Even in Death

A young woman loses her husband, but he returns to her as something else.

Crina Ionesco-Patterson had not believed in any religion. She had spent the entirety of her elementary to high school education in private Catholic school. Unlike many of her peers, who had been truly interested in religion, she had quickly gotten sick of it. In her first year of college, Crina declared herself an atheist. She had never questioned her beliefs. Her mother and her father, devout Eastern Orthodox Christians, constantly attempted to convert her every time she had come home for birthdays or the holidays. Always, Crina managed to ignore them. Still, they tried. Crina had wondered why they had so much hope for her conversion. Now she knew.

            Into her first year of college, Crina had met Robert Patterson. He was a wonderfully cute junior with sparkling hazel eyes and a smirk constantly on his lips. They met through Crina’s friend Tina’s boyfriend Mike. Robert and Mike happened to be best friends. They were going to see a stupid movie by John Carpenter called “Vampire.” It was something the guys were ecstatic to see. What was better than vampires and cowboys? Crina and Tina cared very little for the themes that the film presented. Though, they were willing to tolerate it. At the ticket counter, Crina hadn’t looked twice at Robert. When he smiled, it was a real smile that caught her. That dark hair of his fell into his eyes. His dark, tan skin appeared to be almost pale in the theater’s dim lighting.

            During the movie, Robert and Crina sat in the back together. Tina and Mike sat up front. It was apparent that Robert liked Crina as much as she liked him. They talked about their backgrounds. Crina was a second generation Romanian-American. Both grandparents from either side had immigrated to the United States in the early twentieth century. Only one pair of her grandparents was still alive. However, Robert was different. He was a typical American with a mixture of many backgrounds.

            “What about the tan?” Crina giggled. “Is that Middle Eastern?”

            Robert grinned. “Oddly enough, Transylvanian. One pair of my great-grandparents was from the country.” He laughed. “I guess that’s what got me interested in vampires.”

            “Ugh, don’t tell me you watch Buffy?”

            “Hey, she’s hot!” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I like a girl who can kick butt. And with a stake, no less.”

            Besides their families’ histories, they talked about their interests. Crina was interested in becoming an English literature professor. For now, she was earning her bachelor’s and working her way up to a doctorate’s. She worked as a paid intern to her English professor and wrote on the side.

            “It’s this story I’ve been thinking about forever. I’ve just finally gotten around to writing it.”

            “What’s it about?” Robert asked.

            “That’s a secret.”

            Robert went on to say that he wanted to be an engineer or something similar. As a kid, his dad encouraged him to fiddle around in his toolbox. So, Robert did and found that he was a pretty good mechanic. His skills in handling machines honed after years and years of practice. Personally, Crina wasn’t into machinery. She had always loved reading and writing. She found that the more she talked to Robert, the more she was attracted to him.

            Soon after, Robert asked her out; Crina accepted. The first date was very pleasant. Robert acted quite the gentleman. He presented her with flowers. At dinner, he pulled out her chair for her before himself. As they talked, Robert flirted with her and she reciprocated. A second date followed. Other dates ensued close on their heels. Before long the couple found themselves having dated for a year. Then, three more years passed. Crina and Robert graduated from college. Both of them began their higher learning.

            As Crina was in the middle of her master’s, Robert got down on one knee and revealed a ring to her. It was a golden band that fit her ring finger snugly. Warmth radiated from the three tiny and iridescent diamonds embedded into its shining surface. Crina looked down at the band and then back up at Robert in pure delight. Had there ever been a more perfect gift? To both their joy, Crina accepted. A year later their wedding ceremony took place on a beach in front of a justice of the peace. Several witnesses attended, all from either side of their families. Crina was twenty-eight and Robert twenty-nine.

            Crina Ionesco-Patterson finally started on her doctorate’s degree. It was hard work; she had to fully focus all of her energies into it. After much hand writing and typing, her right wrist hurt. Again and again it happened. Crina ended up using a wrist guard to limit her wrist’s movement. It helped, along with the rare dosage of ibuprofen she took. By the time she resurfaced from her work, Crina discovered that the next day, the nineteenth of April, was her wedding anniversary.

            Robert and Crina Ionesco-Patterson had been married for four wonderful years. She and her husband were very much excited to celebrate it. Though they had rarely seen each other, the two found that eve that they were still passionately in love.

            The morning of their anniversary, Robert bent down to her ear and whispered, “I have something special for you tonight, Rini.”

            Curious, Crina opened her eyes and groaned, “If it’s so special, why are you telling me?”

“I want you to be excited. I’m right, aren’t I?”

He was right. Of course, Crina didn’t admit that. She reached up a hand and lightly smacked his shoulder. “Stop it. Whatever it is, just give it to me now. No more torture.”

Robert laughed. “Hah, I thought so.” He captured Crina’s hand in his and raised it to his lips to kiss it. Crina’s heart fluttered in her chest as she watched him lean down to kiss her on the mouth. Willingly, she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer. His lips left hers and she groaned, pushing him back to her. Robert pulled away from her. “You’re too tempting, you know. Anymore of this and I’m not going to want to go to work.”

“Robbie, just stay. Stay in bed with me and take the day off. It’s our anniversary.” Crina yawned. “It’s a day that should be just for us.”

