ardiente .

The work day felt longer than it used to. Before he had a wife and child, Joseph could easily work overtime without even noticing; however, now, he was eager to clock out at 5 o’clock. These long days and even longer weeks were brightened every now and then when Pippa swung by during his lunch hour, Penelope in tow. A grin spread across otherwise exhausted features every time the two entered his office, all work paused and focus shifted on the two loves of his life. He straightened his shoulders as small hands tugged at his hair, turning in his swivel chair to face them with open arms. “ Come here, baby girl, ” he beamed up at his daughter, “ Let daddy see you. ”

W/ JOSEPH ESTRADA | WASHINGTON HEIGHTS, NYC | JUNE 30th, 2017 | THREAD #001

her eyes were fixated on the floor of the apartment, legs curled under her, making the petite girl seem even smaller. she felt small, if the truth were to be told. she’d gone from feeling as if she would burst out of sheffield, out of her life there; every moment she spent cooped up inside bloating and inflating her until she felt like she would pop. that’s why she left. she would swell & swell & swell, heart beating faster and faster until panic rose in her, a wannabe heart attack pounding in her chest. but her symptoms increased whenever she saw him. she knew it was wrong of her --- --- joseph had lost a child too. he’d been there for her, from the moment she’d held pregnancy test in shaking hands to the moments she’d not been there for him. since the news that her son would never be brought into the world ( at least, not with a HEARTBEAT ), pippa’s mind had been absent. days were spent curled under covers, eyes staring at walls like she was waiting for the already settled paint to dry. there were no tears, no words. she was just a carcass, dead eyes and still body waiting to rot. 

and she couldn’t look at him. that had been the selfish part. every inch of him reminded her of every moment they’d spent waiting for michael. every carefully folded onesie and hand rested on her stomach to feel him kick. everyone had been hush hush about miscarriage, but it was only unspoken. no one thought of seeing the eyes of your child, but glassy instead of bright with life. no one thought of their hands lying limp instead of curling into fists around your pinky finger. no one spoke of skin that was supposed to be pink being painted a dull blue. she fucking HATED the color blue. it used to be her favorite. 

she had been gone for months, and her absence hadn’t changed her behavior. she’d go days without eating until she was too dizzy to stand up. she’d go days without bathing, only washing her hair in the motel room sink when she was too afraid to leave for the food she wouldn’t eat looking like she did. mindless tv and half read tabloids were always present, waiting for her to finish them instead of falling asleep, eyes still dry and the lump still in the dry streak of her dehydrated throat. 

and when she’d finally returned, things had been different between them. tentative, both walking on eggshells. though she hadn’t HAD to. she barely spoke, barely moved, barely took her eyes off whatever she was currently focused on. life was slow, life was dull ---- live was PAINFUL.

and then, things had gotten better. it wasn’t overnight, it was  G R A D U A L. she spoke in short, quiet sentences, “good morning”s and “how are you”s, and once she mustered up the strength to eat again, muffled requests to pass the salt. then she had begun regular conversation, sometimes reading or watching the television or organizing something mundane. it was minimal, but it was PROGRESS. and now, she was back to normal ---- at least, compared to others. compared to her old self, it was as if a light had snuffed itself out and only figured out how to partially rekindle. but things were better. things felt like maybe, just maybe, they could somehow be okay again. 

she heard the door of their apartment open and saw a familiar face entering --- new york hadn’t been impulsive, but the agreement on her part had been an immediate agreement. she needed out of sheffield, out of the house that suffocated her, out of the view of people that looked at her as if she would magically become better under the gaze of their pity. she stood up, fumbling her words a little bit as she stuck her arm out, clearing her throat. she still needed to work on talking to him NORMALLY again, rather than constantly reaching for him physically ------- to reassure herself he wasn’t gone as well.