Dream

On one occasion, I was very largely pregnant with our second child. We were vacationing for a week, and the sea, as always, beckoned us. My bathing suit was covered with an oversized T-shirt, and my wading went no further than knee deep. I had just settled down into the water, half squatting, half-kneeling, when a hand slid up my leg.

"Adam!" I gasped in surprise. "What are you doing? Are you crazy? People can see us!"

He laughed at my modest protests, took me into his arms, and whispered, "I'm just enjoying my wife. Did you know she's beautiful?" He lowered his head and I gave him my mouth. The kiss was warm, seductive, guaranteed to raise my blood pressure. "Adam, not here. Not now," I begged.

"Ready to go in?" he asked, and lifted me into his arms. Without waiting for my reply, he took me back to our room. "Nobody's watching now," he said mischievously, and started a slow seduction that began with him stripping off my wet clothing, and ended with us tangled in each other's arms. I remember wondering and even marveling that he could still find me seductive despite my large belly. And I remember being so completely contented in my ability to hold a human heart in my hands.

"Leah," a voice said, "it's dinner time." I looked up to see George, Naomi's husband smiling down at me. "You really like it down here, don't you?" he asked.

I smiled at him in return. "Yes, it's very soothing to me." We walked back up the steep path together to the house, where a stranger was standing on the front porch with Naomi. "Who's he?" I asked George.

"Our next door neighbor. He's not a farmer though. He leaves that to his manager. He inherited the place, but only uses it for recreation himself. He lives in the city."

We reached the house, walking up the short path from the gate to its wide wraparound porch, its swing seat, its flowering plants nestled here and there. The smell of good food wafted out to us as greetings were exchanged. His name was Joshua Blackwood. Over dinner, he told us about his fiancee. I envied him. He had somebody to love, somebody physical to touch, to kiss, to hug and squeeze. Someone to buy gifts for, to eat breakfast with, to dance with. I had no one. I felt the depth of my loneliness creep back into the newly warmed spaces of my soul. He must have noticed me grow silent, because he stopped speaking suddenly, looked at me and asked, "Are you feeling all right?"

I was instantly at attention, embarrassed at having allowed myself to show my pain in public, and at having brought a damper on the meal. "Yes, I'm fine," I responded hastily, hoping he would go back to his talk, and I could quietly excuse myself from the table and leave.

"Leah's just lost her husband," I heard Naomi saying. I was mortified. I wanted no sympathy from anyone. I was big enough to handle this on my own. And why tell my affairs to a stranger? I was becoming angry as well, and I opened my mouth to say so when Joshua spoke again.

"Don't be angry with Naomi," he surprised me by saying. "I see she forgot to mention that I am a minister." My surprise was complete. "I'll be here for a few days if you need an ear." His offer made, he offered me bread and went back to his meal.

Later, as he said goodbye, he repeated his invitation, and added, "I know you would probably rather not talk, but I also know it will relieve your pain. Loss is hard for us to deal with, because we take it so personally. Whenever you're ready, call."

...Adam was standing over me, smiling down at me as he held baby Chloe in his hands. She was asleep, and he was beaming from ear to ear. The nurse came to take her from him, and he gave her up reluctantly. She was our first girl, and labor had been long and difficult. He thought I was going to die at one time, because she was a breech birth. Now joy and pleasure replaced the fear on his face. He sat next to me on the bed, and whispered words of love into my ear. He knew I was only half awake, but he wanted to be sure to tell me again that I was the best thing that ever happened to him, that I was his whole life, that he loved me, that nobody could ever take my place. He feathered my face and neck with light kisses until I fell asleep.

I was crying again, this time angry that he could still torture me with the want of him when he was gone for good. Why did I have to be left alone? He was feeling nothing where he was, while I was suffering the pain of his loss and all that that meant. I stopped in the middle of all my tears to acknowledge that our relationship had been intensely physical from the day of our marriage, and that what I seemed to be missing most was the great sex we had had, the lust that always hung between us, waiting for us to fly away upon its wings. Now shame and guilt mixed in with my feelings of loneliness. He had been more than a sexual partner, but that was all I could think about. Had I really loved him or just his luscious body?

