She slowly shook her head no and licked her lips. Looking him in the eyes, she placed the head of his cock at the entrance to her pussy and slowly began to sit down on it. The rest of us watched entranced as she worked his huge cock into her tight little pussy. She worked it in much faster than I would have expected, but still somewhat cautiously, steadily pushing further down onto it until she had the entire thing inside her. Once she bottomed out, she started shaking all over from an intense orgasm, reaching up to pinch her own nipples as she did.
All three of us that had been watching this were rock hard again. The other two stood up and went over on either side of her to get some attention, but I wasn’t sure she’d be able to do anything other than ride the monster that she was now straddling. Full of surprises, though, she reached out and took a cock in each hand and began to stroke them as she started to move up and down on the cock beneath her. Once she got into a steady rhythm, she began alternately sucking on the two cocks in her hands. I was amazed at her ability to do all these things at once. Not only did she do them well, but the closer she came to cumming again, the more enthusiastic she got about sucking. But soon it was even too much for her to concentrate on and it was all she could do to stroke the two cocks in her hands. She started to move quickly up and down as Brett met her thrust for thrust, her lips pulling outward each time he withdrew. Her moans echoed throughout the room as she reached her climax, causing Brett to reach his peak too. They were a blur of movement as they both came at the same time, Brett filling her pussy with his cum. She released the cocks in her hands and lay down on his chest to recover for a moment, giving me an even better view of his still hard cock in her swollen, throbbing pussy. I stroked my own cock as I waited to see what would happen next. I’m sure she was nearly exhausted, but there were still three hard cocks hoping she wasn’t done yet.
After a few moments, she sat up slightly and began to withdraw his cock from her pussy. Their combined juices began to leak from her pussy and onto his balls. Instead of standing up, she moved off of him and kneeled beside him, then motioned for George to come over to her mouth. She began to suck on his cock with the obvious intent of making him cum. I looked at her kneeling in front of me, her pussy leaking cum and open in invitation, and was about to move in when Todd beat me to it.
“Look at that pussy!” he said to nobody in particular.
He quickly slipped his cock into her drenched pussy and began to fuck her with the same rhythm that she was sucking with, his balls noisily slapping against her. I moved to the side and watched her tits swaying beneath her as she slid back and forth on these two cocks. Not surprisingly, it didn’t take either of them long to cum.
George moaned, “Oh yeah, suck my cock. You’re gonna make me cum. Oh that feels incredible! Here it comes baby!”
With a series of loud grunts he began spurting into her mouth. She tried to swallow it all, but some of it leaked out of her mouth and down her chin. A few moments later Todd started thrusting really hard, the sound of their bodies slapping together and her moans filling the room.
“I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna shoot my hot cum all over you!” he cried out and pulled his cock out just in time to shoot his cum all over her back, ass, and pussy.
With that, her arms gave out from under her leaving her kneeling there with her ass in the air and her pussy begging to be filled. I quickly moved into place behind her and slid my cock inside her with one quick motion. She was wetter than she had ever been and she was covered in cum. I grabbed her by the hips and thrust quickly back and forth, looking down to watch as my own swollen cock slid in and out of her. I could tell by her moans and motions that she still had another orgasm left in her. I tried to pace myself in the hope that we could finish together.
“You look so sexy with cum all over you,” I said to her. “And your pussy is so wet and feels so good. I bet you like having all of these cocks to play with, don’t you?” I asked.
She shook her head yes, so I continued.
“I bet you’d like to have even more cocks to play with. Would you like to do this again next weekend with some other friends of mine?”
She shook her head yes again and eagerly started to thrust back at me. I picked up my pace and thrust as deep as I could, knowing my balls were slapping against her clit. This time I vowed I’d pull out when I came, so as soon as she started to cum, I pulled my cock out of her and shot my hot cum all over her ass and pussy. Just to make sure she was satisfied, I rubbed the head of my cock over her clit and along her lips, smearing our cum all over her pussy and giving her another mini orgasm.
She finally collapsed on the floor and we all sat there silently, amazed at what had just transpired. I looked at the movie still playing and suddenly thought it looked kind of tame. After we rested a bit, I helped her up and was going to show her to the bathroom to clean up. Instead, she smiled at me and put her coat on without putting anything else on. She put all of her stuff in her bag and went around the room and gave each of us a kiss on the head of our cocks. I gave her a big hug at the door, not wanting to arouse anyone’s suspicions, and was amazed that somehow the mask had stayed on the whole time.
She slipped silently into the night and I returned to my guests.
Todd finally spoke up and said how amazing that had been. George agreed and asked if she could come back tomorrow for more.
I said, “I’ll call her in the morning and ask after she’s had some rest. But you have to all promise you’ll never let my fiancé find out what happened.”
Brett looked at me with a grin and said, “It’s okay, we all know it was Julie we fucked tonight. Hopefully tomorrow she can come over without the mask.”
The End
wow,more more brothers contributing,good good,veri good.
more to read and will steam a few times lor.
Quote:
Originally Posted by
Himerus
wow,more more brothers contributing,good good,veri good.
more to read and will steam a few times lor.
Thanks for your support also .
Virus Alert
Check with Snopes.com at the end. It is real.
Anyone-using Internet mail such as Yahoo, Hotmail, AOL and so on.
This information arrived this morning, Direct from both Microsoft and Norton.
Please send it to everybody you know who has access to the Internet.
You may receive an apparently harmless e-mail titled ‘Mail Server Report’
If you open either file, a message will appear on your screen saying:
‘It is too late now, your life is no longer beautiful.’
Subsequently you will LOSE EVERYTHING IN YOUR PC, And the person who
sent it to you will gain access to your name, e-mail and password.
This is a new virus which started to circulate on Saturday afternoon.
AOL has already co nfirmed the severity, and the anti virus software’s
are not capable of destroying it.
The virus has been created by a hacker who calls himself ’life owner'.
PLEASE SEND A COPY OF THIS E-MAIL TO ALL YOUR FRIENDS, And ask them to PASS IT ON IMMEDIATELY!
THIS HAS BEEN CONFIRMED BY SNOPES
Urban Legends Reference Pages: Mail Server Report Virus
Dream
“I can’t go back to that house, ever. I won’t. No one can make me, and he’s gone. I’m by myself. No surprises there.” I didn’t realize that I was speaking aloud, until someone behind me said, “Pardon me?” I turned in embarrassed surprise. “Oh, nothing,” I replied, and hurried away.
