At first, he’d assumed she stayed up late because she was on leave from work. Usually, she’d be asleep by ten o’clock, waking up only when he got into bed, cuddled up behind her. She would kiss him goodnight, murmuring, “I love you.”
However, by the second week, her last week before returning to work, his concern had changed to serious worry. She knew he was afraid for her.
“Wanna have a glass of wine with me?” she asked, eager for him to stay up with her, not wanting to go to bed just then.
“Yeah, sure. How ‘bout I light a fire? We’ll sit on the couch an’ talk, okay?”
“’Kay.”
For a few minutes, they watched as the fire caught on the logs and kindling, turning into a cozy blaze. Glory was at once mesmerized by it. Fire! What was she thinking, letting him make a fire?
“Put it out, Michael! Please…”
“Glory, you love the fireplace; you always say it’s romantic. I don’t understand what you…”
“Please, Michael! It’s burnin’ me! Put it out!” She was near hysterical.
“Okay, okay! Calm down, I’ll put it out!”
He went out and brought back a bucket of sand and threw it over the fire, dousing it, although some flames were still visible. Thankfully, the logs hadn’t time to get hot enough to create molten ash. That kind of heat would’ve taken hours to burn itself out.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
Sitting side by side, they sipped their wine. Michael put his glass down on the coffee table to put his arm around her, pulling her to him. She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. If only they could stay like this, just like this forever.
“You can talk to me, Glory,” he whispered in her ear. “Tell me what’s goin’ on ‘cause I haven’t got a clue. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s botherin’ you.”
“I’m…scared, Michael.”
“Of what? I’m here; you can tell me anything. I love you,” he said, stroking her hair gently.
She buried her face in his neck, feeling the stiffness of his shirt collar, the stubbly hair on his chin, the safety his embrace provided.
“Should I be worried, Glory? You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I haven’t been sleepin’. The nightmares are incredible. I’m in a crematorium oven, burning, and I can’t get out! It’s awful. I think it’s the guilt, yah know? Maybe we should have listened to Ted. Maybe we shouldn’t have cremated her. I feel like I murdered her by pulling that damn plug and then set her on fire. I keep seeing it…picturing it over and over in my mind, what it was like to be on that crematorium table, to be…turned to nothing but ash and bone. I can’t get past it!”
She wrapped her hands around his neck, feeling his powerful arms holding her close to him. She wept quietly. He gently lifted her chin up with his index finger and looked into her tear strained face.
“Sshh, it’s gonna be okay. I promise.” He gently kissed her eyelids, her forehead, and her lips. He wiped away her tears with his shirt sleeve.
“Make love to me, Michael,” she whispered, her lips grazing his ear. “Make it all go away. I need to…feel something good. To feel the way only you can make me feel.”
They were alone in the house, save for Haley. Olivia and Mickey were staying at his mom’s to let Glory get some much needed rest. Little did she know that Glory would’ve been better off if the kids had stayed; she’d gotten no rest. Just more time to be alone with her thoughts.
He picked her up in and carried her, like a groom carries his bride, laying her down on the fully made bed. He kissed her, undressing while he did; only taking his lips away from hers to remove his shirt and pants.
He removed the t-shirt over her head, her breasts so milky soft, heaving with each breath she took. He put his lips to each of them, sucking gently, coming back to her mouth. He kissed her slowly, leisurely, the bare whisper of a kiss. She lay still, allowing him to seduce her, her eyes closed. Gently, he lay atop her. Both relished this moment, their bodies so close, just before he entered her.
A small sigh of contentment from her, and he was lost. He didn’t ease himself into her; instead, he gave her all of him at once.
They made love with wild abandonment, like the days before they’d had children, when they’d first met and could barely keep their hands off of one another.
She lifted her hips high and wrapped her legs around him, binding him to her, allowing his entire shaft to be enveloped in her warmth.
“I love you, Michael,” she whispered “Take me, love me.” And he obliged. Their lips kissed, nipping at each other, as they moved in the beautiful dance of lovemaking. Michael moaned and whispered, “I love you” when he climaxed.
She dug her fingers into his back, and this time, Michael let her make as much noise as she wanted.
They lay flat out, arms flayed, sticky with sweat, looking at the ceiling, letting their breathing return to normal.
“Michael, if I tell yah something really weird, will you think I’m…crazy?”
“Probably not, I already think you’re a whack job.”
She jerked her head around to look at him; he was smiling.
“Just kiddin’”
Playfully, she punched him in the arm.
“Ouch! Damn those mosquito bites.” That was how he referred to her punches.
She laughed; the sound of it strange and alien after weeks of barely uttering a sentence. Again, she thought of how very fortunate she was to have him. He deserved to know what she was thinking and feeling.
Even though he kept the worst from her and getting him to talk about his feelings was like pulling teeth, eventually, he’d tell her what was bothering him.
