It's the sound of his voice. Once familiar it has now become unrecognizable. Distant, exhausted, impatient. With her? Too afraid to ask, she endures a painful conversation filled with empty words and long silences as they both try to find something to say.
Is that Rudy? The familiar yapping in the background is a needed distraction from each other. For a short moment they talk, forgetting about themselves. But it's not enough to find the connection they once had. The call ends.
I'll see you later. With the phone still against her ear, she is tempted to dial back.
What's happening to us? She wants to know but she fears the answer.
She is holding her microphone as she walks around the stage, allowing the music to dictate her movements, the chanting of the crowd filling her whole again. In that moment she is not afraid anymore, she feels alive the way she once did, as the sea of strangers standing in front of her carries her through the night. Not a single thought comes to break her momentum. She is Toril. She is not My anymore. My with her heartbreak. My carrying around the broken pieces of a marriage she once believed in. Toril sings, and dances, and laughs. Until the lights turn off, the music stops and with the last applause she finds her way backstage where she left the haunting part of herself.
This is not it. She doesn't know what she wants anymore. He doesn't know either. Caught up in a moment, their future seemed entangled, full of promises and a bright light that nothing seemed to be able to come in between. She remembers when the way he used to look at her, filling her with strength she didn't know she had. She remembers how she seemed to be able to take his dark thoughts away. He used to be her anchor, she used to be his light. Not anymore. Two lovers became two strangers, unhappy and enraged as they both come to realize there is nothing to save anymore.
The collection of unknown cities, the coldness of a bed that is not hers, the unfamiliar faces have become her home. There is a certain sadness as she comes to the realization that what used to be her shelter in this chaotic world doesn't exist anymore. But she doesn't want this to ruin her. She doesn't want this to ruin what she worked for in nearly a decade. She can't help but feel guilty, laying down at night as sleep seems to be unable to find her. Was this my fault? She knows better than to let herself fall into a sleepless night analysis of her choices that led to this moment. I could have tried harder. She could have done so many things, but what if this would have always been the outcome?
Months went by where she was too busy trying to forget, trying to live to remember that this day was going to come. The final day of the battle, the official burial of a chapter in her life is here. She had thought she was ready, a week before. She has thought she was okay, three days before. She had thought it was going hurt so slightly, by lunch she wasn't going to feel a thing anymore, the night before. It's midnight and she's still crying in her empty glass of wine. The only reminder of her past life laying next to her, trying to give her the comfort that she needs. She was not ready. The sight of him again, right in front of her. The sound of his voice, not speaking to her. The way her fingers seemed to be unable to hold onto the pen as she signed the death sentence. A flashback to her shaking hand fighting to sign down her name, his comforting hand finding its place on her back. Everything will be okay, she had thought.
Everything will be okay, she whispers to herself. This is how our lives are going to be. Apart.