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Cabin Cousins: Part 6
Cabin Cousins: Part 6
Saying Goodbye; for now.
Based on a post by NewMountain80, in 6 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connections.
Chapter Twenty.
On the drive home, I felt good, like really good. I felt
like things were actually going to start changing for the better. Reveling in
this feeling, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision. I stopped my car in a
random parking lot and pulled out my phone.
One of the guys that I used to work with, Carl, liked to go
to this little bar in Superior to hang out with friends and have a few drinks.
There was a whole group of guys from work that would go regularly, but Carl was
the only one who never stopped asking. For one reason or another, I never took
him up on it, and I haven't seen any of them since I stopped being able to go
to work.
He answered after a few rings.
"Hi, it's Charles, from work."
"Charles? Hey buddy! How are you doing?"
He sounded happy to hear from me.
"Oh, I've been hanging in there. How's the store since
I left?" At the time of the accident, I was the yard manager
at the same store I had worked at since I moved to Duluth. It didn't pay a lot
of money, but it was enough to get by, and I liked the job. I still felt bad
about how I left. As the years went on and my depression spiraled downwards, it
had become too hard to mask. My job performance was terrible, and people began
to ask questions I didn't want to face the answers to. One day I scheduled
myself to take all my vacation days, and then with that in the system, I put in
my two weeks' notice. I never went back.
"They made me assistant store manager if you'll believe
that," Carl said. "Still a lot of the same faces around here. All the
young kids come and go. You know how it is."
"Yeah." I chuckled. In a store like that, you
could count on about half of the employees to be lifers. They'd never leave.
The other half seemed to be a completely different mix of people every couple
of months.
"So, what's up?" Carl asked.
I could hear the store's advertising jingle blaring over the
loudspeakers in the background.
"Do you and the guys still go to that bar in
Superior?" There it was. I said it. Now if he says yes, I'll have to ask if
I can go, and then I'll have to go.
"Yeah! But it's usually just me and Matt. Brian got
married, and his wife has him on a short leash. Joe goes to AA. The other guys,
just kinda stopped going for one reason or another. Tonight is the night we
usually go."
"Mind if I come with?" I asked.
"Of course, man! We're going to leave here at about
six."
"Cool, I'll see you there."
"Looking forward to it. It'll be good to see you again."
And now the awkwardness of ending a phone call. I've heard
that it's a Midwestern thing, but everyone seems to do it better than I do.
"Okay, bye."
"Bye."
I went home, set out some clean clothes, and got in the
shower. Sometimes I forget how good it feels to be clean. But then, I knew
exactly why it was often too hard to motivate myself to get into the shower.
The shower brought memories of Melissa and the possibility of pain. I stood
still, letting the near-scalding water cascade over me. The fruity scent of the
same brand of body wash Melissa had during our first shower together was
strong, and I remembered.
I closed my eyes and started my breathing exercise with a
deep slow inhale. Melissa's hands scrubbed my lower back and slid down
to squeeze my ass. Breathe out, the pain and hurt waft away like steam
in the shower. My fingers follow the lines of her muscles and up her
inner thigh, she looks at me with serene contentment. Breathe
in. She turns, arches her back, and sighs as I enter her from behind. Breathe
out, the pain is gone, and there is only joy. She moans as my soapy
hands cup her firm tits, holding her tight against me as we make love. Breathe
in. I gasp and hold my breath as we both climax. Breathe out.
I catch my breath and look down, my hand was still grasping
my quickly softening manhood, and the oozing result of my orgasm was slowly
washed into the drain. I finished cleaning up, turned the water off, and
stepped out of the shower.
I looked at myself in the mirror as I toweled dry. It had
been quite a while since I had exercised, or gone to the gym, but I still had a
good amount of muscle on me. Granted, a bit more flab than I liked, especially
on my belly, but overall I still liked the way I looked. Melissa liked the way
I looked too. I patted my belly, and there was a slight jiggle. I really should
work out again, I thought. When was the last time I went for a run? I couldn't
remember.
My eyes strayed from my body to my face. I was still
slightly pink from the hot water. I studied the slight age lines beginning to
appear around my eyes and noticed that I seemed to have a larger forehead than
I used to. When did I start losing my hair?
I put my hands on the edge of the sink and leaned close to
the mirror. It's a strange thing, looking yourself in the eyes. Despite how
good I felt at the moment, all I could see was the pain deep inside. I knew it
hadn't always been there, and obviously, I knew when it started. What bothered
me was, I couldn't remember what it was like to not have this pain. I could
remember every little detail about Melissa, her face, her body, the
conversations we had, the things we did together, everything. But if I focus on
just me... I can remember being a skinny awkward teenager falling in love and
beginning a perfect life, then this, an aging man being crushed by the weight
of a tragedy. Every memory between, of what it was to be me, was just gone.
Lost to the gray. At the same time, I knew that this person staring back at me
in the mirror wasn't me. Once, I was happy. Once I was me, whoever
that was. Would I ever get me back, or did I just have to come
to grips with the fact that I was now a completely different person?
In heavy contemplation, I got dressed. I put on a faded Iron
Maiden concert tee, a token from the time Melissa and I had driven to Sioux
Falls, South Dakota to see them perform, and some blue jeans that seemed
tighter around the waist than I remembered.
I checked my bank balance and determined that If I was going
to have drinks at the bar with Carl, I had better eat at home beforehand. I had
a cup of ramen noodles, and cut slices off of a brick of cheddar cheese, as I
wasted time watching random crap on YouTube.
Finally, it was five thirty and time to go. Well really, I
didn't need to hurry, as it was only a five-minute drive across the bridge to
Superior, but there was no way I was going to be late.
I parked behind the bar and didn't see any vehicles I recognized.
I listened to the radio for a little while, then at ten to six, I got out of
the car. The hard part is done. I'm here.
I walked in and scanned the place for Carl. I know he had
said he was leaving work at six, but I didn't want to miss him by mistake if he
was early for some reason. Not seeing him or anyone else I knew, I took a seat
at the end of the bar. The place wasn't very busy at all, with maybe a dozen
people spread out throughout the whole place. A red-haired waitress came and
took my order for a Grainbelt beer, and I watched her go to the cooler to get
the bottle. She was cute, if a little thick around the middle, and when she
handed me the beer, she flashed me the smile of experienced waitresses
everywhere. The kind of smile that says, "I'll be sweet, and yes, maybe
even flirt with you a little, but this is my job and you better not take it as
more than a professional courtesy". I respected that. Good bartenders were
hard to come by, and this one seemed proficient so far.
I sipped my beer, and surreptitiously watched the other
patrons. There was the same general mix of people you see in bars like this on
a Tuesday evening. A few older couples, quietly enjoying dinner and a glass of
wine, a fifty-year-old high school prom queen and her steroid-pumped boyfriend,
slamming cheap beer, faces wind burned from riding a Harley all day, a table of
college frat boy types laughing too loudly at offensive jokes, you know the
kind of place.
I faced the bar again, and in the mirror, I could see that
one person was sitting alone at the table right behind me. She was facing away
from me and seemed engrossed in something on her phone. She was wearing a
maroon sweatshirt and had bushy dark brown hair that immediately reminded me of
a young Hermione Granger.
I watched her in the mirror, not being a creep, just out of
curiosity and that I had nothing else to do while I waited for Carl. She never
turned or sat up straight, just stayed on her phone, occasionally typing
furiously.
After a while, I looked at the time on my phone. It was
twenty after six, Carl should have been here already. I ordered another beer
from Cassie, the bartender, and gave him ten more minutes.
I called Carl, and it took four or five rings for him to
pick up.
"Hey dude," Carl said right away. "I am so
sorry. I have a big issue I've got to manage here."
