He closes the door softly behind him. The house is quiet and gray and for a moment he stops to remember days when he would have come in with his friends laughing and his mother would have been waiting and the house would be bright and colorful. He hasn't brought friends over for a few years now. "Dad?" he calls out shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket and crossing the living room.
He finds his father at the bottom of the stairs, two suitcases at his side. He doesn't need to ask. The look in his father's gray-blue eyes-so different from the vibrant blue ones he inherited from his mother-says everything. His father leans down and whispers in his ear "Your mother's waiting upstairs. I'll call you." He brushes aside a strand of Robert's long blond hair and kisses his forehead, then picks up the suitcases. Robert watches him cross the living room and go out the door and listens to the car engine until it fades away. He brushes away tears before slowly making his way up the stairs, dreading what he will find in his parents' room. His father's call never comes.