When I first met Keri, I knew right then and there she was going to be my wife. Of course, this was in the third grade and I actually had no idea what marriage really was. I just knew that it was a thing that occurred between two people who loved each other. The funny thing is, Keri and I didn't even start dating until high school, despite being good friends ever since our first meeting.
Keri was the typical girl next door for me, beautiful, with long dark hair, brown eyes and the kind of athletic body that all the boys loved. She was exactly my type, an athlete with a good brain and a sense of humor. The problem is, I was never her type. I was the skinny boy who played the only sport our town didn't care for, Baseball, and liked video games a little bit too much. Sure Keri and I were friends, but that's how it remained for years.
That all changed in our sophomore year of high school. It was your typical Friday night for the two of us, hanging out on the top of my car - an old Impala handed down from my parents - in our neighborhood park while music blasted from the radio. She had just broken up with her latest boyfriend and my last girlfriend ended up cheating on me. Despite the heartache, this remained our weekly ritual. Everything changed that night though, for the both of us.
She had made the off-handed suggestion that we should make a pact. That if we hit 30 and were still single, we'd marry each other. Like the madly in love fool that I was, I agreed. After a few moments of silence, I spoke up again and pulled quite arguably the smoothest move I had ever thought of. I said to her that if we were to get married we should at least know how to kiss each other. She laughed of course, but agreed to a practice kiss regardless. That chilly Friday night, we shared our first kiss on the top of my car. There was a spark there, I felt it and she must have felt it too. Less than a week later, Keri and I were official.
We stayed official ever since. We were inseperable, and our like for each other soon turned into a true love for each other. Everything we could do together, we did and we got married almost immediately after graduation. A few months after that, she was pregnant with our daughter.
Fast forward 19 years, and Keri and our daughter, Hannah, were basically twins. Hannah loved everything about her mom and had even been picking up where she left off in regards to sports. A star athlete like her mother, Hannah had been awarded a full sports scholarship for basketball and had even committed to the school Keri had always wanted to go to. Part of me always felt guilty that Keri never went to college, I didn't force her to not go, but she was pregnant almost right out the gate and had opted to raise our baby girl while I worked.
We had a system, and life was perfect. Keri and I were about to have the house to ourselves and Hannah was going to be the first in either of our families to go to college. But fate had a different plan for us.
One stormy summer night, while helping Hannah pack for her flight, I got the phone call that shattered my world. Keri was in a car accident, a truck driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and hit her head-on. She died instantly, not that that was of any relief to me or Hannah.
Life went into a downward spiral for me. I simply stopped caring. My heart had been shattered and it was like my brain was just making me go through the motions. The funeral, the family gathering, the packing of her stuff, I remember doing it all as if someone else had taken control of my body. I was there in every sense but emotionally.
I was so caught up in my own grief that I didn't register Hannah's grief. It had been only two weeks since the funeral, and I was sitting in my room when I saw Hannah walk past my door with one of Keri's favorite dresses. At that moment, I snapped out of whatever dead-to-the-world trance I was in and perked up.
"H-hey!" I called out, my throat dry from lack of water during the day. I stood up from the edge of my bed and walked towards my doorway.
"Yes, daddy?" Hannah called as I poked my head into the hallway. Even now, she still called me "daddy" despite being grown. If it wasn't for that one little word, I would have believef I was staring at Keri herself.
I meant it when I said Hannah was her mother's twin. Same toned body, dark hair, and tone of speech, and the dress Hannah chose to wear only made matters worse. It was a blue and white striped sundress that hung just above her knees.
"Is that..." I paused as I tried to find the right words to say to Hannah. "Is that your mom's dress?" I finally asked. I could tell Hannah had been crying, her red eyes and sniffling nose was the dead giveaway. A quick look down the hallway in the direction she had come from told me she was coming from the bathroom when I spotted her.
"Yeah I... well I know mom loved it so I thought I would keep it." Hannah answered. "You're not mad at me are you?" For the first time in weeks, I felt my face form a smile and I shook my head.
"Not at all babygirl," I answered. "Help yourself, it's all going into storage otherwise." Hannah flashed a bright smile at me and practically ran towards me. She hugged me tight, her arms wrapped around my neck and her body pressed hard against mine, just like Keri used to hug. I hugged her back and as Hannah buried her face into my neck for the embrace, I lowered my head into hers.
It was then that I noticed Hannah was also wearing Keri's perfume. I was taken aback for a moment, but the intoxicating smell only spurred me to hold the embrace even longer. God, I missed her, her touch, her scent, her voice.
"Thank you daddy," Hannah said, her voice almost a whisper in my ear. Hearing her speak broke me out of my haze and I tried to step back, but Hannah only held onto me tighter and pulled me back into her. "I know there isn't much I can do, but I am here to help."
It both hurt and helped to hear my daughter say that. I should be the one consoling her, not the other way around. Yet here she was, taking that first step and being the one to start the healing. Just like Keri would have done. After another few seconds, Hannah finally let me go and stepped back. She looked up at me and smiled before giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Your scruff feels good." She remarked before turning around. I couldn't help but smile at that. It was funny, Keri actually hated facial hair so I usually shaved. But weeks of being lazy and drowning in my sorrows meant I was lacking on certain things like shaving. Once I heard the door to Hannah's room close shut, I moved towards the bathroom with a smile on my face.
It felt good, seeing my daughter in good spirits despite everything going on. Seeing her staying strong in front of me pushed me to start my own self-healing process, and it started with a shower.
The hot water was soothing in an almost magical kind of way. As it hit me, I closed my eyes and let my mind drift. I couldn't stop thinking about Hannah, about how strong she is, about how I wouldn't have been able to make it if it wasn't for her words. Then my thoughts shifted.
The dress and the perfume, my mental image was of Keri once again and despite my vow to start moving on, I didn't want to lose her just yet. As I continued to reminisce about that one fleeting moment, I felt my blood begin to rush down to my cock. I missed Keri's touch, missed her soft hands as they explored my body every time we were intimate as if it was our first time. I missed her and Hannah had very briefly brought my wife back to me.
"Daddy, I'm going to bed now!" Hannah's voice coming from the other side of the door snapped me out of my thoughts and I cut off the shower.