I could hear people talking loudly in the background and the
beep of a forklift.
"Hey," I said. "What's up?"
"One of the kids knocked over a shelving unit in the
garden center, and they all collapsed like dominoes. It's a big fucking
mess." There was a scuffing noise as he held his phone aside and yelled at
someone. "Don't bother saving that stuff, it's all junk now. Scan it, then
throw it in the dumpster!" His voice became clear again. "I don't
remember being this stupid when I was that age, do you?"
"No, not really. So, are you going to be late
or..." I asked, starting to feel a little dumb for getting my hopes up for
a fun evening with old friends.
"Sorry, man, this is going to be an all-nighter."
"Oh, okay," I said, feeling like I just got
punched in the gut.
"Take a rain check for next week? The first round is on
me."
"Yeah, that's okay. Next week it is." I couldn't
believe it. I got myself so excited to do normal people things with normal
people, and this happened. I don't know why I bothered.
"Alright man, gotta go." Before Carl ended the
call, I could hear him start to yell. "Careful! If you knock that over
too, I'm gonna"
As I stared at my phone, not knowing what I should think or
do, I heard a voice to my right. It was the woman with the brown hair.
"You get stood up too?"
I glanced at her. She was standing at the bar a few spots
down from me, waving her empty glass at the bartender.
"Huh? Yeah."
"Sorry for eavesdropping. So what was her excuse?"
In the corner of my eye, I could see the waitress return
with a full glass. The girl took a drink right away. It was something creamy,
Bailey's maybe.
"Problems at work." I didn't mention that the
'her' was a 'him'. As secure enough in my sexuality as I was, straight guys
just didn't say things that could give a woman mixed signals.
"Typical." She took another long pull off her
drink. "This is the third date in a row that has left me sitting. I take
the time to get ready and then sit here waiting. I've got homework I could be
doing." She sighed. "I don't know why I bothered."
"Right." Her last words had struck a chord with my
thoughts, and I turned to face her.
Our eyes met, and the world stopped. We stared at each
other, each of us with furrowing brows. My heart began to race, and I felt like
I just got a shot of adrenaline.
Slowly, she set down her drink, and I set down my phone, but
our eyes remained locked.
Eventually, she whispered. "I know you..."
My throat was dry, and I struggled to get enough air to
respond. "I don't think we've met..."
She was pretty, and younger than I had expected. There was
something strikingly familiar about her, but I knew I had never met this person
before, and probably hadn't ever seen her. Her maroon sweatshirt had the big yellow
UMD (University of Minnesota, Duluth) logo on it. There was something in her
eyes, her icy blue eyes, that told me that I knew this person.
"Who are you?" She whispered. The confusion on her
face gave way to a look of fear.
"Charles," I said woodenly, trying to make some
sense of what was happening.
This wasn't like the times you see someone in a crowd that
looks like someone you know. I knew this person, have always known this person,
and yet, nothing about her was familiar.
"What is going on?" She asked, glancing at the
bartender who was eyeing both of us in turn with raised eyebrows. "You're
real? You're really real?" Her look of fear gave way to panic. "I've
got to get out of here. This can't be happening."
She slowly backed away from me, then turned and fled towards
the door. I scrambled to put some cash on the bar for my beer, then followed
after her. When I got outside, she was standing near a car with her head in her
hands.
She looked up at my approach. "Don't come any
closer." She warned me.
"What's going on?" I asked. "How do you know
me? How do I know you?"
"You know who I am?" She asked, hand on her car
door, ready to flee.
"When I saw you, I felt like I've known you my entire
life, but I've never seen you before." I shook my head, more confused than
ever in my forty-two years.
"Well, I know you, Charles Larson."
"How do you know my last name?" I asked, taken
aback. I was pretty sure I hadn't said it at all earlier.
"If you're really you, then I know everything about
you." Her fear was transforming into anger, and she was almost shouting
now.
"How?"
"Because I dream about you every night! My first
memories are dreams about you! I close my eyes, and I see your face! I see your
life! Every day, every night!" She was holding her head again and had
started pacing side to side next to her car. "Oh my God. All these years,
all the therapy, all the drugs to get you out of my head, and I find you
sitting in a dive bar. This can't be real."
My car was parked next to hers, and she watched me wearily
as I slowly walked over and sat on the hood.
"If you're really Charles Larson, tell me about
yourself." She was looking at me like she was seeing a ghost.
"I grew up in Minnetonka..." I was confused to the
point of being numb, so I just started talking. I told her about my family,
where I went to school, everything up to just before I fell in love with
Melissa.
Her face was pale, but she had stopped pacing and was just
staring at me. "What was her name?"
I looked at her sharply, surprised by the question.
"Your second cousin, the one you married."
Shocked, I replied. "Melissa."
She took a tentative step towards me. "The two of you
lived in a tiny apartment off of Grand Ave." She stepped closer. "You
lived there together for fifteen years until..." She was right next to me
now, and she picked up my right hand, turning it over to see the backside. She
traced a finger down the scar that ran lengthwise behind my index finger.
"Someone at your work dropped a piece of metal gutter, and the end sliced
your hand open. It bled and bled, and you had to go get it stitched up."
"How do you know these things?" I asked with
something I could only describe as awe.
"Because I saw it happen. I was there, in my
dreams."
"I feel that we are connected somehow, but, I don't
even know who you are."
She shifted her hands and grasped mine in a handshake. She
looked at me with a shy smile. "I'm Kate Winters, and I've been waiting to
meet you my whole life."
Chapter Twenty-one.
"You're older than I thought you would be."
Kate was eyeing me from across the table. We had gone back
into the bar and had taken a booth near the back. The frat boys were gone, and
there was no one else nearby.
"How old do you think I should be?" I asked, head
still spinning.
"When I was growing up, every dream was different. The
time wasn't the same, the days weren't one-for-one. You were getting older
faster than I was. For the last couple of years though, I've had the same
dream. It's the same scene every night." She looked at me with empathy,
expecting that I wasn't going to like what she was saying. "You were
thirty-three, and it was nine years ago."
A wave of non-specific dread washed over me. "What
scene, What dream are you having over and over?"
I already knew what she was going to say, and I didn't want
to hear it.
Kate closed her eyes. "We are in your truck, we had
just been at the movie theater. You were telling me how you never liked Matt
Damon, but in this movie, he was pretty good. Then,”
"Stop," I said, probably a little too forcibly.
"I'm sorry." Her eyes were glistening with tears.
We sat in silence for a long time, each wrestling with our
thoughts.
Finally, I asked. "You said I was speaking to you?"
She sniffed and nodded. "When the two of you were
apart, it was kind of a third-person view, like watching a movie. But whenever
you were with her, I saw you through her eyes. I felt what she felt, I thought
what she thought. I think,” She looked at me apprehensively. "When the
dreams started, it was the summer she figured out that she loved you. I was
five and didn't really understand what I was seeing. I started using bigger
words, and acting like I was thirteen because you two were thirteen."
My thoughts swirled like a hurricane around that night nine
years ago. There was the crash, and my truck crumpled up like a beer can. I was
dazed, and there was glass in my eyes. I struggled to reach Melissa. The door
had crumpled in and crushed her into the seat, into the tight space between
what had been the dashboard and the back of the cab. Her eyes opened as I
touched her cheek. She tried to speak, but no noise came out. Her mouth kept
moving until suddenly she went still. Her heart stopped, and the spark of life
left her eyes. My love, my life, was gone.
Tears were streaming down my face, but somehow I had the
composure to speak. "If you thought what she thought, did she blame
me?" One thing that I had thought I had come to a resolution on, was the
thought that the accident was my fault, that; had I not been looking at her at
that moment, I might have been able to avoid the other car.
