In Grief, Rebirth Ch. 01

*Note: All characters depicted are at least 18 years of age.

Melissa Vanderbeck stood in front of her house, wearing a conservative, plain, black dress, and a black pea coat with black heels. Her dark, wavy hair hung loose just above her clavicle. A purse slung over her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around a pot containing a beautiful, exotic plant.

She stood there, staring aimlessly towards the door, lost. Empty. Numb. Tears trickled down her cheeks, a few dripping onto the plant and into the soil. She glanced over at her driveway, noting the obvious, open space next to her car. She looked up at the pale, grey sky above, a slight chill in the early spring air, cooling the tears on her face.

She closed her eyes, took a few shaky breaths, and reopened. Breaking her frozen stance, she slowly trudged to the door of her home. Each step heavy, making her legs ache. As she reached the door, she gently set the pot down by her feet and searched for her keys in her purse. A faint, fruity smell graced her nose for a split second. Melissa took a deep breath in to try and capture more, but it was gone. She sighed, pulling her keys up from the confines of her bag.

As she pushed the door inside, it swung open so quietly and smoothly that it seemed to forewarn Melissa about the ghostly emptiness that awaits her. Her heart tightened in her chest, the heartstrings taut, feeling as though they may snap at any moment. Fresh tears crested her lower eyelids. She wrapped her arms around herself in a hug, holding her from falling to her knees. Quiet sobs emitted from her throat.

Pulling herself together, she took another deep breath. When she composed herself, she bent down to pick up her plant. As she rose, she caught another pleasant whiff of the fruity scent she smelled earlier. Just as fleeting as the first, unfortunately. She brought her nose to one of the leaves, but she couldn't smell anything. Perplexed, she looked around to see if any of the neighboring flora were budding yet, but no. Everything was still dormant.

She let out another heavy sigh before stepping into her home. Closing and locking the door, she was met with the quietest silence she had ever heard. It was something she was going to have to endure now. Her heels clicked against the hard wood. The sound echoing louder in her ears from the deafening silence. When she made her way to the dining room, she set her plant in the middle of the long table.

She rubbed the beautiful wood, which sparked memories of happier days spent in that particular room. All the breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. The parties and family get-togethers. The piles of work they would sometimes bring home. She remembered the day her and her husband bought it.

It was one of the most expensive sets of furniture they had ever purchased, but the way it looked in the dining room, the way the sun casted the bright colors of the stained glass, from the ornate edges of the window, onto its surface was more than worth it. The high-back chairs made her feel like she was a queen dining in a royal hall.

She let her lips form a smile, though the sadness didn't let them get too far. She remembered what they did shortly after the delivery crew left. He was sitting at the head of the table, looking proud as he gazed down the length of his royal table. Melissa gave in to a frisky, naughty feeling she had been taming since the delivery crew put the table together. She hopped up onto it, slowly, sexily crawling on hands and knees towards her husband. His face, right at that moment, she was happy to have engrained it in her memory.

She loved that look, of pure, unadulterated surprise. Like a kid who just received the best birthday present they could ever imagine. It remained plastered on his face as Melissa remembered dancing for him. On her knees, her hips swung to the rhythm of the song in her head, her hands tossing her hair behind her, her chest thrust forward.

The clothes she was wearing soon found their way to the floor, piece by piece. When she was naked, she slowly slid off the edge of the table, turned around, and bent forward. Her breasts lightly pressing onto the surface of their new table, her bubbly behind shaking enticingly to her husband. He didn't hesitate. He bounded up so quickly he bumped his knee against the leg of their new table. They shared a quick chuckle as he shook it off, hurriedly unbuckling his belt as he made his way behind his wife.

Melissa's hand clenched tight against the surface of the table. She had closed her eyes as she inhaled sharply, remembering how wonderful her husband's cock filled her in that moment. His thrusts and moans were passionate, and she welcomed him each and every time with her own complimentary sounds of pleasure. Moments later, she recalled how she lay on her back, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms above her holding the other edge of the table. Her breasts swinging freely with the rhythm of his thrusts.

