The Resurrection of Allen Barnes

Author's note - This is a work of fiction. The characters are of my own invention and I created them all above the legal age of consent. Also, no animals were harmed during the writing of this story.

***

Allen squinted at the labels on the plastic prescription bottles. Pathetic, he thought. Not a lethal dose of anything in the stubby amber containers. There were a half-dozen Percodans left over from the time he'd caught his finger in the bench grinder. Might be enough to get a buzz. It surely wouldn't kill him.

There were medications for his high blood pressure and equally high cholesterol count. Lots of those left. He hadn't taken any since Donna passed...No! Donna hadn't passed. What a ridiculous phrase. Donna Barnes had died.

He looked up and locked eyes with the haggard face in the mirror.. "Your wife is dead, you sorry fuck," he said aloud.

He opened Donna's side of the medicine cabinet. Some Midol, ibuprofen, the stuff she took for her thyroid condition...Combined with all the others Allen figured he'd have nearly two hundred capsules and tablets. Would they mix in his stomach to produce a poisonous chemical compound? Maybe if he washed them down with a lot of vodka. Was there any liquor in the house?

He emptied all the prescription vials onto a hand towel and dropped the containers into the wicker basket next to the toilet, then gathered the towel into a makeshift pouch. He left the bathroom with more purpose in his stride than he'd felt in weeks.

A thorough search of the kitchen produced a half-empty bottle of sweet Vermouth and a six-pack of beer inexplicably cached in the bread drawer. Allen stared blankly at the aluminum pop-tops for a long moment before he pried a warm can from the plastic ring and shuffled into the dining room. Dropping into a chair, he sipped at the tepid beer and wished he owned a gun.

"And one bullet," he mumbled.

The phone rang and deliberately he turned away from it and looked out through the glass doors that opened onto the patio. He counted a half-dozen rings, and then the phone was silent. Must be Bernie, Allen decided, calling to remind him he was about to lose his job.

Allen's sister always let the phone ring ten times, never nine and never eleven before she gave up, and his mother, a most insistent woman, would subject him to three or four minutes of electronic jangling before she finally hung up and got on with her life. Allen hadn't spoken to either woman since the funeral but he sent daily emails assuring them he was just fine, thank you and so darn busy, but he would call soon, bla, bla, bla...

Should I leave a note?

He supposed he should feel guilty but in fact, he felt nothing beyond a dim sense of curiosity. He tried to recall the gut-wrenching pain of loss and the impotent rage that left fist-sized craters in his walls, but the memory was vague and detached as though it belonged to some one else. He was static in a hollow world. He existed in a vacuum.

He pushed himself to his feet and made his way over to the sliding glass door. The woods that marked the north line of his property were green and lush. A lone blue jay squawked from a high limb. There used to be flocks of birds, and squirrels too, but no one tended the backyard feeders anymore and the creatures had moved on to better pickings. Weeds ran riot in Donna's flower beds and the grass was high and ragged and dotted with the bright yellow heads of dandelions.

The backyard had become an eyesore and he couldn't care less. The Wilsons, whose property adjoined on the east side hadn't complained but their place would never make Better Homes and Gardens either. They were Pentecostals who spent all their free time in church or recruiting lost souls or whatever it was that such people do. Beating God's drum must be more fun than mowing grass, Allen figured. More profitable, too. Fucking Jesus freaks.

The girl appeared so suddenly, Allen started and lurched back a step. He was naked beneath his ragged old bathrobe and he hurriedly clutched it around his body and tied the cloth belt. Had he inadvertently exposed himself? The last thing he needed now was a visit from the police. Shit!

The girl didn't seem to be upset. At any rate she wasn't screaming or running away, but was watching him with an earnest, quizzical look. She was young and blonde and very pretty. She flashed a sunny smile and waggled her fingers in a child-like wave.

Christ, now what? he wondered as she came closer. She stopped at the edge of the patio blocks and said, "Hello."

She was more than pretty, Allen saw, she was really quite beautiful. Her hair was a pale gold and curled by nature. The bright ringlets framed a heart-shaped face with blue-grey eyes, an up turned nose and soft, full lips. Where had she come from?

"Hello," she said again. "You must be Mr. Barnes."

He didn't answer but continued to study the girl. Her skin was flawless, practically glowing with the vivaciousness of youth. Delicious curves sculpted her white tee shirt and shorts to show the body of a woman. College kid, Allen thought. Probably selling something.