Kate was crying too. "Of course not. You know what she
was trying to say?" She reached across the table and held my hands tight
in hers. "She was saying "I love you" over and over. She knew
she was dying, and her only thought was that you would be alone."
Still holding Kate's hands, I buried my face into my arm and
cried hard, shuddering with every sob.
I don't know how long I cried. At some point, I heard the
waitress come by, and Kate whispered "We're okay."
I felt Kate start running a hand through my hair, massaging
my head. Exactly how Melissa used to. It felt good, but it also felt wrong. It
wasn't Melissa's hand, It was Kate's. She was some random college girl I had
never met, and I was plenty old enough to be her father. At the same time
though, some part of me, deep down, was screaming that this was Melissa.
I raised my head from my arm and looked at Kate. I felt no
apprehension or shame in meeting her eyes, eyes that were so much like
Melissa's. I studied them intently. They weren't just similar, they were
identical. The patterns of blue were the same, and there was even that tiny
green speck in the iris of her right eye. No one but me had ever noticed it. As
insane as it sounds, I swear that I could feel Melissa's soul staring back at
me through Kate's eyes.
"So, what now?" I asked.
"Maybe we should go somewhere more private and figure
this out," Kate replied, her eyes moving to the people walking into the
bar.
"I still live in the same place." I couldn't
believe that I had just said that. Did I just ask this girl to come home with
me? Yes. She may be half my age, but there was something supernatural to the
way I was drawn to her. She was not Melissa, I knew that, but in some
intangible way, she very much was.
Kate led the way, and I followed her back to my apartment.
For some inexplicable reason, I thought of the day Melissa sat next to me on
the rocks, and tearfully explained her past. The words I had spoken to her came
into my mind as clearly as I had just said them.
"None of what happened was your fault. You deserve
to be happy. You deserve to be loved. I love you, I will always love you.
Nothing in the past, present, or future will stop me from loving you until the
end of time, and when we're both gone from this world, I'll find you in the
next and keep loving you!"
Is there such a thing as reincarnation? But no, Kate was in
her early twenties, and Melissa died only nine years ago.
The words continued to echo in my mind, and I realized that
at some point it had stopped being my voice that was speaking. It was
Melissa's.
I bumped the door shut with my back and watched Kate as she
surveyed my apartment. It occurred to me that not a lot had changed about the
place in the last nine years, since the last time Kate would have seen it in
her dreams. The couch was faded and threadbare, but comfortable, and the
decorations were pretty much how Melissa had left them. The biggest difference,
I noticed with some shame, was the general disorder of the place. Dirty dishes
sat in a pile on the counter near the sink, and empty food containers covered
the rest of the flat surfaces in the kitchenette. A pile of dirty clothes
partially blocked the narrow hallway.
Kate turned slowly, taking it all in. She stopped, facing
me.
"It looks exactly how I remember."
I studied her face. I didn't know what to say, so I said
nothing.
She pointed at a picture on the wall beside the door.
"I remember when that was taken. We, You went to a big concert in
Wisconsin..."
I could see at her collar, that she was wearing a tee shirt
under her sweatshirt.
"Take off your sweatshirt." I should have realized
the creepy way in which that could be taken, but I wasn't thinking like that. I
wanted to see her, to see if my eyes could help solve the mystery that had so
thoroughly confused my heart and mind.
A small part of me was surprised ,as Kate complied without
hesitation. When she pulled the sweatshirt off, the bottom of her tee shirt was
pulled up enough for me to get a glimpse of her flat belly. Her clothes were
tight-fitting, and my eyes roamed her body. She was the same height as Melissa,
had the same overall shape to her frame, and seemed to be in very good shape.
She wasn't as muscular as Melissa had been, but then again, Melissa never had
to try as hard as others to build muscle mass.
Kate was watching me study her. She didn't look afraid or
apprehensive at all. Rather, what came across to me was a sense of absolute
trust. Melissa had looked at me like that, like she would put her life in my
hands without hesitation, safe in the knowledge that I would never willingly
hurt her.
Her hair was very different, in color and style, and her
skin was pale, like she didn't spend a lot of time outside. I stepped closer
and tentatively raised a hand to her face. She didn't flinch or pull away. My
hand cupped her cheek, and she closed her eyes, pressing her face into my
gentle touch.
Her features were softened by youth, but the shape of her
face, the structure of her bones, was eerily familiar.
"You do look like her," I said softly.
"Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I see her face
looking back at me."
I felt her hands on my waist as she stepped close. Our faces
were inches apart.
"This must be difficult for you," She whispered.
"I've lived with this my whole life. I've had time to deal with it."
Seemingly of their own accord, my arms wrapped around her in
a hug. She pressed herself against me, and I could feel that her heart was beating
as rapidly as mine.
"Through the years, I began to love being her."
My face nestled against her neck, fitting perfectly. I
breathed in deep. Her scent, my God, it was her scent!
"I began to love you," She whispered into my ear.
"I love you the way she loved you."
My thoughts were muddled; like I had been drinking all day
and her words were hypnotizing. The rational part of my mind, dazzled as it
was; still held to the fact that this was not Melissa. The rest of me wanted
her to be Melissa, needed her to be.
"I'm so alone." My words fell out of my mouth like
a sob.
"You don't have to be alone," She said soothingly.
"You deserve to be loved."
I brought my head up and looked into her eyes, Melissa's
eyes. Why had she used those specific words, those words that had floated into
my mind not ten minutes ago? They were my words, and it seemed as though
Melissa was speaking them.
"Do I?" I asked.
"Everyone deserves to be loved, but you
especially."
I thought of the stranger I saw when I looked in the mirror.
"You haven't seen me since the accident. I'm not the same person I was
before. I don't know who I am, but it's not the Charles you knew."
She cupped my face in her hands. Her eyes seemed to
penetrate my very soul, reading the truth that had been obscured from me for so
long.
"I see you, Charles. You are kind and
gentle, caring and considerate, fiercely loyal and honorable. You are truthful
and funny, wise and brave. Most of all, you are loving. You would selflessly
give the last of yourself if the one you loved needed it."
The way Kate was looking at me, the love and knowing in her
eyes, made something click in my mind. Bubbling up from the depths, came
feelings I thought were gone forever. I remembered the way my heart fluttered
when Melissa smiled at me, even after fifteen years of marriage. I remembered
how it felt to fully give myself to her, and how my greatest pleasure was
seeing the pleasure I gave to her. I remembered the sense of unity, the self
and the other made whole. I remembered love, pure and bright, untainted by the
weight of the world. Melissa and I had given ourselves to each other and became
something greater, one being in all ways, body, heart, mind, and soul. That is
who I was, who I am, and who I will forever be.
Now standing here with this woman in my arms, I felt that
connection again. I felt the bond we had forged, stronger than the foundations
of the Earth, stronger than the very fabric of space and time. Though I hadn't
seen it for years, it had not dissolved, had not forsaken me. What were a few
years compared to that kind of power?
"Are you my Melissa?"
A faint sense of doubt passed through her eyes. "I
don't know. Yes? No? Neither?"
She looked away from my eyes, confusion, and memory clouding
her face.
"Have you ever read about schizophrenics? My mother
thought I was one because when I started writing in diaries, I didn't have just
one. I had three, one for me, one for Melissa, and one for you. I wrote down
everything, all your conversations, and all your emotions. It was mostly just you
at this point, with a few precious dreams of your weekends at the cabin with
Melissa. Mom brought me to more doctors than I can remember, and they all said
that I wasn't schizophrenic, as I didn't have trouble being myself. Apart from
my dreams, I was a normal, healthy little girl. They read my journals,
determined that I was suffering from an advanced form of multiple personality
disorder, and medicated me accordingly. They were stumped though, how a little
girl could write with such detail and realism."