It was a clear day, not a cloud in the sky, pleasantly warm, a small breeze nipping at the budding trees and flowers, at the dresses of little girls and their mothers, out to take the air. I felt a wave of longing for the simpler life I once shared with the man who was no longer here. There were no more tears, only a dry, pitiless anguish raking away at the coals of my heart, stripping it, breaking it anew each time. I walked to the park, and sat on a bench staring out at the river.
I wasn’t old, barely forty, but we had been married for nineteen years, when he had left, suddenly without any warning. I woke up, yesterday it seems like, and he was there but absent. No one could wake him. My tears were like so much water off a duck’s back. How would I live now, a mother of four, the youngest barely five years old, and still unable to understand that her daddy had gone for good? I had a job, and if things got bad I had a loving family to help me through, but what’s a family without him? He had been my whole life so far. Every act was a celebration of our life together. Now, the party was over, the band had gone.
Someone sat beside me. I looked around vacantly. It was an old woman, hands shaking slightly, white head inclined toward the birds she was throwing breadcrumbs to. Could I ever be as content as she seemed? Would I ever not feel this slow, piercing pain squeezing me dry of laughter, of love, of hope? I watched her feed the birds, and knew I needed help. My plan for getting back into life was to go back to work and pull the tattered shreds of my existence close about my ears, hiding from everyone but myself the truth about how I felt. My kids still needed a mother, my parents still needed a daughter, and my siblings still needed a sister. So what if the one person I needed more than all of them was gone? I will survive.
I thought about those feelings I had had when we had first met. He was a very large man, and immensely tall, and as he helped my girlfriend change the tire on her car, I had wondered how to get him to ask me out. I knew I wasn’t much to look at, well anyway that’s what I thought, but I was educated. I was the only one of all my family to get past high school. Now here I was, a sophomore in college, and ignorant of the ways of the world.
He looked a lot older than me, but I wasn’t a very good judge of age. He drove a station wagon, and he was neatly dressed. His clothes were worn, but clean and pressed. He looked like many of the neighbors I had left behind, honest men working hard to make their families comfortable. We must be meant for each other, I remember thinking. His name was Adam Maxwell, and he made me feel things I had never in all my life felt for another human being. I just came right out and said, “I’d like you to ask me out.”
I remember he didn’t bat an eye, just smiled a funny, secret smile, and asked me to go to the movies with him on Saturday night. We had a wonderful time, too, because he was such a perfect gentleman, although I could tell he was longing to be otherwise. I remember feeling tickled to discover that I could make a hulking great giant of a man tremble like a baby for want of me. I admit I teased a little, half hoping he would forget himself and give us both what I was asking for. But I also knew I could trust him, because for some reason, he really liked me. Me, Leah Rebecca Ellington. Not my beautiful and diminutive younger sister Elizabeth or my sexy older sister Naomi. He liked me, he wanted to be with me, he bought gifts for me.
He married me, after a long year of courting me on my father’s front porch; in the back seat of his station wagon, where we did nothing more harmful than kiss each other senseless; at football games; at the movies; in church. There was nowhere that Adam felt was too sacred for him to tell me he loved me, and wanted to make love to me, and wanted me to have his babies. I felt treasured and loved more deeply than I had ever thought I could feel.
He taught me to love myself, too. I was not too scrawny for him, my hair was just the right shade of red, my eyes were a beautiful green, my skin was a warm honey. I never doubted that he meant every word he said, every compliment he ever paid me. I celebrated life with him. Each of our four babies was born to grand feasts and family reunions; our wedding anniversaries were happy affairs that we celebrated over an entire week; birthdays were always a reason to play and sing and make ourselves merry. Because we worked so hard to be happy, we even enjoyed all the hard times we weathered, like the time he was let go from his job, and I was a new mother with a very sick infant in hospital. Or the fifteen months which followed when we ate a lot of bread and drank a lot of water, and never told our families our troubles, because they had troubles enough of their own.
I was smiling and unaware of it. It must have caught the old lady’s attention, for she suddenly piped up,
“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”
I smiled back, not wanting to talk, yet needing to. “Yes, beautiful.” I felt awkward, not knowing what else to say. She must have sensed my confusion.
“Don’t mind me, dear. You seemed a bit lonely, earlier on. I guess you must be feeling better.” She smiled encouragingly, and I realized she was offering herself as a patient listener to whatever burden I cared to offload on her.
“Thank you, I do feel better,” I heard myself say, and knew, in surprise, that I did.
“It always helps to think things through,” she continued. “When I was your age, I used to come here often to think things through. I wasn’t very popular with women, and I wasn’t very comfortable with men. But a clear day and the sight of the river take my mind in other directions when I’m depressed.”
How should I answer this strange old soul, who wanted to comfort me, or to be nosy, or both? I could find nothing to say, so I just smiled at her. Presently, I rose to leave.
“Goodbye dear,” she said. “You should smile more.”
“Goodbye. And thank you,” I replied. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was thanking her for, but she had pointed out to me that I was feeling better. At home that night, I cast my mind over our short conversation, and suddenly realized that what had lifted my mood was the memories I had been stirring up. As long as I kept the memories alive in my heart, in my mind, Adam would always be with me. A sudden rush of tears overwhelmed me, and I was thankful that I could cry again.
II
“Adam, it’s time,” I said in a rush, breathing deeply to relieve the pain. My husband looked at me and jumped off the kitchen stool.
“Okay, now. Lee, remember to breathe. I’ll get the bags.” He had scurried away before I could tell him he was going the wrong way. We laughed about the huge black-and-blue mark he wore for a few days after his first son, Todd Aaron Maxwell, came shrieking into the world. That boy was the loudest baby I have ever heard, except at night, when for some reason, he never cried. I would know he was awake because he would squirm, kick, and fret. Our bed was small enough that if a feather touched it I would be awake.
Todd always made me laugh. No matter how horrible the thing he had just done, I usually had to fight to keep from laughing aloud in front of him. It was his way of standing there, caught red-handed, with a puzzled look on his face, as if to say, “Now how did I get caught?” Or his guilt-ridden face, coupled with the most innocent of tones. Or that lower lip drooping lower and lower as he clearly envisioned in his little head the severe punishment he was about to receive. He was always a thinker, was Todd, and as the family grew, he became increasingly introverted, until by the time Chloe was born, he was practically a twelve-year-old recluse.
I was aware that my child had always withheld a part of himself from all of us, and I could not understand why. I realized as I prepared dinner, that I have always been a little bit hurt by that. Why would he shut out his own mother? What was he hiding? He was only seventeen, when he first decided he was going away to college, although the local college was highly rated nationally. I knew he wanted to get away. That was how I had felt, too, only I had a real reason. Nobody really cared whether I went or stayed. Nobody missed me when I was away. I was so tired of being ignored, taken for granted, teased and even insulted by my sisters, while my parents did nothing, that I chose to go as far away from home as I could.
