Simply Shorts
Page 5
Reunion
There were times when I thought I would lose my mind, not wanting to come to grips with the reality of my bleak situation, distraught for no reason at all, feigning melancholy for days on end. Those were the dark times when my soul was locked in a deep dungeon of despair, devoid of any light or human companionship.
It was during these days when I met her. I was hardly fit to be a suitable companion for anyone, but she loved me anyway.
One cold, rainy night, I was driving back from Seattle to Snohomish, Washington. The fog was thick, diminishing the visibility down to mere yards, as I made my way cautiously through the soupy mixture of rain, sleet and snow.
As careful as I was I still almost ran into a vehicle that was stopped, presumably disabled, parked partially on the road. She had seen my headlights in the abysmal night and was attempting to flag me down in her desperation.
I swerved just barely missing the disabled vehicle, momentarily spinning out of control, but managing to bring my car to a stop just short of hitting a tree on the side of the road. My heart pounded in my chest, sweat poured down my face, my hands still in a death grip on the steering wheel, I surveyed the situation. Not wanting to move for fear I may be terribly injured, I sat motionless for a minute, my eyes darting back and forth in my head. Finally feeling that I wasn't seriously injured I turned loose of my grip on the wheel, easing out of the passenger door, I gingerly stepped down on the highway that was slick with a coating of ice and snow. I almost slipped but managed to right myself holding onto the car door for dear life. That's when I saw her.
It was dark but I could make out her silhouette as a backdrop to her car headlights, waving feverishly at me. I waved back in acknowledgment and she seemed to be relieved that I had stopped to help her, and in a way I guess I had, but not by my choosing. I took a few steps testing my shaky legs to see if they would hold my weight, and to my relief they seemed to be adequate for the challenge.
I made it over to where the lady was standing, shaking in the cold, wet, snowy night, looking very helpless and lost. Her dark hair was matted to her face, I could see her piercing blue eyes almost glowing in the fog drenched moonlight. She was slight in build and diminutive in stature, but she held her head up high as she spoke with an angelic voice, that echoed down the deserted stretch of highway.
“Thank God you stopped. I was so scared. I didn't know what I was going to do,” she said looking straight into my eyes, her words somehow piercing straight to my soul.
“I damn near ran over you ma'am. Are you all right?” I said suddenly concerned about her well being.
Looking down the highway for a moment, she then turned back and continued her stare. “Oh yes, I'm fine, Thanks to you. I'm Constance, I'm very happy to meet you.”
She was shivering, I felt momentarily sorry and ashamed, so I slipped off my overcoat and draped it over her shoulders. Gladly accepting the added warmth against the cold night, she smiled and thanked me. It was a thank you that warmed me much more than the garment I had gladly surrendered to her.
We just stood in the onslaught of a winter downpour looking at one another like we were searching for truths not yet told, and finding them in each others eyes. We stood in such proximity for what seemed like hours, but in fact was only minutes that had stretched seemingly into days.
Suddenly coming to as from a trance, I uttered almost incoherently, “I'm Michael, I'm very glad to meet you too, Constance.”
She said that her car had stopped and she couldn't get it started, I looked down the highway to my own vehicle, praying that it would start when the time came. “Could I give you a lift somewhere? Is there someone you could call?” I inquired, pulling out my cell from my pocket attempting to get a signal.
“I don't have anywhere to go. There is no one,” she said so sadly, I was almost brought to tears from the melancholy tone of her voice.
Not knowing exactly what to say, I just looked at her. She seemed so frail and helpless. I, for some reason, felt an unexplained attraction, almost love for this woman whom I had only just met. I wanted to take her in my arms right there on the side of the road, but I dared not, thinking that would be much too bold an activity under the circumstances. And yet the need and desire was overwhelming, almost compulsive in it's nature and I succumbed.
Embracing her, with tears in my eyes, I couldn't believe the words that came from my own lips. “You could come with me. Home, to my place.” I was terrified, but emboldened in the moment, afraid she may be insulted by my straightforwardness, I thought she might slap my face and storm off down the road, not wanting to have anything to do with me, thinking I must be a pervert or some type of maniac. I held on, holding my breath, waiting to discover the answer to my boldness.
She just smiled, took my hand and led me towards my car, the carriage that awaited my lady and me. I prayed that it would start or my plan would be discomfited and I would look foolish and fool hearty for suggesting a plan that could not possibly come to fruition.
Finally reaching my vehicle that was turned sideways on the dark snowy highway, I opened the door like a gentleman should, allowing the lady Constance to enter, I quickly followed. I said another silent prayer and turned the key in the ignition, nothing. Fear suddenly gripped me, sweat began to trickle down my brow, I could feel her stare on my face that would probably prove to be crimson red, if it wasn't hidden thankfully in darkness.
I turned the key one more time, the engine started up with a roar that
scared and excited me, thank God.
We drove in relative silence the few miles to my abode, all that needed to be said was said, in our looks, in our touch. Our eyes told the story, sealed the bond with glances, words were not necessary, love was in the very air that we breathed. The touch of our hands held tightly was electrifying, sensual, and sexual, in those minutes we were lost in time.
Arriving at my house around midnight, we sat for a few more minutes, then I asked starting to feel ill at ease, “Well this is home, would you like to come in?”
“Of course silly, I have come all this way,” she replied with a giggle,
like a shy school girl.
I had a few reservations about the condition of my bachelor pad, not necessarily being the greatest of house keepers, I felt somewhat embarrassed as we entered, but she quickly put my mind at ease. She assured me that she loved my place and didn't mind the mess at all. Cleaning the house was woman's work and she would make short order of it, not to worry.
Somewhat uncomfortable with having a woman alone in my house, I struggled with how to act and what to say. I had always been very shy around women, but Constance made me feel comfortable and at home in my own home. I felt I had known her for years.
Even though it was after midnight, we drank coffee, ate left overs, and talked like it was the middle of the day. She seemed to hang on my every word, sometimes finishing my sentences for me, it was all very wonderful. I was happy again for the first time in a year. I was in love with the woman who sat next to me on the couch, so comfortable together like an old married couple.
I shyly asked if she would like a shower and a fresh change of clothes, I still had some of my wife's clothes in my closet that I didn't have the heart to dispose of after she passed. She said a shower would be wonderful, not embarrassed or apprehensive at all at my once again bold suggestion.
After our showers we sat by the fireplace, drinking wine until almost daybreak, enjoying each others company, locked in embrace. I wished this night would last forever, all my dark thoughts had been washed away leaving nothing but happiness, even love.
We kissed at first lightly, then more passionately. We made love until the sun came up, the world outside melted into oblivion, we were the only two people on the face of the earth, it revolved around us in our lovemaking.
As the sun came up and the morning light trickled through the curtains into my dimly lit bedroom, I looked at the beautiful woman lying in my bed next
to me. Somehow now she looked different but very familiar, her features had changed, her hair was now blonde, her eyes were no longer blue but brown. I realized in that instant, who my guest actually was, and it touched me deep to my soul and I wept uncontrollably. It was my wife Monica who had been killed a year ago that very evening in a traffic accident on a deserted stretch of road. She had came to share a night of love with me.
She put her index finger to her lips and said, “Don't cry Michael, I
will be back to see you again, this time next year.”
Then she was gone.
Disappearance