She looked down and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. I
watched how her fingers moved and the posture of her body. She moved like
Melissa.
"The drugs they gave me didn't do anything but make me
feel like shit all the time. I didn't know where my dreams were coming from,
but I had to believe that nothing was wrong with me because they felt so right.
I enjoyed them and saw them as a gift or a blessing. As strange as it may seem,
you were my best friend, and I went to sleep happy every night."
She stopped fidgeting and looked at me.
"When I was thirteen, I had a dream about that most
special weekend at the cabin. It was several dreams actually. I experienced
every single moment. I felt the bond Melissa made with you, and not just while
I was dreaming. The following days, I buzzed with giddy excitement and cried
from the sheer joy of it. It was then that I knew without a shred of doubt,
that I wasn't ill." She said this last word with derision. "Nothing
that felt that right and pure could be sickness. I stopped taking the
medication that day. My waking mind cleared, and I knew joy like I hadn't
imagined possible." She sighed. "I never knew for sure if what I
experienced in my dreams was happening to real people, or if it was all just
for me alone, and I didn't want to find out."
She placed my hand on her chest and I could feel her heart
pounding.
"What I do know, is that as time went on and I grew
older, I became more like Melissa. Her personality and insecurities, likes and
dislikes, her thoughts and dreams, all merged with my own. When I was old
enough to start dating, I went out with a lot of guys. It never worked out, and
rarely even got close to physical intimacy, because none of them were
you."
Her chest was heaving as her heart beat even faster.
"I couldn't find love, because I was already in love. I
don't know if I am Melissa. I wasn't born as her, so maybe I'm not. But in
every way that truly matters, I think that I am her."
I read her eyes with the ease that I had been able to read
Melissa's. Her love for me was evident, as was her passion and desire. No one
but Melissa had ever looked at me the way she was now. Like Melissa's had,
Kate's eyes also held insecurity, self-consciousness, and hurt.
Kate said that she had dreamed about the accident for years
now. Seeing it, feeling it play out over and over. The pain of my recollection
of it was pushed aside by an immense surge of empathy and compassion. I only
had to live through it once. I couldn't imagine having it waiting for me every
night, to see and feel it in perfect clarity, untarnished by the fog of memory.
My hand slid from her heart, and she shuddered involuntarily
as it settled gently on the side of her neck, just below her jawline. At that
moment, I didn't see Kate. I saw the girl I had fallen hopelessly in love with
so many years ago, and the woman I had married. I saw my warrior queen, fierce
and confident, but at the same time so gentle and insecure. I saw her soul,
eternally bound to mine. I saw Melissa's inexhaustible sexual desire for me,
roaring hot as a blast furnace, as mine did for her.
I tilted her face up and kissed her. She moaned softly, as
her lips opened and our tongues met. The kissing was slow and gentle, neither
of us wanting to scare the other with our need for intimacy. We both gasped as
our mouths parted. She held my face, and her touch, despite my three-day-old
stubble, was soft and familiar.
"Maybe we shouldn't,”
She held a finger to my lips. "I need you and you need
me," She whispered.
Slowly, she pulled her tee shirt over her head and dropped
it to the floor. Eyes locked with mine, she unzipped her pants, shimmied, and
kicked them away when they fell to her ankles. She wore a matching set of light
blue panties and a bra. They were pretty, lacy things that accentuated her
toned body in a way that screamed sensuality.
Without another word, she took my hand in hers and led me to
my bed.
Later, I watched Kate sleep peacefully in my arms. I reached
to the bedside table, and turned out the light, plunging the room into total
darkness. I turned back to Kate, who I could see in my mind's eye with crystal
clarity. This girl, this woman, who was at the same time achingly familiar and
disturbingly foreign, had arrived in my life at the head of a rampaging horde
of swirling thoughts.
Was it possible that Melissa's soul had somehow made its way
to Kate, and led her to me? Amid our passion, as years of longing and desire
burst forth from both of us, it felt like I was with Melissa, in every way I
could perceive. She moved and kissed like her, smelled and tasted like her. She
felt like her, outside and in, and even moaned and cried out like her.
I felt like I could give in and accept it. I could
acknowledge that this was, in fact, Melissa. We could continue our life
together as if the real Melissa had never died. We could be happy, and grow old
hand in hand. It was so tempting to lose myself to the idea. My heart ached for
it.
But something wasn't right. The whole idea seemed unnatural
as if it had been manipulated by a higher power whose intent could not be
known. This doubt had the feel of truth, jagged and persistent. I knew that I
couldn't ignore it, that it would be an eternal festering mote, no matter how
sweet a fantasy my life would seem.
There was a riddle here that needed to be solved, that
demanded to be solved. Above all the confusion and jumbled emotions, there was
an overarching feeling that there was an answer just beyond my grasp. I knew
that if I could reach it and see just a glimpse of what was beyond, if only for
a split second, I would know the truth.
I lay there in the dark, willing with every fiber of my
being for the universe to give me an answer.
The darkness seemed to acquiesce to my silent pleading.
I fell through the dark, free of my bed, free of the Earth
and reality, into a cozy warm sleeping bag.
I spoke to Melissa as night became morning. "You
know me better than anyone. Being with you makes me feel complete, in a way I
didn't know was possible. I am yours, in all ways, forever."
Bright as a star, the light of love flashed in her eyes,
bathing all existence with its brilliance.
"Hold on to that moment, use it as a refuge."
Sandy blonde hair glowed like golden fire in an autumn
sunbeam.
"You're real," Melissa said as we
embraced outside her apartment.
We evaporated into smoke, wafting on a lazy breeze through
the pines, and condensed again, lying in Melissa's bed.
"Have you been that lonely?" I
asked. "For as long as I can remember"
Melissa flung herself into my arms. "Am I okay?
Charles, this is a dream come true!"
A small glass bottle was held out for me to smell. I leaned
close and howled as I was sucked into the bottle, down, down, down, into the
swirling, bubbling liquid.
"We remember scents much better than we think we do.
Sometimes all we need is a little hint, and it's brought right to the front.
Scents are all connected in our minds, and are rooted deep down at the very
foundation of memory."
My howl became the biting wind, as cold as the water
crashing its way through the rocks. The grayness of the sky seemed to leach all
color and emotion from the world.
"None of what happened was your fault. You deserve
to be happy. You deserve to be loved. I love you, I will always love you."
The wind rose, howling becoming screeching, becoming
screaming, as tires slid, glass broke, and metal crumpled.
"I love you. I love you. I love you..."
A sudden silence as the flying glass became a sea of stars.
"Nothing in the past, present, or future will stop
me from loving you until the end of time..."
The endless expanse of the cosmos loomed, comforting in its
infinite possibility.
"...and when we're both gone from this world, I'll
find you in the next and keep loving you!"
I stood alone in a bright sunlit clearing, within a
cathedral of Red Pines. Above, a billion, billion suns twinkled in the vast
dark.
My mother hugged me. "Oh, Charles. Love is so
precious. It doesn't matter where you find it, but when you do, you hold on with
both hands and never let go."
Mother became Melissa, whispering my words back to me. "I'll
find you in the next and keep loving you."
Our sacred pine grove faded as her whisper echoed through
infinity. "I'll find you in the next, in the next, in the next..."
I floated alone.
The self, the other, and the one were all gone.
Joy and sadness were words without meaning.
Light and dark had no definition.
Space had no direction.
Time held no sway.
Based on a post by NewMountain80, in 2 parts, for Literotica.
