Chapter Text
With just a little nudge, the tomato fell right into an open palm that was waiting to harvest it. The fruit was the brightest shade of red, and when Phil wiped the delicate skin with a corner of his shirt, he could see his smiling face in the reddish reflection. He put the tomato in a basket and looked at his hands.
There was dirt under his fingernails, a familiar and welcome sight. It has been there since forever, never disappearing no matter how hard Phil tried to wash it off.
Wiping his hands on his trousers, Phil began picking and cleaning everything up. There are still some vegetables left to be picked up but they still have some time.
He glances to his side. There sits a little hand shovel with a pink handle. It's dirty and scratched, clearly loved and used. And it's precious. It's something that Phil cherishes because it's his son's. It's Techno's shovel.
( First June, his oldest son's birthday. He's 12 already, why do they grow so fast?
The whole family is sitting on the couch, watching as Techno opens his presents.
A macaroni necklace from 4 year old Tommy. He put it on right away, smiling at his little brother.
A brand new book about Greek mythology from a 10 year old Wilbur. The middle child was saving his allowance for half a year to buy it from the pretty book shop in the big town. He always saw how his big brother looked at it when they passed the shop on their way to school. And now he could see how he tried to stop the tears gathering at his eyelashes from falling.
Wilbur smiled brightly at his brother and then made fun of him for being a cry baby because of a stupid book.
Techno picked up the smallest present box near him, ready to throw it at Wilbur but Phil and Kristin stopped him before he could.
He looked at the little package, inspecting it closely. It was wrapped in red paper and a big yellow ribbon at the top.
He carefully removed the strip of fabric and peeled of the wrapping paper.
He pulled of the lid of the little box and froze.
Inside was an old black phone with buttons. The ones that you got to press 3 times to get one letter and if you clicked the internet icon it was the end of the world. He looked at his parents, mouth open in schock.
"What is it? What is it?" Little Tommy started shouting, getting off the couch and leaning over Techno's shoulder. "Ohhhh" The kid oh and ah'ed at the present
"Does it have games?" Tommy scretched his clumsy hands to grab the phone.
Phil grabbed him in the last second, putting him on his lap.
"No sweetheart, it doesn't have games" Kristin informed the younger. "It does not have internet too, but we, I mean me and your father, thought it would be a good idea that you should have a phone to call us in case of an emergency."
"Thank you" the teen said. "I'm sure it will be helpful."
Then, mum handed him the last present, this one in a gift bag.
"Now that you opened the best present this one is going to be kinda lame, huh?" She admitted sitting back on the couch.
Techno looked inside and immediately smiled.
He reached inside and pulled out a small, hand shovel. It was brand new, with a pink handle and a name scratched on on the metal. 'For Techno, From Mum' it read with a small, clumsy flower beside.)
(Later that day Phil watched Techno plant his first vegetable in a corner of the garden with the help of his mother. It was potatoes)
Phil smiled softly at the memory. He really missed those times. When the family was all together, in one place and happy. Now, when he looked around him, the only thing he sees are things left behind. Tommy's bike is still sitting against the tree in the front yard.
Now barely visible paint handprints on the wall of the house, left there when his sons were just little boys. And Kristin's wind chimes, gently playing their songs as the wind made them dance around in the air.
But even now, when Phil is sitting alone in this old house, he is happy. So unbelievably happy, because his boys have grown up. They have their own lives, having adventures and making friends. After all, he couldn't be in their lives forever, even if he wanted to. So he's happy that his sons won't have to miss him when he's gone.
He climbs the stairs of the porch, listening to the dings and clangs of the wind chime hanging above the railing. He slowly walks through the door, not closing it behind himself. The day is beautiful and the air the perfect kind of chilly, so it won't hurt to leave it open for a while. Step by step he makes his way through the corridor, passing various pictures and drawings hanging on the walls. Here and there there is an imperfection too. A bit of paint dried on the floor from repainting the walls, crayon art on the walls from back when there were toddlers running around. Even a small hole at head level from the time Techno tried to kill Wilbur for snooping around his room.
As Phil passed each room in the house, the kitchen, the bedrooms, the living room, more and more memories resurfaced. And all of them had one thing in common.
His family.
His 3 boys and late wife.
Oh, he missed them so much." I would give anything to see them all here one more time..." Phil thought, entering the kitchen to make himself dinner. He put down the basket he was carrying on the counter, getting ready to clean before getting to work when suddenly the home phone rang.
It was so unexpected that Phil's heart skipped a beat and he froze in the middle of the room.
His gaze was stuck, looking in the direction the noise was coming from.
The only working phone in the house was the landline phone in the living room, right next to the soft, comfy armchair that belonged to Phil since the begining of time. It's the same chair that Kristin would sit in and read a bedtime story to the boys. Tommy would always sit on her lap to look at the pictures in the book, Wilbur on the floor by her left leg, and Techno by her right.
(As they grew older, they stopped coming down in the evening, one by one.)
Phil stood at the threshold of the living room, silently staring at the still ringing phone.
Even though he heard that sound millions of time, this time it seemed unfamiliar. Foreign.
He wasn't expecting for anyone to call for another week. Next Thursday is the routine check up on Tommy, where the youngest assures his father that all is going well and talk about his adventures for hours, till his voice gets rough.
So now, as he stood there in an empty house, Phil slowly, carefully made his way to the stool the machine was sitting on.
Gently picking up the handset he put it up to his ear.
"Hello?"
Silence met him at the other end of the call.
He waited five second, then another few and was ready to just hung up and forget about this when he heard faint shuffling from the speaker.
"Uhh, Hello? Dad, Can you hear me?" A deep, rough voice replied "There might be some delay when talking, since I'm calling from overseas so don't be alarmed if I don't respond for a while."
Techno's voice was just as he remembered it, flat and throaty but if you heard it all your life you know every little secret it hides. Right now it was happy and curious, waiting to talk to his father after months of radio silence.
"I- what-" Phil hesitated "Techno? Is this you?"
A few second passed.
"Yes, yes it's me. Hi dad..."