Young Woman with Older Man

Chapter 21

For those who believe reincarnation, Heaven can wait

Yes, I can feel my Lynn," said Marianne looking around the room. "I feel her energy," she said inhaling deeply, putting back her head and wrapping her arms around herself. "I feel her spirit. I know she's here," she closed her eyes and said with a smile. Then, when she opened her eyes, she looked sad and she suddenly appeared older. "It's going to be hard for me to leave knowing that she's here."

"We don't know how long she'll stay, Marianne. Maybe, it's a temporary thing."

I didn't know what else to say to comfort her. I was hurting too much to help her through her grief when I couldn't help myself through mine. Maybe together we were helping one another more than we realized. Maybe the sex that we had helped us more than we knew.

"I'm just glad she's here," said Marianne.

"They say when people die tragically, suddenly, and instantly that they return to the place where they died or return to the place where they had peace and happiness and haunt there. She was happy when we were together. I've heard that those who have died instantly, don't know that they're dead and need someone, a medium to help them along their way to find their final resting place."

"Yeah, I heard that too," she said looking at me and waiting for me to continue.

"Maybe, it is unfair to Lynn and selfish of me, but I wouldn't hire a medium to help her along her way. I'd rather she stayed here with me in whatever form, even as a ghost, a spirit, an apparition, a feeling, a sensation, or whatever. I hope she'll stay here with me until it's my time to go. Then, perhaps, I can show her the way."

I looked around the room and then focused my attention back to Marianne when she started talking again.

"I now know how you feel about having her around as a spirit when you said that it's no longer so final a farewell," she said. "It's somehow comforting to know that she's here even as an apparition or some form of energy, even if it is just a feeling imagined or real. Sensing her gives me comfort."

"At least, now, I don't feel that I'm alone. At least, now, I feel that I have someone to talk to other than the dogs," I said.

"Somehow, I feel that we were brought her here, Gwen, Jamie, and me," she said giving me a satisfied smile. "Perhaps, we were the magnet that attracted her home to you and maybe, she'll stay here with you until you can handle her leaving. Maybe, her purpose being here is to help all of us through our grieving period. The sadness of our loss is holding her here and once we're all at peace with the death of her, then she'll leave and forever rest in peace." She made the sign of the cross. "Amen."

"Amen," I said. "You may be onto something with that logic. She may have been following you guys around from place to place until you deposited her here with me. For all I know, she may leave here when you leave and follow you home," I said with sadness.

"I don't think she will," said her mother. "I think she'll stay here with you. This was her home with you and the dogs. I can feel that she was happy here." She looked over at me. "She returned here for you. She knows that you're the one who's hurting the most. She knows that you needed her to return."

She made me cry and I wiped the tears away from my eyes with my hand. I don't usually cry, but I felt better after releasing some tears over Lynn, finally. With men not supposed to cry, being a man, I thought I was strong. I thought I was beyond crying over Lynn, but being a man had nothing to do with how I felt. Without a doubt, even after the months that passed since her death, I was still grieving the loss of her, as if it had just happened yesterday.

It was later that evening after Marianne had left and had been on the road for a few hours that she called me on her cell phone.

"Freddie, I just wanted to let you know that the feeling of Lynn is gone. She's not with me. She didn't follow me home. Is she still there with you?"

"Yes, she's still here. I feel her even stronger than before."

I heard her softly sobbing.

"Well, I'm glad," she said with shaking voice through her tears. "Listen, this is our little secret. Okay? I don't want the rest of the family to think we're crazy. Not everyone believes in ghosts, especially my husband. He'd think that I lost my mind or was being hysterical and needed therapy," she said with a laugh and a sniffle.

"Yeah, sure, I understand. You take care, Marianne. You have my number. You can call me anytime and anytime you want to come for another visit, just give me a call."

Suddenly, I pictured Marianne falling asleep on the couch drunk. I pictured undressing Marianne before she undressed me. I pictured having sex with Lynn and Gwen's mother. I remembered the shower scene and the sex we had after. Sure, she can come for a visit anytime.

"Thank you, Freddie; that means a lot to me."

"Listen," I said, "if you feel her with you, please call me."

"Yes, certainly, I will."

"Bye, Marianne."

