I won't go into too many details about her funeral. As with all things, we did it the way that she wanted it. We held a small memorial service there on Sunset Beach, and I walked alone out onto the pier and scattered her ashes in the surf.
Her brothers were quite upset when they learned of her death. But Alicia had wanted her sickness kept from them. I got a few hard stares, but what could I do? It had been my Mistress' wish that her family attend her funeral, not her sickness. Besides, she had written them all letters detailing her wishes.
Kathy, Twyla and Tom attended. Kathy had already grown a little possessive of me, and leaned on my arm the whole time. Twyla and Kathy were cordial to each other, but I could tell it was over between them. Tom told me that he and Twyla occasionally dated, but that it was nothing steady. I saw Twyla looking at me a couple of times during and after the service.
After the service, there was nothing to do but go home and try to start living again. I felt lost without Alicia. She had given my life meaning and direction, and now I felt like I was just drifting, drifting. Kathy offered to stay with me for a few days, but I declined. I needed time, I said, to sort out things. "Will you be all right, Phillip?" she asked, concerned. I told her I would.
The next week, at our apartment, I hurt so much that I thought I would die. I kept expecting her to come in the door in a foul mood, and tell me drop my pants and get over her knee. I would have done it in a heartbeat. No spanking, strapping, caning or beating that my Mistress ever gave me hurt as much as the pain that I felt in the two weeks after her death. I don't know if people who have been married for a longer time than us hurt more when they lose their spouse, but they could not have hurt more keenly. The pain was a sharp, crushing weight on my chest.
Of course, Kathy and Tom were there for me if and when I needed them. Tom came over a couple of nights and watched basketball. Kathy came over and cooked dinner. I hadn't started back to work yet, so I only saw her when she came over.
Kathy seemed slightly on edge. She knew of Alicia's wishes, that we should get together, and I sensed a little impatience on her part. I understood that she wanted to get on with her life, and that she wanted me to be part of it, but I was not ready. I don't think that I was exactly wallowing in my grief, but I certainly experienced it fully. Alicia had been so much to me: lover, Mistress, wife, friend, that I was not going to be able to leave her behind easily. And so, knowing full well that Kathy wanted and needed my attention, I let her wait. It could be called a belated rebellion against Alicia's authority over me, but I don't think it was. It was, simply, this: Alicia had been my choice. I had taken the initial risk of being rejected by asking her out. Despite the fact that she was the dominant personality in our relationship, it had been my choice to make the initial move. Kathy was Alicia's choice, and although, as always, I deferred to my Mistress' wishes, I felt that it was only right that I do it when I felt right about it. I considered myself still in mourning for Alicia. I wasn't ready (nor would I ever be) to make the same kind of connection with Kathy that I had with Alicia. And so, Kathy waited.
I didn't make her wait too long, though. Just enough to allow the pain to subside a little.
Although I have referred to mine and Alicia's place of residence as an apartment, it was actually a condominium, and we paid a mortgage. I chose to stay there; it was certainly nicer than where I had lived before. Kathy and I started by just spending a little time around the condo, having dinner, watching TV, listening to music. We "dated" from time to time, trying to get to know each other a little better. We would go out to a movie, or to a concert, or even just shopping. We kept it light, or rather, I kept it light. I could sense that Kathy wanted to take our relationship a step further. She even hinted at it a few times, making a stray remark about "staying the night", or "having breakfast." But I didn't act on it until late May, more than two months after Alicia's death.
I was feeling low, very low, and Kathy could see it. It was a Saturday, and both of us were off work. She had been trying to cheer me up all day long. Just lately, she had taken to showing up at the apartment in the mornings of her days off, and hanging out all day.
I was in the kitchen making a pot of coffee for us, and she came in and said, "Bad day, huh?"
"I'm all right," I said.
"I still miss her, too. She was my friend, one of the best I've ever had. But Phil, we have to move on." She moved closer to me, looked up and said, "I could help."
"I don't know if I'm ready, Kathy."