View all episodes
By Steamy Stories
3.6
2525 ratings
Cabin Cousins: Part 6
Saying Goodbye; for now.
Based on a post by NewMountain80, in 6 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connections.
Chapter Twenty.
On the drive home, I felt good, like really good. I felt
like things were actually going to start changing for the better. Reveling in
this feeling, I made a spur-of-the-moment decision. I stopped my car in a
random parking lot and pulled out my phone.
One of the guys that I used to work with, Carl, liked to go
to this little bar in Superior to hang out with friends and have a few drinks.
There was a whole group of guys from work that would go regularly, but Carl was
the only one who never stopped asking. For one reason or another, I never took
him up on it, and I haven't seen any of them since I stopped being able to go
to work.
He answered after a few rings.
"Hi, it's Charles, from work."
"Charles? Hey buddy! How are you doing?"
He sounded happy to hear from me.
"Oh, I've been hanging in there. How's the store since
I left?" At the time of the accident, I was the yard manager
at the same store I had worked at since I moved to Duluth. It didn't pay a lot
of money, but it was enough to get by, and I liked the job. I still felt bad
about how I left. As the years went on and my depression spiraled downwards, it
had become too hard to mask. My job performance was terrible, and people began
to ask questions I didn't want to face the answers to. One day I scheduled
myself to take all my vacation days, and then with that in the system, I put in
my two weeks' notice. I never went back.
"They made me assistant store manager if you'll believe
that," Carl said. "Still a lot of the same faces around here. All the
young kids come and go. You know how it is."
"Yeah." I chuckled. In a store like that, you
could count on about half of the employees to be lifers. They'd never leave.
The other half seemed to be a completely different mix of people every couple
of months.
"So, what's up?" Carl asked.
I could hear the store's advertising jingle blaring over the
loudspeakers in the background.
"Do you and the guys still go to that bar in
Superior?" There it was. I said it. Now if he says yes, I'll have to ask if
I can go, and then I'll have to go.
"Yeah! But it's usually just me and Matt. Brian got
married, and his wife has him on a short leash. Joe goes to AA. The other guys,
just kinda stopped going for one reason or another. Tonight is the night we
usually go."
"Mind if I come with?" I asked.
"Of course, man! We're going to leave here at about
six."
"Cool, I'll see you there."
"Looking forward to it. It'll be good to see you again."
And now the awkwardness of ending a phone call. I've heard
that it's a Midwestern thing, but everyone seems to do it better than I do.
"Okay, bye."
"Bye."
I went home, set out some clean clothes, and got in the
shower. Sometimes I forget how good it feels to be clean. But then, I knew
exactly why it was often too hard to motivate myself to get into the shower.
The shower brought memories of Melissa and the possibility of pain. I stood
still, letting the near-scalding water cascade over me. The fruity scent of the
same brand of body wash Melissa had during our first shower together was
strong, and I remembered.
I closed my eyes and started my breathing exercise with a
deep slow inhale. Melissa's hands scrubbed my lower back and slid down
to squeeze my ass. Breathe out, the pain and hurt waft away like steam
in the shower. My fingers follow the lines of her muscles and up her
inner thigh, she looks at me with serene contentment. Breathe
in. She turns, arches her back, and sighs as I enter her from behind. Breathe
out, the pain is gone, and there is only joy. She moans as my soapy
hands cup her firm tits, holding her tight against me as we make love. Breathe
in. I gasp and hold my breath as we both climax. Breathe out.
I catch my breath and look down, my hand was still grasping
my quickly softening manhood, and the oozing result of my orgasm was slowly
washed into the drain. I finished cleaning up, turned the water off, and
stepped out of the shower.
I looked at myself in the mirror as I toweled dry. It had
been quite a while since I had exercised, or gone to the gym, but I still had a
good amount of muscle on me. Granted, a bit more flab than I liked, especially
on my belly, but overall I still liked the way I looked. Melissa liked the way
I looked too. I patted my belly, and there was a slight jiggle. I really should
work out again, I thought. When was the last time I went for a run? I couldn't
remember.
My eyes strayed from my body to my face. I was still
slightly pink from the hot water. I studied the slight age lines beginning to
appear around my eyes and noticed that I seemed to have a larger forehead than
I used to. When did I start losing my hair?
I put my hands on the edge of the sink and leaned close to
the mirror. It's a strange thing, looking yourself in the eyes. Despite how
good I felt at the moment, all I could see was the pain deep inside. I knew it
hadn't always been there, and obviously, I knew when it started. What bothered
me was, I couldn't remember what it was like to not have this pain. I could
remember every little detail about Melissa, her face, her body, the
conversations we had, the things we did together, everything. But if I focus on
just me... I can remember being a skinny awkward teenager falling in love and
beginning a perfect life, then this, an aging man being crushed by the weight
of a tragedy. Every memory between, of what it was to be me, was just gone.
Lost to the gray. At the same time, I knew that this person staring back at me
in the mirror wasn't me. Once, I was happy. Once I was me, whoever
that was. Would I ever get me back, or did I just have to come
to grips with the fact that I was now a completely different person?
In heavy contemplation, I got dressed. I put on a faded Iron
Maiden concert tee, a token from the time Melissa and I had driven to Sioux
Falls, South Dakota to see them perform, and some blue jeans that seemed
tighter around the waist than I remembered.
I checked my bank balance and determined that If I was going
to have drinks at the bar with Carl, I had better eat at home beforehand. I had
a cup of ramen noodles, and cut slices off of a brick of cheddar cheese, as I
wasted time watching random crap on YouTube.
Finally, it was five thirty and time to go. Well really, I
didn't need to hurry, as it was only a five-minute drive across the bridge to
Superior, but there was no way I was going to be late.
I parked behind the bar and didn't see any vehicles I recognized.
I listened to the radio for a little while, then at ten to six, I got out of
the car. The hard part is done. I'm here.
I walked in and scanned the place for Carl. I know he had
said he was leaving work at six, but I didn't want to miss him by mistake if he
was early for some reason. Not seeing him or anyone else I knew, I took a seat
at the end of the bar. The place wasn't very busy at all, with maybe a dozen
people spread out throughout the whole place. A red-haired waitress came and
took my order for a Grainbelt beer, and I watched her go to the cooler to get
the bottle. She was cute, if a little thick around the middle, and when she
handed me the beer, she flashed me the smile of experienced waitresses
everywhere. The kind of smile that says, "I'll be sweet, and yes, maybe
even flirt with you a little, but this is my job and you better not take it as
more than a professional courtesy". I respected that. Good bartenders were
hard to come by, and this one seemed proficient so far.
I sipped my beer, and surreptitiously watched the other
patrons. There was the same general mix of people you see in bars like this on
a Tuesday evening. A few older couples, quietly enjoying dinner and a glass of
wine, a fifty-year-old high school prom queen and her steroid-pumped boyfriend,
slamming cheap beer, faces wind burned from riding a Harley all day, a table of
college frat boy types laughing too loudly at offensive jokes, you know the
kind of place.
I faced the bar again, and in the mirror, I could see that
one person was sitting alone at the table right behind me. She was facing away
from me and seemed engrossed in something on her phone. She was wearing a
maroon sweatshirt and had bushy dark brown hair that immediately reminded me of
a young Hermione Granger.
I watched her in the mirror, not being a creep, just out of
curiosity and that I had nothing else to do while I waited for Carl. She never
turned or sat up straight, just stayed on her phone, occasionally typing
furiously.
After a while, I looked at the time on my phone. It was
twenty after six, Carl should have been here already. I ordered another beer
from Cassie, the bartender, and gave him ten more minutes.
I called Carl, and it took four or five rings for him to
pick up.
