We All Grieve Differently

I was half drunk and half asleep after a night out on campus when the ringing phone in my dorm room caused me to quickly focus. I didn't have any idea who would be calling me at nearly 4 AM on a Wednesday but at that age I was still far too young to really know that calls at that hour are never a good thing.

As I rolled over to grab the phone on the table between our beds, I took note that my roommate's bed was once again empty.

"How the fuck does he do it?" I wondered aloud to myself as I lifted the receiver. We'd been on campus for three months of our freshman year and I had managed to kiss a few girls, but he was on to his sixth or seventh that he was fucking. I don't know if I was more jealous or impressed

I was still shaking my head when I squeaked out a feeble "hello?" into the receiver.

"Andrew, it's Mom..." and my heart sank. I was too tired to have put it all together in my conscious mind right away, but my subconscious and my nervous system raced each other to deliver warning signs to me as I all at once felt panic and a physical tensing of every muscle in my body.

"What's wrong mom?"

"You need to get your things together and call a taxi. You have to catch a train home, there's one that leaves at 6:55. Pack a bag with clothes and anything you'll need to be home for a while." she said very calmly, almost unnervingly calmly in retrospect.

"What? Why? What's going on mama?" I surprised myself calling her that. I had stopped calling her mama at least eight or nine years before but it was like this middle-of-the-night call had reverted me to a childlike state.

"It's Brian. He... There was an accident and... Andrew... he..." she took a deep breath to continue and my mind spun thinking about my older brother. My mother's voice wavered for a moment as she finally was able to continue after what may have been a second or a full minute, I really didn't know. "He's gone honey. He's gone."

"What do you mean gone mom?" was all I could manage to reply.

"There was an accident. Sarah called and... and by the time Dad and I made it to the hospital he was gone."

I couldn't even make myself reply. I had so many questions. I was so lost. I was angry, but most of all I was profoundly sad. I laid back on my bed trying to figure out what to say to my mother when she brought me back into the present.

"Listen honey. Right now, you need to focus on getting to the train station and getting the 6:55 train home. I'm sorry you had to find out like this, but right now the most important thing is being safe and getting home to us. I have to go. I love you"

I laid there for a few moments with the phone still to my face before it started making a noise that snapped me out of my trance. I hung it up and began to gather my clothes. I hadn't gotten around to doing laundry for a few days, so I just ended up filling my dirty clothes bag and knotting it at the top. I shoved my toothbrush, deodorant and a few other things in the pencil pocket of my Jansport back pack and pulled on jeans and a hoodie.

Stepping out into the hallway I realized I didn't even know how to get to Union Station at this hour. I took the Amtrak home and back to school at Thanksgiving just the week before but that was during the middle of the day and I took the Metro from Campus to Union Station.

Then I remembered that my mom had told me to get a taxi, but I didn't know where to do that at 4:30 AM, even in a city as big as DC. I felt like such a child. As I was standing there with my back against my dorm room door with my laundry bag in my hand and my backpack slung over one shoulder, I was surprised to see the R.A. walking toward me.

"What's going on Drew?" He asked, concerned.

"Huh?" was all I could muster in response.

"You're standing crying in the hall at five in the morning."

"Oh, sorry Seth. My mom just called me. I.. I have to go home. My brother..." and then I started to really cry.

"Oh, God. Sorry Drew. What do you need?" Seth offered as if grasping the situation immediately even though I hadn't actually said that my brother had died. He seemed so much more mature than me, although he was probably only 20.

"I have to get to Union Station so I can get the Amtrak back to New Jersey. My mom said to get a taxi, but I was just realizing that I don't know if they run this time of night by campus."

"I've got a car, I'll drive you over there. I think that would be best. Stay here while I get dressed and get my keys."

The drive over to the station and Seth dropping me off went by in a haze. So too did buying the ticket and getting on the train. At some point I fell asleep only to be awoken by the conductor telling me we were leaving Trenton, and that my stop was next.

