I Need to Process This Ch. 01

The first doctor came out of the room and motioned to us to follow him. In the corridor he said quietly, "Look, I'm sorry. That was the first sign of heart failure. The heart is always one of the last organs to go. I'm sorry." I wish he wouldn't keep saying sorry. Mel and I were the ones who were sorry -- he was just doing a fucking job. I needed to keep my anger under control. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't anybody's fault.

We went back in to sit with Mum and hold her hands. Again, we were on either side of the bed. Mum occasionally whispered a few words to us, smiled gently when we reassured her that we were still there, still together, responded a little when I squeezed her hand lightly between both of mine. She looked so peaceful, almost happy, apart from all the wires and drips, but my heart was like a lead weight. I didn't know how Mel felt, not that I'd ever known how Mel felt, but I assume she had that same heavy feeling.

The evening passed in more or less complete silence, but slowly the life ebbed away from Mum, and just before nine, she quietly sighed, and breathed no more. The nurses came in to take over, and Mel and I stood together but slightly apart in the corridor, each alone with our private thoughts, both of us crying softly.

The doctor walked past us and into Mum's room, nodding briefly as he did so, then he came out five minutes later and asked if it would help for us to see the hospital's bereavement counsellors. I looked at Mel and she shook her head, and I did the same. What were they going to say to us anyway?

"I understand," he said. "But if you change your mind, just call here. We have people around 24/7. Kind people who might be able to help. They will be here in the morning."

I asked if we could go back in and see Mum one more time, and he said yes. The nurses had removed all of the drips and lines and tubes, and she looked just like she was having a bit of a snooze -- I almost expected her to wake up. I stood close to Mel, not for any other reason than to be close to her at this time, and I was strangely grateful that she did not move away.

It was too late to do much, so we arranged to come by in the morning, and left. Outside the hospital, I asked Mel if she intended to stay at the house, and she said she'd already booked in at a local chain hotel called the Lodge. I'd decided to stay at Mum's house, not because it was cheap but because I wanted to be there one more time. I said I'd run Mel over to the hotel, but she'd hired a car.

So, I asked if she would like to join me for a meal, and she said she was tired and was going to get room service. OK, suit yourself, I thought. We agreed to meet at the hospital at 9:30 in the morning, and I drove back to Mum's house, picking up a bottle of wine and a burger on the way.

The house was quiet and lonely, but clean and tidy, as it always was. I checked in my bedroom: Mum had my bed made, and when I looked in there, she'd also made Mel's -- just in case we popped by. I felt like crying.

I ate my burger, drank most of the bottle of wine, and staggered up to bed. As I undressed, I thought about the prospect of spending at least a week in Mel's close company organising the funeral and crap like that. I wondered if I would find out what the hell bothered her. As if I cared.

I did care, though. She was my sister, now my closest surviving blood relative. I fancied her like fuck as well, which didn't help. She'd looked utterly beautiful today, wearing closely fitted dark-blue trousers and a white blouse with a linen jacket on top. A couple of buttons on the blouse were undone, but not enough to show any cleavage. Unfortunately.

When she'd walked away from me into the doctor's office, her buttocks were smooth and firm in the trousers, like duck-eggs. Not having kids and remaining fit had certainly preserved her figure. Lying in bed I started to get hard, and I imagined unbuttoning that blouse and exposing her white bra. Putting my hands in to lift out her full breasts and kiss her soft pink nipples. I was sure they would be pink. Pink and hard under my tongue.

I started to stroke myself, slipping easily into the routine of fondling my balls, stroking my thighs and belly, all the while rubbing my hand gently up and down my cock. I wanted to see Mel naked, and I imagined undoing her fitted trousers, pulling her panties down as I bent towards her soft pussy. It would be shaven. Or maybe trimmed. I could almost smell her muskiness. I was now stroking faster and faster and as my mouth touched Mel's pussy, I exploded. Dear god, she was beautiful. Pity she was such a cow.

Hazily, I cleaned myself up, then drifted off into a Mel-populated dream, thinking that for the coming days at least, I really had to keep this fantasy under control.

*

This is the end of Part 1; Part 2 will follow once this has been published.