The Box, A Gift Of Love

She invited them inside, a Major and a Sergeant. The Major was a Chaplain and he asked her if she wanted to pray and she did. They told her how Michael died, but she stopped listening beyond the words that he was dead. As his widow, they gave her papers to sign to claim his life insurance and she signed them without reading them. It wasn't money she wanted or the benefits she'd receive as his widow, she wanted Michael. She wanted her husband.

A roadside bomb blew up his Humvee, one of the few vehicles that had not yet been refitted with armor plating. They gave her his medals and they told her that he was a hero. They helped her through the funeral service and the closed coffin funeral with the American flag draped across his casket. They gave her the flag and then they left and, but for her family and friends, she was alone and lonely without him. They had been together and so very close for so long, that a big part of her died with the death of him.

He was her friend, her husband, and her lover. She didn't think of him as a soldier or as a hero. Now, she just thought of him as dead. Snatched away from her in the prime of their lives, she didn't even have a child to remind her of him. All she had left were photos of their good times and their box of sexual toys and costumes that they excitedly used every anniversary on Nude Day.

Even though the box was packed away in the closet, it loomed as big as their house and it haunted her. It was a box she could no longer open and couldn't even stand to look at without imagining his body being blown to bits. She was desperate to have the box out of her house.

There were other families who lost a love one, whether it was in Iraq or Afghanistan, an accident at the factory or an accident on the road, after a while those who cared about her stopped coming to see her once she assured them all that she was okay and needed and wanted to be alone to grieve. They all had their own problems and were going through their own hardships, especially with this sour economy. They all had their own lives to live and, as their relative or friend, she could no longer be there for them, when she couldn't even help herself.

Only, she wasn't okay. Susan lied when she told them that she wanted time alone to grieve. She died with the death of her husband. She loved Michael so much that she didn't want to live. She couldn't continue living life without him. If there is a God in Heaven, he'd understand her loss and maybe would forgive her for what she was about to do.

Along with her last will and testament, she secured the box of all her sexual toys and costumes that she and Michael had acquired over the years and so enjoyed. Along with a letter To Whom It May Concern, she had them delivered to her attorney with the stipulation that they not be opened until her death. Then, Susan sat for one last time on her couch on her anniversary on Nude Day in front of her fireplace naked while sipping Champagne and eating fresh fruit and munching on shrimp. They said the fire that consumed her home and took her life was accidental and a tragedy for a woman who had already suffered the loss of her husband.

After Susan was buried, her attorney opened the box that was delivered to him. He called Marlene in to witness the contents of the box that was to be given to the first responder. At first they thought it was funny that someone who lived so far out in the sticks would have so many sexual toys and costumes that it could fill an entire big box. While pulling out some of the items, they shared a good laugh over the contents of the box while imagining all the various uses of some of the sexual items, the leather, the lace, the handcuffs, the whips, the dildos and vibrators, and the lotions and crèmes. Then, he read the letter aloud.

To Whom This May Concern,

You may view this box of sexual toys and sexual costumes as perverse, but I can assure you that it is not. My beloved husband and I shared and enjoyed all that is contained in this box throughout our happy 27-year marriage. Now, that he is gone and I am gone by you viewing the contents of this box and reading this letter, I no longer have any use for any of these items.

It is my last wish that you give this box to the person who was first on the scene of my house fire. I figure that someone who responds to such tragedy daily needs a release, a counterbalance of sexual pleasure and wanton desire to the pain and suffering that he or she has witnessed in his of her chosen line of work every day. I'd like for him or for her to share the contents of this box with their special someone and if he or she cannot, then I implore him or her to give this gift to a couple who will cherish this treasure as much as did my husband and I have over our happy times together.

We only opened this box one day a year, Nude Day, our wedding anniversary, and gave one another whatever pleasure was requested with no questions asked. The contents of this box were used to unlock our deepest desires and sexual secrets. Nothing we did was done to make the other feel embarrassed or ashamed and never did we use whatever we did as a couple on this day against the other when having an argument. Doing so would violate and ruin the secret covenant of pleasure that we vowed to have from this day forward, on this one special day, for better or for worse. I dare say whatever we did on our one special day, our anniversary on Nude Day, carried over to many other days and were sexual things that we implemented as part of our daily intimate times together.

Call it magical if you'd like, but this box was magical for us and for our marriage. When other couples go without sex for weeks, months, and years even, we had intimate moments daily. We openly and without reservation agreed to give one what the other needed and wanted rather than for one or the other to harbor secret desires and to feel the need to play them out with another person outside of our marriage. We gave of ourselves with love and I give this gift of love to you for you to share with someone who will use it in the way that we have enjoyed it.

Marlene left work early that day. She couldn't work. She couldn't stop thinking about how happy and how much in love Susan and Michael must have been. She was so sad. She couldn't stop crying. Something that was so funny when her boss opened the box was suddenly so tragically touching and unselfishly loving after he read the letter aloud.

Filled with self-pity and remorse, she was jealous and wished she had a special someone who was as devoted in her life as Susan had. She did once with Willie, but that was so long ago, before the tragic death of their son. She wished that she could share all of her thoughts with her husband without fear of ridicule, without being made to feel stupid, or to be made to feel that there was something wrong with her to feel those feelings and to think those thoughts and to want and need what it was she was thinking, be it sexual or otherwise. For Susan to give this gift to another couple, upon her death, was beyond what she could express.

Willie met her at the door and she fell in his arms crying.

"What's wrong? What happened? Why are you crying?"

"I'm sorry that our son is dead. It was all my fault and I wish I could bring him back, but I can't. I'm so sorry. I love you, Willie. I truly do and I don't want us to live like this any more, so far apart."

"It's okay, Marlene. I forgive you. Really, I do. We'll get over this. It's just a bad patch. With the help of God, we can work together to make a better life for ourselves. I love you."

And then they kissed. Suddenly, instantly, the kiss transformed itself from their usual peck on the lips into a long, wet, passionate kiss. They hadn't kissed like that in such a very long time. It was a time when they were happy. It was a time when they were both filled with love and desire for one another. It was a time when their son was still alive.

Then, she told him the story of the couple who loved one another so much that there was nothing that they could say or do on their one special day, their anniversary, that fell on Nude Day, and that would never diminish their love. She told him about the box and all that was inside. She told him about the adventurous, guiltless, and pleasurable sex they must have had. Then, when she turned to look over his shoulder, there was the same box sitting on their couch and in front of their fireplace already opened.

"That's the box! How'd that get here? Willie, why do you have that box?"

"I was the first responder," he said to his wife. "The box was delivered to me." He took his wife's hand in his and smiled. "The way that I see it is, this could truly be a gift, our gift or I can give away it to another couple."

Willie and Marlene celebrated their anniversary, as if it fell on Nude Day. They vowed to continue the tradition of Susan and Michael's gift, as if it was their own, and promised to add to this box and deliver it to another couple upon the death of one or the other.

Cherish the one you love, as if it is your last dance.