I remember brandishing my independent status before my sisters’ envious eyes, and I remember taunting them that their beauty got them babies before they were married, for boys who cared nothing for them. I remember laughing in their faces as I told them about Adam. I remember how their jaws dropped in shock when I brought my handsome lover home for the first time. How could I, the invisible child, the tall, skinny one, with no hips, no breasts, no backside, have managed to get hold of such a hunk? I remember how they each tried to steal him away from me, and how each time he would find me where I was hiding and show me in his kisses, and tell me with his eyes and his voice that I was the only girl he wanted to kiss, to hug, to nibble on, to be with, for the rest of his life.
Continue next page …….
My breath caught in my throat. The rest of his life. My beloved was gone, for the rest of my life. My children were all gathered round me when I opened my eyes next.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You passed out, Mom,” said my second child, David. His face was concerned and a little frightened. I hastened to reassure them all that I was fine, just a little tired. Nevertheless, I was banned from the kitchen for the rest of the evening. Ruth, my youngest, came to sit on my knee, and she looked into my face with sad eyes. She studied each feature, as though she were committing them to memory. Finally, she laid her head on my breast and fell asleep.
I realized with a pang of guilt that I had completely ignored this poor child for almost a week. Adam’s funeral had been a week ago. He had been gone for almost a month…. I had not exchanged loving words with my baby for so long, I felt like I was out of practice. I sat next to her at dinner, giving my place to Todd. No one sat in Adam’s seat. Afterwards, as the other children cleaned up, I gave her a bubble bath, brushed her short red hair, read her a story, repeated her favorite poem with her, said prayers with her and tucked her in with a goodnight kiss.
“Mommy, what happened to Daddy?” Ruth asked as I reached the door. I knew she wanted to hear that he died in his sleep, that he felt no pain. I said the words mechanically, my heart falling like a stone as each word came out. She sat up in bed, stared at me, big tears in her green eyes, and wondered, “Why?” I went to sit beside her on the bed, and together we cried our eyes dry, and then she fell asleep. I laid her gently back on the pillows, and silently left the room.
The house was quiet now, and the only one who still seemed to be about was Todd. Chloe was reading in her room, David was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. Only Todd remained in the kitchen, putting things away, and clearly waiting for me.
“Mom, I got accepted by the college I want to go to.” Todd stopped abruptly, as though unsure of my response. I knew he wanted to leave, and I guess I couldn’t blame him. But didn’t he see that I needed him now more than ever? If he left, there wouldn’t be a man in the house! I struggled with my fear and anger, and finally said,
“I know you want to go away to college, dear boy, but couldn’t you go to school here for awhile, and then transfer?”
I saw him struggle with himself, saw the pain and frustration, as well as the fear and hurt, slide over his features before he schooled them into giving nothing more away. “This college doesn’t offer the specialty area I’m interested in. I’d be wasting my time to go there. You said so yourself, you and Dad…” His voice trailed off, and he looked away hastily, guiltily. “Sorry,” he mumbled, hoping I did not see the tears he was trying to hide. My heart hurt for my firstborn, and I could think of nothing to say or do to make him feel better. He finished putting the pots and pans away, and turned again to face me.
“I’ve been offered a full scholarship. I have the letter upstairs.” His voice was dead, and a part of me thought how cruel life is to bring us joyful news that we could not celebrate. I realized as he returned with the letter from the college that I could not stand in his way. I loved him more than he knew, and though I didn’t understand him, I’d stand by him, as his father would have done, as he would have wanted me to. I promised myself to be ready for the day when he would trust me enough to unburden himself, and I prayed for the wisdom to help him when he did.
“When are you leaving?” I asked, bowing to the inevitable.
“Not before the end of summer. I want to work a little bit, make some pocket money, and help you…” His voice died away again.
III
I awoke with a start. I was sweating, though the fan was on high. I had been dreaming again. Oh, Adam, Adam, what did we miss? How could we not know you were ill? The dream filled my head again, and I sprang from the bed. Maybe a cup of hot cocoa would help. In the kitchen, I tried to dispel the image of my late husband, but his face was on the refrigerator, on the windowsill, in the hot liquid I was sipping. I took it back with me to my bed, now cold, rumpled, and lonely. I lay back against the pillows, and I am back on the lawn facing my dormitory in college. Adam’s head is in my lap, his eyes laughing at something I said. He pulls me down for a quick kiss. I can still feel the passion that he is barely able to control. Now, we are in the hotel room. It is our wedding night. We have been sent off to consummate our marriage by a laughing, happy crowd of well wishers.
The sky is full of stars, and Adam sits with me next to the window looking out at them. We talk of counting them, and laughingly try, then lapse into silence before the beauty of the night. Then he touches my lips with trembling fingers, and turns my face to his.
“I love you, Mrs. Maxwell,” he whispers. “I love you.” Our first kiss in private, since this day began. A long, slow, building kiss, rousing emotions we had been so careful to keep in check for a whole year. I let him undress me, and he watches my face as I undress him. We stand facing each other naked, embarrassed, and exhilarated. He sees what I look like without the screen of clothing. I wonder what he thinks of my bony thighs, my flat chest, and my tiny waist. I am lost in the beauty of his tall, hard body. He reaches for me, and we fall into each other’s arms.
“I love you, Mrs. Maxwell,” he says again. “For the rest of my life. Only you.”
… My tears are flowing freely now, and I cannot stop them. We made love for the first time by moonlight. He was gentle with me, and I responded to every lead he gave. I never knew I could feel the physical pleasure I had every time we made love. My skin was on fire for days afterwards, every time he touched me, or looked at me. I felt that fire again, only this time I had no way to quench it. My lover was gone.
“Mom?” Todd’s voice startled me. He came and sat on the edge of my bed, and held me until I could speak. “If you really want me to, I’ll stay until you feel better,” he said, when I blew my nose. I looked at my eldest son, and for the first time noticed how remarkably like his father he was – in build, in features, in personality. For a moment, he was Adam.
“Oh, dear boy, I want you to stay with me, but I know you must go. I would never do anything to stop you from advancing. I shall miss you, dear boy, but I shall never stop loving you. Now off you go to bed. I’ll be alright.” I forced a hearty tone into my voice, and followed him back to his room.
“Goodnight, Mom,” he said, and kissed me on the cheek.
