Rest In Peace

Sarah finally meets someone new on Valentine's Day.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Sarah."

"You're here," said Sarah sitting up in bed and flattening down her hair hoping to look more presentable. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and yawned. "I was just thinking about you."

She was naked when she sat up, but she didn't care. The covers that fell from her shoulders collected around her waist exposing her breasts. She had been touching herself again, while thinking of him again. She had an orgasm, while pretending her hands were his. Never in her life has she masturbated, as much as she has in this past year.

She wondered if it was him who was touching her. She liked to think it was him touching her. It made her hot to imagine his hands all over her body touching her everywhere, while she slept and while she dreamt about him. She imagined his cock inside her, before imagining giving him her special Valentine's Day blowjob.

She missed him. She missed his body. She missed his cock. He had such a beautiful penis.

"I know," he said. "You're always thinking about me, which is why I'm here. I know when you're thinking about me. Somehow, I always know. It's strange that we still have this connection, but we do."

"How do you know? How do you know when I'm thinking about you?"

"I dunno. I just do," said her ex-boyfriend, Carl. "We're still connected in that way. Maybe there's something to this extra sensory perception, after all. Maybe it's just something cosmic, a cosmic telephone line that spans the universe and one that allows me to hear you, as if you are making a very long distance, person to person telephone call."

"I'm glad you're here, but it's unsettling how you just appear from out of nowhere without warning. How do you do that, just show up like that, whenever I'm thinking about you?" said Sarah. "It's weird. As soon as you are in my mind as a thought, you are here with me. It's as if I can psychically call you. Are you stalking me," she said with a laugh. "I'd like that. I'd like to think you were stalking me from the dead," she said. "I wouldn't mind, if you stalked me."

"You did call me. You wished me here and viola. I'm here," he said. "I'm at your whimsy, I guess, for now. Only, in seriousness, you need to stop. You need to get on with your life. You need to let me go, Sarah. I'm sorry, but it's over between us. It's over."

"Let you go? No, Carl, I can't do that. I can never do that. I can never let you go. I miss you. I miss you too much. I love you. I don't want to spend another Valentine's Day alone. I dread spending another Valentine's Day without you. I still want you. Stay, Carl. Please, stay here with me. Don't go. Don't leave me alone," she said.

She started to cry again. She never cried as much as she has cried in the past year. She wondered if she should be on medication. She wondered if there was a medication to stop her from crying.

"You need to let me rest in peace. For whatever reason, whatever this phenomena is that allows me to return to you and to talk to you is just a temporary thing. You have control of me somewhat now, but they'll be a time when, poof, I'll be gone forever. I'll be gone for good, Sarah, and I won't be returning."

"I know, Carl, I know you're right. Only, you were here one day and gone the next. It's hard for me to wrap my brain around not having you here in my life anymore. I'm still adjusting to not having you in my life and in my bed, touching you whenever I want, spooning you, and making love. I feel as though I haven't had the chance to really tell you how I feel about you."

"You did, Sarah. You told me a thousand times. You told me you loved me countless times and I responded in kind. Only, it's over. We are no longer together. We can never be together. You need to get on with your life. It's been exactly a year since my fatal car accident last Valentine's Day. I'm dead and I'm not coming back."

As if he was in the room with her, as if she could see him, she heard his voice and imagined the rest. It was surreal. Whatever this non-physical, paranormal connection was, it was helping with her grieve and hopefully it will enable her to gradually let him go one day, but not today, not now. She wasn't ready to go on to live her life without him. She wished he would never leave. She wished he would always be with her, even if only in spirit.

"I know, I know. I know, you're right. Only, I'm so lonely and so lost without you. Here I am alone again on Valentine's Day. If the holidays Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year weren't bad enough, Valentine's Day is the real killer for me. Everywhere I look there's hearts, flowers, and couples celebrating the holiday. Everywhere I look there's love, romance, and babies."

"You need to meet someone, Sarah. It's time. You've spent enough time grieving over me. You've wasted enough of your life over my loss."