She raised her voice and took another step in his direction. "Can you hear me?"

"Sorry." Allen unlocked the patio door and slid it open. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Er...what do you want?"

"I don't want anything. I'm just being neighborly."

Neighborly? Allen shot a dark glance at the Wilson home. It would be just like them to send around a gorgeous girl to recruit fools or solicit donations. Sneaky fucking holy-rollers.

"So you're with them?" he asked, pointing at his neighbor's house.

"Yes. Well, just temporarily," she said. "I'm keeping an eye on the place while they're gone."

"Really?" Allen scratched the salt and pepper stubble on his chin. "I've never known them to hire a house-sitter before."

"Oh, I'm not getting paid to do it. We're family." She shrugged and smiled her pretty smile again. "Georgia and Dennis are my aunt and uncle."

"I see. So where are they? Off battling the devil again?"

"You're not a believer." She stated this flatly, neither questioning or accusing.

"No," he said.

"Well, that's all right I guess. Takes all kinds doesn't it?" She stuck out her hand. "My name is Ruth."

Allen nervously shuffled his feet but didn't take her hand. "You don't look like a Ruth."

"It's from the Old Testament. Do you know the story of Ruth?"

He didn't, but he nodded to keep her from reciting it. "Listen, if there's nothing I can do for you I really should be..."

His voice trailed off as he tried to think of something he should be doing besides talking with her. He couldn't very well say she was interrupting his suicide. Then again, maybe that would be just the thing to chase her off.

"I'm very sorry about your wife," she said.

"What? How do you..."

She tilted her pretty head toward the house next door.

"Oh. Right." Christ, couldn't anybody mind their own fucking business anymore?

"You and she were very close."

Allen scowled. "Did my nosy fucking neighbors tell you that, too?"

"You've no reason to be angry with them," she said. "No one told me anything. I can see it in your eyes."

His throat constricted, he looked away.

"Tell me about it," Ruth said.

"No."

"Please. You shouldn't keep so much pain bottled up inside."

He backed away from her. "What the hell do you know about it?"

"I know you're in agony. I know you can't go on like..."

"You don't know anything! Not a fucking thing!" He spun and strode back into the house. He felt clammy inside his robe and beads of moisture dotted his brow. Behind him, he heard the door slide along its track and then the soft click of the latch.

Allen let out his breath with a long whoosh, surprised to find he'd been holding it in. He mopped his face with a sleeve, then turned to find the girl standing next to the table.

"What are you doing in here? You can't come in here!" His voice sounded shrill and ridiculous. He flapped his arms as though he were shooing flies. "Go away! Just go away!"

Ruth didn't answer but looked down at the towel he'd left on the table. It was folded over so she couldn't see the pills wrapped inside. Still, she gave it a good, long look before turning her eyes to him.

"Tell me about Donna," she said.

How dare she? "Please leave," he said and pointed to the door.

Ruth reached out and took his hand between both of hers. "Had she been ill?"

Allen glowered, then shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor. Can't you just leave me alone? Please!

"It was sudden then. Unexpected."

"A brain aneurism," he whispered.

"I'm very sorry."

Her voice was so gentle, so understanding. He looked up to see tears welling in her eyes. His face crumpled and his knees faltered. Ruth caught him under the arms and pulled him close. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. He felt the warmth of her body, the strength and safety of her embrace.

He shuddered and cried out to her. His tears dotted the shoulder of her tee shirt. She spoke softly and stroked his hair, accepting his pain as her own. Her body absorbed his loneliness and banished his fear. With a whisper she absolved his guilt.

Allen clung to her with the desperation of the dying. He buried his face in her soft curls. She smelled of lilac and fresh cinnamon. Mindlessly, he kissed her earlobe, her cheek, the graceful curve of her neck. She sighed.

What the hell? Allen pushed her away, suddenly aware of what he was doing.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't...I mean, uh...I didn't mean to...oh, Ruth, I'm so sorry."

She touched a finger to his lips. "You needn't apologize. It's all right." Her eyes darted to the folded towel and then back. "I want to help you, Allen."

She leaned close and kissed the tears from his rough cheeks. Allen longed to reach for her, to touch her. He wanted her and he despised himself for it. What the hell is wrong with me?

"No!" He shouted right in her face but she didn't even blink. "I'm sorry," he said. "I can't do this."