I got off at Princeton Junction thinking I had an hour walk home ahead of me, but I was met there with another of my brothers, Ted. He hugged me and took my bags and put me in his car to drive me home but we barely spoke.

It was late November of 1994. I was 18 years old, the youngest of five but really, I was kind of like an only child. My oldest sister Heather was 24 years my senior. I went to High School with her daughter, my niece, but I was actually a grade behind her. Ted, who drove me home, lived down the street from my folks and was also out of the house by the time I was born, being 22 years older than me. William, who was 15 years older than me lived on the West Coast.

I thought of those three more like an Aunt and Uncles than my siblings, but Brian was different. Brian was "only" 8 years older than I was and we actually had a very strong bond. I looked up to him in just about every way. I was 16 years old when he asked me to be his best man, much to my adult brother's chagrin.

When it came time to pick a college, I passed up on a few better schools to go to Catholic University simply because Brian had gone there.

He was my hero.

The rest of that day was a blur. We were all waiting on William to arrive and we were just kind of sitting around. My mom and dad, now in their mid-60's and mourning the loss of a child, seemed to take comfort by being surrounded by the big family they had made. The only person other than William noticeable in their absence was Brian's wife Sarah.

At only 25 Sarah was now a widow. She and Brian had met in college and they settled in New Jersey after graduation to be enveloped by my big, loving family. She was from Georgia, but she never seemed out of place with our family and I had grown very fond of her.

It was the next day when I finally saw Sarah and just the look of pain on her face brought tears to my eyes. I hugged her and she began sobbing into the crook of my neck. In much the same way that Brian was the only one of my siblings that I could relate to, Sarah was always most comfortable around me as opposed to her other brothers & sister-in-law.

After we broke our hug, we sat in the rarely used den together making that kind of very odd small talk that only people trying to find their way through sudden and all-encompassing grief have experienced. She asked me about classes and what professors I had, remarking on the ones she or Brian had also had. It was already difficult and more than a bit strange when she just stopped talking and stared at me.

"What is it?" I finally asked

"Sorry Drew. You just look so much like him." She explained before breaking down in tears again.

I felt awful for her, and just generally awful that my face looking like my brother's was causing her pain. But when I suggested that maybe I should make myself scarce she grabbed my hand in protest.

"No, I'm sorry. Its not your fault. Please don't leave. You're the only one I can talk to right now. The rest of them are all so grown up and my folks won't be here until tomorrow."

So, I sat with Sarah in the den talking about things on campus and what types of parties I had been to. We both even laughed a bit at one point when I was telling her a story about my roommate sneaking a girl into our all-male dorm.

At the wake Sarah asked me to stand with her, almost like a fill in for Brian. I also stood with her during the funeral mass and at the cemetery. Her father thanked me for being so supportive, and my mom praised me for "being there for Sarah" the whole week.

Before I knew it, I was on my way back to DC to take my finals. To no one's surprise I didn't do very well since I was still finding it so hard to focus on just about anything, let alone school work. In what seemed like a flash I was once again on the Amtrak heading for home.

For the first few days of Winter Break I barely came out of my room. My mom and dad were worried about me and they weren't subtle about it. Christmas came and went and I was still just kind of frozen. I had never known someone as young as Brian who had died. I was also really mad how well everyone else appeared to be dealing with it, although the benefit of hindsight allows me to understand that everyone grieves in different ways.

The one person who seemed to feel the same way as me was Sarah. She returned from spending Christmas with her family in Georgia and went back to work teaching at my old high school but she was also sleepwalking through it all. Then, just a few days before I was due to return to school my mother knocked on my door.

"Hey Andrew, it's Sarah" my mother said while holding her hand over the mouthpiece of the cordless phone. "She said she needed some help at the house and asked if you could come over."

"Hey" I said into the phone as my mom disappeared into the hall.

"I'm sorry to bother you. I know you probably have stuff to do before you head back to school. But would you mind coming over for a bit?"

"I don't have anything going on. I'd be happy to help. Give me a few minutes to get ready and I'll be there before you know it."

"Thanks Drew, I appreciate it." she responded before hanging up.