I got out of bed, and walked down the long hallway to the stairs and out onto the wide front porch. It was a still night, the silence only emphasized by the lonely chirping of crickets nearby. A small, warm wind bustled around the flowers in the garden, danced around the treetops, nestled in the dark hollow of shadows cast by trees and house and hedges. I sat in the swing chair and pushed gently against the floor, setting the swing in motion. The movement was soothing, reminding me of how I felt in the calm waters of the sea.

I was only dimly aware of the stars above me in the firmament, or of the moon in its first quarter, or of the lights of houses blinking in the distance. The darkness I knew well, and was conscious of the rhythms of the dark spaces around me, rhythms that were absent from the dark spaces inside me. Nevertheless, I felt comforted by the darkness. I could hide my guilt and shame in its enfolding and invisible shades. I fantasized that my grief was spread out around me like a blanket, and that the darkness was obscuring it so successfully that it seemed almost not to exist. If I could stay in the darkness, I would be able to roll my pain in it and keep away from my conscious mind.

Running away seemed such an inviting prospect that for a few minutes I thought of going back into the house, collecting my things, and leaving this familiar place for a place where no one would know me, where it is always dark, where I can hide from my pain. Finally, I stayed where I was, when I realized the effort it would take to run away would somehow prolong the agony, and maybe even worsen it. Better to learn from the dark how to conceal, then practice the skill in the light of day. I stared around me at the deepening night, and drifted into sleep.

I woke up to find myself standing, arms raised in self-defense, breathing heavily. I had had a nightmare, where I was being chased by a horrible beast, which had injured me with its iron claws as I ran from it. It had backed me into a corner and was about to strike again when I awoke, hopelessly trying to defend myself from its attack. I collapsed into the swing again, and looked around me fearfully, half expecting something, I knew not what, to jump out at me from the shadows, which were now considerably lighter. It was almost daybreak.

I slipped back into the house, and went into the kitchen. The clock over the stove said it was five-thirty. I switched on the stove light, and took a cup from the dish drainer. Warm milk sounded good to me, especially since I suddenly decided that I was going to spend the day in bed. I felt unable to face the outside, it seemed so fearfully unfamiliar. I went to the refrigerator, and poured milk into a small pan. While I waited for it to warm up, I looked around me. The room was large, with plenty of room for running, and dancing and spinning, if the mood took hold. And I was running around the center island with Adam in hot pursuit, giggling as I tried to keep away from him. The gleam in his eyes told me I was not long for freedom, and I turned suddenly, deciding that surrender was preferable to capture.

He spun me around and we laughed giddily. His mouth descended, and I stayed perfectly still. When he touched me, I felt hot tears well up in my eyes. I opened them to find that the milk was boiling over onto the stovetop. I got up hastily, and went to clean up the mess I had made. The tears flowed like water from a tap, as I cleaned up, and poured the rest of the milk into a cup. I poured in some chocolate syrup, and stirred, watching the brown liquid go round and round in the cup, fancifully thinking it told the story of my life without Adam. The image blurred, and I dashed away fresh tears, sipping hot milk and sniffling.

Footsteps told me I was not to be alone longer, so I hastily wiped my eyes, and kept my head lowered to hide red eyes and a wet nose. George's voice broke the silence. "You're up early, Lee. Are you all right?" His voice held concern, and I hastened to reassure him.

"I'm fine, George, I'm fine! I didn't sleep well, that's all," I added, by way of explaining hot milk in the morning. "I think I'll head back to bed, now. I'm going to try for a sleep in."

George went about making coffee, and the smell of fresh beans was somehow the saddest thing to happen to me in a long time. I rushed out of the kitchen, up the stairs to my room, almost knocking Naomi off her feet as I went. She was right behind me, and as I sat on the bed, she sat next to me.

"Lee, I wish you'd talk to me, or to somebody. You haven't said anything to anyone since you've been here. It's been four days! And I hate to see you pining away, and dying inside like this!"

My sister's voice was cracked with feeling, and she gripped my shoulders tightly as she spoke. I turned to look at her.

"There's nothing to say, Naomi. I can't explain how I'm feeling, and I don't think talking about it will help. And anyway, why should I depress everyone else? It's not as though I'm the only one who's ever lost a husband!" I was trying to sound light and airy, and I was not fooling anyone, least of all my sister. She hugged me wordlessly, and cried with me as I let out all the pain I had been bottling up inside me for days. I couldn't seem to stop, and she didn't try to make me.