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I knew that sleep was gone now, so I fetched a book from the shelf and settled against the pillows to read. Maybe I could distract myself with a good book. I did not know when I fell asleep again. The smell of bacon and eggs woke me up. I swung my legs groggily over the side of the bed, and stumbled into the kitchen. Naomi was standing over the stove, an apron on, counting pancakes.
“What are you doing?” I asked hoarsely.
“What does it look like? I’m making breakfast.” She turned to look at me and raised her eyebrows. “You look a fright. Didn’t sleep much last night, did you?” She walked over to where I had sat down and said, “Why don’t you come for a visit? You really shouldn’t be on your own just now, Leah!”
“Who’d look after my children?”
“You know Elizabeth would be happy to come and stay for a few weeks. Look at yourself. You’re back to being skin and bones again. You’re wasting away, Leah. Adam wouldn’t have wanted that.” She knew that if she called upon Adam as her authority I would not argue. Naomi had been the first to make her peace with me, right after the wedding, and we now accepted each other’s quirky ways. Elizabeth had held out longer, and even now, though she was clearly devoted to her nieces and nephews, she was cautious in her relations with me.
I was really tempted to accept Naomi’s invitation. She lived on a farm with her husband and children, and would be glad for my company. But I couldn’t leave Ruth alone just yet. It was too soon, and she was not ready to be on her own without her mother. I opened my mouth to say all this to Naomi, when Ruth walked in and greeted her aunt happily.
“Auntie Nomi, Auntie Nomi, when did you come?” She opened her arms and was gathered into my sister’s comforting embrace.
“Hello, poppet. I came this morning. Mommy must have forgotten to tell you.” She kissed her niece soundly, and put her down. “Ready for breakfast?”
Breakfast was the happiest it had been in a month, with laughter at the table, and lots of food, and a relaxed feeling. The pain of the night seemed far away for me, and I watched my children as they responded to Naomi’s hearty good sense. They did not flinch when she said,
“Would you children object if your mother came, by herself, to spend a little time in the country with me? She’s worried about you, and doesn’t want to come.”
My children all looked at each other, then, as if they had previously discussed and chosen him to speak, Todd said, “I don’t think we’d mind too much, right guys?”
The others nodded their heads vigorously. I looked at Ruth. “What about you, baby? Do you mind if Mommy goes without you?”
Ruth thought for a minute. “Who’s going to stay with us?”
“Auntie Lisa,” was Naomi’s quick reply.
“Okay, Mommy. How long are you going away for?”
“Only a little while, maybe two weeks,” I said, before Naomi could take me away for a month. And before I knew it, I was in the country, sitting by the river, watching the fishermen and pleasure seekers glide by.
IV
Adam had loved being in and around water. If we had had money, he would have bought a boat. I could not swim, and he always laughed at me when we went to the beach. I usually did no more than wade, up to my knees, sometimes up to my waist, never further than where my feet could touch ground. If I could not walk, I was in too deep. He would swim around me and make believe he was going to dunk me. I would squeal like a stuck pig, and “run” back to the safety of the shore. More than once he caught me, slid his body up mine, and stole a kiss. Sometimes we’d stay locked together, wet bodies hardening with passion, and molded together revealingly, until he’d break the spell with a whispered promise: “Later!”
On one occasion, I was very largely pregnant with our second child. We were vacationing for a week, and the sea, as always, beckoned us. My bathing suit was covered with an oversized T-shirt, and my wading went no further than knee deep. I had just settled down into the water, half squatting, half-kneeling, when a hand slid up my leg.
“Adam!” I gasped in surprise. “What are you doing? Are you crazy? People can see us!”
He laughed at my modest protests, took me into his arms, and whispered, “I’m just enjoying my wife. Did you know she’s beautiful?” He lowered his head and I gave him my mouth. The kiss was warm, seductive, guaranteed to raise my blood pressure. “Adam, not here. Not now,” I begged.
“Ready to go in?” he asked, and lifted me into his arms. Without waiting for my reply, he took me back to our room. “Nobody’s watching now,” he said mischievously, and started a slow seduction that began with him stripping off my wet clothing, and ended with us tangled in each other’s arms. I remember wondering and even marveling that he could still find me seductive despite my large belly. And I remember being so completely contented in my ability to hold a human heart in my hands.
“Leah,” a voice said, “it’s dinner time.” I looked up to see George, Naomi’s husband smiling down at me. “You really like it down here, don’t you?” he asked.
I smiled at him in return. “Yes, it’s very soothing to me.” We walked back up the steep path together to the house, where a stranger was standing on the front porch with Naomi. “Who’s he?” I asked George.
“Our next door neighbor. He’s not a farmer though. He leaves that to his manager. He inherited the place, but only uses it for recreation himself. He lives in the city.”
We reached the house, walking up the short path from the gate to its wide wraparound porch, its swing seat, its flowering plants nestled here and there. The smell of good food wafted out to us as greetings were exchanged. His name was Joshua Blackwood. Over dinner, he told us about his fiancee. I envied him. He had somebody to love, somebody physical to touch, to kiss, to hug and squeeze. Someone to buy gifts for, to eat breakfast with, to dance with. I had no one. I felt the depth of my loneliness creep back into the newly warmed spaces of my soul. He must have noticed me grow silent, because he stopped speaking suddenly, looked at me and asked, “Are you feeling all right?”
I was instantly at attention, embarrassed at having allowed myself to show my pain in public, and at having brought a damper on the meal. “Yes, I’m fine,” I responded hastily, hoping he would go back to his talk, and I could quietly excuse myself from the table and leave.
“Leah’s just lost her husband,” I heard Naomi saying. I was mortified. I wanted no sympathy from anyone. I was big enough to handle this on my own. And why tell my affairs to a stranger? I was becoming angry as well, and I opened my mouth to say so when Joshua spoke again.
“Don’t be angry with Naomi,” he surprised me by saying. “I see she forgot to mention that I am a minister.” My surprise was complete. “I’ll be here for a few days if you need an ear.” His offer made, he offered me bread and went back to his meal.
Later, as he said goodbye, he repeated his invitation, and added, “I know you would probably rather not talk, but I also know it will relieve your pain. Loss is hard for us to deal with, because we take it so personally. Whenever you’re ready, call.”
…Adam was standing over me, smiling down at me as he held baby Chloe in his hands. She was asleep, and he was beaming from ear to ear. The nurse came to take her from him, and he gave her up reluctantly. She was our first girl, and labor had been long and difficult. He thought I was going to die at one time, because she was a breech birth. Now joy and pleasure replaced the fear on his face. He sat next to me on the bed, and whispered words of love into my ear. He knew I was only half awake, but he wanted to be sure to tell me again that I was the best thing that ever happened to him, that I was his whole life, that he loved me, that nobody could ever take my place. He feathered my face and neck with light kisses until I fell asleep.
