to the door, and pushed it open. Stood on the steps. The corner was empty. The streetlight came on, illuminating the empty asphalt. He stood there for a while. Turned and went back inside. Didn't close the door. Walked back and sat down. Hands on his knees. He looked at the doorway. The door was open. The corner was empty. Klaus was gone. Wouldn't come back. He sat. The door stayed open. Life went on.

Kyle woke at four a.m. Lay in bed, listening to the wind outside. The wind stopped. No cars downstairs. He sat up and walked to the window. The corner was empty. The streetlight glowed, illuminating the empty asphalt. He looked for a while. Went downstairs.

Passed Amy's room—door open, she was sleeping on her side. Passed Irene's room—door closed. He walked to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and stood by the window drinking it. Finished. Set the glass down. Walked to the mantel. Keys, birth certificate, crayon box, textbook, list—all lined up. He looked at them for a while. Didn't touch anything. Walked back and sat down. Hands on his knees. The doorway was open—he could see the corner. Empty.

When dawn came, he stood, walked to the window, and pulled back the curtain. The corner was empty. He let the curtain fall, went upstairs. Amy was still asleep. He stood in her doorway, watching for a moment. She slept on her side, one hand out from under the covers, resting on the pillow. 'Knights and Dragons' was under the pillow, one corner showing. He stood there a while. Quietly closed the door. Went downstairs.

Irene stood in the kitchen doorway, coffee cup in hand.

"Kyle. Are you taking her today?"

"Yes."

She nodded. Handed him the coffee. He took it, drank a sip. Footsteps upstairs—Amy came running down, hair tied back with a blue ribbon. She wore the red sweater, sleeves rolled up twice. She saw Kyle.

"Kyle. Are we having bread today?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"Ask your mom."

Irene came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of cereal, set it in front of Amy. Amy picked up her spoon, took a bite.

"Kyle. You're wearing short sleeves today."

"Yes."

"Aren't you cold?"

"No."

She nodded. Finished the cereal, jumped down from the chair. "Let's go."

Kyle stood. Irene looked at him. He pushed the door open, walked into the sunlight with Amy. She moved fast, didn't hold his hand. At the school entrance, she stopped.

"Kyle. See you this afternoon."

"See you this afternoon."

She ran inside. When she reached the building entrance, she stopped and looked back at him. Two seconds. Then pushed the door open and disappeared into the hallway.

Kyle stood there, looking at the closed door. Stood for a while. Then turned and walked back. At the corner, he stopped. The ground was flat, black, dry. He looked at it for a moment. Kept walking. Pushed the door open. Irene stood by the window, curtain pulled back a crack. Dorothy sat at the dining table, knitting needles in hand.

"Kyle. Did anyone come?"

"No."

She nodded. Let the curtain fall, walked back, and sat down. Kyle sat across from her. They sat. Dorothy's needles moved in her hands. Light from outside leaked through the curtain gap—a small patch, changing from white to orange-red. The sun was setting. Kyle stood, walked to the window, pulled back the curtain. The corner was empty. He let the curtain fall, walked back, and sat down.

His phone lit up. A message from Seer.

[Klaus arrived in Europe. He says—he wishes your daughter well.]

Kyle stared at the screen. Typed: [Understood.]

He set the phone down. Irene looked at him.

"Kyle. What about later?"

"Later. Take her to school. Pick her up. Wait for her to grow up."

She nodded. Said nothing.

That evening, Amy came downstairs. She held a drawing, folded into quarters. She walked up to Kyle and handed it to him. He took it, unfolded it. The drawing showed a tree with red leaves, fallen all over the ground. Two figures stood beneath it—one tall, one short. The tall one held a key, the short one held a crayon. The title was written in the bottom right corner: 'Later.'

Kyle looked at it for a while. Folded the drawing and tucked it into his left sleeve.

"Kyle. Will you leave later?"

"No."