What Sounds Like Him

I hear him whisper my name from the hallway.

"Elisa."

He's downstairs. I can hear the TV on.

I look anyway. Empty hallway. Then I hear it again.

"...can't stop..."

His voice. I know his voice.

I go downstairs. He's on the couch. Hasn't moved.

"Did you call me?"

He looks confused. "No?"

I stand there staring at him. He's looking at me like I'm crazy.

Two days later I'm chopping vegetables. He's in the garage. I hear him whisper right behind me.

"...already here..."

I spin around. Nothing.

I check the garage. He's on his phone. Hasn't moved.

"Were you just in the kitchen?"

"No. Been out here."

My hands shake when I go back to chopping.

It keeps happening. His voice. Whispering. Always when he's somewhere else.

"...sorry..."

"...didn't know..."

"...too late..."

I start watching him. The way he stands in doorways listening to nothing. The way he sits at the kitchen table for hours staring at the basement door.

At night I lie next to him wondering if he's asleep or pretending.

I find him in the garage at midnight. Sitting on the concrete in the dark.

"What are you doing?"

"Listening."

I don't ask what for. Go back inside alone.

The whispers are constant now. From the basement when he's upstairs. From the backyard when he's in the shower. From Henley's room when he's standing next to me.

One night I hear it from the kitchen and run fast as I can. Burst in. He's washing dishes.

"Were you just talking?"

"No?"

He looks confused. Like he doesn't know what I'm talking about. Like I'm losing my mind.

Maybe I am.

The next day I'm putting groceries away. I hear the whisper right next to me.

"...can't stop it..."

I turn my head slowly. He's standing in the doorway. Watching me. His mouth isn't moving but I can hear him.

"...already here..."

"Stop it," I say.

"Stop what?"

"Whatever you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything."

He looks scared. Not of me. Of something else. But I don't care. I'm scared of him.

I start avoiding him. Different rooms. Different times. The whispers don't stop.

One morning I wake at 3 AM and he's gone. Find him at the kitchen table in the dark. Staring at the basement door.

I put my hand on his shoulder. He flinches.

"Don't," he says.

"Don't what?"

He doesn't answer. Just keeps staring at that door.

Next morning he's watching me in the bathroom mirror. Don't know how long he's been there.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Just got here."

I don't believe him.

"I'm taking Henley to my mom's this weekend," I say.

He just nods. Doesn't ask why. And that's worse somehow.

We leave Friday. When he hugs me he's shaking. It's seventy degrees out.

As we pull away I look in the mirror. He's standing in the driveway watching us. And I hear it even though we're fifty feet away. Windows up. Radio on.

"...sorry..."

That night at my mom's I hear it again.

"Elisa."

Clear as anything. But he's thirty miles away.

I check my phone. Nothing. The whisper comes again.

"...please..."

"...come back..."

I turn on the lights. Check the room. Nothing. But I can still hear it. Like he's calling from somewhere far away.

All weekend. His voice. Whispering.

"...don't..."

"...need you..."

"...wrong..."

Always there. In the background. Like static.

Sunday night I'm putting Henley to bed. The whisper comes louder.

"...should have run..."

Right in my ear. I turn around fast. Henley is brushing her teeth. No one else.

"Mom? You okay?"

"Yeah, bug."

But that whisper was different. Not calling me. Warning me.

I lie awake all night. The whispers come in waves.

"...already here..."

"...can't stop..."

"...too late..."

At 2 AM I almost call him. Fingers on his name. But what would I say? I put the phone down.

Monday morning the whispers are constant.

"...come back..."

"...need you..."

"...please..."

I try calling him. Goes to voicemail. Try again. Same thing. The whispers don't stop.

I'm hearing his voice when I shouldn't be. He's either doing something to me or I'm breaking down. Either way something is very wrong.

Tuesday my mom takes Henley to the park. I'm alone.

The whispers are so loud I can barely think.

"...wrong..."

"...sorry..."

"...didn't mean..."

I try calling again. It rings once. Goes dead. Like his phone is off. The whispers keep going.

"...come back..."

I hang up. Sit there staring at my phone.

I'm going to have to decide. Go back or stay here. Face it or keep running.

That night the whispers stop.

Completely.

I lie in bed listening to silence for the first time in days. No fragments. No static. Nothing.

I should feel relieved.

I don't.

I check my phone. 8 PM. Try calling him. Straight to voicemail. Try again. Same thing.

The silence presses against my ears. Too loud. Too complete.

I get out of bed. Pace the room. Check my phone again. Nothing.

At 9 PM I call his phone one more time. It doesn't even ring. Just goes straight to a message saying the number is no longer in service.

I stare at my phone.

His number can't just stop working.

I try texting. The message turns green. Won't deliver.

My hands start shaking.

10 PM. Still nothing. No whispers. No calls. No texts going through.

I sit on the floor with my back against the bed. Phone in my hand. Waiting.

For what, I don't know. For the whispers to come back maybe. For him to call. For something.

But there's only silence.

And silence means something happened.

Something changed.

At 11 PM I hear Henley get up to use the bathroom. Hear her walk past my door. Hear the bathroom door close.

Then I hear it.

Not him.

Her.

A whisper from inside my room. Right next to me.

"...mommy..."

Henley's voice.

But Henley is in the bathroom. I can hear the sink running.

The whisper comes again. Closer.

"...come home..."

I turn on the light. Empty room. Just me.

The bathroom door opens. Henley walks past toward her room. Doesn't look at me.

I grab my keys and run downstairs. I start the car and hear Henley whisper from the back seat.

"...we're going home..."

The back seat is empty.