She, on the other hand, needed to talk things out before her Thanatophobia really took hold and she’d end up with constant panic attacks. Someday, perhaps it would become debilitating, but at her core was the strength she coveted, the ability she’d learned while growing up in her dysfunctional family. She’d never let that happen! Never! Neither would Michael.
“In the church and at the hospital, I saw somethin’. Did you see anything at all, Michael?”
“Like what?”
“Black smoke or mist with a face in it.”
“No. Why? Is that what freaked you out at the funeral?”
“Yeah, it was. And there was something evil and…personal about it. I could barely make it out, but I swear, I saw the outline of a face, more like a skull with black holes where the eyes are supposed to be and the faintest appearance of a grin.”
“Sounds like you’re describin’ The Grim Reaper. If that’s what you saw, no wonder you’re so scared. Between that and the nightmares.”
“You believe me? That I saw it?”
He sighed. “I believe that you believe it. But no, I don’t think it’s real. The Grim Reaper is just a figure that symbolizes death; he doesn’t really exist.”
“You think it’s the phobia, don’t you?”
“I do. Your mother just passed away. Why wouldn’t that trigger it? It’s perfectly understandable. But, I think you need to…talk to someone about it.” He was choosing his words carefully.
“I’m talkin’ to you.”
“You know what I mean. I’m not a psychiatrist. I can listen and I’m here for you, but I think…you need more than that.”
“So, you think I’m nuts, then!” Glory sat up in bed, pulling the covers tightly around her.
“No, I didn’t say that. I just think you should see someone now before it gets any worse. You’re telling me you saw something that no one else saw. That’s hallucinating in my book. Your excessive thoughts about death are eventually going to overwhelm you. They have in the past. I’m just…worried about you, Glory.”
“Then you lied when you said you believed me?”
“No,” he replied slowly. “What I said was I believed that you believed you saw it.”
She knew deep down that Michael was right. What if her obsessive conditio
n and the resulting anxiety—cause and effect, there was no way out of it—affected her abilities as a mother?
“I’m gonna go see your mom tomorrow. I’ll talk with her. And I’m picking up the kids an’ bringin’ 'em home. I can’t stand being alone all day. You’re sleeping and then you go to work. I have too much time to think. Then, I’m going to work day after tomorrow. I need some normalcy right now.”
“Okay, but are you sure about work? I mean, with the euthanasia cases that come in? Half of your job is counselin’ clients who’re putting their pets down. Can you handle that?”
“The last psychiatrist I went to said it may help me to see natural deaths, that I’d face my fears that way.” And besides, I’m good at it. I have no idea why, but I really do help people to come to terms with it.”
She failed to mention that sometimes she’d become fixated on a dead animal. When she’d go in the back and open the huge freezer, where the dead pets were kept before cremation or return to the owners, she’d stare down at the lumps in the dark green bags. She’d place the animal in her care in one of those bags after she’d watched it, as if it would come back to life. Finally, she would shake her head to clear it, looking left and right to make sure no one ever saw her doing this.
She didn’t have Necrophobia after all, which was the fear of dead things themselves. She was simply…fascinated by them. That they were still the same creature they’d been before without the movement of the breath of life.
Settling in for the night, Michael lay on his back, Glory’s head on his chest, his arms securely wrapped around her. He was asleep in minutes. Sex always did that to him. As for her, she lay awake, her mind a swirling cauldron of connected and disconnected thoughts.
Too much analytical thinking; it was like a curse.
“To analyze is to paralyze.” She remembered reading that somewhere and found it to be totally true.
Chapter 6
On the drive down to Joan’s house, Glory continued on the path of thoughts she’d been unable to shed from the night before. Now, in the month of February in the year two-thousand and one, she pondered the beginning of the new millennium.
The year 2001, which was the true beginning of the millennium, marked the end of the age of Pisces; the years noted for the birth and rise of Christianity. The astrological sign of Pisces, the fish, was also the sign of Christ.
For ages, the world and all that was in it was fought for and won over by men. The “power elite” used the meek, just as they always had. The meek had not inherited the earth as was foretold in the Bible.
The “power elite” may be a new age term, but in truth, throughout history there have always been those who belonged to this group. Kings, Popes, early political structures, and business men of ages ago laid the foundation for the power elite of today, all interconnected as if by some mysterious club.
Glory often thought perhaps that was the reason there had been only one Catholic president, John F. Kennedy, and he‘d been assassinated at that.
Now, a new age had begun, the Age of Aquarius; also believed to be “the end of days.”
Glory believed as many others did, that The Age of Aquarius didn’t literally mean the end of the world. More likely, it meant the end of the world as the human species had known it for two thousand years. These changes were foretold by prophets and scholars alike to be the age that would bring new hope to the world. When or how, no one really knew.