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I was crying again, this time angry that he could still torture me with the want of him when he was gone for good. Why did I have to be left alone? He was feeling nothing where he was, while I was suffering the pain of his loss and all that that meant. I stopped in the middle of all my tears to acknowledge that our relationship had been intensely physical from the day of our marriage, and that what I seemed to be missing most was the great sex we had had, the lust that always hung between us, waiting for us to fly away upon its wings. Now shame and guilt mixed in with my feelings of loneliness. He had been more than a sexual partner, but that was all I could think about. Had I really loved him or just his luscious body?
I got out of bed, and walked down the long hallway to the stairs and out onto the wide front porch. It was a still night, the silence only emphasized by the lonely chirping of crickets nearby. A small, warm wind bustled around the flowers in the garden, danced around the treetops, nestled in the dark hollow of shadows cast by trees and house and hedges. I sat in the swing chair and pushed gently against the floor, setting the swing in motion. The movement was soothing, reminding me of how I felt in the calm waters of the sea.
I was only dimly aware of the stars above me in the firmament, or of the moon in its first quarter, or of the lights of houses blinking in the distance. The darkness I knew well, and was conscious of the rhythms of the dark spaces around me, rhythms that were absent from the dark spaces inside me. Nevertheless, I felt comforted by the darkness. I could hide my guilt and shame in its enfolding and invisible shades. I fantasized that my grief was spread out around me like a blanket, and that the darkness was obscuring it so successfully that it seemed almost not to exist. If I could stay in the darkness, I would be able to roll my pain in it and keep away from my conscious mind.
Running away seemed such an inviting prospect that for a few minutes I thought of going back into the house, collecting my things, and leaving this familiar place for a place where no one would know me, where it is always dark, where I can hide from my pain. Finally, I stayed where I was, when I realized the effort it would take to run away would somehow prolong the agony, and maybe even worsen it. Better to learn from the dark how to conceal, then practice the skill in the light of day. I stared around me at the deepening night, and drifted into sleep.
I woke up to find myself standing, arms raised in self-defense, breathing heavily. I had had a nightmare, where I was being chased by a horrible beast, which had injured me with its iron claws as I ran from it. It had backed me into a corner and was about to strike again when I awoke, hopelessly trying to defend myself from its attack. I collapsed into the swing again, and looked around me fearfully, half expecting something, I knew not what, to jump out at me from the shadows, which were now considerably lighter. It was almost daybreak.
I slipped back into the house, and went into the kitchen. The clock over the stove said it was five-thirty. I switched on the stove light, and took a cup from the dish drainer. Warm milk sounded good to me, especially since I suddenly decided that I was going to spend the day in bed. I felt unable to face the outside, it seemed so fearfully unfamiliar. I went to the refrigerator, and poured milk into a small pan. While I waited for it to warm up, I looked around me. The room was large, with plenty of room for running, and dancing and spinning, if the mood took hold. And I was running around the center island with Adam in hot pursuit, giggling as I tried to keep away from him. The gleam in his eyes told me I was not long for freedom, and I turned suddenly, deciding that surrender was preferable to capture.
He spun me around and we laughed giddily. His mouth descended, and I stayed perfectly still. When he touched me, I felt hot tears well up in my eyes. I opened them to find that the milk was boiling over onto the stovetop. I got up hastily, and went to clean up the mess I had made. The tears flowed like water from a tap, as I cleaned up, and poured the rest of the milk into a cup. I poured in some chocolate syrup, and stirred, watching the brown liquid go round and round in the cup, fancifully thinking it told the story of my life without Adam. The image blurred, and I dashed away fresh tears, sipping hot milk and sniffling.
Footsteps told me I was not to be alone longer, so I hastily wiped my eyes, and kept my head lowered to hide red eyes and a wet nose. George’s voice broke the silence. “You’re up early, Lee. Are you all right?” His voice held concern, and I hastened to reassure him.
“I’m fine, George, I’m fine! I didn’t sleep well, that’s all,” I added, by way of explaining hot milk in the morning. “I think I’ll head back to bed, now. I’m going to try for a sleep in.”
George went about making coffee, and the smell of fresh beans was somehow the saddest thing to happen to me in a long time. I rushed out of the kitchen, up the stairs to my room, almost knocking Naomi off her feet as I went. She was right behind me, and as I sat on the bed, she sat next to me.
“Lee, I wish you’d talk to me, or to somebody. You haven’t said anything to anyone since you’ve been here. It’s been four days! And I hate to see you pining away, and dying inside like this!”
My sister’s voice was cracked with feeling, and she gripped my shoulders tightly as she spoke. I turned to look at her.
“There’s nothing to say, Naomi. I can’t explain how I’m feeling, and I don’t think talking about it will help. And anyway, why should I depress everyone else? It’s not as though I’m the only one who’s ever lost a husband!” I was trying to sound light and airy, and I was not fooling anyone, least of all my sister. She hugged me wordlessly, and cried with me as I let out all the pain I had been bottling up inside me for days. I couldn’t seem to stop, and she didn’t try to make me.
I do not know how long we sat there, in each other’s arms, but eventually, there seemed to be no more tears. I was spent, for the moment. I broke the silence first.
“I think I’d like to stay in today. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I’m feeling a little tired. I can’t believe how exhausted I feel these days. How would I feel if I was still at work? How am I going to feel when I go back?”
“Don’t worry about any of that now. You’re here to rest. If you need to stay in, go right ahead. Gee and I have to go into town for a while, but you’ll be fine, here. Joshua said he’d pass by later, if you’re up to a visitor. If not, he’ll go, “she added hastily, when she saw the face I made.
V
Todd walked slowly over to me with the young girl next to him, and I watched my son with pride. He was so tall, so handsome, so like his father, and she was so diminutive and petite, that he seemed to tower over her. She was a pretty girl, with very dark skin, and deep dimples. Adam shook her hand gravely, and she stood before me shyly, anxiety plain in her face.
“Hello, Wanda,” I said. “Sit next to me.” Wanda sat down on the edge of the sofa next to me, and Todd went to get her a drink. Adam had been very gentle with her, because her English was still not strong, and I watched as she flowered under his attention. He asked her about her home, about her family, about herself. By the time she was ready to leave, she had completely relaxed, and laughed merrily at everything anyone said to her.
