HOLLOW HEARTS

 

“ Well, I don't know. I just feel like something's missing.”

“ Maybe you should see him. You know what, Jackie? Maybe you shouldn't. Honestly, I don't know what you want from me or from yourself for that matter.”

“ Everyday, every moment of every day, I rattle off the same questions and wish I had the answer that would solve it all. All I'm asking is that you help me out a little. Is that too much to ask?”

John threw his hands over his head and silently stormed out of the dining room. Moments later, the screen door slammed.

Jackie pounded her head into a faded pillow.

“ I'm going to see him.” her muffled voice reported through layers of cotton.

With shaky hands, she opened the carefully composed letters. Soon, she found what she was looking for. At the bottom of a recent note was an address. The curvy script was difficult to decipher, but Jackie had studied the letters long enough to decode it.

Without further adieu, Jackie slid onto the warm leather seat of her Jeep and began driving.

“In 800 yards, turn left.” the GPS notified.

Jackie stole a quick glance at the houses lining the streets; each sunk sadly into the abandoned lawns. She followed the GPS signals, turning left twice and finally, right, onto a crumbling side street. An equally broken down house stood alone at the end of the street, daring Jackie to come closer. The paint had faded and flaked long ago. It seemed as though the weathered siding had been peeled off by hand, revealing the deteriorating framework. A closer look at a forgotten pile of wood nearby revealed the mere shell of what at one time, might have been a tool shed.

If her hands had been shaking before, she hadn't noticed. But now, her limbs were chattering, her heart punching the steering wheel she had attached her palms to.

She dismounted from her seat and parted from the safety of the car. Approaching what was left of the front door, Jackie frantically combed her fingers through her hair, searching for the right words that would soon be needed.

The steps shook under her weight. She stretched her arm forward. And knocked.

Silence.

Knocked again.

Nothing.

She turned on her heel, ready to retreat, as a gruff man presented himself in the doorway. He squinted into the sun as if he hadn't separated himself from the dim light indoors for weeks. His face was as worn as the house.

For a long while nothing was said.

At last, the silence was broken by a hesitant whisper.

“I'm Jacqueline.”