It didn't even take a half an hour to get ready and to their house. When I pulled into the driveway, I saw the door swing open as if Sarah had been watching and waiting. I walked up to the front door and was instantly awash in memories of Brian. I had just helped them paint the house the summer before and everything about the place reminded me of him, obviously.

"Ok, so what can I help you with?" I asked as I closed the door behind me.

"I need you to fuck me" Sarah said in a soft voice, catching me off guard.

"What?"

"I don't know how to explain it to you Drew. I've been so fucking sad for so fucking long since Brian died and I just need to feel something else. I'm worried that I'm never going to stop feeling this pain and I feel like I need a shock to my system or something. It's either this or..." and she scrunched her face up as she thought about the alternatives.

I seized on the pause to object "I don't think this is the answer, Sarah. I miss him too, but..."

"That's exactly it Drew. You and I were the ones who were closest to him and I can tell we've both been struggling in a way that Heather or Ted or your parents aren't. They're all older and maybe they're more mature and more equipped to handle it. I don't know, maybe they're just better at hiding it, but I'm certainly not going to fuck Ted or your dad" she finished with a laugh, drawing a chuckle from me that undermined how surprised and mad I was at her suggestion.

"I don't understand Sarah. I feel like doing this would be... I don't know... an affront to Brian's memory?"

"He's gone Drew! And we're still here. I certainly don't feel alive but we are still alive."

A million things were racing through my mind as I stood in my dead brother's living room across from his widow who was asking me to fuck her. What was most crazy was that something about it seemed like it was the absolute right thing to do. As if someone had just showed you how to complete a task that was befuddling you and you couldn't believe how simple and logical the solution had been all along.

I don't know if Sarah could tell that I was coming around to her way of thinking but she decided to press her case even further.

"I don't know why, I just need to feel someone's hands on me. I need to be taken. I need to be used Drew. I don't want to make love, I want to be fucked. I thought I could do it when I was in Georgia, but I realized that it couldn't be a stranger. Then I realized on the flight back here that you need a jolt to your system too. This could be good for both of us."

As she stopped speaking, I was close to agreeing with her but she wasn't waiting for buy in. She pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it to the floor. As she unbuttoned her jeans and yanked them down, she apologized for her hair being a mess which caused me to chuckle again. She was reaching back to unhook her bra when I finally acted.

I took a few quick steps across the room and pushed her back against the cellar door. Her bra was unclasped but now trapped, along with her arms, between our bodies. I pressed my body harder into her and she just smiled up at me with a look in her eyes that I had never seen before, and have never seen since. Was it pain? Lust? Hopelessness? A mix of them all? I didn't know then, and I still don't. but it was most certainly connecting with me.

I was breathing hard now through my nose and my mind was uniquely focused for the first time in six weeks. I wanted Sarah, not because she was hot or because she was willing but because she was my brother's widow and she thought we could help each other by doing this, and I somehow knew she was right.

I started kissing her neck and she fought to get her arms out from between us. Once they were free, I grabbed each wrist in my hands and forced them back against the door over her head. I had only been with two girls up to that point and our sex had been fumbling, cautious, and pedestrian, so I've never really figured out where my sudden aggressive behavior came from. Any worries I had in the moment that it might be the wrong thing to do were dispelled by Sarah slowly but consistently saying yes as I kissed down her chest to her tits.

I let her arms go but she left them pressed against the door while I sucked and bit each of her nipples in turn. I lowered down onto my knees and yanked her cotton jockey briefs down, pulling one foot out and leaving them around the other. Her hands finally left the door to rest behind my head as I began to lick and tease her pussy.

As an 18 year old in the early 90's with limited access to porn, it had never occurred to me to eat a woman out while she stood, but as I looked up at what can best be described as a snarl on my sister-in-law's face and she rolled her hips to rub her slick lips on my mouth I couldn't think of a better way to do it.

Sarah slipped each of her feet out a bit so she was now leaning back on her shoulders at an even greater angle. This opened her up to me even more and I took the opportunity to slip a finger inside. Now when I glanced up, I couldn't see her face any longer above her tits but I gathered that she enjoyed the penetration by her ragged moans.