"I do want to meet someone, someone as nice as you, but it's so hard. Tell me, how do I do that? So many of the guys today are jerks. They are just out for themselves. They don't want to commit. They don't want to settle down. I'm 32-years-old, my clock is ticking faster and faster, and they don't want kids. They only want sex."

"Don't worry, Sarah. You'll find someone, you will. It's in the cards."

"In the cards? How do you know? How do you know that? Are you just saying that or can you see my life."

"I'm only trying to cheer you up, is all. No, I can't see the rest of your life, if that's what you are asking me. Yet, I know because of the person you are, you won't be alone for long."

"I don't think I'm ready to begin another relationship with someone else. I can't bear to even think about taking the time to get to know another man in the way that I knew you and in the way I loved you. No offense, but I wasted my time with you. Sorry, but I did," she said blowing her nose. "Now look at me. I'm a mess. I wouldn't feel as bad, if you had, at least, given me a baby."

"Be glad I didn't, Sarah. Now, you can start your life fresh and without baggage," he said. "Only, you need to pull yourself together."

She stared at the wall where she imagined he was, then turned and looked at the doorway and then the window, while wondering if he was there or there or up there hovering by the ceiling light fixture, before looking beside her and behind her. Then, she realized he wasn't even in the room. He was dead, but he was still with her in her head. It saddened her to think that he only lived on in her head and nowhere else.

She wondered if he was haunting her. She wondered if she was just imagining this, if this was all but a dream, a nightmare. She wondered if the voice she heard were just voices in her head. She wondered if she was crazy.

"Maybe I should talk to a psychologist or a psychiatrist about this," she said out loud.

"You could join a support group," he said. "I think that would be a good idea to help you get through this and to help you let me go."

"I wish I could see you. I never got to say good-bye to you. Somehow I feel responsible asking you to drive out to my house on that fateful evening, after you dropped off your friends. It was snowing."

"Stop it, Sarah. My death wasn't your fault. The accident happened before I was even driving to your house. It was just my time to go is all and, for whatever the reason, it was something that none of us have any control over."

"I wish I could hold you, even if for one last time. I wish I could kiss you and we could make love and--"

"Sarah. Stop. Please. You can't. We can't. Why think about that? Why do that to yourself? It's torture for me, as much as it is for you. Actually, it's more difficult for me. You're there and I have no idea where I am."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Maybe you should go back to school and finish the courses you need for your degree," he said. "You'd have many more opportunities with a master's degree than a bachelors degree to meet someone. You'd meet a better class of man, no doubt, someone more educated, someone who wasn't only looking for sex."

"I know you're right, but I can't. Not yet. I'm still grieving over you. Besides, it's not the education that defines a man, it's the woman on his arm and behind him that makes him who he is. No matter the age, education, or social status, don't kid yourself, they all want sex," she said with a resigned acceptance. "All men are alike. They just want their cocks sucked."

"What would you do if you couldn't hear my voice anymore?"

"What would I do? Oh, God, I'd go crazy. I'd be so terribly depressed. The reality of you gone would finally hit me, I guess."

"Maybe I should do that then, not answer you when you think of me. Maybe I'm not helping you by responding to you."

"Please don't do that. Your voice is like a second conscience. Your voice is all I have left of you. You help me to realize that you're dead."

"What would you do if I remained silent, but continued quietly watching over you, in the way of a Guardian Angel, one who can only observe and can't intercede on your behalf?"

"I like the idea of you being my Guardian Angel, watching out for me, but I'd probably stay in bed and cry all day, if you no longer answered me and if you no longer talked to me. I enjoy our little conversations."

"Don't do that, Sarah. That car crash killed me, it doesn't have to kill you, too. Live your life," he said. Then, there was a silence and she knew what was coming next. "I have to go now."

"Go? No. Please don't go. Why? Where? Where do you go when you go?"

"I don't know. I just know I have to go. It feels as if I'm being summoned by someone or something. It's impulsive and reactionary, something that I cannot deny or disobey. Traveling through space and time without moving, I have no control over anything. I just exist without body and without form. I only exist in a conscience state. As I am with you now, at times, I'm at their whimsy."