“Rini, I would have had to call in sick the day before"”

“You still could.”

“"but it’s kind of late. Plus, if Rockwell catches me being late again,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I might be fired.”

“That’s not my fault. It’s yours. You can’t help but stay here with me.” Crina laughed seductively. “You can’t resist me.”

Robert smirked and leaned down to kiss her lips. Then, he stopped. “You’re right; I can’t. That’s why I’m going to give you a nice, chaste kiss.” His lips pressed to hers quickly but wonderfully. Crina closed her eyes; sparks could have almost flown from between the two. He cupped her cheek in his hand and caressed it lovingly. Robert reluctantly pulled away. “Now I have to get dressed and leave, missy.”

She gladly laid back into their bed and watched his glorious muscles ripple as he dressed. Robert was headed off to his job as a mechanic at a car repair shop. Crina wasn’t worried about him, though she did tell him that she loved him. He gave her one last and lingering kiss before confessing the same.

            Her classes, few as they were, passed by slowly in anticipation of that night. That afternoon Crina found herself filing for her professor. The phone in the professor’s office rang.

            “This is Dr. Patton speaking,” the professor said politely. “How may I help you.”

            There were a few seconds of quiet before she talked. “Yes, she works here. Why"?” There was stunned silence. “Oh…oh no. Are you"? Oh my Lord.”

            She gasped softly. Crina had paused, ears perked. “Oh my"Um, thank you very much,” Dr. Patton murmured. “I’ll be sure to let her know.”

            Crina surreptitiously craned her neck so that she was peering into Dr. Patton’s office. The professor’s head was buried in her hands. All that could be heard was the sound of her steady breathing. Her hands dragged down her face and slapped gently to her desk. Dr. Patton was stricken. Finally she came to and sensed Crina staring at her.

            “Crina, could you come here?” the professor requested. Once Crina was standing by her side, Dr. Patton proceeded to talk. Her voice was soft and faltering, unlike the confident surety presented in class. “Crina…I am sorry to be the one to tell you this. It breaks my heart.”

            Crina’s hands were shaking restlessly, as was the rest of her body. “What happened?”

            “It’s your husband, Robert. He was underneath a car at his job, fixing it. The restraints holding it up must have broken. The car fell on top of him and…” her voice broke. “He’s dead.”

            Crina stared wide-eyed for a moment, not speaking. Then, she broke out into a smile. “Oh, really? Should I rush down to his shop?”

            Dr. Patton blinked at her. Her lips set into a thin line. “Crina…don’t you see?”

            “I see, all right,” she laughed, lightness filling her. “I’ll go down there and find him with a surprise. It’s all a joke. I just didn’t know that you were in on it, Doctor.”

            “Oh Crina,” the doctor sighed, voice breaking again. Dr. Patton rose to her feet, gathering her handbag with aged and spidery hands. She drew out a key from her purse and shut her door. Then, she turned the key and dropped the tool into her bag. “Come with me.”

 

            Time seemed to slow as the information was absorbed by her mind. She refused to believe it. Even as the paramedics and the police rushed around her to attend to the body covered on a stretcher. Even as curious people swarmed about, drawn by the sudden hype and trying to see what had happened. Even as she watched the right hand of the body fall from the side of the stretcher. Dumbly, Crina looked down at her own hand. A simple gold band, encrusted with three tiny diamonds, encircled her ring finger. She looked up. The three diamonds on that hanging hand sparkled in the light. There was no doubt in the world.

            Robert wore the exact same ring. They had paired them together.

            “Today was our anniversary,” whispered Crina. “Today was our anniversary.” She swallowed hard. Breathing was difficult. Her body slumped against Dr. Patton. The older woman steadied her. Crina’s head bobbed down. Her chest heaved. “Robert…you can’t be… No…”

            Crina collapsed onto her knees. Love bled from every orifice in her body. Her heart tore itself apart. “ROBERT!” she wailed. Wracked with sobs, her face scrunched up. “Robert…no… You can’t be dead.”

 

            Crina Ionesco-Patterson had not believed in any religion. She was an atheist. She believed that there was no God, no Satan, and certainly no afterlife. She believed that when man died, they were dead. Nothing else. She thought she believed this. Now she wondered.

            What kind of world would steal her husband, only twenty-nine-years-old, away from her? Would she think that he as dead and nothing else? She loved him too much for him to be “just dead.” There had to be something more than death itself. She wasn’t yet willing to accept that he was dead. For every time she turned around in their house, he was there. In the lingering scent of his soap on their bed sheets. In the clothes in their drawer, so neatly folded and ready to be worn. In the simply beautiful band she wore on her finger. He was there, and he was still very much alive to her. How could he ever be dead?

            After answering some questions from the police, she lay in bed. Crina felt, more than saw, the emptiness of the house. It was silent and still. The house was holding its breath, waiting dutifully for a master who would never return. Robert was there, as she remembered him, and yet he was gone. Death had parted them. In body but not in memory. Still, it was that very memory of Robert that she clung to so desperately. It was the last real thing she had of him. She wasn’t going to part with it.