While this had been going on Sarah had moved her hands from my head back to the door to help keep her steady at this angle, but after a solid minute of being licked and fingered she swung her right hand around behind my head again and grabbed a fist full of my hair. She was groaning through gritted teeth as she rubbed my face in her pussy, controlling my motion like directing a horse by tugging on its mane.

Feeling her take control after telling me she wanted to be used was unexpected but incredibly exhilarating. I increased my lapping speed and not long afterwards she started muttering 'fuck' over and over in fast succession. As her orgasm washed away, she let go of my hair and began to slide down the door, landing on the floor in pretty graceful flop considering the situation.

Our eyes met and I don't know why, but I flashed a smile at her, almost as if to say "I hope that helped." Sarah was slowly catching her breath and after replying with a little smirk of her own she grabbed my shirt and used it to pull herself up off the wall and over to where I was now sitting on the floor.

"You're not done with me yet, are you?" She asked as if she was concerned the answer might be that I was.

Still very much in the moment, I sprung to my feet and started undoing my jeans. As I did Sarah maneuvered onto her knees in front of me anticipating what I wanted next.

"My turn" she said reaching out to grasp my hardening cock with her right hand

Before I knew it, she had shoved my cock in her mouth and was lightly sucking it while running her tongue along the bottom. Then she was using just her mouth with her hands held on to the backs of my thigh, almost like she was trying to keep me from leaving. Not that I had any intention of going anywhere as this was already the best blow job I had ever had.

Where I was situated, I had no wall to lean back on like she had, so I took a quick step back causing my cock to pull out of her mouth with a light pop. She looked up at me with sad eyes but it quickly turned to a smile when I beckoned for her to follow me to the couch. Rather than regaining her feet Sarah simply crawled the five or six feet to a spot in front of me on the couch.

Having slipped my jeans off on the way to the couch, I now pulled the belt out of the loops and barked a command at Sarah. "Hand behind your back" I insisted, and I was kind of surprised when she instantly complied. I looped the belt first around her wrists, but for some reason thought to raise it up to just above her elbows before tightening it.

This position caused her to have to rest her forearms on her own ass, and also caused her tits to be thrust forward. Unfortunately, it also seemed to make it difficult for her to suck me as I sat down, so despite having gone over to the couch to get a sitting blow job I now rose to my feet. Looking down on Sarah bound, and on her knees, I realized how powerful she must have felt just a few minutes earlier when our positions were reversed.

"Now it's my turn" I said, sounding much more sinister than I had intended, but based on the smile that formed on Sarah's face it seemed to land very well.

She leaned her head back, opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. I thrust my cock in her mouth and put my hand behind her head to control the speed at which she sucked. Sarah pushed her head forward, forcing me deep into her throat and brining me dangerously close to coming. When I saw tears running down each of her cheeks it was like a lightning bolt shot through my brain and body.

I had seen her cry so many times oner the proceeding weeks but now the moisture rolling from the corners of her eyes was because her dead husband's brother was throat fucking her. It was more than I could take and I whimpered as I came directly in her throat.

I slumped back onto the couch and as I was catching my breath Sarah rotated her body to bring her bound arms into my view

"Can you..." she began, motioning back to her joined elbows with her eyes.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." I offered as I undid the belt and freed her.

"That was good, but I still need more." She said matter-of-factlly as she sat beside me

"I'm sorry I came already. I know you wanted me to fuck you."

"You're young. You'll rally" she assured me as she leaned in to kiss me.

I'm not sure why, but kissing Sarah open mouthed and with probing tongues aroused me but also made me deeply uncomfortable. You'd think that licking and sucking my brother's widow's pussy would have been what made me feel shame for the first time, but it was the kiss that did it.

She directed me to take my shirt off and lay on the sofa, and she laid on top of me as soon as I was settled. Maybe the kissing had made her feel strange too because now she just nuzzled my chest and rubbed her tits on my stomach while she let out small sighs.