"Hey dude," Carl said right away. "I am so
sorry. I have a big issue I've got to manage here."
I could hear people talking loudly in the background and the
beep of a forklift.
"Hey," I said. "What's up?"
"One of the kids knocked over a shelving unit in the
garden center, and they all collapsed like dominoes. It's a big fucking
mess." There was a scuffing noise as he held his phone aside and yelled at
someone. "Don't bother saving that stuff, it's all junk now. Scan it, then
throw it in the dumpster!" His voice became clear again. "I don't
remember being this stupid when I was that age, do you?"
"No, not really. So, are you going to be late
or..." I asked, starting to feel a little dumb for getting my hopes up for
a fun evening with old friends.
"Sorry, man, this is going to be an all-nighter."
"Oh, okay," I said, feeling like I just got
punched in the gut.
"Take a rain check for next week? The first round is on
me."
"Yeah, that's okay. Next week it is." I couldn't
believe it. I got myself so excited to do normal people things with normal
people, and this happened. I don't know why I bothered.
"Alright man, gotta go." Before Carl ended the
call, I could hear him start to yell. "Careful! If you knock that over
too, I'm gonna"
As I stared at my phone, not knowing what I should think or
do, I heard a voice to my right. It was the woman with the brown hair.
"You get stood up too?"
I glanced at her. She was standing at the bar a few spots
down from me, waving her empty glass at the bartender.
"Huh? Yeah."
"Sorry for eavesdropping. So what was her excuse?"
In the corner of my eye, I could see the waitress return
with a full glass. The girl took a drink right away. It was something creamy,
Bailey's maybe.
"Problems at work." I didn't mention that the
'her' was a 'him'. As secure enough in my sexuality as I was, straight guys
just didn't say things that could give a woman mixed signals.
"Typical." She took another long pull off her
drink. "This is the third date in a row that has left me sitting. I take
the time to get ready and then sit here waiting. I've got homework I could be
doing." She sighed. "I don't know why I bothered."
"Right." Her last words had struck a chord with my
thoughts, and I turned to face her.
Our eyes met, and the world stopped. We stared at each
other, each of us with furrowing brows. My heart began to race, and I felt like
I just got a shot of adrenaline.
Slowly, she set down her drink, and I set down my phone, but
our eyes remained locked.
Eventually, she whispered. "I know you..."
My throat was dry, and I struggled to get enough air to
respond. "I don't think we've met..."
She was pretty, and younger than I had expected. There was
something strikingly familiar about her, but I knew I had never met this person
before, and probably hadn't ever seen her. Her maroon sweatshirt had the big yellow
UMD (University of Minnesota, Duluth) logo on it. There was something in her
eyes, her icy blue eyes, that told me that I knew this person.
"Who are you?" She whispered. The confusion on her
face gave way to a look of fear.
"Charles," I said woodenly, trying to make some
sense of what was happening.
This wasn't like the times you see someone in a crowd that
looks like someone you know. I knew this person, have always known this person,
and yet, nothing about her was familiar.
"What is going on?" She asked, glancing at the
bartender who was eyeing both of us in turn with raised eyebrows. "You're
real? You're really real?" Her look of fear gave way to panic. "I've
got to get out of here. This can't be happening."
She slowly backed away from me, then turned and fled towards
the door. I scrambled to put some cash on the bar for my beer, then followed
after her. When I got outside, she was standing near a car with her head in her
hands.
She looked up at my approach. "Don't come any
closer." She warned me.
"What's going on?" I asked. "How do you know
me? How do I know you?"
"You know who I am?" She asked, hand on her car
door, ready to flee.
"When I saw you, I felt like I've known you my entire
life, but I've never seen you before." I shook my head, more confused than
ever in my forty-two years.
"Well, I know you, Charles Larson."
"How do you know my last name?" I asked, taken
aback. I was pretty sure I hadn't said it at all earlier.
"If you're really you, then I know everything about
you." Her fear was transforming into anger, and she was almost shouting
now.
"How?"
"Because I dream about you every night! My first
memories are dreams about you! I close my eyes, and I see your face! I see your
life! Every day, every night!" She was holding her head again and had
started pacing side to side next to her car. "Oh my God. All these years,
all the therapy, all the drugs to get you out of my head, and I find you
sitting in a dive bar. This can't be real."
My car was parked next to hers, and she watched me wearily
as I slowly walked over and sat on the hood.
"If you're really Charles Larson, tell me about
yourself." She was looking at me like she was seeing a ghost.
"I grew up in Minnetonka..." I was confused to the
point of being numb, so I just started talking. I told her about my family,
where I went to school, everything up to just before I fell in love with
Melissa.
Her face was pale, but she had stopped pacing and was just
staring at me. "What was her name?"
I looked at her sharply, surprised by the question.
"Your second cousin, the one you married."
Shocked, I replied. "Melissa."
She took a tentative step towards me. "The two of you
lived in a tiny apartment off of Grand Ave." She stepped closer. "You
lived there together for fifteen years until..." She was right next to me
now, and she picked up my right hand, turning it over to see the backside. She
traced a finger down the scar that ran lengthwise behind my index finger.
"Someone at your work dropped a piece of metal gutter, and the end sliced
your hand open. It bled and bled, and you had to go get it stitched up."
"How do you know these things?" I asked with
something I could only describe as awe.
"Because I saw it happen. I was there, in my
dreams."
"I feel that we are connected somehow, but, I don't
even know who you are."
She shifted her hands and grasped mine in a handshake. She
looked at me with a shy smile. "I'm Kate Winters, and I've been waiting to
meet you my whole life."
Chapter Twenty-one.
"You're older than I thought you would be."
Kate was eyeing me from across the table. We had gone back
into the bar and had taken a booth near the back. The frat boys were gone, and
there was no one else nearby.
"How old do you think I should be?" I asked, head
still spinning.
"When I was growing up, every dream was different. The
time wasn't the same, the days weren't one-for-one. You were getting older
faster than I was. For the last couple of years though, I've had the same
dream. It's the same scene every night." She looked at me with empathy,
expecting that I wasn't going to like what she was saying. "You were
thirty-three, and it was nine years ago."
A wave of non-specific dread washed over me. "What
scene, What dream are you having over and over?"
I already knew what she was going to say, and I didn't want
to hear it.
Kate closed her eyes. "We are in your truck, we had
just been at the movie theater. You were telling me how you never liked Matt
Damon, but in this movie, he was pretty good. Then,”
"Stop," I said, probably a little too forcibly.
"I'm sorry." Her eyes were glistening with tears.
We sat in silence for a long time, each wrestling with our
thoughts.
Finally, I asked. "You said I was speaking to you?"
She sniffed and nodded. "When the two of you were
apart, it was kind of a third-person view, like watching a movie. But whenever
you were with her, I saw you through her eyes. I felt what she felt, I thought
what she thought. I think,” She looked at me apprehensively. "When the
dreams started, it was the summer she figured out that she loved you. I was
five and didn't really understand what I was seeing. I started using bigger
words, and acting like I was thirteen because you two were thirteen."
My thoughts swirled like a hurricane around that night nine
years ago. There was the crash, and my truck crumpled up like a beer can. I was
dazed, and there was glass in my eyes. I struggled to reach Melissa. The door
had crumpled in and crushed her into the seat, into the tight space between
what had been the dashboard and the back of the cab. Her eyes opened as I
touched her cheek. She tried to speak, but no noise came out. Her mouth kept
moving until suddenly she went still. Her heart stopped, and the spark of life
left her eyes. My love, my life, was gone.
Tears were streaming down my face, but somehow I had the
composure to speak. "If you thought what she thought, did she blame
me?" One thing that I had thought I had come to a resolution on, was the
thought that the accident was my fault, that; had I not been looking at her at
that moment, I might have been able to avoid the other car.