            On the twentieth of April, Tina and Mike came over. The two were a married couple. When Crina opened the door and laid eyes on them, a hard lump rose up in her throat. Tina drew her into a hug. Mike hovered close by; just his presence was comforting. Mike and Tina helped Crina through the task of choosing a funeral home. Did she want him to be buried or cremated? This burial plot or that one? Her mind was blank. Crina uttered soft acceptances or rejections. Tina began to see that her friend must have felt almost as dead as her husband. In a sense, Crina was dead. What was life worth now that the center of it had been yanked away?

            With her friends’ help, Crina chose a burial plot in the local cemetery’s flower garden. Robert was to have a partially open casket. In the accident, only his midsection had been damaged. His head was perfectly intact. Crina didn’t even want to begin to think what the funeral home would do to make his body appear presentable. All she knew was that she wanted to think of him as he had been alive.

            The three arranged for Robert’s funeral to be that coming Sunday. Crina invited her parents and Robert’s parents the next day. Robert’s parents, Robert Sr. and Marcia Patterson, quietly talked with her. Marcia particularly understood her. She told Crina she had lost an unborn son while she was pregnant. However, Crina’s own parents gently went on to her about how Robert would be “saved by the Lord.”

            “Surely, Crina,” her mother assured, “he will be with the angels.”

            More and more, Crina had questioned her faith. What did she believe in? She could no longer say for sure.

            Regardless, a deeper part of Crina was truly thankful for her mother’s consolation. If he was with angels, then maybe he would be at peace. That night she was home alone. Mike and Tina had invited her to come and stay with them. Crina had declined; she wanted this. To be among Robert’s remnants and make herself believe that he was actually there.

            Crina brushed her hands over his things. Already dust had begun to collect on what hadn’t been touched. To think that it only had been two days since… Crina couldn’t bring herself to finish that thought. By midnight, Crina had put herself to bed. Her body, exhausted from the stress of the past two days, immediately fell into a heavy doze. It was that stage between sleep and awake where the body still held an alert awareness to it.

            There was a gentle tapping at her window sill. Crina rolled over and faced the window. She ignored the tapping at first; soon it became insistent. On her last nerve, Crina groaned, “Come in,”

            There was a whoosh of cool air over her bare skin. Crina shivered, suddenly feeling something by her side. Whatever it was carried Robert’s scent. Crina’s fingertips reached out for the presence and touched something cold.

            “Robert,” she sighed, smiling through her daze. “Oh Robbie, hold me.”

            “Crina,” a deep voice whispered.

            Something soft pressed to the skin of her neck. Lips, for they felt like nothing else. Cold encircled her body. Crina trembled as lips once again pressed to her neck. Pleasant warmth pulsed throughout her body. Her senses screamed out that this was Robert. It sure as hell smelled like him, sounded like him, and felt like him. Yet her mind, locked onto sure things, told her that he was dead. What she was experiencing in that moment could only be a dream. Nothing more.

            Tears came unbidden in that dreadful doze. The voice whispered her name again. Silence. Then, two unexpected pinpricks of pain blazed up where the lips had pressed. Crina gasped as something was pulled from her.

            The embrace holding her had become cold steel. Immediately following was the haze of a heavy stupor. Its sweet song called for her to sleep. The pain dulled and Crina groaned. The pressure of the embrace disappeared. Crina was left with only cold when she fell asleep.

 

            She had the strength to see his body. Crina refrained from using “corpse” in her head. Though it was technically true, it didn’t seem fair to Robert. He was more than just a shell. Before her mother came to pick her up that morning, Crina stood in front of her bathroom mirror. Her dirty blonde hair, usually full and soft, appeared to hang limply about her face. Maybe it was due to her face’s wan coloring. She looked as dead as she felt. Dark circles rimmed the bottoms of her eyes. There was a haunted emptiness in her usually bright hazel eyes.

            The life had been stripped from her. Crina merely sighed. It was only then that she noticed that the side of her throat ached. The ache was fairly miniscule but still noticeable. Crina titled her head to the side. She gasped in disbelief. Poised on the upper part of her throat were two tiny pinpricks lined with red. They were reminiscent of bite marks; a hickey even. Crina didn’t remember ever being bitten by any insects or even animals. Her mind flashed to the night before. In the dream, she remembered a slight pain on her throat. She denied that thought immediately. She knew that it wasn’t possible.

            A few minutes later Crina was dressed and ready to go. At nine o’clock a car horn honked. Crina automatically glanced at the window. Her mother sat waiting there for her in her 2001 Corolla. Crina remembered it back from her college days. Her mother turned her head and caught sight of her. The older woman waved and motioned for her to come out. So, Crina did. It was no lie to say that she moved like the walking dead. Each step she took was lifting a leaden weight. Once more, her heart heaved with disbelief. how could this have happened?

            “Oh, dear,” murmured her mother. The woman wrapped her arms loosely around her daughter. She stroked Crina’s hair. That helped to dispel the torrent of tears that threatened to take over her. “Crina, you are wonderful. He was wonderful. There is something for him on the other side.”

            Crina lifted her eyes to Viorica Ionesco’s, silently questioning her. It was too late for Viorica had already gotten into the car.  Crina’s finger brushed over the pinpricks. She came into contact with her scarf. Crina had draped a gauzy scarf around her neck. It had been a gift to her from Tina one Christmas two years earlier. The scarf was a deep and vibrant violet.

