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In the evenings, the Redfield house was usually quiet. It wasn’t the pleasant, peaceful kind of silence that came after a long day, when everyone was tired and simply went about their own business. That night, the silence felt different. There was something tense about it. Something that had been hanging in the air for hours and wasn’t going to disappear just because the clock was creeping toward midnight.
Chris sat on the living room couch with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together in front of him. The TV was on, but he had no idea what had been playing for the past two hours. Every now and then, he glanced at the clock on the shelf, then at the phone lying beside him. Then back at the TV, as if he kept hoping that, if he looked again, the hands would somehow move backward by a few dozen minutes.
They didn’t.
10:14 p.m.
Chris sighed and reached for his phone. The screen lit up his face. No new messages.
He swiped across the screen to unlock it, even though he knew perfectly well there was nothing there that he hadn’t already seen.
Claire’s last message had come at 6:47 p.m.
I’ll be home later.
Later.
Chris genuinely had no idea who had first decided that word was precise enough.
For Claire, later could mean twenty minutes. It could also mean two hours. Apparently, that night it meant something else entirely.
He set the phone down. He tried to convince himself there was no reason to worry.
Claire was seventeen, not seven. She could take care of herself. She was sensible. She knew the way home. She didn’t do stupid things. Usually.
Chris leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. Don’t worry was very easy advice to give until it involved someone you actually cared about.
He opened his eyes when he heard a car driving down the street. His heart sped up for a second. The car continued on.
Chris clenched his jaw. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. He wasn’t going to lecture Claire. He wasn’t going to act like her father. He was her older brother. Six years older, not sixty. Besides, he remembered perfectly well what it had been like to be seventeen himself.
That was exactly why he knew that having his parents ask where he’d been and what time he was coming home hadn’t exactly been his favorite thing. And that was exactly why he didn’t want to be another person constantly keeping tabs on Claire.
He just wanted to know that she was okay. That wasn’t asking too much.
11:02 p.m.
Chris got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, stared inside, then closed it without taking anything out. A moment later, he opened it again.
“Great,” he muttered to himself.
He wasn’t even hungry.
He grabbed a bottle of water and went back to the living room.
11:19 p.m.
This time, he heard a key turning in the lock.
Chris froze. The door opened slowly. Claire stepped inside, trying to be as quiet as possible. She was wearing a jacket that she’d apparently just thrown over her shoulders. She held her bag in one hand while using the other to close the door behind her. Her hair was slightly tousled from the wind. She took two steps. Then she saw him.
Claire stopped. Chris was sitting on the couch with a bottle of water in his hand. The TV was still on. For a moment, they simply stared at each other in silence.
Claire glanced at the clock. Then back at him.
“Hey.”
Chris raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Hey.”
Claire closed her eyes for a second. She knew. Of course she knew.
“I know.”
“What do you know?”
“That it’s late.”
Chris looked at the clock.
“It is.”
Claire sighed and set her bag down by the stairs.
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t answer right away. That was worse than yelling.
If he got angry, she could argue with him. She could roll her eyes, tell him he was overreacting, slam her bedroom door, and fifteen minutes later everything would be back to normal. But Chris didn’t yell. He never had to raise his voice for Claire to know when he was genuinely worried.
“Did you have fun?” he asked calmly.
Claire nodded.
“Yeah.”
“That’s good.”
Silence settled between them.
Chris set the bottle down on the coffee table.
“Next time, call me.”
Claire looked at him more closely.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You’re not mad?”
Chris shook his head.
“I’m a little tired.”
Claire almost smiled.
“You’ve been sitting here the whole time?”
“No.”
“Chris.”
“What?”
“You’ve been sitting here.”
“Maybe.”
“All evening?”
Chris shrugged.
“I had something to do.”
Claire looked at the TV. The show playing on the screen wasn’t something Chris had been watching, even when he was actually looking at it. Then she looked at the book lying on the coffee table. It was open to the same page as before.
Finally, she looked at his phone.
“You really were worried.”
Chris didn’t answer. Claire knew him well enough that she didn’t need him to.
She walked across the living room and sat down at the other end of the couch.
“I could’ve called.”
“You could have.”
“I forgot.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I know, Claire.”
His voice was gentle. There was no anger in it. And somehow, that made her feel even worse.
“We were at Jenny’s,” she said after a moment. “Then we started talking. After that, we went to get something to eat and… it just kind of happened.”