Kate was crying too. "Of course not. You know what she
was trying to say?" She reached across the table and held my hands tight
in hers. "She was saying "I love you" over and over. She knew
she was dying, and her only thought was that you would be alone."
Still holding Kate's hands, I buried my face into my arm and
cried hard, shuddering with every sob.
I don't know how long I cried. At some point, I heard the
waitress come by, and Kate whispered "We're okay."
I felt Kate start running a hand through my hair, massaging
my head. Exactly how Melissa used to. It felt good, but it also felt wrong. It
wasn't Melissa's hand, It was Kate's. She was some random college girl I had
never met, and I was plenty old enough to be her father. At the same time
though, some part of me, deep down, was screaming that this was Melissa.
I raised my head from my arm and looked at Kate. I felt no
apprehension or shame in meeting her eyes, eyes that were so much like
Melissa's. I studied them intently. They weren't just similar, they were
identical. The patterns of blue were the same, and there was even that tiny
green speck in the iris of her right eye. No one but me had ever noticed it. As
insane as it sounds, I swear that I could feel Melissa's soul staring back at
me through Kate's eyes.
"So, what now?" I asked.
"Maybe we should go somewhere more private and figure
this out," Kate replied, her eyes moving to the people walking into the
bar.
"I still live in the same place." I couldn't
believe that I had just said that. Did I just ask this girl to come home with
me? Yes. She may be half my age, but there was something supernatural to the
way I was drawn to her. She was not Melissa, I knew that, but in some
intangible way, she very much was.
Kate led the way, and I followed her back to my apartment.
For some inexplicable reason, I thought of the day Melissa sat next to me on
the rocks, and tearfully explained her past. The words I had spoken to her came
into my mind as clearly as I had just said them.
"None of what happened was your fault. You deserve
to be happy. You deserve to be loved. I love you, I will always love you.
Nothing in the past, present, or future will stop me from loving you until the
end of time, and when we're both gone from this world, I'll find you in the
next and keep loving you!"
Is there such a thing as reincarnation? But no, Kate was in
her early twenties, and Melissa died only nine years ago.
The words continued to echo in my mind, and I realized that
at some point it had stopped being my voice that was speaking. It was
Melissa's.
I bumped the door shut with my back and watched Kate as she
surveyed my apartment. It occurred to me that not a lot had changed about the
place in the last nine years, since the last time Kate would have seen it in
her dreams. The couch was faded and threadbare, but comfortable, and the
decorations were pretty much how Melissa had left them. The biggest difference,
I noticed with some shame, was the general disorder of the place. Dirty dishes
sat in a pile on the counter near the sink, and empty food containers covered
the rest of the flat surfaces in the kitchenette. A pile of dirty clothes
partially blocked the narrow hallway.
Kate turned slowly, taking it all in. She stopped, facing
me.
"It looks exactly how I remember."
I studied her face. I didn't know what to say, so I said
nothing.
She pointed at a picture on the wall beside the door.
"I remember when that was taken. We, You went to a big concert in
Wisconsin..."
I could see at her collar, that she was wearing a tee shirt
under her sweatshirt.
"Take off your sweatshirt." I should have realized
the creepy way in which that could be taken, but I wasn't thinking like that. I
wanted to see her, to see if my eyes could help solve the mystery that had so
thoroughly confused my heart and mind.
A small part of me was surprised ,as Kate complied without
hesitation. When she pulled the sweatshirt off, the bottom of her tee shirt was
pulled up enough for me to get a glimpse of her flat belly. Her clothes were
tight-fitting, and my eyes roamed her body. She was the same height as Melissa,
had the same overall shape to her frame, and seemed to be in very good shape.
She wasn't as muscular as Melissa had been, but then again, Melissa never had
to try as hard as others to build muscle mass.
Kate was watching me study her. She didn't look afraid or
apprehensive at all. Rather, what came across to me was a sense of absolute
trust. Melissa had looked at me like that, like she would put her life in my
hands without hesitation, safe in the knowledge that I would never willingly
hurt her.
Her hair was very different, in color and style, and her
skin was pale, like she didn't spend a lot of time outside. I stepped closer
and tentatively raised a hand to her face. She didn't flinch or pull away. My
hand cupped her cheek, and she closed her eyes, pressing her face into my
gentle touch.
Her features were softened by youth, but the shape of her
face, the structure of her bones, was eerily familiar.
"You do look like her," I said softly.
"Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I see her face
looking back at me."
I felt her hands on my waist as she stepped close. Our faces
were inches apart.
"This must be difficult for you," She whispered.
"I've lived with this my whole life. I've had time to deal with it."
Seemingly of their own accord, my arms wrapped around her in
a hug. She pressed herself against me, and I could feel that her heart was beating
as rapidly as mine.
"Through the years, I began to love being her."
My face nestled against her neck, fitting perfectly. I
breathed in deep. Her scent, my God, it was her scent!
"I began to love you," She whispered into my ear.
"I love you the way she loved you."
My thoughts were muddled; like I had been drinking all day
and her words were hypnotizing. The rational part of my mind, dazzled as it
was; still held to the fact that this was not Melissa. The rest of me wanted
her to be Melissa, needed her to be.
"I'm so alone." My words fell out of my mouth like
a sob.
"You don't have to be alone," She said soothingly.
"You deserve to be loved."
I brought my head up and looked into her eyes, Melissa's
eyes. Why had she used those specific words, those words that had floated into
my mind not ten minutes ago? They were my words, and it seemed as though
Melissa was speaking them.
"Do I?" I asked.
"Everyone deserves to be loved, but you
especially."
I thought of the stranger I saw when I looked in the mirror.
"You haven't seen me since the accident. I'm not the same person I was
before. I don't know who I am, but it's not the Charles you knew."
She cupped my face in her hands. Her eyes seemed to
penetrate my very soul, reading the truth that had been obscured from me for so
long.
"I see you, Charles. You are kind and
gentle, caring and considerate, fiercely loyal and honorable. You are truthful
and funny, wise and brave. Most of all, you are loving. You would selflessly
give the last of yourself if the one you loved needed it."
The way Kate was looking at me, the love and knowing in her
eyes, made something click in my mind. Bubbling up from the depths, came
feelings I thought were gone forever. I remembered the way my heart fluttered
when Melissa smiled at me, even after fifteen years of marriage. I remembered
how it felt to fully give myself to her, and how my greatest pleasure was
seeing the pleasure I gave to her. I remembered the sense of unity, the self
and the other made whole. I remembered love, pure and bright, untainted by the
weight of the world. Melissa and I had given ourselves to each other and became
something greater, one being in all ways, body, heart, mind, and soul. That is
who I was, who I am, and who I will forever be.
Now standing here with this woman in my arms, I felt that
connection again. I felt the bond we had forged, stronger than the foundations
of the Earth, stronger than the very fabric of space and time. Though I hadn't
seen it for years, it had not dissolved, had not forsaken me. What were a few
years compared to that kind of power?
"Are you my Melissa?"
A faint sense of doubt passed through her eyes. "I
don't know. Yes? No? Neither?"
She looked away from my eyes, confusion, and memory clouding
her face.
"Have you ever read about schizophrenics? My mother
thought I was one because when I started writing in diaries, I didn't have just
one. I had three, one for me, one for Melissa, and one for you. I wrote down
everything, all your conversations, and all your emotions. It was mostly just you
at this point, with a few precious dreams of your weekends at the cabin with
Melissa. Mom brought me to more doctors than I can remember, and they all said
that I wasn't schizophrenic, as I didn't have trouble being myself. Apart from
my dreams, I was a normal, healthy little girl. They read my journals,
determined that I was suffering from an advanced form of multiple personality
disorder, and medicated me accordingly. They were stumped though, how a little
girl could write with such detail and realism."