            “It’s something I thought would very much be you,” she had said, grinning at Crina. “You don’t have to wear it a lot. Even just looking at it is wonderful enough.”

            Luckily, Crina did have a good use for it. Slipping into the Corolla, her mother didn’t even glance at her daughter’s scarf. For the whole fifteen-minute ride there, it was silent between mother and daughter. Though, what her mother had implied to her raised many questions in her mind. Could there be something after death? Only thoughts were shared between the pair. Crina looked at her mother, Viorica, who returned her glance. There was sorrow there in Viorica’s eyes. Unfortunately, the woman could summon no solace for her daughter. Only the feeling of sympathy was there for her to taste.

            Crina looked away from the intensity of her stare. She had never been able to stand her parents’ religious fervor. As a child, they forced her to attend church with them. It was their idea to send her to private school. Granted, Crina received a fabulous education. Silently, she seethed about her parents’ dominance. Hitting puberty, she made it known to them how controlling they were. She wanted her life to be hers. Couldn’t they understand that?

            “Crina, we do this for your own good,” her mother explained. “It is hard, yes, but necessary. Do you want to be poor like our parents had been? Do you want a good life in your future?” Viorica frowned. “I know you do not see things the way we do. Someday, you might. Always, we shall love you.”

 

            Tears lingered in the corners of her eyes. The hand, wearing a matching wedding ring, fell from underneath that white sheet over and over. Distantly, she was aware the Corolla had stopped. Crina dumbly opened her door, closed it, and shuffled into the funeral home. Her mother hovered by her side, holding onto her arm.

            The day Crina was there to see Robert by herself. She knew that she wouldn’t have more time during the actual funeral. She detested the thought of all those pitying eyes fixed on her. Needless to say, Crina wasn’t one for pity. It made her feel worse about a situation. Right on cue her mother’s arm shifted to hold her from the waist. Her hand soothingly rubbed Crina’s back. That simple gesture made Crina want to bawl like a child.

            The funeral director, a bright and seemingly happy young man, ushered them in with a grave expression. The way his face contorted made it appear as if he had breathed in a particularly nasty smell. Thankfully, Viorica Ionesco was the one he looked to for answers. She told him to leave them alone.

            “Where they get their funeral people these days is beyond me,” her mother muttered under her breath. “He did not even appear truly sullen.”

            “Mother, please, Crina said quietly.

            Viorica shut up and watched her daughter take a tentative step forward. On the other side of the room lay an open casket. Crina could see the folded hands rising out of the coffin’s gaping mouth.

            “Mom, I want to be alone.”

            “Will you be"?”

            “Yes, Mom. I will live. Just give me some time alone.” Realizing that she must have sounded cold, Crina added a softer, “Please.”

            “Yes, my Crina.”

            Crina listened to her mother’s receding footsteps. For a few moments, she listened to fully affirm that she was alone. When she was sure, Crina continued walking towards the coffin. Robert’s face popped into view, made unnaturally pale by the mortician’s makeup. Silently, she thanked whatever deity there was that he wasn’t smiling. Unafraid of him, Crina reached out and clasped her hands over his. They were two folded blocks of ice.

            She knew that he was dead, that he would never come back to her. Everything that happened in the past few days hit her there all at once. Her hand tightened over his cold ones. The forced back tears sprung from the corners of her eyes and quickly trickled down her thin cheeks. Crina knelt in front of the coffin. All other things around her disappeared except him.

            “Why did you have to leave me?” she demanded. She shook his hands. “Why? Why did you? Why did you go to work? Why did"why did…”

            Crina fell again the floor and beat her fists against the carpet. She pounded the floor until her fists burned. Her blond hair swung forward to kiss her cheeks. Burying her face into her arms, Crina sobbed. Her broken heart bled all over the place, its wounds forcing their poorly sewn seams. All that she needed was missing. She could feel her heart trying to burst from her chest. The pain weighed down onto it. She wanted to tear her heart form her chest and throw against the wall. Anything to be with him again. Anything to be dead like him. Was that too much to ask for? She wanted to be buried alive with his body. After that was gone, what else would she have of him?

            By the time she had stopped crying, Crina was unsure of the time. Sniffling, she raised her body from the carpet. She glanced down at her watch. Only thirty minutes had passed. She glanced back at Robert. Something inside of her felt whole despite the emptiness of the past few days. Indeed, Crina felt sorrow for Robert’s passing, but some part of her was absolute. She was already coming to terms with it.

            Still, there was some part of her that felt that not all of Robert had left this Earth. Crina absentmindedly touched her scarf, feeling the two pinpricks through the gauzy material. Vividly, she remembered the previous night’s dream. Maybe it was only her mind playing tricks on her. She remembered her recent psychology course. If believed enough in something, the mind could then make the body respond as if that belief were real. Dreams were even more mysterious. The undeniable reality was lying in the coffin in front of her.

As she left the room, the coffin shook with movement.