I do not know how long we sat there, in each other's arms, but eventually, there seemed to be no more tears. I was spent, for the moment. I broke the silence first.

"I think I'd like to stay in today. I didn't sleep well last night, and I'm feeling a little tired. I can't believe how exhausted I feel these days. How would I feel if I was still at work? How am I going to feel when I go back?"

"Don't worry about any of that now. You're here to rest. If you need to stay in, go right ahead. Gee and I have to go into town for a while, but you'll be fine, here. Joshua said he'd pass by later, if you're up to a visitor. If not, he'll go, "she added hastily, when she saw the face I made.

V

Todd walked slowly over to me with the young girl next to him, and I watched my son with pride. He was so tall, so handsome, so like his father, and she was so diminutive and petite, that he seemed to tower over her. She was a pretty girl, with very dark skin, and deep dimples. Adam shook her hand gravely, and she stood before me shyly, anxiety plain in her face.

"Hello, Wanda," I said. "Sit next to me." Wanda sat down on the edge of the sofa next to me, and Todd went to get her a drink. Adam had been very gentle with her, because her English was still not strong, and I watched as she flowered under his attention. He asked her about her home, about her family, about herself. By the time she was ready to leave, she had completely relaxed, and laughed merrily at everything anyone said to her.

He always seemed to have a way with women, and a part of me was always a little wary of them. What if someone stole him away from me? How would I live? Wanda was a welcome respite from the worry that nagged at me. She was twelve, Todd thirteen, and they were going to the junior high school dance together. When Adam came back from taking them to the school hall, he laughed at the way she sat on the edge of the sofa. "Like a frightened kitten, ready to jump off," he said.

"You have that effect on people," I said laughingly, "especially women."

"Is that the effect I have on you, Mrs. Maxwell?" Adam asked innocently, his eyes gleaming at me. I smiled.

"Me? I'm wise to you, and I've learned how to defend myself," I replied. "You'll find no easy target here, mister!" I giggled at him, and stood up. He was right in front of me, blocking my path.

"What's your hurry? I was just beginning to enjoy the conversation!" His arms sneaked around me.

"I have work to do, Adam. I don't have time to play with you!" I wriggled a little. "The baby will be awake soon, and I have to get a bottle ready for her." I tried to step around him, but he stepped sideways to block me again.

"Ruth will be asleep for a while longer. What shall we do till then?" he wondered aloud. His face was a study in smugness, and I tried halfheartedly to escape from his ever-tightening grip. He bent his head and lightly touched my lips with his. I shuddered, and he pressed harder. I trembled and would have fallen if he hadn't been holding me. He touched his tongue to my lips, and I opened them.

Suddenly he was breathing heavily, and his hands were trying to find a way under my blouse. "Lee," he breathed into my mouth, "it's been so long! Let's go upstairs." He swung me up into his arms, and before I knew it, we were on our bed, naked and in each other's arms. "Honey," he said between drugging kisses, "I want you so badly, and I can't seem to get enough of you." He nibbled at my nipples, and smiled when I moaned softly.

The tears on my pillow woke me this time, and I sat up in bed, looking around me in confusion. Where was Adam? The bed was empty, and I realized that I had been dreaming again. That was the time in our lives when we were away from each other for weeks at a time because of his job, and whenever he came home, it was as though we had been apart for a lifetime. The lovemaking was always better than usual, and the intensity of feeling kept us in bed as often as we dared. We'd been married for fifteen years, and still we felt like newlyweds. Our mutual desire was always a felt presence between us, and I was happy to be there when he came home, to plumb the depth of our passion for each other.

I lay on the bed curled in a ball, weeping quietly. I thought I heard a car drive up, but I was past caring. A door opened, and still I did not move. Voices drifted up the stairwell, and I knew my sister and her husband had come back. I covered my head with the sheet, still curled up, and prayed that she would leave me alone. The door opened, then closed quietly. I wiped my eyes, and relaxed.

"I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to hurt you," Adam whispered into my ear. I lay with my back to him, stiff, unbending, unforgiving. A few words of apology were not going to do it. He put his hands on my shoulder, and I shrugged them off. I got out of bed, and walked out of the room. He did not follow.