She looked down and fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. I
watched how her fingers moved and the posture of her body. She moved like
Melissa.
"The drugs they gave me didn't do anything but make me
feel like shit all the time. I didn't know where my dreams were coming from,
but I had to believe that nothing was wrong with me because they felt so right.
I enjoyed them and saw them as a gift or a blessing. As strange as it may seem,
you were my best friend, and I went to sleep happy every night."
She stopped fidgeting and looked at me.
"When I was thirteen, I had a dream about that most
special weekend at the cabin. It was several dreams actually. I experienced
every single moment. I felt the bond Melissa made with you, and not just while
I was dreaming. The following days, I buzzed with giddy excitement and cried
from the sheer joy of it. It was then that I knew without a shred of doubt,
that I wasn't ill." She said this last word with derision. "Nothing
that felt that right and pure could be sickness. I stopped taking the
medication that day. My waking mind cleared, and I knew joy like I hadn't
imagined possible." She sighed. "I never knew for sure if what I
experienced in my dreams was happening to real people, or if it was all just
for me alone, and I didn't want to find out."
She placed my hand on her chest and I could feel her heart
pounding.
"What I do know, is that as time went on and I grew
older, I became more like Melissa. Her personality and insecurities, likes and
dislikes, her thoughts and dreams, all merged with my own. When I was old
enough to start dating, I went out with a lot of guys. It never worked out, and
rarely even got close to physical intimacy, because none of them were
you."
Her chest was heaving as her heart beat even faster.
"I couldn't find love, because I was already in love. I
don't know if I am Melissa. I wasn't born as her, so maybe I'm not. But in
every way that truly matters, I think that I am her."
I read her eyes with the ease that I had been able to read
Melissa's. Her love for me was evident, as was her passion and desire. No one
but Melissa had ever looked at me the way she was now. Like Melissa's had,
Kate's eyes also held insecurity, self-consciousness, and hurt.
Kate said that she had dreamed about the accident for years
now. Seeing it, feeling it play out over and over. The pain of my recollection
of it was pushed aside by an immense surge of empathy and compassion. I only
had to live through it once. I couldn't imagine having it waiting for me every
night, to see and feel it in perfect clarity, untarnished by the fog of memory.
My hand slid from her heart, and she shuddered involuntarily
as it settled gently on the side of her neck, just below her jawline. At that
moment, I didn't see Kate. I saw the girl I had fallen hopelessly in love with
so many years ago, and the woman I had married. I saw my warrior queen, fierce
and confident, but at the same time so gentle and insecure. I saw her soul,
eternally bound to mine. I saw Melissa's inexhaustible sexual desire for me,
roaring hot as a blast furnace, as mine did for her.
I tilted her face up and kissed her. She moaned softly, as
her lips opened and our tongues met. The kissing was slow and gentle, neither
of us wanting to scare the other with our need for intimacy. We both gasped as
our mouths parted. She held my face, and her touch, despite my three-day-old
stubble, was soft and familiar.
"Maybe we shouldn't,”
She held a finger to my lips. "I need you and you need
me," She whispered.
Slowly, she pulled her tee shirt over her head and dropped
it to the floor. Eyes locked with mine, she unzipped her pants, shimmied, and
kicked them away when they fell to her ankles. She wore a matching set of light
blue panties and a bra. They were pretty, lacy things that accentuated her
toned body in a way that screamed sensuality.
Without another word, she took my hand in hers and led me to
my bed.
Later, I watched Kate sleep peacefully in my arms. I reached
to the bedside table, and turned out the light, plunging the room into total
darkness. I turned back to Kate, who I could see in my mind's eye with crystal
clarity. This girl, this woman, who was at the same time achingly familiar and
disturbingly foreign, had arrived in my life at the head of a rampaging horde
of swirling thoughts.
Was it possible that Melissa's soul had somehow made its way
to Kate, and led her to me? Amid our passion, as years of longing and desire
burst forth from both of us, it felt like I was with Melissa, in every way I
could perceive. She moved and kissed like her, smelled and tasted like her. She
felt like her, outside and in, and even moaned and cried out like her.
I felt like I could give in and accept it. I could
acknowledge that this was, in fact, Melissa. We could continue our life
together as if the real Melissa had never died. We could be happy, and grow old
hand in hand. It was so tempting to lose myself to the idea. My heart ached for
it.
But something wasn't right. The whole idea seemed unnatural
as if it had been manipulated by a higher power whose intent could not be
known. This doubt had the feel of truth, jagged and persistent. I knew that I
couldn't ignore it, that it would be an eternal festering mote, no matter how
sweet a fantasy my life would seem.
There was a riddle here that needed to be solved, that
demanded to be solved. Above all the confusion and jumbled emotions, there was
an overarching feeling that there was an answer just beyond my grasp. I knew
that if I could reach it and see just a glimpse of what was beyond, if only for
a split second, I would know the truth.
I lay there in the dark, willing with every fiber of my
being for the universe to give me an answer.
The darkness seemed to acquiesce to my silent pleading.
I fell through the dark, free of my bed, free of the Earth
and reality, into a cozy warm sleeping bag.
I spoke to Melissa as night became morning. "You
know me better than anyone. Being with you makes me feel complete, in a way I
didn't know was possible. I am yours, in all ways, forever."
Bright as a star, the light of love flashed in her eyes,
bathing all existence with its brilliance.
"Hold on to that moment, use it as a refuge."
Sandy blonde hair glowed like golden fire in an autumn
sunbeam.
"You're real," Melissa said as we
embraced outside her apartment.
We evaporated into smoke, wafting on a lazy breeze through
the pines, and condensed again, lying in Melissa's bed.
"Have you been that lonely?" I
asked. "For as long as I can remember"
Melissa flung herself into my arms. "Am I okay?
Charles, this is a dream come true!"
A small glass bottle was held out for me to smell. I leaned
close and howled as I was sucked into the bottle, down, down, down, into the
swirling, bubbling liquid.
"We remember scents much better than we think we do.
Sometimes all we need is a little hint, and it's brought right to the front.
Scents are all connected in our minds, and are rooted deep down at the very
foundation of memory."
My howl became the biting wind, as cold as the water
crashing its way through the rocks. The grayness of the sky seemed to leach all
color and emotion from the world.
"None of what happened was your fault. You deserve
to be happy. You deserve to be loved. I love you, I will always love you."
The wind rose, howling becoming screeching, becoming
screaming, as tires slid, glass broke, and metal crumpled.
"I love you. I love you. I love you..."
A sudden silence as the flying glass became a sea of stars.
"Nothing in the past, present, or future will stop
me from loving you until the end of time..."
The endless expanse of the cosmos loomed, comforting in its
infinite possibility.
"...and when we're both gone from this world, I'll
find you in the next and keep loving you!"
I stood alone in a bright sunlit clearing, within a
cathedral of Red Pines. Above, a billion, billion suns twinkled in the vast
dark.
My mother hugged me. "Oh, Charles. Love is so
precious. It doesn't matter where you find it, but when you do, you hold on with
both hands and never let go."
Mother became Melissa, whispering my words back to me. "I'll
find you in the next and keep loving you."
Our sacred pine grove faded as her whisper echoed through
infinity. "I'll find you in the next, in the next, in the next..."
I floated alone.
The self, the other, and the one were all gone.
Joy and sadness were words without meaning.
Light and dark had no definition.
Space had no direction.
Time held no sway.
Based on a post by NewMountain80, in 2 parts, for Literotica.
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