Lost, and found again
His wife has died, and his grief consoled only in his dreams. It is there that the woman he loved is closer to him than could imagine.

It had always been the most exquisite moment. Jeff felt himself move into Joanna, felt her pelvis push up against him and her legs lock around his. Her warm breasts, dewy with sweat, were tight against his chest and he felt her hands in his hair, felt her teeth nibble his ear lobe.
And that’s when he awoke again. The dream came every night now, and Joanna’s presence felt so very real. And every night, he woke just before either of them could climax.
Jeff turned on his side. The thin light seeping in from the street was enough for him to see the empty place in the bed beside him. Where Joanna should be lay nothing but an empty nightgown. It was her favorite, a silky baby blue with thin shoulder straps, a deep cut bodice that would hug her breasts. He stroked his hand across the material and remembered her standing by the bed wearing the gown. He could see her smile, which always looked on the edge of mischief, her head tilted to one side and her auburn hair caressing the top and front of her shoulder.
He smiled at the memory, but felt his eyes welling up once again. The cancer had taken her so quickly, only months after she found the lump at the base of her left breast near her armpit. It was an especially aggressive cancer; the first tests showed it had already attacked her liver. The doctors tried to hold out some hope, but they were honest about the prognosis, which proved to be all too accurate. She had not suffered much, or at least claimed she hadn’t, and smiled at him and whispered, “I love you. I’ll come visit,” just before she closed her eyes for the last time.
In the days since the funeral, Jeff had been reluctant to see anyone. He knew he would have to get back to work soon or his small business would fall apart, but he didn’t really care. And he would have to eat again. It was her illness, but between worry, the long visits to the hospital, he had shed pounds and weighed no more than he had in high school. All he wanted right now was to go back to sleep and feel her there again, hear her voice again, feel her soft breath against his back as they lay on their sides and she slept, curled into his back and legs.
He stroked the nightgown again, then pulled it close to his face, hoping some faint small of her remained. He hugged it close, and fell back to sleep, this time fitful and dreamless.
When dawn arrived, Jeff was already awake, waiting for the first rays of the sun to creep under the drawn window shades. He got up, showered and shaved, raised the shades to let the sun fill the room made the bed, and folded the nightgown on top of the pillows.
Just as he was leaving the room, he looked back and noticed Joanna’s rings. The wedding ring and modest engagement ring, along with the small ruby ring he had bought her on her last birthday, before they knew she was ill, lay touching one another. He walked back into the room and picked the rings up. He had wanted to do something with them to give himself some sort of keepsake, something to keep with him all the time, but he was not sure what to do.
Now, he opened the jewelry box on the dresser, and found what he wanted: a long gold chain she liked to wear with her plain t-shirts. He threaded the rings onto the chain, fingered open the clasp and placed the chain around his own neck. He dropped the chain with the rings into his shirt, and felt the cold metal against his chest.
He went through the kitchen, stopping to turn on the stove under the kettle, and went into the small bedroom they had converted into his office and sat at the desk. He had refused several magazine assignments over the past several weeks, but now had to think about calling editors he knew and looking again. Yet it still seemed so pointless.
Back in the kitchen, he made a pot of tea, the English Breakfast tea she loved so much. He sipped the tea, sitting and listening to the sounds that the apartment made on its own. Whatever room he was in, it always seemed to him that he could hear footsteps in the next room, particularly on these quiet mornings with only scant sounds intruding from the street.
He sighed, finished the tea, and willed himself to return to the office and start making calls.

Sara, Joanna’s sister came by the apartment that evening. He had always been fond of her. Sara had been the maid of honor at the wedding, and she and Joanna were about as close as sisters could be. She knocked on the door, and called out to Jeff. He was sorting through some insurance forms when she knocked, and gladly left them behind to answer the door.
“Sara, hi.”
“Hi.” They kissed each others cheeks, and let the hug between them linger.
“Not answering your phone?” she said.
“Not yet.”
“Jeff, you can’t just stay here by yourself like this. You have to be with other people.”
“I’m just not ready.”
They walked into the living room and sat next to each other on the couch.
“I know, Jeff. I can’t stop crying myself. I miss her so much.”
Each of them was silent, turned away from each other for a moment.
“What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I just have so much to deal with. This is killing me. My clothes don’t fit, my business for what its worth is going to hell, and I cannot stop thinking about her. Sometimes, I can hear her talk to me. It’s like she’s right inside my head.”
They were both silent again.
“I came over to see if you’d come to dinner with me. We can talk and laugh and cry a little.”
He was about to refuse, but agreed.
It was close to midnight by the time he returned to the apartment. During dinner, Sara had offered to come over on Saturday and begin packing up Joanna’s things. He had declined. “I’m not ready for that,” he said. “I need those things near me for awhile. They help keep her close.”
Now, he undressed. He had almost forgotten about the rings hung around his neck, although he had shown them to Sara. She smiled when he did, touching the back of his hand. He was about to take them off, but decided that he would keep them on in bed. He pulled back the covers and was about to lie down, but first, spread out Joanna’s nightgown on her side of the bed.
He was about to lie down himself, but first picked up the nightgown again, held it to his face again. He held the gown at arm’s length for a moment, watching its silky hem sway in a draft from somewhere. Without thinking why, he pulled the gown over his head and let it fall over his legs. He was surprised at the sudden rush of pleasure imparted by the touch of the silky fabric on his body. He was surprised, too, that the gown seemed almost to fit. He looked at his image in the full length mirror on the closet door. It looked a little silly, he thought, but not so bad.
He lay down in the bed, swinging his legs up the way he had seen her to so many times, in order to keep the gown around his legs. He smiled as he turned out the light, rolled on his side, and fell asleep.
The dream came again. opening as always at the moment of lovemaking approaching climax. But something was different. He was on his back. He felt a weight on him, felt his legs open, felt something move between his legs and deep inside of him. He drew in a sharp breath and shivered at the pleasure that ran through him. His arms were around the body on top of him, thrusting again and again into him. He caressed the short hair. The could feel a pair of strong legs between has own, and wrapped his legs around them to hold this penetrating thing deep within him. In the dream, his eyes were open, but he could see only the shadow of whoever lay above him. His lips found an earlobe, and hungrily nibbled. He felt something build inside of himself that he could not restrain, until a explosion of delight swept through his body, an explosion unlike any he had ever experienced. “Oh yes, oh yes, please, don’t stop.” He heard his voice as a high pitched whisper. Then it happened again. And once again. And once again. It was almost too much, but he could not let it go, he wanted it once more. Then he felt something liquid gush inside of him, and the body above him suddenly relaxed and it was over. He rolled on his side and slept. Other dreams came that night, but none that he could remember.

To be continued

Copyright 2008, Abigail Smith