A Promise of Passion

by M. E. Nesser

  Since Jack was an only child, we treated him like an adult. We talked about our professions with him. He showed a lot of interest in law. He thought his dad’s job as an accountant sounded boring. It was hard for me not to agree with him about that. We took him to gourmet restaurants and taught him about the finer things in life. On his breaks from school, we traveled to Europe. He loved Florence and Capri. He was fascinated with history and said he was interested in studying history in college. At the rate he was going with his studies, he probably would be going to college when he was seventeen years old. He was hoping to go to Yale like both his parents had.

  The three of us were quite a set. Having Jack was the best thing Bryce and I had ever done—aside from getting married, that was. There was something about having a child that made my relationship with my husband complete.

  My relationship with Bryce was so easy. We were the best of friends and the best of lovers. We were able to talk for hours—and make love for hours more. After nearly twenty years together, our marriage was solid. I’d never felt like I wanted to leave him or find someone else. Sure, we’d argue from time to time, but it was never anything serious. We were excellent at talking about our problems and figuring out compromises that would make us both happy.

  Time goes by so fast when you’re a parent. Before we knew it, Jack was nearing his sixteenth birthday. Bryce and I wanted to plan something special for him. He loved sushi, so we arranged for the three of us to take a lesson on how to make sushi with a famous chef at one of our favorite restaurants.

  About a week before his birthday, Jack asked to spend the night at a friend’s house. We were psyched to have a night alone without worrying about being quiet. We hurried home from work and were naked before we even closed the door. I jumped into Bryce’s arms. He pinned me against the front door. I started sucking on his neck like a teenage girl, not caring if I left any marks on him. He picked me up, and I rubbed my midsection against him until I felt his body get really hard. I could feel it pulsating against me, and I knew the first round was going to be frenzied. He pushed my back against the door and shoved himself deep inside me. I loved that I was light enough to do this—when we had sex this way, it felt like he was holding me up with his penis. It was so hot. I screamed in his ear as he yelled my name over and over again.

  After that sweaty round, we needed a shower. He washed my hair. I washed his. He poured a generous amount of lavender-scented body wash on a sponge and washed every little nook and cranny of my body. I couldn’t have done a better job myself. When it was my turn, I didn’t want to disappoint him. I tried to be just as thorough. I saved his midsection for last. By the time I started washing below his waist, he was already getting aroused. I saw this as an opportunity. I knelt in front of him.

  “I want to make sure I cleaned you properly,” I said seriously as I started licking him. I decided to let him determine the pace. I loved looking at the expression on his face whenever I knelt in front of him. He could never keep his eyes open. He mouth dropped open slightly, and he made the most erotic sounds. If I weren’t having such a good time playing with his male parts, I would have touched myself. I lightened up the suction, and I could tell that this frustrated him. He wanted more pressure. He needed to explode in my mouth. I hated making my man suffer, so I grabbed his penis in my hand and stroked him hard as I swallowed him deep down in my throat. I couldn’t believe how much came out of him, especially since we had just fooled around in the foyer.

  When he finished, he grabbed me under the arms and set me on the edge of the seat to return the favor. It didn’t take long for me to erupt in his mouth. I loved having sex in the shower—there was something about the wetness and the soapsuds. When I finally stopped trembling, I reached for him to kiss me. I loved sharing our tastes. I loved the flavors of our sex mixed together.

  We rinsed off and then took our time drying one another. It was way past dinnertime, but neither of us was very hungry; we settled on a bottle of wine and some cheese and crackers. It was a wonderful night. By the time we finally collapsed, we had done it four fabulous times.

  62

  That was the last time I had sex with Katie. The next day, I didn’t feel very good. I was having some really strange feelings in my arm, and I was short of breath. I even felt a little lightheaded. It was worrying, but I figured it would pass.

  I made it to work early as usual, but I needed to sit down. I grabbed a bottle of cold water and went into my office to settle myself and let these weird feelings subside. I figured I was dehydrated from all the wine and sex the night before. Being dizzy was a small price to pay for the incredible night of passion that we’d had. I loved Katie, as much today as I had when we were seventeen years old. In fact, I loved her much more. She was the love of my life. She was the mother of our beautiful son. I wanted to grow old and gray with her.