Melissa felt a chuckle in her chest, remembering her husband, while plunging that wonderful cock inside of her, say to her, "Oh wow, this thing is really sturdy!" She slumped down in his chair. She tried to live in the memory for a little longer. It was a favorite of hers. They had sex on this table many other times, but the first time... the first time was heaven to her.

She reminisced on the moments after he found his release, deep inside of her, they both lay atop their newly christened table, cuddling and caressing each other. Little moans and breaths the only sounds they made. Contented smiles etched on their faces. She wished she could live in that moment forever.

When she opened her eyes, the emptiness engulfed her like a wave. She was all alone now. There was no bringing him back. The table, the one they had fallen in love with, now looked even bigger, reminding her of the space that will never be filled again.

With her hands clasped together, she dropped them onto the surface, rested her head on top, and cried.

...

A couple of days later, Melissa sat in her usual spot at the dining room table, eating leftover lasagna that her mother in-law left for her. She wasn't hungry. She was still full from the chicken soup her aunt had left her. But she ate anyway. Grief's hunger seemingly everlasting.

Her eyes were looking out the ornate dining room window, out into her private garden she had spent years building and growing and tending to. The sun was just setting. Rays of oranges, golds, and purples were strewn across the greenery. But she wasn't really looking at that. She was simply spacing. Simply existing in the moment.

The sound of her fork grating against the now empty plate snapped her out of it. As she shook off the spell she was under, something different about her plant had caught her eye. She leaned forward to get a closer look. The same fruity scent was present once again, though faint. While enjoying the wonderous smell, she noticed that the stems were no longer the shiny dark green they were when she brought it home, but now they were crackling with a deep, vibrant red.

This made her curious. She slid the pot closer to her, blindly pushing her plate off to the side. Her fingers grazed its leaves, and the pleasant, fruity smell rewarded her. She then ran her fingers down the length of the stems, feeling the crackling texture. She had never seen a plant like this before. When her fingers reached the bottom, she noticed that the dirt was a little dry. She got up from the table and went to the kitchen to get it some water.

Once it was watered, she settled back into her chair and just studied the plant. She didn't even notice how long she had spent admiring it before her eyes started to feel heavy. After a glance at the big wall clock behind her, she was surprised it was almost midnight. She rarely stayed up that late. With one last look at her intriguing new plant, she got up and started to get ready for bed.

The lights off, doors locked, Melissa made her way upstairs. While going to the bathroom, she caught a whiff of herself and wasn't thrilled. She stripped down after flushing and hopped in the shower. The warm water felt wonderful. Reinvigorating, even. For the first time in days, she felt... ok.

Now with a soft towel wrapped around her and an old t-shirt tied around her hair, she started gathering the random garments that were lazily thrown about in her room. Seeing the unkempt bed reminded her that she should change the bedding too while she was in a cleaning mood. As she pulled the comforter off, her towel became loose and fell to her feet. She picked it up and was about to re-tie it, but instead she shrugged, tossing it onto her vanity chair, and went back to stripping the bed.

Nude but for a shirt on top of her head, she went back downstairs to the laundry room, arms full with the old linens. She dropped them next to the washing machine and made a mental note to do laundry tomorrow. Strolling back out through her home, she passed the dining room. Having a sudden urge to smell her plant again, she waltzed her way in, bent over her table, her nipples grazing against the surface as her fingers gently caressed the leaves, her nose inches from them. The smell welcomed her immediately, now with much more potency than before.

It lingered as she turned around and headed back upstairs. She found herself sniffing her fingers now and again before getting back to her bedroom. She took the shirt off, letting her damp hair drape over her shoulders. Stepping over to her vanity, she took a comb and started combing her hair. With her second wind waning, she looked over at the bare mattress and decided she needed to remake the bed and climb right in.

Moments later, she pulled back the clean duvet and sheets and slid right in. Normally she wore pajamas or at least a nighty and her underwear, but for whatever reason, she didn't. She moaned slightly, a smile creeping up the corners of her lips as she felt the soft sheets against her clean, bare skin. Her body moved sensually to the feeling, settling into a comfy position, before quickly falling into a blissful sleep.

...