           

            After her mother had driven her home, Crina entered to a silent house. She spent the morning in her garden and the rest of the day completing a neglected research report on the computer on her desk. The research report was about the affect of modern slang on contemporary language. It required considerable research, much of which she hadn’t been able to due because of the past few days. Now she believed that she could at least try to focus herself on something that was productive. Currently, she was fleshing out the report with the topic sentences of paragraphs. Following, she would pick out research findings and theories that supported the topics of each paragraph. Just the process of doing all this took her more than half the day. Several times she stopped because her thoughts lingered on the sight of Robert’s body in its coffin. At nine o’clock at night, the birds outside in her two elm trees cackled and squabbled amongst themselves as they settled down. Crina leaned back in her desk chair and stretched her arms up to the ceiling.

            In bed at ten, she felt the sorrow pound through every orifice in her body. She couldn’t escape from her own thoughts. She gave into their irresistible call. She closed her eyes and fell into a heavy doze. Memories of her husband floated through her mind’s eye. She envisioned herself and him going to the movies for the first time again. Crina remembered their first date, their first kiss, and their meeting each other’s parents. These memories were bittersweet and threatened her to tears. Eventually, she was almost asleep when she heard the sliding of stealthy movement from somewhere outside. Her mind stirred from the depths of its doze. His voice called to her.

            “No, Robbie,” murmured Crina in her sleep. “Stay. Don’t go.”

            “Rini.” His voice was hauntingly tempting. “Rini, come to me. Don’t leave me out here. I don’t want to be without you.”

            She lifted her hand to her face, feeling it wet with tears. “No, no. I won’t.”

            “Then, come to me.”

            Mindlessly, threw back the covers of her bed and stood on the floor. The carpet was cold underneath her warm feet. She opened her eyes a fraction and was tempted to crawl back into bed, but she didn’t want to leave Robert outside. Through the darkness of the night, she could only see a faint form against her partially open window. She took hold of the end of the window and pulled it up. Crina raised her face and whispered, “Robbie, come in. Don’t leave me here.”

            Sneakily, he climbed in through the window. His feet rested on the ground. Robert wrapped Crina in his arms. Crina leaned up against him, her heart aching for him and only him.  He was her dream for she was almost asleep. “Crina, I love you,” Robert whispered. His cold lips pressed tantalizingly to the side of her neck. “Do you love me too?”

            “I’ll love you forever, Robert,” she sighed. Her body arched back into him. “Forever and always.”

            “I have missed you so much.” Robert buried his face into her neck. Distantly, she was aware of a stinging pain on her throat. It subsided and she fell back into him. “Let me show you what you have missed.”

            She was falling under the spell of a leaden drowsiness that suddenly came upon her. “Are you real? Will you always be here?” she slurred. Her face was suddenly wet against his shoulder. “I have to know. I can’t keep waking up without you by my side. I can’t hope that this is a dream.”

            His mouth was next to her ear. The dream Robert seemed to hiss in frustration. She shuddered as his cold breath wafted over her skin. “Rini, I am real.”

            Her fingers clawed into the fabric of his clothing. She pulled him closer. Robert’s body easily followed the motion of her action. He squeezed her to his wonderfully cold body. Why was he so cold? He never was this cold before. Crina ignored that and merely drank in every bit of him. The realization garnered by her senses finally got to her. The salt of burning tears seared the flesh of her face. She buried her face into his chest, inhaling his clean and soapy smell. Underlying, Crina detected the faintest musk of something else. It was sweet and rotten at the same time, akin to rotting fruit. Almost it made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. What happened next made her forget all about the smell.

            Her body slackened as Robert’s fingers danced pleasantly up and down her spine in a tingling massage. He was so real, and more tears burned because of that. Crina knew that she couldn’t stop believing that her dream was real. It would only leave her in the end. She would savor this while it lasted. Robert broke her from her thoughts by the kisses he pressed to her throat. There it ached where she remembered the pinpricks were located. Crina fully turned toward him. Eyes remained sealed shut for fear of him disappearing. Her arms slithered around his neck. Body pressing to his, Crina kissed him full on the mouth.

            Something metallic wetted his lips. It tasted strange and broke the spell of their embrace brought. She pulled away from him and opened her eyes the littlest bit. A low growl reverberated through the silence. Moonlight drifted down through the curtains and landed on a half-moon face filled with malevolence. It was Robert’s face and not Robert’s face. There was no trace of the love that the living Robert had shown to her. The being’s eyes glinted; it smoothly cut over the floor for her, closing the short distance between them. Crina squeaked fearfully and fell back onto the bed. The sheets crumpled under her weight and gathered about her body. She backed up over them towards what used to be Robert’s side of the bed.

            “Why…what"?”

            “Shh, Crina. Don’t speak. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

            In reply, the woman stuttered and stumbled backwards. Robert reached out for her, fingers brushing her clothing. Crina shrieked softly as his fingers wrapped around her dirty blond hair. He yanked her towards him. Her body moved to him and instantly curved into his. His eyes, two dark holes, bored into hers. Crina fell into a heavy stupor. Once again, her body curved into his. Those eyes lulled her into a feeling of safety. She had been a fool to fear the one she had loved. Robert would never hurt her. With that thought in mind, Crina sighed and smiled, closing her eyes.