Some prophesied that worldwide misery and turmoil would occur first. At the end of the chaos would come a period of profound enlightenment. All that mankind believed he knew, a way of life, would be washed away and a new era of understanding and peace would take place.
The dawn of the new millennia gave Glory a small measure of hope, even though the year had begun as a time of grief with the passing of her mother. Perhaps man would reach his true potential. Maybe, this new century would bring profound meaning to the hollow, materialistic society that they’d become.
She was glad they’d moved to the country, shedding the unforgiving streets of the city. Maine had the most undeveloped land of any state in the country and she was thankful that she and Michael had the foresight to buy ten acres of land. They didn’t change the wooded area, instead rejoicing in the nature all around them. The children learned what it meant to live among natural creatures and, in this place; Glory found some measure of peace.
These moments were to be cherished, for it was evidence that she could feel something other than the numbing emptiness she struggled with most of the time. Her emotions were often contradictory in nature; the pendulum swung between numbing depression, fear of death and overwhelming anxiety. Then there were times when she was highly emotional. These were the times that she knew without a doubt that love truly did exist, that it wasn’t an illusion. Of one thing she was certain; she loved Michael and her children with her whole heart, as much as she was capable of.
Just as she pulled into Joan’s driveway, a truly frightening revelation came to her, that she was now the oldest member of her immediate family. She would be the next to die, could actually hear a clock ticking away the time in her mind’s eye. Her time was running out!
Entering Joan’s warm colonial kitchen with its heavy pine furnishings and magnificent clapboard cupboards detailed with intricately cut, black wrought iron latches, she relaxed a little. The Cape Cod curtains blew gently; the smell of vanilla in the air was soothing. Joan kept a window open slightly even in the coldest days of winter “to keep the air crisp and fresh,” she said. Vanilla scented Yankee Candles were always lit in the cozy kitchen. Glory loved Yankee Candles as well, preferring the scent of spring lilac, relishing the fragrance of them even when they weren’t in season.
Glory told her of her constant dread of the future and her increasingly disturbing thoughts and dreams about death.
“Dear,” she said, her warm hand over Glory’s own. “You worry too much about events you can’t control. No one can.”
“I can’t help it. I really can’t! What should I do? I’m afraid Michael’s gettin’ tired of hearing it. He wants me to go see a shrink.”
“Glory, I love you like you were my own daughter. And you just lost you mother. What you’re feeling is normal. I know you hate strong emotions, but grief is a necessary process. Things will get better as time goes on, you’ll see. Keep busy. Go back to the comforts of routine. The kids’ activities, Michael, the house, and your job.”
“Is that what everyone else does? I mean normal people?”
“You are a normal person. You just have a psychological condition, not a psychotic one. And yes, dear, most human beings deal with death by ignoring it. We’re all aware of our own mortality, and while the fear of the unknown scares us, we simply choose not to dwell on it.”
An incomplete answer to be sure. Yes, she’d lost someone, but she still lived and must continue to live her life as fully as possible.
“Aren’t you afraid of death?”
Joan paused for a moment, as if contemplating what to say. “No, I don’t really fear death. I’ve had a good life filled with love. Death is merely a part of life.”
When the kids got in, flying through the kitchen door having just got off the school bus, they were happy to see their mom up and about. Olivia hugged her tight. Mickey gave her a small, awkward hug. He wasn’t really as comfortable showing physical affection as his sister was.
“Hey, Mom, we goin’ home now?”
“Yeah, we’re goin’ home.”
As Glory was leaving, the kids already buckled in the Jeep, Joan said quietly, “Cherish your life and family. Believe me, raising children, working, being a part of the world; it all goes by in the blink of an eye, and then…it’s gone. You’ll miss it, I guarantee it. I do, every day.”
At the age of sixty-six, she was now retired and alone. God, she was such a strong woman! Glory not only loved her, she admired her as well.
As time went on, the pain of grief lessened, the wounds bega
n to heal. Ah, but death was far from done with her, and with each loss, a permanent scar was etched upon the heart.
Glory went back to work, cringing at the looks of sympathy she got when she walked through the large doors of Mainely Paws Animal Hospital. It was still early morning, and the reception room was jammed and noisy. This was a surgery day. Clients were dropping off pets for spays, neuters, dentals and other procedures. There was no time for talk, which Glory was grateful for. She jumped right in, putting hospital bands, which held the animal’s name and info, onto their necks. She took the charts, updated info, brought them to the back where the kennels were, securing each one until the doctor was ready for them.
Before she knew it, it was lunch time. She was making notes to a file when she felt as if she were being watched. Her two best friends, Kate and Sophia, stood on each side of her. Even though, she hadn’t been here long, the three had become fast friends.
Each one of them hugged her, tears brimming at the edge of their eyes, and gave their condolences.
“Whatda yah say? Wendy’s for lunch?” Kate asked.
The Wisdom of Evil Page 4