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He always seemed to have a way with women, and a part of me was always a little wary of them. What if someone stole him away from me? How would I live? Wanda was a welcome respite from the worry that nagged at me. She was twelve, Todd thirteen, and they were going to the junior high school dance together. When Adam came back from taking them to the school hall, he laughed at the way she sat on the edge of the sofa. “Like a frightened kitten, ready to jump off,” he said.
“You have that effect on people,” I said laughingly, “especially women.”
“Is that the effect I have on you, Mrs. Maxwell?” Adam asked innocently, his eyes gleaming at me. I smiled.
“Me? I’m wise to you, and I’ve learned how to defend myself,” I replied. “You’ll find no easy target here, mister!” I giggled at him, and stood up. He was right in front of me, blocking my path.
“What’s your hurry? I was just beginning to enjoy the conversation!” His arms sneaked around me.
“I have work to do, Adam. I don’t have time to play with you!” I wriggled a little. “The baby will be awake soon, and I have to get a bottle ready for her.” I tried to step around him, but he stepped sideways to block me again.
“Ruth will be asleep for a while longer. What shall we do till then?” he wondered aloud. His face was a study in smugness, and I tried halfheartedly to escape from his ever-tightening grip. He bent his head and lightly touched my lips with his. I shuddered, and he pressed harder. I trembled and would have fallen if he hadn’t been holding me. He touched his tongue to my lips, and I opened them.
Suddenly he was breathing heavily, and his hands were trying to find a way under my blouse. “Lee,” he breathed into my mouth, “it’s been so long! Let’s go upstairs.” He swung me up into his arms, and before I knew it, we were on our bed, naked and in each other’s arms. “Honey,” he said between drugging kisses, “I want you so badly, and I can’t seem to get enough of you.” He nibbled at my nipples, and smiled when I moaned softly.
The tears on my pillow woke me this time, and I sat up in bed, looking around me in confusion. Where was Adam? The bed was empty, and I realized that I had been dreaming again. That was the time in our lives when we were away from each other for weeks at a time because of his job, and whenever he came home, it was as though we had been apart for a lifetime. The lovemaking was always better than usual, and the intensity of feeling kept us in bed as often as we dared. We’d been married for fifteen years, and still we felt like newlyweds. Our mutual desire was always a felt presence between us, and I was happy to be there when he came home, to plumb the depth of our passion for each other.
I lay on the bed curled in a ball, weeping quietly. I thought I heard a car drive up, but I was past caring. A door opened, and still I did not move. Voices drifted up the stairwell, and I knew my sister and her husband had come back. I covered my head with the sheet, still curled up, and prayed that she would leave me alone. The door opened, then closed quietly. I wiped my eyes, and relaxed.
“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Adam whispered into my ear. I lay with my back to him, stiff, unbending, unforgiving. A few words of apology were not going to do it. He put his hands on my shoulder, and I shrugged them off. I got out of bed, and walked out of the room. He did not follow.
I slammed a mug onto the counter top, and heated water in the kettle. As I made some tea, I thought about why we were quarreling. He had been away for three weeks after he had said he would be home for two. It was summer time, and the kids were out of school. Adam had promised to take two weeks vacation and we were to go away for a long overdue holiday. Then, he had come home with the news that he was being offered overtime pay to work the next three weeks. We were always in need of extra cash, and ever since Todd turned thirteen, Adam had begun to work extra time to save money for his college tuition.
Today was our sixteenth wedding anniversary, and he had only managed to make it back home that afternoon. We were supposed to have been celebrating this day all week long, as we did every year. But Adam had decided that money was more important than our special time together, and although I knew why he had done it, I was still furious with him for leaving us, leaving me.
The tea was insipid when I drank it, and cookies did not help. I was so angry I could hardly swallow, and I was even angrier that he did not come after me to try to make up. I looked at the clock. Two o’clock. The house was quiet. All the children were asleep, and I did not know what Adam was doing. I wanted him to come down and beg for my forgiveness, so that we could get back to where we were happy and contented with each other. It’s not that I didn’t care about money, but I felt the children could pay their way through college, just as I and Adam had done, and anyway, our time together as a family, as a couple, was far more important to me than anything.
I thought about the pineapple icebox pudding I had painstakingly made for this anniversary dinner. I thought of the invitations I had had my friend make for me, and that I had not sent out because I knew there would be no party this year. I thought of the sexy black dress I had bought, and the lingerie for afterwards, that were all still where I’d left them when I brought them home from the store. I thought of all the time I had wasted, and he thought he could appease me with an apology!
Finally, I went into the living room, and curled up on the sofa. I’d sleep there tonight. I switched on the television, but nothing interesting was happening, so I switched it off again, and lay my head on my hands, and closed my eyes. I awoke to someone shaking me lightly, and I gazed through blurred eyes at Todd, looking down at me in a puzzled sort of way. I got up hastily.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Six o’clock,” he answered. “Are you okay, mom?”
“Yes, dear, I’m fine. Go back to bed,” I continued, “it’s not time to get up yet.”
He went back up the stairs, still looking bewildered.
I couldn’t go back to bed now, so I went back into the kitchen and made a batch of pancakes. I also made coffee, juice, toast, and sausages, before it occurred to me that no one in my house ate breakfast before nine o’clock during the summer. Everything would have to be warmed up again. I felt a little foolish when, at seven-thirty, with breakfast fully made, the house was as quiet as the grave. I switched off the coffee maker, and went upstairs.
To avoid Adam, I went into the bathroom and decided to wash my hair, again, and shower. The water was refreshingly warm to my skin, and I stood with my face under it, letting it beat me, fancifully thinking it was smoothing out the fine lines around the corners of my mouth and eyes. I didn’t hear the door open, but I felt a cold draft of air whoosh past me, and opened startled eyes. Adam was standing behind me, his face serious, his mouth full and succulent, and I felt such a burning desire for him that in that instant he could have done anything he wanted to with me.
“Lee, “he said, “I’m sorry for making you angry. I can’t bear it when you stay away from me. Can we talk about this, please?” His eyes pleaded with me, and his hands held my shoulders.
“Adam…” I was struggling to get the words out, caught as I was between anger and desire, “I’m really angry with you. We can’t just pretend that nothing has happened.” I stamped my foot in frustration. “Why did you have to ask me in here? I can’t get away from you in here, and I’m not sure I want to. How can I be mad at you and want you at the same time?”
“Do you love me, Lee?” he asked quietly. He dropped his arms to his side.
“You know I do. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Do you believe I still love you?” His voice was still quiet. His eyes searched my face.
