Cold in July

27

I woke up about three in the morning and rolled out of bed and sat on the edge and thought about the dream I’d had. I couldn’t quite recall it, no matter how hard I tried, but it had been dark and dreary and very sad. There were tears on my face. I think maybe I dreamed I died and no one cared. It didn’t make much sense.

I sat there thinking about it, and Ann rolled over and touched my back.

“You’ve got to see this thing through?”

“I do,” I said.

“I just have this horrid feeling it’s all going to turn out so ugly, baby.”

I didn’t tell her I felt exactly the same way. It was like I was a toy windup soldier pointed in a direction I couldn’t alter. I had no choice but to go until I wound down. The thought of being driven made me think of Russel, his dissatisfaction with life, the feeling that there was a hole in him and his soul was rushing out of it and he didn’t know if he could get it back. How did that happen? Could it happen to me?

“You’ll be careful?” Ann asked.

I turned back onto the bed and took her in my arms and pulled her to me and smelled the scent of her so strongly that there were tears in my eyes.

A man without a soul didn’t have anything to cry about, so I considered the tears a good sign.

“Please tell me you’ll be careful,” Ann begged.

“I will,” I said. “I’ll be careful.”

Jordan and I love you. We need you.”

I had needed my father, but he had left me. My mother had left me and I had needed her. I couldn’t remember either of them ever needing me. I thought of Dad holding me that last time and looking at me and telling me he loved me.

“Jesus,” I said.

“Make love to me,” Ann said. “Don’t worry about anything. Just make love to me.”

I kissed her and did just that. When we were finished, I lay there holding her. She smelled wonderful, an aroma concocted of perfume and sweat and sex. There in the bad light she looked very young, like the girl I had fallen in love with so many years ago. Her skin seemed smooth and untroubled by lines of worry, just the way it had been when she was young and things were simple and sleep canceled out all pain.

I nuzzled in her hair and felt her warmth and solid-ness, felt myself filling up again with life and soul and everything that was good.

But I knew it wouldn’t last.

Damn me, I knew it wouldn’t last.