  That was the last thought I had before a crazy stabbing sensation in my chest took my breath away. I fell off my chair and collapsed on the floor.

  63

  As soon as I arrived at the office, two police officers knocked on my door. I couldn’t imagine what they wanted with me. I was setting my briefcase on my desk as they entered the room.

  “Mrs. Katharine Collins?” they asked.

  “May I help you?” I asked nervously.

  “If you could please sit down Mrs. Collins. We need to talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to sit down. Is something wrong?” I pleaded.

  “We’d prefer if you sat down, ma’am. We have some unfortunate news we need to share with you.”

  “You’re frightening me. Please just tell me what’s going on,” I asked again.

  “We are sorry to inform you that your husband Bryce has had a heart attack. One of his associates found him on the floor of his office,” they tried to explain.

  “Bryce? No way. He’s in great shape! How’s he doing? Is he at the hospital?’

  “We are sorry to inform you that he didn’t make it.”

  “Didn’t make what?” I asked them.

  “We are so sorry, but he died instantly, ma’am,” they informed me.

  “He what?” I demanded, surprised by how loud my voice sounded.

  “Would you like us to call someone for you?” they asked me.

  That was the last thing I remember. I felt dizzy. The room went black.

  I woke up in the hospital. Jack was by my side, sobbing quietly. It was true. It wasn’t a dream. My Bryce. My love. He was gone. This had to be a joke.

  “I need to see him!” I screamed.

  “He’s upstairs, Mom,” Jack murmured. “They wouldn’t let me see him without you, because I’m not old enough.”

  No, this couldn’t be real. Someone, please wake me up from this nightmare. I tried to get out of bed, but I had an IV sticking out of my arm. I ripped it out, and it started bleeding all over the place. I grabbed a hunk of tissues and stuck them in the crease of my arm. I put pressure on my arm and stormed outside into the hallway. I yelled for someone to take me to my husband. A nurse tried to take me back to my room, but I went ballistic on her. I was screaming irrationally. I had to see my husband.

  She knew I wouldn’t calm down until I saw Bryce. She bandaged my arm to stop the bleeding, and we waited until a doctor appeared and led us to the elevators. Jack was by my side, and we held each other tightly. We went up a couple of floors and entered a quiet, dismal looking area. I was hanging on to Jack as tightly as he was hanging on to me. The doctor asked Jack if he was sure he wanted to see his dad. He said he did. He looked at me. There was no way I was going to deprive my son of seeing his father if that was what he wanted to do.

  Hands down, this was the worst day of my life. Some lady was already in the room when we walked in. She asked us again if we were certain we wanted to see Bryce’s body. When I nodded in the affirmative, she pulled a white sheet back, and there he was. He was so still, and so pale. So dead. My Bryce was dead. I lay on his chest and sobbed. At some poin
t, Jack left the room and sat in the hall crying. I pounded on Bryce’s chest and tried to wake him up. How could he die on me? We had so many more things to do. I thought we’d have another forty years together. This was bullshit. He’d made love to me over and over again the night before. He was strong and virile. He was perfectly fucking healthy! This was a bad dream. It had to be. I started yelling at him, but he didn’t move. His body was cold and hard. My Bryce had died. He’d left me. Life would never be the same.

  64

  I’m so sorry I left you, Katie. I didn’t realize there was anything wrong with my heart. Please remember, I’ll always love you. You were the love of my life, and I will always cherish the years we had together.

  Tell Jack I will always love him, too. He is bright and ambitious; he’ll do great things in his life. I know it will be hard for him, but you are a wonderful mother. I’m so glad you have each other. I know it will be difficult on both of you at first, but you will both be OK. You’re survivors. At some point, you’ll move on and find love again. Jack will also find love. For now, he needs to be the man of the house. It’ll be hard for him at first, but he is going to make you so proud, Kitten.