The next morning, Melissa woke up feeling refreshed. The night's sleep was a grand one. As she moved, she noted that she hadn't even moved an inch, a few red marks where the sheets had bunched up beneath her arms were present, making her skin feel tight. There was also a damp spot on her pillow where she drooled a little. Taking it all in, Melissa let out a chuckle and smiled, realizing that she slept good, for once.

Sitting up now, her back against the tufted headboard, she stretched her arms above her head and felt a pleasurable pull running up her torso. Through her arms, and all the way to her fingertips. She breathed a delighted moan at the sensation. When she settled back down, she glanced below and cocked her head.

"Hm." She hummed, not hating the fact that she slept completely nude for the first time.

She then glanced at the window, appreciating the bright sunshine pouring in. A smile formed on her lips, undeterred by the grief that still coiled within her. After a few deep breaths she decided to get up and make herself some breakfast.

While walking toward the door, she noticed she was sauntering more than just walking. A little more rock to her hips than she normally did. Much like her nude state, she didn't seem to mind it. Though she thought about remaining in her state of undress, the logical part of her brain told her that she should cover up, more people may stop by with food, flowers, unwanted sympathies, etc. So, she just settled for grabbing her green, silk robe. As she tied the ties together, she luxuriated in the way the material felt on her skin, particularly across her breasts.

'These new... sensations I've been feeling, why haven't I been enjoying them sooner?' She thought as she made her way downstairs. Her nipples hardening ever so slightly at the friction from the material gliding across, her little nubs were now poking out from the other side.

Padding into the kitchen, Melissa went straight for the coffee station set up at the edge of the counter. Once the coffee was brewing, she sliced into one of the loaves of fresh bread she received after the service. In the toaster went two slices. She pulled out a jar of apricot jam and a yogurt from the fridge, setting them at the breakfast bar. She also slid over the butter tray.

The coffee maker beeped, signaling the black liquid was ready for consumption. Not long after, the toast popped up, hot and crisp. Melissa grabbed them with diligent fingertips and dropped them on a plate before the heat got to her. A shmear of butter followed by a smear of jam. Reaching up to grab a mug from the cabinet above, her robe ties loosened, exposing a little cleavage.

Melissa didn't care to really notice as she poured herself a delicious, hot cup of fresh coffee. With her breakfast assembled in front of a stool at the bar, she remembered she still had a bag of pecan pieces in the pantry. She sauntered over and pulled out the bag, removed the chip clip holding it closed, and poured a handful of pieces into her yogurt before returning the bag to the pantry. At this point, her robe ties had loosened to the point of the robe being open, exposing a narrow strip of Melissa's bare flesh from head to toe, only the belt of the robe to interrupt such a view.

She half noticed it, and instead of readjusting and tying the ties again, she simply undid it and sat down at the stool, her nude front pushing the silk material off to her sides. Before she dug into her breakfast, she became a little annoyed at the silence. She stood back up, sauntering over to the designated kitchen radio, her robe flowing elegantly behind her, and she flicked it on, a talk show immediately coming through the speakers. She turned the tuner until she found the jazz station, her and her husband's go-to when enjoying time at home.

She started snapping her fingers to the beat, her hips dancing to the rhythm on her way back to her breakfast. Biting first into a piece of warm toast, she closed her eyes and moaned as if it was the best thing she had eaten in years. Her body slowly danced to the song as she chewed with full intention, savoring the flavor of the butter and jam. This level of enjoyment continued until she finished eating.

With the dishes placed in the dishwasher, Melissa sauntered into the laundry room to wash the clothes and linens she had dropped there the night before. Her robe still flowing freely behind her. At this point, she started feeling like a runway model. She looked down at her feet as she walked and they seemed to step on an imaginary line, making her hips swivel with each toe-heel step. A small smile found its way on her lips.

The whir of the washing machine drum came to life, and Melissa leaned against it, pondering what to do for the day. She had been approved for five weeks of bereavement leave. Generous for a senior small business accountant. Melissa had been with the accounting firm since she graduated college, now over a decade ago, and she had grown to love working with small business owners and entrepreneurs. She helped several local shops, who made a name for themselves, and are still thriving today.