“Yes,” I said. “But…”
“Happy sixteenth anniversary, honey! Come here,” he breathed, and pulled me to him. I thought he was going to kiss me, and I wasn’t ready to have my mind clouded over by lust just yet. But he had other things in mind. He reached for the wash rag and soaped me from head to toe. He spun me around to rinse me off, raising my arms, opening my legs. Out of the shower, he patted me dry with the large yellow towel, and wrapped me in it. In our bedroom, he loosened my hair, and brushed it, dusted powder over me, spritzed me with perfume, and dressed me in the fancy black underwear he had brought home for me.
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“Where’s the dress you bought?” he asked. I went to get it, and he waited patiently as I put it on. He closed the zipper, then piled my hair on top of my head with a pretty comb he had also bought for me.
“Shoes?” he continued. I got them, and he made me sit down so he could put them on for me. Then he looked up at me, kneeling before me with tousled hair and powder on his nose, and said, finally,
“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you, you know that!”
I gazed at the face of my beloved, and held it in my hands. He was warm, and damp, and I loved him so much, my heart melted. Whatever I had expected from Adam, it had not been this. I couldn’t resist the overwhelming urge to touch his lips with my tongue, to tickle his earlobes, to kiss his cheeks and then his lips. I wanted to have him now, but he resisted.
“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he asked teasingly.
“Forgiven? For what?” I asked in return, pushing his damp shirt off his shoulders. “Adam…” I continued urgently, “please…”
“Honey, it’s breakfast time! We’ve got to feed the children.” He was still playing with me, and I was growing impatient.
“Breakfast is made. All they have to do is warm it up. Todd can do that.”
Adam rose from his knees and pushed me over onto the bed. He lay on top of me, and neither of us cared a whit for the expensive dress he was crumpling. He pushed his face into my bosom, and breathed in the scent of powder, perfume, and soap. He raised himself, pressing his warm hard length between my thighs, and crushed my mouth beneath his own, working me into a frenzy of longing and desire that I could not contain.
“Adam, please,” I begged him. He smiled, and kissed me some more. I thought I would go quietly insane, for want of him, and still he kept me waiting…. The door opened, and we sprang up.
VI
“Leah, you can’t stay all day in bed. You’ve got to get up for dinner, at least!”
Naomi’s voice was an unwelcome intrusion into the drugging world of pleasure I had been about to enter with Adam. And he was not here. I was alone in the bed; she had only disturbed my dream, not our lovemaking.
“Why don’t you knock before you come in?” I hissed at her. “Did I ask you to come in? Did I tell you you could?” I glared at her angrily, and watched the frustration and disbelief flit across her features.
“Now you listen to me. I didn’t bring you down here so that you could be depressed here. You can do that just as well at home. You’re supposed to be trying to come to grips with this, not hide away from the world and drown yourself in sorrow! You have four children to think of, and if you keep on like this, they will miss some important healing time. You can’t just grieve for you. He belonged to them, too. If you keep shutting them out, none of you will ever heal!”
Naomi’s face was red with the energy of her emotions, and I looked at her for the first time, it seemed. She really did care about my children and me, and I had been resisting all her efforts to help me. She was right, of course. We were not children anymore, and she was trying to help me. And my children did need me to be part of their grieving. I rolled off the bed.
“Sorry, Naomi. It’s just that I miss him so much!” A tear slipped out from between my closed lids, and she hugged me.
“You’re supposed to. You were married to him for almost half your life. And you had a good life together. You’ve got to accept that that will never leave you. But you’re still young, and you’re still here, and your children need you. I’m not asking you to pretend that everything is okay. Just let us in, so we can be with you to help you heal.”
I nodded, and she waited for me as I dressed. We went downstairs together after I had washed my face and brushed my hair. Joshua Blackwood was there again, and I decided, on an impulse, that I would talk to him after dinner. Maybe I did need to let someone else share what I was feeling. Maybe he could show me what to do to cope, to live without my heart. He smiled at me as I approached, and then I saw the young woman who stood next to him. She was as tall as I, but round and pretty. Her brown eyes smiled at me as we were introduced, and she sat next to me at the dinner table. Her name was Isabel.
“How are you today?” Joshua asked as we sat down. His eyes held concern.
“Not very happy, I’m afraid. But I’ll manage,” I replied. “I need help, though.” I looked at him meaningfully, and he smiled, seeming to understand my intention.
“Whenever you need to talk, my dear. And Belle will be only too happy to help you too. She lost a husband a few years ago herself,” he surprised me by adding.
I looked at his fiancee, and she seemed so calm and sure of herself, that I wondered how she could manage it. She smiled slowly at me, and said, in answer to my unspoken question, “It was very hard for me too, because he died so soon after we were married. I felt like I had been cheated, had had my whole life stolen from me. It took me a long time to learn to live without him. Then I met Josh, and it became easier.” She looked lovingly at Joshua who smiled tenderly at her. The love between them was so palpable, I could feel it enveloping all of us in the room.
We ate in silence for a while, at ease with each other, enjoying the good meal that Naomi had prepared. She was blushing at a compliment from Joshua about the potency of her punch, looking at her husband who returned her gaze with pride, when Isabel said,
“Simon made a wicked punch. I remember the first time he made me a complete meal. We had only been married a week, and he wanted to show me that he could fend for himself. We had lamb stew, potato balls, asparagus tips, salad, and the most deliciously refreshing punch I’d ever had. I was floored. I think he was a better cook than I am.”
I stared open mouthed at her as she spoke, wondering how she could speak of her dead husband with such ease. It was clear she had loved him, and was proud of him, and she was not hiding those feelings. She saw my look, and smiled at me again. “It helps to talk about your memories. That makes the loved one real to you and to those who want to help you. And it makes him stay with you in a good way. It lifts your spirits.”
Everyone looked at me expectantly, and I struggled to find something to tell about the man I loved. I blushed at the thoughts that came first to mind, and hoped no one noticed. But Isabel had sharp eyes, and she whispered to me,
“Those memories are the best kind, aren’t they? Even if we can’t share them!”
I laughed aloud for the first time in a month, surprising everyone at the table except Isabel, who was laughing with me.
“I’ll share some of mine with you sometime,” I promised her. “They’re really hot.”
“I’ve shared a few with Joshua. It took a while, but it was incredibly healing for me. He knows I love him, though, and I don’t think he feels threatened, do you love?” she asked, looking at him with love in her eyes.
“I’ve learned not to feel threatened,” was his honest reply. “I’ve learned that you love me, and that I should make the most of it.”
He seemed to be telling her something the rest of us could not enter into, something only he and she could understand. And she appeared to understand perfectly, for I noticed that she seemed to relax, though I had not been aware that she was tense until that moment. I was beginning to think I might find in her a friend, and I determined that I would pursue that notion. It would certainly take my mind off my situation, and it might even give me the push I needed to get on with my life.