  65

  I was so proud of Jack. He’d assumed the role of the man of the family without complaint, helping me handle the funeral arrangements and staying by my side every minute. He knew how much I’d loved his dad, and he tried to make things easier for me. It was hard for me to thank him during that time, because I was so overwrought with grief. Thank God I had him there. I couldn’t make any decisions. It felt like I was a walking version of Bryce’s dead body.

  Catholic funerals are really hard. We had the open casket at the calling hours, which was nearly impossible for me to endure. I’ve never enjoyed seeing someone lying in a casket, but this was so much worse. It was my Bryce lying there, cold and dead. I was barely able to function.

  The mass was long. It was supposed to provide us with some kind of closure. Many friends and family members spoke. I don’t remember any of it.

  Bryce’s parents arranged a reception, and a lot of people showed up. I think it was comforting for Jack to see how much his dad had been loved and admired. I was too weak to stay for very long. I was forced to excuse myself so I could lie down.

  Jack turned sixteen the week after his dad died. It was a tough day for both of us, but somehow we got through it. I told him about the surprise we had planned, and he asked me if we could wait on it. I called the chef, and he was very sympathetic. He said he would be happy to reschedule for a later date.

  About a month after Bryce died, we went to the sushi lesson. I was so thankful they’d let us postpone it for a few weeks—we actually had a pleasant time. Jack applied early decision to Yale and was awarded a full scholarship. I was very proud of him, and I knew Bryce would be, too. But at the end of the school year, my boy would be leaving me. It was too much. I felt so alone.

  Conclusion

  A year and eight days later, I find myself sitting at the bar. I ordered a gin and tonic with two olives and tried hard not to cry. Bryce and I drank gin and tonics many nights after work. It should have been a happy memory. Instead, it was an excruciating reminder of my loss. Who would think a cocktail could stir up so many memories? For me, it did. Hell, we’d even made that silly pact while drinking them.

  Work wasn’t fulfilling my needs. The depth of my despair was indescribable. If it wasn’t for my remarkable son, I might have tried to end my own life. I was lost without Bryce. We were supposed to grow old together. We’d talked about taking a trip to France. Who the hell wants to go to France alone? It was for lovers. It wouldn’t be the same to go with my son.

  Then I remembered the pact that Bryce and I made so many years ago. We’d promised that we would always have passion in our lives. How the hell was that supposed to happen? I was miserable. I supposed I looked like hell, but I didn’t know for sure: I hated looking in the mirror. I knew I was underweight and had dark circles under my eyes. There wasn’t anyone for me to look good for anymore, so why bother?

  But I had promised him. I’d promised him I would never live without passion. I just couldn’t imagine ever finding passion with anyone else. I was afraid I’d made him an empty promise. That thought just compounded to my despair.

  I remembered the night we’d talked about sending the other person a sign after one of us died: two pimentos in an olive. Sure, Bryce. Like that was ever going to happen. That was probably the silliest pact we could have ever made.

  I could feel the tears filling my eyes, and I knew I should probably go home. I used a napkin to wipe my face, and I reached down to grab one of my olives. It actually occurred to me at that moment that I was hungry. I wasn’t sure if I’d even eaten anything that day. I looked at the olive before putting it in my mouth, and I froze. What was that? I wiped my eyes again in case I was seeing things that weren’t there. I looked again and couldn’t breathe. There were two pimentos in it. No way. It wasn’t possible. I could feel the tears filling up my eyes once again. I set the olive on another napkin and just stared at it.

  I can’t explain what I was feeling. I was scared and elated and confused. I couldn’t eat it. I planned to save it forever. I actually chuckled a little. I picked up my glass, whispered a quiet “cheers,” and took a sip.

  When I set the glass down, I could feel someone looking at me. I lifted my eyes, and there was a beautiful man with light blue eyes and tousled hair. He had features similar to Bryce’s, but he was taller and had broader shoulders. He was a very handsome man. I couldn’t help but smile at him. When he smiled back, I felt something strange. He stood up and walked over to me. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Ian.”

  The End

  Stay tuned for Passion Never Dies, and find out if Katie is capable of finding love again.