He ran into the living room and buried his face in the drapes where he couldn't see her. He heard movement behind him...soft shushing sounds, her feet on the carpet, her breath.

"Look at me, Allen," Ruth said.

Slowly he turned. She stood naked before him, so close he could smell the freshness of her skin. Silently she took his hands and placed them over her perfect breasts.

"This is wrong." His voice was weak and hoarse.

"It's not," she said. "I want you to touch me."

"I'm old enough to be your father, Ruth."

"No, you're not. And it wouldn't matter if you were."

She opened his robe and reached down for his cock. He gasped at her touch and groaned as she stroked him. She kissed him tenderly...his lips, his chin, his chest, his belly...

"No!" He grabbed her arms and pulled her up. "I'm all sweaty and I..."

"It's all right," she said.

Ruth dropped to her knees and closed her mouth around him before he could say another word. She kissed and licked and touched him in ways he thought he'd never be touched again. Allen closed his eyes and tried to deny his urgency but he felt the tightening, the tingling itch that signaled an imminent climax. He tried to turn away but the girl wouldn't let him. She pushed him back into the wall and held him in her mouth until he erupted. She drank him in and drained him as though he had something precious to offer.

He looked down at the golden curls brushing against his belly. His knees grew weak and his body sagged.

"Allen?"

He heard her voice but couldn't see her. Then he felt her hand on his arm, her body pressed to his side. She led him to the couch and eased him down so his head rested in her lap and his tears wet her thighs.

She whispered to him and held him until he stopped trembling. "It's all right," she said again and again. "It's all right."

"Ruth?"

"I'm right here."

"Did I fall asleep?"

"Just for a minute," she said. "Are you dizzy?"

"No. I'm...Ruth?"

"Yes?"

"That was so...I mean...I'm truly sorry."

"Because it was wrong?" she asked. "Or because it felt good?"

"Both."

Allen felt her move above him and guessed that she'd shrugged her shoulders. The back of his head was pressed against her belly and he could feel her pubic thatch beneath his ear. Her scent was faint but alluring in his nostrils.

"And yet, you want to make love to me." Again, she stated this as fact. She wasn't asking. She wasn't mocking.

"Yes," he whispered.

"I want it too."

She urged him to sit up. She laid a hand on his chest and lightly kissed his lips. "It's not wrong, Allen. It just is."

She led him down the hall and stopped at the door to the bathroom. "You can have your shower now. I'll wait here for you."

Allen showered quickly and twice cut himself while shaving with a dull disposable razor. He smeared on some deodorant and tied a bath towel around his waist, then he opened the door to find Ruth standing right where she'd promised, smiling and beautiful. She was powerfully sensual and at the same time innocent. Her nudity was pure and honest and her eyes invited him to look without shame or regret.

"Where?" she asked softly.

He nodded toward the bedroom door and she led him by the hand. He marveled at the graceful movement of her body as she walked - her light step, the curve of her waist, the gentle sway of her hips.

She stopped at the foot of the bed and pulled the rumpled blankets to the floor. Allen reached around her and cupped her breasts in his hands. He pressed his lips to her neck and breathed in the intoxicating perfume of her skin. She ground her buttocks against him and his flesh responded quickly.

He slipped a hand between her legs. The silky hair was damp and her pouting flesh was warm and feverish. She opened her stance to let his fingers explore and she moaned when he touched her wet center.

Suddenly she whirled from his arms and kissed him passionately on the lips. Her tongue sought his and her arms circled his waist in a tight embrace. Allen grasped the firm cheeks of her ass and pulled her lower body to him. The she broke the long kiss and stepped back.

"Ruth, darling..."

"No," she whispered. "Don't speak."

She backed to the bed and seated herself slowly on the edge of the mattress. She opened her legs wide and lay back with her arms at her sides. Allen dropped his towel and knelt before her.

He kissed the satiny skin of her inner thighs and touched his finger to her warm pussy, so soft it seemed a harsh look could bruise it. Allen stroked her, drawing a fingertip through her moist slit. He kissed her plump lips and relished the taste, the smell. He spred them with his thumbs and revealed her blush petals.

He drew his tongue up and down Ruth's welcoming cleft, exploring her folds. Her legs tensed. He licked at her hungrily while his thumb massaged her clit. She moaned deep in her throat, her fingers twined in his hair. He scooped her buttocks in his hands and raised her hips as he sucked on her pink bud. He could feel her climax building, rising within her. She clamped his face between her thighs and called out his name as her passion burst.

