At the landing where the grand single marble staircase split into two heading off in opposite directions, Eileen veered right. What were Henry’s directions again? She continued up until at the top she faced a long hallway with several closed doors. She couldn’t remember which room Henry had said was hers, but she hoped she wouldn’t accidentally stumble into Simon again so soon.

Without a clue, she cracked the first door off the second floor landing slowly, just in case Simon was in there sleeping, changing clothes—crying. She absolutely did not want to disturb him right now. When she didn’t hear anything, she dared to push the door further.

She remembered this room. It was Clare’s study. Three years ago she had sat on that white couch, drinking a glass of wine with her sister, watching the sun set over the Pacific. The room looked exactly the same as she recalled. No furniture had moved; no new artwork filled the walls. Even the early evening light flooding in through the massive glass walls was the same. Eileen’s eyes were drawn to the sun on the horizon, the radiant half disc throwing a shattering of orange and yellow light out across the ocean.

She came fully into Clare’s room and closed the door behind her. Standing with her back pressed to the door, Eileen stared into her sister’s space. The silence—it was so profound, so pervasive, it struck Eileen with a chill.

Eileen’s life, filled with her children, her dogs, her phone, her…husband—it was a constant chaos. Silence never had any chance of taking hold anywhere at any time. When she had been here before, in this very room, Eileen had dragged all that life chaos with her. She hadn’t realized before, not really, what Clare’s daily world was like—the stillness, the eerie quiet of a day not filled to overflowing with other needful bodies. Eileen had been unable to see how her own family had come in and filled up this empty house. It seemed very different to her now.

Was this really how Clare had wanted to live?