'Over four weeks now.' she thought, watching her big toe draw circles on the cool tile below her feet. After the funeral, she really hadn't thought about what to do with herself and the time off until now. Her joyous mood dimmed a little as those thoughts and the grief began creeping back in. 'I should go through his things...' the thought trailed off, losing whatever motivation she was trying to muster after thinking it. But she pressed off the washing machine and made her way upstairs, the sauntering, swinging hips now rigid and serious. Her right hand holding her robe closed.

In her bedroom, she slid the silk robe off her shoulders and hung it back up behind the door. She grabbed a hair tie off her vanity and put her hair up in a ponytail before heading to her walk-in. A blue pair of cheeky underwear, a black, relaxed-fit pair of capris, and a purple tank top was her outfit for today. An outfit she typically wore when doing chores around the house, though she normally wore a bra, as well. She decided against it, saving a few seconds, and allowing her to keep the fragile momentum she had.

Walking into her late husband's walk-in, she turned on the light, and paused for a moment, taking in all of his clothes. She sighed, then got to work, almost as if on autopilot. No thoughts of nostalgia, no memories triggered. She simply pulled an armful of clothes off the hangers, and threw them, unceremoniously, onto the bed. All of the totes and cloth bins that held his underwear, t-shirts, socks, and ties, all of it found its way to the bed, until there was nothing left in the closet but for a few empty hangers and totes.

Melissa didn't even pause to look at the heap on the bed. Instead, she busily walked down to the attached garage, that they never used for their cars, and pulled a few big garbage bags they used to bag up leaves in the fall. When she got back upstairs, she sorted the clothes by type and scooped them up and put them into the bags as quickly as she could.

Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead once she finished adding the last of it into a bag. Two bags at a time, she carried them downstairs and set them by the door. After that, with tape and a marker, she labeled each bag to match the contents. The only thought she had allowed at this point was that she would load it up and take it to the local Salvation Army.

...

And that was her day. Taking all of her husband's things, packing them up, labeling them, and loading them into her car. By the time she was done, however, it was dark. She would have to go the next day. Covered in sweat, fuzz, and dust, she needed a shower. She peeled off the sweaty tank top, tossing at the hamper but missing it. Then off with the pants and skivvies as she marched into the ensuite.

The water cleansed her grimy body but didn't do much other than that. Melissa didn't feel the same refreshing feeling she felt with yesterday's shower. So, she remained on autopilot mode, shampooing her hair, conditioning, followed by a generous soap lather against her skin. Once she dried off, she slipped into a pair of old, plaid pajamas that had thinned out quite a bit with the multiple years of wear. Though she wasn't really hungry, she rationalized that she should eat something since she hadn't eaten since breakfast.

Down in the kitchen, she spaced as the plate of leftover lasagna spun in the microwave, the beeps pulling her back to reality. She sat down at the breakfast bar and shoveled the food in her mouth, noting that it just tasted bland, the meat feeling overly gritty in her mouth. She managed to eat half of what was on her plate before dumping the rest in the garbage. She couldn't stomach it any longer.

The next couple of hours were filled with more spacing, thoughtlessly existing on the couch in the living room. If it weren't for a yawn that interrupted her blank state, she probably would have gone another couple of hours. Her bedtime routine completed, she slid into bed, but sleep didn't come easy. She was restless, and she couldn't get comfortable. After tossing and turning for who knows how long, she finally fell asleep. As if in the blink of an eye, though, she opened her tired eyes and was met by the sunshine streaming in from the window. She groaned as she willed herself up and out of bed to start another lonely day.

...

The next two days went much the same. Melissa operated like a machine, just working through a process of removing unnecessary items. The clothes went to the Salvation Army. Her husband's totaled car was inspected by the insurance agent at the impound, followed by a tow truck which took it to the nearest scrap yard, and all of his watches, rings, and bangles were sold at a pawnshop downtown. Her face remained blank, and emotionless through it all. The only thing she kept was her husband's wedding band, which now hung around her neck on a matching gold chain she essentially traded for at the pawnshop.