"Good-bye, Freddie.

Over time, the feeling of Lynn came and went, sometimes stronger and other times weaker. Sometimes I felt her for only a few minutes before the feeling of her faded away while other times she was there with me most of the day. When she was there, I felt her looking over my shoulder. The feeling of her blowing on my neck or in my ear was nerve racking. I could imagine her laughing when annoying me like that.

Certainly, I felt her presence stronger when her mother was here. Yet, even though the feeling of her there came and went, always, she was there with the advent of some anniversary, such as, our first date and our first kiss. She returned for her birthday and for my birthday. I know she was here when Seymour got loose and was nearly hit by a car that stopped just in time. I know that Lynn saved Seymour's life. Then, for the longest time, I felt nothing. She stopped coming to see me.

I tried to feel her by closing my eyes and concentrating on the memory of her. On those days when I was so alone and lonely and missed her so terribly much, I tried summoning her by concentrating on the image of her and holding her picture or something that belonged to her and that she cherished. When she didn't materialize, I feared she was gone for good.

I needed her here with me even if only as a ghostly spirit or as a feeling or a sense of something skulking around the house. After the orgy of physical and sexual contact with Jamie, Gwen, and Marianne was over, I was so sad, so lonely, and so empty with the loss of her. It was comforting when I felt her here with me. When she wasn't around, I was depressed. I felt so alone and so lonely without hearing her voice and her laugh and without feeling her body next to mine in bed as we spooned. Never did she return to me, as she did the night of her death. That night was our last intimate time together and a memory that I'll cherish for the rest of my life.

It was such a bittersweet experience to feel her there with me one day and then not to feel her at all the next. I had no control of when she'd come, when she'd go, and how long she'd stay. I wondered if she was out in Rochester visiting Marianne or in Boston visiting Gwen or Jamie. Maybe she was in Heaven, finally, where she belonged.

Still, Marianne said she'd call me if she felt Lynn's presence there with her and I never doubted that she'd call me to let me know. I suspected, though, that Lynn would make less visits, as more time passed. A gradual process of mourning her again, days turned into weeks and weeks into months without feeling the presence of Lynn. Finally, I figured she wouldn't return again. She was gone for good and all that I had left of her were memories.

I made a pilgrimage out to Rochester to visit her grave selfishly hoping that it would stir her to return home with me. I took a stool with me and sat there for couple of hours talking to her with the dogs. I would have stayed longer, but it started thundering before it started raining, really pouring, and I feared being struck by lightning. Besides the dogs wanted no part of sitting out in a storm. Unfortunately, my praying and my visit to her grave didn't encourage her to follow me home. I feared that she was gone forever.

No longer did the dogs stare up at the wall or at the ceiling wagging their tails. No more did they get wild for no apparent reason. I knew she was gone and I wanted to call Marianne to tell her that Lynn was gone, but I thought better of it. It was better that Marianne believed that Lynn was still around me. I didn't think she'd want a telephone call from me telling her that her daughter was gone, finally. I figured by my silence, she knew that anyway.

I wanted to see Marianne when I was in Rochester, but I felt guilty. How could I look her husband in the eye after having sex with not only two of his daughters but also his wife? If he hated me before, he'd want to kill me now. Besides, it would have been awkward to visit with Marianne and her daughter Gwen, after Gwen moved back home when her job didn't last.

Gwen was unpredictable and there's no telling what she may have said about what had happened between us in front of not only her father but also her mother. I could just hear Gwen laughing while reminiscing of the time when she tossed my salad in the shower. Just as I could hear her father saying, "You did what? Marianne, where's my shotgun?"

Now, I felt terribly alone again. I hate being alone. Whether she's dead or alive, I need a woman in my life. Only, I don't mean that how it sounds. I need someone in my life, but not just any woman.

I want that special woman, someone who I'm deeply attracted to on all levels, a woman who I think about when leaving the house and who makes me not want to leave her bed. I want a woman who I think about all day long, a woman who makes me impatient to get home, and one who I love to kiss and hold. I want a woman who will never make me want to look at another woman. I want a woman who makes me giddy with happiness and lustful with desire, and when we make love it's magical. That's the woman that I want. If there's such a woman for me, where is she?