           

           

            Sunlight drifted lazily through the black curtains of Crina’s bedroom. The birds stirred right outside in her trees. They chirped their early morning songs. The sun was only peeking over the horizon. Crina was awakened by its great brilliance. The first thing she noticed was that her head was pounding. Groaning, she worked to lift her eyelids, which were reluctant to leave their perch. She grunted a sigh and stretched. Her fingers brushed something hard and cold beside her. Crina froze, paralyzed by fear, and slowly looked to her side.

            It was hard at that moment to see, but she could make out the figure of a man. The shoulders were broad, the chest flat. Truthfully, Crina was shocked. Had she been so lonely and pathetic that she had bedded a stranger? A morbid desire to see his face rose up inside of her. The curtain above his head fluttered with the breeze. Crina yanked it up, eyes fixed on the darkened face of the stranger.

            The face she had seen in her dreams"haunting her day thoughts, lying peaceful in a coffin"was illuminated by the golden sunlight. It was Robert. Crina couldn’t deny that it was him. As he lay before her, she tried to process this revelation. Doubts flitted through her mind. Had someone made a dummy of Robert? Lay it here next to her to make her believe it was truly him? How cruel!

            Her fingertips brushed the skin of his cheek. His skin was soft with something strange pulsing underneath. It wasn’t a heartbeat, but Crina knew that Robert was living. His hands were clasped over his chest, mimicking his pose in the coffin. Crina leaned closer for a better look. Originally, Robert’s skin was a rich tan, practically olive. It was skin that Crina had loved to kiss multiple times in one night. The sunlight revealed his skin to be at least three times paler than it had been.

            The strange pulsing, the pale skin; Robert was, and wasn’t, himself. He was a different kind of being. Her palm cupped his cheek. Unconsciously, Crina trembled. Her fingers batted the hair from his eyes, body pressing to his. She leaned over him. Her breath floated onto the surface of his skin. From the corner of her eyes, Crina watched tiny lights flicker from Robert’s revealed flesh. Fully she looked at them, curiosity beckoning her. She reached out her other hand and caught one of the lights.

            There was a time when her friend Tina used to smoke. Little lights like these, embers, would rain down from the lighted end. As the ember’s light faded, it turned to ash. Crina’s jaw dropped.

            She felt movement from beneath her.

            “It burns,” he hissed into her ear. A hand reached out and jerked the shade down. The room was dark on one side. Crina turned to see Robert’s eyes boring into her.

            “Robert.”

            “Crina, the sunlight is damaging.”

            Her jaw shuddered and she rubbed her eyes.

            “How-how"?”

            “"am I here?” Robert finished for her. His brow furrowed and eyes glittered in amusement. He smiled that handsome smile of his.

            Her eyes became round saucers. She buried her face into her hands. “All this time. A-alive? Dead? How?”

            “It’s nothing you need to be concerned about, Rini. Trust me.” He reached out a hand and brushed his thumb lightly down her cheek. Robert cupped her face tenderly, leaning in to her. “Just savor my presence. Look into my eyes and see. I’m really here.”

            Coaxed by his honeyed voice, Crina quickly glanced up to his eyes. She found that she could hardly remove her eyes from him for more than a second. There was something entrancing about him. At the same time, Crina was tempted to cry. He was here, and he would never leave her alone again. Her throat closed; Crina struggled to breathe. It was extremely hard to imagine a life without her love by her side.

            All of her thoughts and questions crowded together in her head. The emotion welled up, confusion chief among the, and burst out into sobs. Robert wrapped his icy arms around her and held her close. She could only deny what she knew for a short time. Then, she would begin to believe. The sad thing was that some part of Crina didn’t deny his existence. Somehow she knew that he was no longer “just Robert.”

            The pinpricks on her neck. The burning flesh in sunlight. The throbbing of something underneath his skin. Finally, Robert himself back from the death. The clues were too obvious to ignore, and she was not about to do that. Crina peeled her eyes open and looked over her shoulder. A gold band, adorned with three tiny diamonds, glittered from his ring finger. The tears came, warm as freshly drawn blood, bidden down her cheeks to graze past the pink pinpricks on her throat. He tilted his head so that his eyes were fixed on the movement of her pulse beneath those pricks.

           

            She had not believed in life after death before then. As Crina lay in bed, she came to terms with her beliefs. Whether it was one god or more, there was more than just death out there. Crina thought back to the old Romanian legends her grandmother told her before bed. The old woman unleashed horrific tales of ghosts, vampires, half-men, and other malevolent creatures. It was supposed to scare her into being good. Crina couldn’t help but wonder if her grandmother had known that her stories had a grain of truth.

            Crina closed her eyes after Robert left her. She wondered how he left without turning into ash. Before sleeping more, she had brushed her fingers over her neck. How unreal it had felt to have Robert biting her there. Physically, she was weak, though he had only taken a small amount. Mentally, she never felt more exhausted. All thoughts disappeared from her mind.

            Crina slept and didn’t wake until noon. She opened her eyes to an aching heart. Something dribbled down her cheek. She lifted her hand to brush it away. It came back wet with liquid. The woman cleared her throat, which was tight from some unconsciously felt emotion. Very vaguely, she could remember her dreaming before she had awoken.