After dinner, Isabel and I went out onto the porch and sat together in the swing chair. I immediately began to tell her things I would not have thought I could tell anyone.
“I seem to remember our lovemaking more than anything else. I feel guilty that all I can seem to remember of him is how good he was in bed, how he made me feel, how much I lusted after him. And those thoughts only make me want him now so much, and when I remember that I can’t have him ever again, I get very angry with him, and then I feel guilty for being angry with the dead. I’m so confused!
Isabel listened to me patiently, and watched me closely. She did not respond immediately, and I began to wonder if she had heard me. When she spoke, she shocked me even more than she had before.
“I will always remember, to my dying day, the last time we made love. I was angry with him for something, I don’t remember what anymore, and had stormed out of the apartment. I went shopping, buying all kinds of things that I didn’t need, partly to relieve my feelings, and partly to make him mad. When I got home, he wasn’t there. You can imagine how that made me feel!” She chuckled softly as she remembered. “I put away the things I had bought, and decided that I was not going to make dinner. If he was hungry when he came home, he could fix himself something to eat! I took the gallon of ice cream from the freezer, and sat in front of the TV. Before I knew it, I had eaten a half of it!”
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“Half a gallon! You must have been really mad!” I couldn’t help exclaiming.
“Believe me, when I get mad, I stay mad! Not one of my better points, I know. Anyway, I felt bad, so I put the rest back in the freezer, and decided I would call it a night. I went up, had a shower, and went to bed in the guest bedroom. I heard when he came home, and ignored him. He went around the apartment looking for me, or so I thought, and I kept as quiet as I could. He didn’t come into the guest room, though, and I thought that was strange. Then, I guess I must have dozed off. When I woke up it was quiet. I got up to go to the bathroom, and saw every door in the apartment open. That was also odd, since we kept all the doors closed.
“I still didn’t suspect anything was wrong, till I passed by my bedroom and saw Simon, all tied up and gagged on the loveseat by the window. I was so frightened I almost wet myself. We’d been burglarized. Apparently they had waited for him to open the door and than had forced him inside. The footsteps I had heard ‘searching for me’ were actually their footsteps searching the apartment and taking everything they could carry with them.
“Suffice it to say, that after the cops had been and gone, I was more upset than I had ever been, and more embarrassed, and more frightened. I forgot about being angry with him. We stayed up all night, jumping at every sound, nervous as kittens. He couldn’t go to work the next day, and neither could I. We both called in sick, and managed a little sleep. But we knew we still needed to apologize to each other for the bad feelings that we both thought were the reason we had been robbed. If we had stopped the arguing, neither of us would have left the apartment, and this wouldn’t have happened.”
She took a deep breath. It was clear the memory was bittersweet. I waited patiently.
“I didn’t know how to say I was sorry, though I thought about it all that day. Simon was more quiet than usual, and the tension between us grew. By dinnertime, we were as skittish as we had been the night before. We could hardly eat, though he had cooked us a delicious soup. I washed up, then decided that I would just come right out and say I was sorry, rather than try to find a fancy way of doing it. He was standing by the stove, arms folded, watching me wash up, and I hadn’t realized until I turned to face him that his mood had changed. I looked into his face, but before I could say a word, he said, ‘Shh! I know. I’m sorry, too, honey. I love you very much!’
“He hugged me tight, and I relaxed, hugging him hard. I told him I loved him too, and how scared I was that they had hurt him, and that I wouldn’t want anything to hurt him. I cried on his shoulders, and he kissed my tears away, soothing me like he would a baby. Only after I had calmed down did I recognize that his arms weren’t just holding me. He was caressing my back, my arms, my bottom, and when I moved to look into his face again, he kissed me. It was meant to be a seductive kiss. He was deliberately arousing me, nibbling my ears, my neck, my throat, squeezing my nipples, pushing himself up against me. He told me he had been wanting to make love to me since the night before, when I had found him all tied up. He told me how he had stopped himself from grabbing me a hundred times that day, as I was combing my hair, as I was making breakfast, as I was washing up.
“I’ll never forget what he said: ‘I find you so incredibly sexy right now, I feel like I could eat you, Belle. I love you more than I thought I could love someone, and I want you now. I want to feel you, taste you, smell you. I want to make love to you. Don’t make me wait any longer, please!’ That was the best apology I’d ever had, and he wouldn’t let me say anything except yes. So I did.
“He stripped me right there, in the kitchen. We started on a chair, but he couldn’t seem to get enough of me, so we went into the living room and he pushed me onto the carpet and took me again. I had never had more than one orgasm with him at a time, but every time he took me, I climaxed all over again. I thought my heart would burst. It was so good! We must have made love for hours! We fell asleep on the carpet in the living room, and woke up barely in time to shower and change for work.”
Her voice grew softer still, and I sensed a change in her.
“He was killed in a car crash that morning. A truck ran a red light and smashed into him. He died instantly.” Her voice subsided, and stilled. I didn’t realize that I was crying until she said, “Oh, Leah, I didn’t mean to upset you! I’m sorry!” She sounded distressed as she offered me a tissue for my face. She didn’t seem to notice that she was crying, too.
“Oh my God, what did you do?” I was appalled.
“What could I do? I didn’t hear until I got to work. I took the train most days, only when I got there that morning the office was strangely quiet. Everyone looked at me strangely, no one said anything, and then as I was about to sit at my desk, my boss came out and asked me to step into her office.” She paused, clearly reliving the moment.
“She didn’t seem to know how to tell me, so she just blurted it out. Simon had been killed in an accident. I think I fainted. When I came to it seemed like everyone was hovering over me. They were so good to me, and so caring. I was numb for weeks. I went to identify the body at the morgue, I moved back in with my parents, I went to his funeral, and only when they were sprinkling soil onto his coffin in the grave did I realize, I think, for the first time, that it wasn’t a dream, that I was awake, that he was never coming home to me. That feeling has never fully left me, except when I’m with Joshua.”
“How long were you married to him?” I asked.
“A year and two months,” she replied promptly. “And you?”
“Nineteen years,” I said, hearing the words for the first time it seemed. “A long time.”
We were both silent for a while, each lost in her own thoughts, and then she said, “Joshua has helped me to realize one thing. Although I can never have Simon back again, he will always be with me as long as I cherish the memories of him. And I know that he would have wanted me to get on with my life. I’m sure he knows about Joshua, and I’m sure he’s pleased.”
“How long did it take you to get over him?” I asked.
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