The phone in my palms buzzed for the seventh time this hour alone, but my body didn't lurch to answer. It had been the same for the past few days, and as much as I wanted to speak to my parents, I couldn't ignore the underlying pit in my stomach at the fact I wasn't the daughter I used to be for them.
I was also still beyond desperate for some space, a chance to breathe, something I hadn't found despite the fact loneliness had haunted me since I had arrived in New York. It was a battle between wanting someone to talk to, but at he same time, not wanting to answer the trivial questions that my mother would be sure to raise, been as we now knew very little about one another, so there wasn't much else to say.
The pain in my chest must be miniscule compared to what my parents felt. They had lost the very substance of their daughter, leaving behind a limp casket of bones that couldn't tell the difference between people she had known all of her life and the strangers she passed fleetingly. To put it simply, their daughter was gone. They had no hope of her of returning when she was thousands of miles away with no triggers to call forth the memories they had ensured themselves were buried deep inside her cells.
I, on the other hand, was beginning to think that they weren't there at all. If anything they were fragments of what they used to be, ones that would never fit together to carve the full picture of the life I used to live. It pained me to know that, but as each day passed I became more accepting to what was going on. I'd lost months to my recovery already, so I was determined to not elongate that by dwelling over nearly two decades that I couldn't remember.
A sigh left my lips as my phone rang out again, distancing my thoughts and forcing my attention onto the persistent device staring me down. I bit my lip, giving myself little time to backtrack my decision as I lunged for it, answering the call in an instant.
"Adelaide?" my mother appeared taken back by my sudden desire to respond to her advance. "Adelaide is that you?"
"Yeah, it is," I responded quietly.
"Are you okay? You haven't been answering my calls and we've been worried-"
"I'm fine mum. I've just needed some space that's all."
"Yes but we haven't spoken since you left, and I was getting worried about you."
"I know you are," I reminded. "Dad's spoken to Luke too, so it's not as if you haven't heard from either of us."
"Luke isn't our son though Adelaide. After everything you've been through, surely you can understand my concern?"
"Of course I can. I've just been appreciating a little head space recently, I've had a lot to think through," I replied honestly.
"Have you and Luke been getting on okay?" she asked tenderly, quickly averting the conversation away from my clearly diminishing mental health. I frowned at the thought, knowing she cared, but evidently didn't understand what I was going through in the slightest.
"I can tolerate him. I'm not sure he'd say the say about me though."
My mother let a laugh fall through her lips, "Typical Luke that is. He'll grow on you, I promise."
"I'll hold you to that," I said, holding back a small smile. "How've you and dad been?"
"I haven't seen much of him. He's been at the unit every day, trying to find leads and he's had a team go out to-" she paused as quiet shuffling around her caught my attention.
"Go where?" I pushed, wanting to know what words had edged to the end of her throat but failed on their departure.
My father's distance voice could be heard uttering on the other end of the line before my mother mumbled a response, "That doesn't matter Adelaide, I've said more than I should have."