            In her dream, everything was as it was at the present. The only difference was that had forgotten about Robert. The dream had played out like a story. She lived her life with an unexplainable hollow hole in her chest. The dream Crina picked her own thoughts. She desperately wanted to know what her ache was for. At the end, Crina suddenly remembered by seeing the ring. Three diamonds on a gold band; poised on her ring finger, she hadn’t noticed it until she remembered. Then, everything came crashing down. That was when she had awoken.

            What was startling was how real the dream had felt. Thinking then, she remembered that she had not lost Robert. His body had stopped working, but he still lived. Somehow, some way, he was still there. The best thing was that she would never lose him again.

            Crina smiled into her pillow. She lay there in bed for some time, maybe an hour, before deciding to get up. For the rest of the day, she followed the previous day’s pattern: work in the garden, eat lunch, and working on her project for school. Granted, it wasn’t much to do. It did serve to pass the time. As she pulled away from the computer, her stomach signaled to her to eat. Unlike the last few days, Crina ate with relish. She had cleaned her plate in five minutes; she usually took ten minutes.

            Energy, restlessness, emanated from Crina and caused her to jump from activity to activity. She could not recall heaving been so energetic since she first fell in love with Robert. Though she felt this way, she could not pinpoint its source. At dinner, Crina forced herself to eat in silence. She ate slower than at lunch, thinking of Robert and only him.

            Darkness finally shrouded the world. The restlessness from earlier rose up inside of her. Crina’s heart raced faster than ever. Literally, she found herself gasping every so often. When it became dark enough, Crina locked the downstairs doors. She turned off all the lights except the one on the porch. She practically raced to her bedroom on the second floor. Crina undressed and slipped into her white nightgown. It clung nicely to her curved figure. She extinguished all lights in her bedroom. For light, she ignited a single candle in the corner. Suddenly, she felt him there. She could tell it was him by his scent. The incoming outside noises flowed around the form of his body. Robert lingered outside. Crina stood staring at him before realizing that he was waiting for her.

            Crina reached a hand out and beckoned to Robert. “Come in, Robert,” she breathed.

            His body swept out of the window. Robert was by her side in an instant. Cold arms wrapped around her. Lips pressed to hers, burning against her skin. She opened her mouth in a breathy groan. Instantly, her body awoke at his touch. This was what she once though that she had to live without.

            Not anymore, she thought. Her hands rested on his upper chest. Fingers splayed out. Hands slid down and felt his chiseled body. She gasped, her hands meeting a profound cavern. Crina swallowed hard but kept her hands there.

            “There is the place,” Robert said casually. “It hurt like hell.”

            Dumbly, she nodded; a question lingered on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to ask it, but she did not know if she would like the answer. She asked anyway. “What was it like?”

            His eyes met hers and narrowed. A gleam of anger flashed through them. Crina sank away from his touch. He drew her back. She saw that the anger in his eyes had dissipated. “I can’t answer that, Crina,” he whispered huskily.

The answer was one she knew that she would not be able to handle. Secretly, she found that she did not want to know. Yet, she could believe that he rose from the dead like some immortal hero. Thus, there was something beyond death.

Crina pressed her hand tentatively to his midsection. Slowly, she scraped her eyes up his strong body and higher to a well-built throat pulsed with the bob of an Adam’s apple. During the time he came to her, she had only seen his eyes once. The hand pressing to his chest slackened and fell to her side. Her soul shivered and spiraled into the abyss of his eyes.  Pitch black, backer than night, swallowed her soul. Deep inside them a spark of hunger emanated. They thoroughly scrutinized her, very much those of a predator. The floor swept out from underneath her. Her arms flew out to catch herself. Air whooshed in her sudden descent. Then, her body was paused in its path.

            Curious, Crina glanced forward to see her undead husband cradling her in his arms. Clichés of movies and novels zipped through her head. Touching Robert, his flesh was freezing. Winter incarnate, all he needed was the lightest dusting of snow to make him sparkle. She thoughtlessly pressed her had to his cheek. Robert held her to his breast. She breathed in his scent: a soapy and sweet smell. It brought to her mind the image of a rotting corpse. Instantly, Crina jerked away.

            “Don’t be scared of me, Rini,” he persuaded her. “There’s no need to be.”

            She laughed. The sound shook the evening’s penetrating silence. A background noise, she hadn’t realized that the night was completely quiet. The crickets and birds, so noisy this time of year, were dumb. She could only hear the sound of her hurried breathing. Though she laughed, she was indeed afraid. An ingrained fear, born from the inherent phobia of predators, caused her body to quiver.

            “I’m not afraid,” she insisted. Her voice cracked on “afraid.”

            His cool lips pressed to her forehead. Like the Robert she knew. She was comforted and curled up again him. Robert scooped her up into his arms and bent over the bed. Robert laid her on top of the covers. He proceeded to kneel down on the floor to bring him to her level. Crina looked upon his face. She was relieved to see that his eyes were shrouded by darkness. Her trembling subsided at his tenderness.

            “I love you, Crina,” he whispered. “And I’d never hurt you.”

            Crina shook her head in thought. He sounded so much like the man she had married. Yes, she was euphoric that he had returned to her. Across her mind, whispers of her grandmother’s stories floated. Beings were never the same raised after they had died. The legends even claimed them as being evil. Was he evil?

