The remains

Chapter 32

After dinner I asked Michael to check the doors and windows in the apartment. By the time he came back in, I was already in bed, waiting for him. Was I making the right decision by letting him stay over? Was I being an idiot? Was all this happening way too fast?

Somehow my sudden, almost abrupt desire to be close to him overrode common sense. With only a lit candle set out on the dresser to see by, he slipped in under the comforter and gave me a comforting smile.

It’d been a long time since I shared a bed with my ex-husband. You might think I’d be all over him, and he all over me. But inside that dimly lit room, with only the flickering candlelight glowing against the plaster walls, we lay on our sides facing one another, looking into each other’s eyes, not saying a single word but shouting out volumes.

For more than a few instances it seemed almost as if we’d never been separated or divorced; never spent even one minute away from one another. I wondered how it could be that two people who loved each other could not find a way to live together. But then I also had to wonder what still attracted us after all we’d been through; after the secret I had revealed to him.

After a time, Michael reached out and touched my face. The gentle gesture sent a chill through my body. He leaned into me, kissing me on the mouth. I kissed him back. He moved in closer, then slid one arm under me and the other around me. He pulled me close to him and he held me. He held me so tightly, I thought he’d never let go. And when he began to cry, so did I. I felt our tears combining and I tasted the salt from them, and we hardly made a sound other than the beating of our hearts.

For that brief eternity I was him and he was me and there was no past or future. There was only the sweet right now and all the wrongs that had occurred between us-all the hurt and all the pain-had suddenly and very definitely disappeared. In a word, Michael and I were new again. The love that had died was resurrected.

I became convinced that if there indeed was a God, He truly did work in mysterious ways. Maybe He’d taken away the sister I adored more than myself, but somehow, He’d given me back Michael. He’d given me back my soul mate

After a time, we lie on our backs feeling content and happy, holding hands, staring at the ceiling, not speaking or needing to speak, but just watching the flame-shadows that danced upon every surface that surrounded us from floor to ceiling. Set beside me on the table, my old dog-eared copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, it’s now delicate pages stuffed with sketches of Whalen from thirty years ago. As I lay in bed, I felt like taking one of the candles to it and lighting it on fire. I felt like destroying it and my past. But I knew I wouldn’t.

When Michael got out of bed, he replaced the comforter over me. He blew out the candle and slipped back in bed. Reaching out, he took hold of a small tuft of my hair. He didn’t hold the hair so much as he let it rest in his fingertips, allowing the rest of the hand to sit on my pillow.

“Love you, Bec,” he whispered. “Don’t be afraid.”

Maybe four minutes later I was listening to the sound of his breathing as he slept soundly. For that one moment I felt happier than I’d felt in years.

I fell asleep to that happiness.