Chris nodded.
“I understand.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Claire studied him suspiciously.
“Then why do you look like you’re about to banish me from the country?”
Chris let out a quiet laugh.
“I don’t look like that.”
“You do.”
“That’s just my face.”
“You have a very judgmental face.”
“And you have a very annoying habit of being late.”
Claire smiled to herself.
“Well, now we’re home.”
Chris shook his head, but he smiled too. For a moment, they sat in silence. This time, the silence felt different. Claire took off her jacket and placed it beside her.
“When did you start worrying?”
Chris looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Chris.”
He sighed.
“Around nine.”
Claire frowned.
“That’s over two hours.”
“Mhm.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“What was I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know. You could’ve called.”
Chris looked at her for a moment.
“I figured that since you said you’d be home later, you were probably having a good time.”
“And that’s why you didn’t call?”
“I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends.”
Claire lowered her gaze. It was so like him. Chris could be annoying. He could be overprotective. He could treat her like a child even when Claire reminded him that she hadn’t been one in years. But he never did it because he wanted to control her. He just worried.
Always.
“You should’ve called,” she said quietly.
“I’ll call next time.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Claire nodded.
“Okay.”
Chris glanced at the clock.
“And you’ll call next time too.”
“Yeah.”
“Not yeah, yeah. You will call.”
“I will.”
“Even if it’s just ‘I’m alive.’”
Claire looked at him, amused.
“That’s a very high standard of communication.”
“It’s enough for me.”
“I could call and say, ‘I’m alive, I’m not dead.’”
Chris raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t push it.”
Claire laughed quietly. The tension finally left her shoulders. Only now did she notice how tired he looked. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes. His hair was slightly messy, as though he’d been running a hand through it every few minutes. An empty coffee cup sat on the table.
One.
Then Claire noticed another in the kitchen. And a third. She looked at him.
“How many coffees did you have?”
Chris glanced toward the kitchen.
“I don’t know.”
“Chris.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Maybe three.”
Claire shook her head.
“You’re impossible.”
“Says the person who came home after eleven without sending a single message.”
“It wasn’t necessary.”
“That’s why I had to drink coffee.”
Claire snorted.
“That makes absolutely no sense.”
“It makes sense to me.”
For a moment, they were quiet again.
Claire rested her head against the back of the couch.
“I’m sorry.”
Chris looked at her. This time, she wasn’t joking.
“I know.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to apologize ten times.”
“But you were worried.”
“Yeah.”
“Because of me.”
Chris was silent for a moment. Then he shifted slightly on the couch, resting his forearms on his knees.
“Not because of you. I was worried about you.”
Claire looked at him. It was a simple sentence, but it hit her harder than she’d expected.
Chris shrugged.
“You’re my little sister. I guess that’s part of the deal.”
Claire smiled faintly.
“I don’t remember signing anything.”
“You were too young.”
“So you signed for me?”
“Someone had to.”
Claire shook her head.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Maybe.”
She stood up from the couch.
“I’m going to bed.”
“Goodnight.”
She took a few steps toward the stairs, then stopped and turned around.
Chris was still sitting on the couch.
“Chris?”
“Hm?”
“Thanks for waiting.”
He looked at her. This time, his smile was barely noticeable.
“Sure.”
Claire nodded and headed upstairs. A few seconds later, Chris heard her bedroom door close. Only then did he allow himself to really breathe. He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.
He knew he should have been firmer. He knew that a seventeen-year-old coming home this late without sending a single message wasn’t something that should simply be ignored. Next time, he really would call. He’d tell her she needed to let him know. Maybe they’d even agree on a specific time for her to be home. But not tonight. Tonight, the important thing was that Claire was home.
Safe and sound.
Chris reached for his phone and looked at the screen.
11:27 p.m.
He unlocked it and stared at the empty message inbox for a moment before setting the phone down. Finally, he didn’t have to wait anymore. Quiet footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Claire appeared again, this time wearing pajamas, her hair tied messily at the back.
Chris looked at her questioningly.
“I forgot something.”
“What?”
“To say goodnight.”
Chris smiled.
“Goodnight, Claire.”
“Goodnight.”
She stood there for another second, as if she wanted to add something, but in the end she simply nodded at him and went back upstairs.
Chris watched her until she disappeared around the corner. Only then did he turn off the TV. The living room fell into darkness. And for the first time in three hours, Chris didn’t have to look at the clock anymore.