Even though I've had an abundance of sexual relationships within the past year and a half with Lynn, her best friend, Jamie, Lynn's sister, Gwen, and Lynn's mother, Marianne, believe it or not, I'm a one woman type of guy. I much prefer love to sex and would rather have someone to talk to and laugh with, do things with, and travel to places, as well as having the intimate relationship with all the hugging, holding and sex.

I'm too old and too set in my ways to be partying with the young chicks anymore. I want something real and everlasting. I need someone my own age this time around. I miss having a meaningful conversation. I wish I could find someone who's totally into me and who shares my interests.

It was at the supermarket where I met Kate. Obviously, by her looks, I was attracted to her at first glance. She was tall, thin, good looking, and wearing a Red Sox baseball cap. It's always good to meet another faithful Fenway fan and the fact that she was beautiful made her so much more interesting. From the back, because of her gray hair, she looked fifty-something but, after looking at her again and upon closer examination, especially from the front, her beautiful skin contradicted her age. Had she colored her hair, she'd look thirty-something.

I never understood a woman who turned her back to youthfulness by allowing her hair to gray naturally without coloring it, that is, until I met Kate. It not only suited her but also, amazingly, it looked good on her. Now, after seeing her with her shoulder length, flowing gray hair, I couldn't imagine her hair any other color. In the way of first introducing rich cream to dark, strong coffee when it swirls around before mixing with and turning a lighter shade of brown, or when seeing the glistening glass and chrome of modern architecture next to the brick and wood of old world charm, she looked young and old at the same time while capturing the qualities of both youth and maturity in one glance. I liked the look.

It was weird, in one look I could see how she looked in her youth and could imagine what she'd look like as she aged. When she turned away from me and I viewed her from the back and then when she turned towards me and I viewed her from the front, I felt as if I was viewing Oscar Wilde's picture of Dorian Gray, but as a hologram, young to old and old to young. Weird, so very strange.

Yet, puzzlingly, there was something so very familiar about her. I felt that I had met her before or knew her from somewhere long ago. Without a doubt, it was her eyes. Filled with an expressiveness of emotion, they were deep and electric grey-blue eyes. Her eyes reminded me of Lynn's eyes.

It was apparent that intense intelligence abounded behind those sexy and erotic eyes. She captured me and summed me up in one look. I felt transparently violated and her look made me feel used. She made me feel naked but not in a sexual way. In a truth be told sort of look, she removed the layers of pretenses, deception, and foolishness about me. I felt that she saw the real me and was looking at the person that hid beneath my masked persona. Immediately, by her overt look, I could tell that she liked what she saw and a mutual attraction flickered before catching fire.

Suddenly, I thought of that movie, Heaven Can Wait with Warren Beatty playing Joe Pendleton and Julie Christie playing Betty Logan, the remake of Here Comes Mr. Jordan with Robert Montgomery and Evelyn Keyes. In the original movie, Joe Pendleton is a boxer who's in the pink of his physical fitness, whereas, in the remake, Joe Pendleton is the quarterback of a professional football team at the height of his successful career. In the original movie, Joe dies of a heart attack in the boxing ring, whereas in the remake, Joe is hit by a car while riding his bicycle through a highway tunnel.

Nonetheless, as it was in the original movie, the main character died when an angel, hoping to spare him from the pain and the suffering of dying, prematurely, pulled his spirit from his body. Only, just as happened in the original movie in the boxing ring, the boxer wasn't having a heart attack and would have not only survived but also won the fight. In the remake, the car would have swerved and missed him and there would have been no accident. In an attempt to rectify his mistake, the angel takes Warren Beatty around to different people who are about to die hoping to find a comparable body for Joe Pendleton to inhabit. Finally he puts him in the body of a rich industrialist, Leo Farnsworth. Only, unbeknownst to Joe, there's a plot, by his wife and his wife's boyfriend, to murder him. Now, Joe and the angel are on a panicked mission to find another body to inhabit before it's too late and he's dead forever.

Meanwhile, he meets a woman, Julie Christie, and has fallen in love with her. He knows now that the angels are searching for another body to place him inside. Fearing that he may lose touch with this love at first sight woman, he warns Julie Christie that if anything was to happen to him, and that if he was to die, she should give a stranger a chance. Figuring that fate would intervene and inevitably bring them together again, but that he'd be a stranger to her, he tells her that it's in the eyes.