"Wait. Tell me, Carl. What's it like where you are? Are you in Heaven or..."

"I think I'm somewhere in between. This can't be Heaven. It's too dark. It's so very dark. It's nothingness. It feels like outer space, only I don't see any stars. I don't see anything but blackness. Maybe I'm suspended in a black hole. I can actually see the blackness. It's a living and beating blackness and, if I can see blackness then, I have hope that there's something or someone else there besides nothingness."

"Tell me, what does it feel like...to be dead?"

"I don't feel dead, per se, maybe because I still have thoughts. It feels as if I'm floating. I can't see or hear anything. It feels as if I'm living in a bubble or a vacuum. It feels as if I'm submerged in a tub of water, floating on my back, without lights and without sounds. Yeah, kind of like that, sensory deprivation. Only, for the first time, I have no worries or cares and I don't think about anything or anyone, that is, until I hear you calling me."

"I love you, Carl. Happy Valentine's Day."

"I love you, Sarah. Happy Valentine's Day."

"I will always love you, Carl. Carl? Carl? Carl!"

Suddenly, with Carl gone again, first from the physical world and again from her spiritual, emotional, or imagined world, she felt so alone. She could always tell when he was there, just as she could tell when he wasn't. She could feel him and sense his presence.

Only, the feeling and the sensation of him wasn't as strong or lasted as long, as it had the first time he appeared to her, when he first died, that fateful night. He was fading and, every time he appeared, he faded a little more. He was fading away forever and she knew that it would only be a matter of time before he'd be gone, gone for good.

Far away from the world of the living, he was disappearing to the vast expanse of the universe to the land of the dead and to world of the unknown. Maybe he exists on the other side of the universe. Maybe he exists in a parallel dimension. Maybe he can always see her, but can no longer contact her. Maybe he's not dead at all, just gone from this world to another, like steps on a staircase on his way to Heaven or to Hell. Only, he was too good to go to Hell. Definitely, he'd go to Heaven, if there is such a place.

She hoped the world of the dead was a better world than the world of the living because this world without him was so empty. She had thought about committing suicide, but she couldn't do that to her parents and her friends. Suddenly, she felt so alone. She felt lost and so empty. She felt, as if she was floating in water, too. She felt so terribly sad.

Still sitting up in bed naked with her arms wrapped around her knees, she thought about the first day they met three years ago. As if it was fate, they literally bumped into one another. He spilled her coffee on her coat and she dropped the cup when the coffee burnt her hand.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. It was all my fault," he said taking her hand and holding it, while wiping the hot coffee with his handkerchief.

As soon as he touched her hand, she felt him. Call it fate or kismet, call it love at first sight, call it whatever want, she somehow knew that he was the one and he was.

"It's okay," she said. "Really, don't worry about it."

"No, it was all my fault," he said still holding her hand. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was looking. Come, let me replace your coffee. It's the least that I can do. I can give you my name and address for you to send me your dry cleaning bill," he said, finally letting go of her.

He was so charming, so kind, and so handsome. If that's how he picks up women, if that's how he picked up her, by bumping into them and bumping into her and sipping her coffee, it was okay with her.

"No, that's okay," she said thinking she'd be late for work, but suddenly not caring.

Meeting him was her once in a lifetime, only she didn't want to appear easy. She didn't want to appear desperate to meet a man, even though she was. She needed to play a little hard to get, even though she wasn't and even though she was, in fact, hard up.

She had been so sad, so lonely, and so horny for so long, too long, she was ready to jump at the first man she met, only she hoped that this wasn't the case, now, with him. She hoped he was someone special and the one. All of her friends were already married with children. Some of her friends were even working on their second marriages and she was still single, didn't even have a boyfriend.

"I'm Carl," he said persisting and offering her his hand.

She was glad he persisted. He had passed her little test. She felt better about going for coffee with him now, with someone who wanted to be with her. She liked to feel that he had won her, in her own way, while playing her own little silly mind game with herself.

