Chapter 120 Quiet Smile
Annabel’s footsteps were gentle on the wood floor as she ascended the stairs. Her heart was light despite the weight of her body.
She arrived at her room, pushed the door open and entered. There was a slight smell of soap and pencil dust in the room and the air was cool.
Turning she softly shut the door. After that she leaned her back against it and exhaled deeply.
Like a blanket, the silence encircled her. She gave herself a quiet smile as she tipped her head back.
She smiled again and whispered “Why didn’t he go to bed?”
A tiny habit she had when she was deep in thought was to lightly bite her finger. As though she could still see Fred downstairs she shifted her gaze to the door.
She smiled softly and said “Even though I tell him not to, he waits every night.”
She moved away from the door and approached the bed slowly. Her thoughts were loud but her footsteps were silent.
She took a seat on the bed’s edge and surveyed the space. Her sketchbooks on the desk, the lamp next to her bed and the partially open window that let in the streetlight made everything seem simple.
She let her hair fall over her shoulders after letting it loosen. She then used both hands to rub her eyes.
“I’d better go to bed,” she muttered. “It is late.”
But she hadn’t yet lied down. Her thoughts remained occupied. The Lighthouse Museum project crossed her mind. She had completed it. It was ideal.
But now in the silence she thought about Fred once more.
“What makes him so nice all the time?” She asked “Why does he wait for me?”
Soft almost like a sigh, her voice broke the stillness. She rose and moved toward the window. Outside she could make out the dim forms of the city—calm drowsy serene—as the streetlights below glowed softly.
She smiled once more.
“He’s probably cleaning the living room right now…Or rereading that aqueduct book” she suggested.
She laughed softly as she rested her head against the window frame.
Then she said “Fred.You’re so impossible.”
The glass felt cool on her skin. He was sleeping on the sofa with his head turned to the side and the book on the rug when she first arrived home, she recalled as she briefly closed her eyes.
His appearance had been calm, kind and devoid of rage.
“I didn't realize I needed his calm,” she remarked. “He just stays without asking for anything”
She spoke in a gentle yet affectionate tone. She returned to the bed after turning away from the window.
After pushing the blanket away she took a seat once more. The sheets had a chill. She stretched out and sank into the mattress after sliding beneath them.
She told herself that her work had been crazy. She claimed that there were too many meetings and drawings.
With her back to the wall she rolled onto her side.
“But he still listens when I talk about everything,” she said. “Even when I babble for hours.”
A smile curved her lips once more.
“He just listens.”She remarked “He never interrupts.”
As though he were there, she reached out and touched the pillow next to her.
“Thank you Fred,” she muttered. “For being kind and waiting”
There was silence once more. She could only hear the soft hum of the refrigerator downstairs.
Her breath came out slowly.
“Perhaps I ought to have said more” she said “Perhaps I ought to have explained to him how important it was.”
She blinked open her eyes once more and gazed at the gentle shadows that danced on the ceiling.
She recalled his earlier smile at her: it was soft and drowsy, the kind that soothed her heart even when her head was racing.
Softly, she remarked “He makes things feel easy. Everything feels lighter around him.”
She started to laugh a little.
“It’s unbelievable that he stayed up every night.” She said,
Glancing up, she rolled onto her back. The ceiling appeared far away.
“When I’m not home I wonder what he thinks” she remarked. “Does he just sit there waiting or does he accidentally fall asleep again?”
She imagined him sleeping with a book in his lap. She smiled once more.
She chuckled and remarked “He probably tells himself he’s not waiting. But he is.”
Bringing the blanket closer to her shoulders she did so. Her cheek came into contact with her fingers.
There she sensed a slight graphite smudge.
“I haven't washed my face. That would get me reprimanded by Fred” she said.
She spoke in a lighthearted, loving and playful tone.
“He’d say, Annabel, you need to take care of yourself” she mimicked his tone. “Even when I refused he would still make me tea.”
She softened her eyes once more.
“Perhaps I’ll thank him in the morning” she said “Perhaps I should prepare him breakfast tomorrow morning.”
She stopped and gave it some thought. With a slight smile she said “Pancakes. He enjoys pancakes.”
Pancakes and morning sunlight were on her mind as she lay there with her eyes half closed.
“I'm lucky. I have a caring friend.”she remarked.
She felt her heartbeat slow as her hand settled on her chest.
“I'm lucky.”She repeated
As she whispered to the empty room her lips moved even though her thoughts started to wander.
She wasn’t sure if it was from quiet joy or exhaustion but a tiny tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
Pulling the blanket tighter, she rolled back onto her side.
“Good night Fred” she murmured.
The apartment was quiet downstairs. A faint creaking sound came from somewhere below. Perhaps Fred was locking the door or switching off the last light.
The idea made her smile.
The room became quiet once more. Her face was calm and pale when the street light fell on it.
She shut her eyes. Fred’s smile came to mind in her final conscious moment—warm, steady and secure.
Then she gave a final smile before falling asleep.