The eyes are the window to the soul and the only way that she'll recognize him again. With all of this supposition flashing through my mind within nanoseconds, I wondered if Kate had a similar accident and the angels, having made a terrible mistake by taking Lynn too early, put Lynn's spirit in another body. Nah, grasping at straws with my grieve twisting my mind, that's just crazy or is it?

"Sorry," I said, as we reached for the same package of stew, beef bones and our fingers barely touched.

As if an electrical shock with a subsequent surge of energy, the feeling that I received when I touched her fingers was jolting. The sensation of her presence, standing so close to me without making contact, penetrated my soul. I couldn't stop staring at her eyes. She melted me with her look and I was forever lost in her stare.

"Go ahead," she said pulling her hand away and reaching for another package.

"Thank you," I said staring over at her and hooked by her hypnotic eyes that set my heart ablaze with desire for her. "I give my dogs these as a special reward. This is the only package with a small bone and a big bone. I have two dogs a Rhodesian Ridgeback and a Ray terrier. It keeps them quiet for a couple hours."

Suddenly I felt pathetically lonely that I had to explain why I wanted this particular package of bones to a stranger and why this particular package was so important to me. Yet, it wasn't the package of bones, of course, it was her. Just as it was the first time that I met Lynn at the dog park, engaging her in conversation was my simplistic way of prolonging my time with her. Just as I didn't want Lynn to leave that first time I met her, I didn't want this woman to go either. It was my way of hoping to instigate something more, if only a longer conversation.

"Yes, I understand," she said giving me a look as if there was something wrong with me.

"This package has a big bone and a little bone," I said holding up the package to show her while staring at the package and then looking up at her again. She was stunningly beautiful. Suddenly, feeling ridiculously weird that I was going on about this package of bones and about the dogs, and suddenly feeling that I've been home alone way too long with just the dogs, I needed to explain. "I have a big dog, a Rhodesian Ridgeback and a little dog, a Rat Terrier."

As soon as I said that, realizing that I was repeating myself I was embarrassed for myself. I sounded like someone who was mentally challenged telling her that I have a big dog and a little dog. What the Hell is wrong with me? Why is this woman making me so nervous?

"I know, you said that already," she said with a laugh. "Please," she laughed and raised a hand to stop me from talking, "You don't have to explain. You may have that particular package of bones. I'll take another. I only use them to give flavor to my broth."

Her assurance relaxed me and immediately, I felt comfortable with this woman and, now that I found her, I didn't want her to disappear from my life.

"Hi," I said sticking out my hand. "I'm Freddie."

"Hi Freddie. I'm Kate," she said smiling and shaking my hand.

Her hand was so soft and I did not want to let go of it. I didn't want her to leave and was trying to think of things to say to keep her there.

"Hi," I said again unable to think of anything else to keep her there talking to me.

She blanked my mind with her beauty and with those eyes that reminded me so much of Lynn's eyes.

"It's nice to meet you," she said turning and about to leave.

"Pardon me for being so forward and personal," I said touching her hand with mine and stopping her from going.

"Yes?" she said looking at me with those eyes again.

"Do you have someone in your life?"

"Pardon?"

I'm such a dummy. In the way that I blurted that out, it sounded too much as if I was trying to intrude upon her personal and private life. I sounded too much like a stalker. She looked at me oddly and I would have, too, if someone, a stranger, had asked me a question, such as that and in that way. I rephrased the question and smiled.

"Please, forgive me for being so impetuous, but are you married or do you have a boyfriend?"

"Oh," she said smiling. "No, I'm divorced." She made eye contact with those hypnotic eyes before answering me, "And, presently," she laughed, "I'm without a boyfriend."

"Listen," I said suddenly feeling a psychic connecting with her gaze, "I haven't had lunch since my girlfriend died." I saw the shock that washed over her face. "I'm sorry," I said laughing. "I've been home alone way too long with the dogs. Obviously, I forget how to communicate with a human, especially with a beautiful woman." I took a big breath. "What I meant to say was, I haven't had lunch with anyone since—"