            She forced herself to meet his eyes. A breeze shifted the clouds in the sky. Dim moonlight dappled his face. Dark, fathomless orbs pulled her in. Her body ached to lie down onto the bed and form him to do delicious things to her. Biting her bottom lip, she concentrated on the stinging pain she created. She carefully searched his eyes. There was no malice. If anything, his eyes were warm and loving.

            Robert was not evil. Her spirit lifted in light of the truth. “You are the same, aren’t you?” she spoke tentatively.

            In answer, Robert pinned her onto the bed via her wrists. He was strong and she couldn’t resist. She did not resist. Inflamed by his touch, all the blood in her body turned hot. He craned his head down to meet hers. Eyes burned through hers, entrancing her. “Yes. Crina, I want you,” he growled in frustration.

            Crina’s eyes widened. Her blood rushed to her cheeks. Robert buried his face into her neck. He took her for the first time since his death. She wanted more of his taking, but she did not know if there was to be a fourth. Thus, the wife consumed as much of his taking as she could. Nearing dawn, the dead husband left his wife sated and sleeping in her bed.

 

            Clouds drifted as delicate cotton balls fluffed out in the blue sky. Golden sunlight created a silver lining on the clouds’ edges. Birds announced that it was a new day. Crina awoke from her slumber to glance out her window at nature’s masterpiece. In the act of rising from bed every muscle in her body cried an aching protest. She gulped in many breaths, laying back down into her blankets. What had she done to deserve such a physical punishment?

            She remembered the day before. Crina had not done anything strenuous. Then, why was her body hurting? Crina thought back. Faintly, she recalled that she had been excited and nervous about something. She squinted and mentally analyzed her past activities. Still, she failed to retrieve anything from her memory related to the present condition of her body. All she could hope was that she would later be able to remember what had happened to her.

            A ripple of nausea pounded in the pit of her gut. In just one moment, it felt as I all the air had been sucked from the room. She panted softly; her body trembled and ached. On shaky legs, Crina stumbled from her bed and into the bathroom. She had to get out whatever was inside of her. She didn’t want to be sick.

            Crina bent over the toilet. She deposited the contests of her stomach. When she finished, the only thing left in her mouth was the acrid taste of acid. Crina closed her eyes and groaned, slumping against the toilet. The cold sweat on her skin had dried and left trails of goose bump. Her hand, hanging limply at her side, glided up her legs and stopped at her abdomen. Why the sudden nausea, she couldn’t comprehend.

            At that thought, images of some close event flickered through her head. Robert laying her down onto their bed. Robert dying and her mourning.  Somebody her neck in the night as she lay dreaming. Robert and her with their bodies entangled in bed. She sighed; a heavy wave of sorrow flooded her heart. Had it all been just a dream?

            Crina opened her eyes and pulled herself to her feet. She shuffled into her bedroom, squinting against the sunlight. Once her eyes were used to the light, Crina opened them and scrutinized the room. Everything appeared as normal as ever. Looking closer, two things caught her eye. There was no dust on Robert’s dresser drawers. Also, a sparkle drew her to her desk.

            Was should be there but a golden chain and the figurine of two tiny rings locked together. The two rings each sported three tiny diamonds. Underneath the necklace lay an envelope. Her name was printed on the front of it. She caught her breath, realizing that all she thought was a dream was real. Her fingertips traced over her name. It was scrawled in the familiar winding cursive of Robert’s writing.

            Gingerly, she proceeded in opening the envelope. Crina unfolded the note inside. The note had been written on her light purple stationary. The stationary was bordered with dark violet butterflies. She rested her head in her hand and read Robert’s message.

           

Crina,

            Even in death we haven’t parted. I am with you always.

 

            I love you.

            -Robert

 

The nausea in her stomach was still apparent. Her hand rested over her lower stomach above her pelvis. It was an unconscious action. Jerking away from the letter, she suddenly realized where her hand was. At the same time, she discovered why she was nauseous. In the end, Robert left her with two things.

Author's Note

My first short story in a while. I actually started working on this way back at the end of August. I would have finished it had school not gotten in the way. This was inspired by the traditional Eastern European legends of vampires, not the recent Twilight fanaticism.

Please enjoy reading this as I did writing it.

Reviews

[Zachary_James]

Wow i am speachless, very good. Really enjoyed this.

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

Oh wow! Now, I enjoyed this.

[UncleFossil]

I don't read vampire stories that often these days but once in awhile I've written them. This one is pretty damn cool with the unique twist behind it. I am interested in publishing this one on my anthology if you want to be published the offer is on the table. you got a storytelling feel that does call to mind Bram Stoker with the dark romance element in there. It's rather f*****g cool how this is done, and I give you a lot of credit for this kind of story. I don't post a lot of my horror here these days but it's more dark memoir kind of stuff, you can catch my freebies here though. You got a hell of an imagination with this kind of subgenre -- it's original with a stock character as a vampire. I give this a 90 out of 100.

[Inyourshadow]

Saw the vampyre coming but never saw him coming in order to leave her the gifts he did, this was amazing such use of imagery and description, you really had me captivated from start to end. You could give Twilight a run for it's money as this was far more mature and believable, your mastery of the dark truly shows in this short story, you need to pen more of these Eve. Keep em' coming