Her pulse throbbed against his cheek and he wanted to remain there forever on his knees, warm in her embrace, breathing in her lush heat. But she moved away, sliding back across the bed. She raised her arms and opened them, beckoning to him.

He hovered over her, kissing her breasts, sucking at her hard little nipples. She reached for him and guided his cock to her waiting pussy. He groaned at the exquisite touch of her dewy, hot flesh and pushed himself within her. She thrust her hips at him, engulfing his hard prick with one lunge. She gasped and then ground her pelvis against him in delicious, rolling motions.

A soft moan came from low in her throat. "It's good, she whispered. "It's so very good."

She locked her legs around his waist and bucked at him with urgency. He cupped her shoulders in his hands and pulled her close as he pounded deep within her. She thrashed against him eagerly, almost violently. "Ah!" she cried with each powerful thrust. "Ah!"

Ruth dug her fingers into his clenched buttocks and cried out as they came together. She turned and twisted and clawed at his skin. He exploded again and again, filling her, drenching her until he was drained and spent.

Allen held her tight, breathing her name over and over in the misty curls at her neck. They clung together bound with a shared passion, their hearts beating with a single rhythm.

***

He woke slowly. Sensation and awareness returned grudgingly, bit by bit, until he remembered. He smiled and reached for her.

"Ruth?" His eyes snapped open.

He was alone in the bed. "Ruth?" he called again. He sat up amid the tangled bed clothes and looked around. She's in the bathroom, he thought.

Allen lay back, fingers laced behind his head. He tried to recall when last he'd felt so vital, so alive. He closed his eyes and tried to mentally re-live last night's ecstasy but his stomach rumbled and he was suddenly ravenous.

Well why not? How many times had they made love? Three? Four?

And Ruth must be hungry too. He frowned remembering the meager contents of his refrigerator and cupboards. No matter. They could get a nice breakfast somewhere as soon as she finished...Funny. He didn't hear the shower running.

"Ruth?" Allen bounded from the bed. "Where are you?"

He padded down the hall and knocked lightly on the bathroom door, then pushed it open hoping to find her lounging in a tub full of bubbles. Nothing.

He called her name again, loudly this time, but the house was silent. Where the hell was she?

She wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. Allen shouted down the basement stairwell and was on his way to search the spare bedroom when something fluttered at the edge of his vision. He turned to the patio door just in time to see the back door of his neighbor's house close silently against the jamb.

Of course! She ran next door to shower and change. She had to feed the cat or check for phone messages. Allen quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

The was a newfound bounce in his step as he left his home and crossed the patio. His bare feet all but skipped across the lawn and even his knock sounded a jaunty rhythm as he rapped on the Wilson's back door. He heard movement within and approaching footsteps but the smile died on his lips as the door opened.

"Well, this is a surprise. Good morning, Allen."

"Wilson! What are you doing here?"

"I live here. Remember?" Dennis Wilson grinned at his own joke." "What can I do for you, neighbor?"

"I...uh, well..."Allen stammeered and wished Ruth would come to the door.

"Say, are you all right, Allen? You look a little pale."

"No, I'm fine. Really. I, um..." Oh, for Christ's sake! Just tell him the truth.

"Actually I'm looking for Ruth."

"Ruth?"

"Yes, Ruth," said Allen. "Your niece. Listen, I know this looks..."

"Who is it, honey?" Georgia Wilson's face appeared over her husband's shoulder. "Oh. Hello, Allen. This is a nice surprise. How are you?"

"Fine thanks. I've come to speak to..."

"Allen here," Dennis interrupted, "seems to think we have a niece named Ruth."

"Come on, Wilson." Allen could feel a knot forming in his belly. "Are you telling me you don't have a..."

"I have two nephews," said Georgia. "Denny's an only child."

What the hell's going on? Allen's eyes flicked back and forth between the couple. Were they lying? He couldn't tell.

"She's blond," he said quickly. "And very pretty."

"We don't have a niece."

"She's about this tall and..."

"Just where did you meet this girl, Barnes?" said Dennis.

"Where do you think? Right here!"

"On our back porch?"

"Yes. She was..." He stopped and turned to face the spot where he'd first seen Ruth waving to him. "Actually, she was standing over there when I...And then she came to my door and said hello."