She was just glad he hadn't handed her five bucks for the coffee and ten bucks for the dry cleaning and walked out of her life. He could have been like most and just said sorry and continued walking, without even offering to replace her coffee. The fact that he persisted, surely meant something, she hoped. Maybe, he felt something, too.

"Sarah," she said pausing from fleeing to shake his hand.

There was just something about him and she couldn't leave without knowing who he was.

"Please I insist. Allow me to buy you another coffee. It's the least that I can do," he said again. "If I don't replace your coffee, I'd feel terrible about denying you your caffeine fix, all day."

"Okay," she said making eye contact and giving him a smile.

There was something about him that was so familiar, as if she had met him before and known him in another life. It was surreal. Weird. Something like this has never happened to her before.

As soon as he touched her hand, she couldn't speak. All she could do was to look, gaze actually, in his blue eyes. He was so very handsome, tall and thin. He had the body of a swimmer, broad shouldered with a slim waist and narrow hips.

They walked back in Starbucks and talked over a cup of coffee. Three years later, they've been together ever since, that is, until he was the designated driver and driving home his drunken friends. He was like that, the good Samaritan type of guy always doing good for someone, without ever expecting anything back in return.

A car approaching them in the opposite direction with an impaired driver hit him head on. His four friends survived the crash but Carl was dead at the scene. It was weird that it was his time to go. Only the good die young and he was that, so young and so good.

She started crying again for the millionth time. She loved him. She truly did. She really loved him. It's not fair. Why? She didn't understand. Why did he have to die instead of one of his loser friends? Why him? He didn't even drink. Why now? Everything was so perfect between them.

She had so many plans. He had just asked her to marry him and she accepted. He bought her a ring, which she can't take off just to leave it in her jewelry box, but she finally did today for the very first time, since he put it on her finger. She had imagined having children with him and living in the country somewhere with a dog and two cars.

Worth the wait, it took her so very long to find him. Her life was so very perfect with him in it and now it is so tragically sad without him. Why? Why must she go through this? What's the reason for this? Why would God take him away from her after finally finding him? It was so sudden. It was too soon. It's not fair.

Now, it's so quiet, too quiet without his voice helping her through her day. She hates it when it's like this. She still reaches for the phone wanting to call him, but she can't. Sometimes in the middle of her day, she wonders why he hasn't called her. Then, she gets mad that he's dead and that he died on her, before hating herself for having those thoughts.

She hates being so alone and lonely that she imagines she hears his voice. Only, she does hear his voice. He talks to her, but for how much longer?

She showered and dressed, while wondering if he could still see her naked. Then, she remembered he said he couldn't see anything. He said it was dark where he was. He said there was just a blackness, a living, breathing, beating blackness. He was just a voice in her head. He was just a memory. She couldn't continue living like this. She needed to get her life back. She needed to meet someone.

The warm water felt good on her naked body and she couldn't help touching herself again, while thinking of Carl. She wondered if he was making her touch herself. She wondered if he was controlling her fingers, as they flicked her clit and pulled at her nipples. She was so horny. She needed a man. She needed to get laid. She needed to cum.

She spent her day looking at men, strangers in the street, the mailman, the UPS driver, the water delivery man, the police officer, the fireman, and the multitude of businessmen who surrounded her every day in her office environment. She wondered which man was right for her. Running little scenarios through her head, she wondered what it would be like to be with this one or that one.

Today was Valentine's Day, the first day of her new life without him and a year to the day of his tragic death. They were having Valentine's Day singles night at the Irish Pub. Her girlfriends were going and invited her to go with them, again, not really expecting her to accept their invitation, but she surprised them when she did.

Normally, she'd decline their invitation, but something told her to go and she did. She had fun laughing with her girlfriends, while checking out the single men. One even asked her to dance. Only, there was no one there who interested her. None of the men seemed her type. They all drank a lot and Carl didn't drink at all. Nothing magical happened and she was ready to leave feeling just as depressed, more depressed actually, than when she arrived. It was just another waste of time and she couldn't wait for this Valentine's Day to be over.