Blankets

Forever.  We throw around the concept of eternity like it means something.  Eternal love.  Eternal happiness.  Eternal life.  Eternal darkness. Eternal light.  It is a concept I have never understood.  Love fades away.  Upsetting things come along.  People die.  The sun falls behind the horizon.  The only thing that lasts is genuine obsession.

I see a tear wander down her cheek.  She looks so pretty when she cries.  The innocent always do.  Eventually she gets up and leaves, kissing me on the cheek and telling me sweet dreams as she always does.  I feel bad.  I’ve never known why people wish each other sweet dreams.  Slumber is consumed by darkness, and for me that is sweet enough.  For me, sleep is the only time I feel him here.  It is my lover.  My drug.  My booze.  My obscurity.  

He is here now, wrapping his fingers around my neck and taking a drag from my lips, assuring me that we are still infinite and we remain whole.  Two years after I buried him and my memories are still the only things that keeps me sane.  I’ve gone mad and I know it.  But that’s okay.  Somewhere along the line everybody does.

I stare out the window.  The stars dangle from the sky and the moon peeks out from the blackened trees, spilling light through my curtains.  I feel his hand trace over my neck.  The warm feeling takes over my body.  My eyelids weigh down on me, and I drift off to sleep.  I give in; fighting it never works.

The first thing I feel is the water grasping onto my toes.  I open my eyes, bewildered at what surrounds me.  I sit in my moment, inhaling the thermal, salty air, taking everything in.  A beach.  It is so beautiful, and the sand feels amazing in between my toes.  I am close enough to the water that it calmly flows over me and licks my ankles every few seconds, but far enough so that it always crawls back into the ocean before reaching my knees.  To my right the blue expansion that is the ocean stretches out for what seems to be forever, expanding in the horizon.  The miles and miles of sparkling clarity make me feel so simple and complete, like all the world’s secrets are contained somewhere within the water.

But how did I get here?  This is not our normal setting.  I know all of my dreams by heart.  This is not one of them.

“Hello my dear.”  I feel his hand on my neck once more.

My head turns to him.  He stares at me with those giant blue eyes and breaks out into that high pitched chuckle he used to have.  And when he breaks into a smile, something breaks in me.  Something always does.  Every time.  And I long for his touch.  I always do.  Not just for intimacy, but I want to be as close as possible to him.

“It’s been too long,” I whisper, taking his hand. “Why are we here?”

“Because it’s beautiful.”

He’s right.

I lie down, my head in his lap, as we used to do so often.  He strokes my cheek. “So how is our baby?”

“She’s leaving me in a few weeks for college.”

“You don’t sound upset.”

“It’s better for her that she’s not around me.”

He leans down and presses his lips against my cheek, before whispering in my ear, “Don’t say such things."

I look up at his smile.  The only thing that truly reflects my brokenness.  Twenty-five months of death and he still looks more alive than I have ever been.  He moves back up, but his hot breath lingers on my cheek.

“Why did you leave?”  I have asked this question so many times but cannot find solace in an answer.  Tears brim around my eyes.  A drop of blood falls from his forehead, landing on my cheek.  No.  Not again.  Stay a bit longer.  Please.  I beg of you.  

But I am a fool.  Such a wonderful thing is bound to never happen.  The idea that when you were dragged off into sea and taken from me, that when one day you would wash back onto the shores, you would still want me.  It’s crazy.  I’m crazy.  I hate being the one who has to stay.

Before I know it, his skin goes white.  The blood pouring from that bullet hole in his head from so long ago coats me.  He holds my head again, trying to say something, but it just comes out in chokes.  I struggle to find the words that will comfort him.  I struggle to grab his hand.  I struggle in attempt to do anything that could help him.   But he turns cold before I can do anything, and my biggest nightmare is repeated.  His hand goes stiff over my cheek.

I look up.

He’s gone.

My warmth is no more.

The sand turns cold.

I close my eyes, waiting for my impending sorrow.

I say nothing.  It’s better to appear nonchalant about impending absence.

You will be back soon one day, temporarily ridding me of my demons once more.

I open my eyes.

I am back in my blankets.