Chapter 14 - The Return to the Silent House
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Three weeks later, the autumn leaves had all fallen, leaving the trees around Brookfield Avenue bare and sharp against the gray November sky.
A medical transport van pulled into the driveway at 2:00 p.m.
The driver helped Russell out of the vehicle and into a sleek, black wheelchair. Russell's left side had regained minor movement through aggressive daily physical therapy, but his left arm still rested limply in a black mesh sling, and his speech remained slow and thick.
Leona opened the front door, holding it wide as the driver wheeled Russell into the entryway.
"Thank you," Leona told the driver, tipping him before closing the door.
Silence settled over the foyer once again.
Russell looked around the house he hadn't seen in nearly a month. Everything was spotless. The stain on the dining room rug was gone—replaced by a clean, neutral runner. His beer collection had been completely cleared out of the refrigerator.
Leona walked into the living room and pointed toward the ground floor guest bedroom—a small room off the hallway that had previously been used for storage.
A single medical-grade bed had been set up inside, alongside a small dresser and a walker.
"This is your room now," Leona said calmly, standing in the doorway.
Russell looked at the narrow single bed, then up at his wife.
"L... Leona," he said, forcing his tongue to shape the sounds carefully. "Our... our... room... upstairs?"
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"Our room upstairs is my room," Leona replied without hesitation. "You don't live upstairs anymore, Russell."
He swallowed hard, the sharp reality of his new life setting in. He was no longer the master of the house. He was an invalid living on the ground floor, entirely dependent on the woman he had spent six years betraying.