I slammed a mug onto the counter top, and heated water in the kettle. As I made some tea, I thought about why we were quarreling. He had been away for three weeks after he had said he would be home for two. It was summer time, and the kids were out of school. Adam had promised to take two weeks vacation and we were to go away for a long overdue holiday. Then, he had come home with the news that he was being offered overtime pay to work the next three weeks. We were always in need of extra cash, and ever since Todd turned thirteen, Adam had begun to work extra time to save money for his college tuition.

Today was our sixteenth wedding anniversary, and he had only managed to make it back home that afternoon. We were supposed to have been celebrating this day all week long, as we did every year. But Adam had decided that money was more important than our special time together, and although I knew why he had done it, I was still furious with him for leaving us, leaving me.

The tea was insipid when I drank it, and cookies did not help. I was so angry I could hardly swallow, and I was even angrier that he did not come after me to try to make up. I looked at the clock. Two o'clock. The house was quiet. All the children were asleep, and I did not know what Adam was doing. I wanted him to come down and beg for my forgiveness, so that we could get back to where we were happy and contented with each other. It's not that I didn't care about money, but I felt the children could pay their way through college, just as I and Adam had done, and anyway, our time together as a family, as a couple, was far more important to me than anything.

I thought about the pineapple icebox pudding I had painstakingly made for this anniversary dinner. I thought of the invitations I had had my friend make for me, and that I had not sent out because I knew there would be no party this year. I thought of the sexy black dress I had bought, and the lingerie for afterwards, that were all still where I'd left them when I brought them home from the store. I thought of all the time I had wasted, and he thought he could appease me with an apology!

Finally, I went into the living room, and curled up on the sofa. I'd sleep there tonight. I switched on the television, but nothing interesting was happening, so I switched it off again, and lay my head on my hands, and closed my eyes. I awoke to someone shaking me lightly, and I gazed through blurred eyes at Todd, looking down at me in a puzzled sort of way. I got up hastily.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Six o'clock," he answered. "Are you okay, mom?"

"Yes, dear, I'm fine. Go back to bed," I continued, "it's not time to get up yet."

He went back up the stairs, still looking bewildered.

I couldn't go back to bed now, so I went back into the kitchen and made a batch of pancakes. I also made coffee, juice, toast, and sausages, before it occurred to me that no one in my house ate breakfast before nine o'clock during the summer. Everything would have to be warmed up again. I felt a little foolish when, at seven-thirty, with breakfast fully made, the house was as quiet as the grave. I switched off the coffee maker, and went upstairs.

To avoid Adam, I went into the bathroom and decided to wash my hair, again, and shower. The water was refreshingly warm to my skin, and I stood with my face under it, letting it beat me, fancifully thinking it was smoothing out the fine lines around the corners of my mouth and eyes. I didn't hear the door open, but I felt a cold draft of air whoosh past me, and opened startled eyes. Adam was standing behind me, his face serious, his mouth full and succulent, and I felt such a burning desire for him that in that instant he could have done anything he wanted to with me.

"Lee, "he said, "I'm sorry for making you angry. I can't bear it when you stay away from me. Can we talk about this, please?" His eyes pleaded with me, and his hands held my shoulders.

"Adam..." I was struggling to get the words out, caught as I was between anger and desire, "I'm really angry with you. We can't just pretend that nothing has happened." I stamped my foot in frustration. "Why did you have to ask me in here? I can't get away from you in here, and I'm not sure I want to. How can I be mad at you and want you at the same time?"

"Do you love me, Lee?" he asked quietly. He dropped his arms to his side.

"You know I do. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Do you believe I still love you?" His voice was still quiet. His eyes searched my face.

"Yes," I said. "But..."

"Happy sixteenth anniversary, honey! Come here," he breathed, and pulled me to him. I thought he was going to kiss me, and I wasn't ready to have my mind clouded over by lust just yet. But he had other things in mind. He reached for the wash rag and soaped me from head to toe. He spun me around to rinse me off, raising my arms, opening my legs. Out of the shower, he patted me dry with the large yellow towel, and wrapped me in it. In our bedroom, he loosened my hair, and brushed it, dusted powder over me, spritzed me with perfume, and dressed me in the fancy black underwear he had brought home for me.