Reunion at Forty-eight Chapter 9 By Ezra Randle
A Week Later
Ben sat at his home computer, tried to begin the note, then got up and opened the refrigerator. He had his hand on a beer, but pushed it back and slid the orange juice out instead. He poured a glass and returned the container to the shelf, then caught himself smiling at the photo of Ellie and the kids attached to the front of the refrigerator panel. He sat back down, sipped the juice and glanced at the blank screen again. He had felt the desire to write the note to Dan for several days, ever since he was convinced that his change of mood was not a momentary episode. While he was still quite uncertain about what happened to him in the week since they met, the lightness in his chest and surges of energy throughout these days were the most significant changes he'd experienced since Ellie's death. He let his fingers touch the keyboard and could feel an exhilaration enter the words that flowed onto the screen.
Hi, Danny. Did I ever thank you before I left for letting me sleep like a baby for all those hours or for holding me like a friend would a lost soul? Let me tell you what happened when I left you. I was going to stop for a bite to eat and even pulled into a restaurant parking lot, when I sensed, for some inexplicable reason, I needed to get home. When I walked into the kitchen, I automatically opened the refrigerator to grab another beer. But something in me said no, there was something else I had to do. I went upstairs thinking I would just get into bed, watch TV, and wind down as I had to get up at 7:00 for work, yet knowing I wouldn't be able to sleep for a while after that long nap I had with you. I've been sleeping in the guest room for the last six months, and I pulled back the spread and the sheets. Something made me pause and go down the hallway to the master bedroom where Ellie and I slept together for the past fifteen years, ever since we built the house. I strolled in like this was the first time I'd seen the room in years, then paused and looked around. I touched the tops of the dressers and opened the closet doors and went into the connecting bathroom, which I haven't been using, and ran the water in the shower and the sink and finally sat down on the bed. There was a picture of the whole family, taken about ten years ago, on the bedside table, and I picked it up and looked at everyone in the picture. Two of the girls look like Ellie and Annie looks like me, and I saw Ellie's face there among us all, smiling contentedly. I got up and put the photo on top of her dresser next to the box where she kept her jewelry, then went back to the bed. I had no idea what I was doing when I touched the bedspread that I haven't unfurled for months and began pulling it back. And then I felt something give in me, and I stripped the fucking bed bare and took all the bedding down to the laundry and put the bedspread and the blanket in the wash. I went back up to the bedroom and put clean sheets on the bed and began moving my clothes back into my dresser from the laundry baskets I've been using as cabinets in the guest bedroom. I gathered all my bathroom shit from the family bathroom down the hall and moved back into our bathroom. I vacuumed the room and even dusted. When the bedding was dried, I finished remaking the bed and looked at the clock for the first time and it was 1:30. I took a shower until the hot water ran out then got into bed and slept deeply without any dreams until the alarm went off, just like I slept with you in the motel room. I got up feeling totally refreshed and went into work about twenty minutes early. There was a stack of files I've been postponing for months, and I opened the first one and started completing the paperwork. When my work buddy, David, asked me if I wanted some lunch, it was fucking thirty minutes past noon and I was nearly done with the stack. I've been so focused since that night that I've been scaring myself. I don't expect you to respond. Just let me know if you got the email. As always. Ben.
Two Weeks Later Dear Friend. I got up this past Saturday morning at five, feeling completely rested after six hours of sleep, refreshed again, like I've felt for the past two weeks. I looked at my unshaven mug and decided I'd skip that usual bathroom ritual, slipped my decades old terrycloth robe on my naked body and went downstairs. I fixed a small pot of coffee, flipped the computer on and looked out the patio doors onto the deck. It had snowed overnight, two or three inches, powdery, flakey stuff, layered pristinely on the railings of the deck. Thoughts of Ellie slid into my mind. She loved snowfalls like this and would often get me to walk through the streets in the neighborhood while it fell. But this time the thoughts of her brought no pain or sadness--simply a contentedness I've rarely felt since she's passed on. This peacefulness was an extension of what I've been feeling for almost three weeks. I wrote you about that a few weeks ago. My confusion has lifted some as I've become confident that something life altering has invaded my blood stream. And I am not exaggerating about it flowing through my veins and arteries all the way down to the tiny capillaries--the euphoria I've been feeling with this change has been that intense.
I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat back down at the computer. I reviewed my emails from the past month--most of which I hadn't read, then began deleting the unimportant ones and responding to the ones from my kids, apologizing for my tardy reciprocation of their good cheer, encouraging them to write again. Then I decided to write you, so I brought up a blank screen. I took a sip of the coffee, then realized I didn't need any caffeine as my energy level was just zooming. I popped open the bottle of anti-depressants that I've been taking religiously for months and poured out my morning dose into my left hand. I got up to get a glass of water but was drawn again to the snow covered deck, now lightly illuminated by the grays of early dawn. I felt compelled to go outside, so I walked out into the frigid air wearing just the old robe and my funky yard galoshes. It was a funny moment, now that I look back on it--though it was just half an hour ago. The air was quite still, but I didn't feel in the least chilled as I crunched my way to the railing. My right hand, seemingly with a will of its own, reached out and touched the snow, like touching the early morning air. The lacey flakes had fallen in such a delicate way layered with so many pockets of atmosphere. My hand brought a small amount of the snow to my face, and I lightly rubbed it onto my forehead and unshaven cheeks and neck. It almost felt warm. I captured another handful and rubbed it even more vigorously onto my face. Then I rubbed several handfuls onto my bare chest, holding it over my heart. I'm not making this up to achieve some sentimental effect. This really happened and without any planning. I did all this with my right hand, as my left hand still clutched the pill I intended to ingest before I got distracted. I looked at that left fist as though it were a strange appendage mysteriously connected to my body, and I willed it open. The fingers on my right hand picked up the little pill and held it up against the background of glistening snow. I started laughing at that point and did what I knew I had to do: my right hand tossed that tablet out into the fresh snow. Thanks for listening to me--I say that because I almost feel like I'm talking to you in this note. Things are better. Ben.
Three Weeks Later Hey, Danny. Since I know you like sex stories, thought I'd send this one your way. I was sitting at home a week ago, getting ready to go to bed. I told you my fucking libido has been AWOL, maybe dead, and I've been hoping it wasn't in hell. But I was feeling so solid and determined and a bit euphoric in every other way since I stopped taking the anti-depressants and said goodbye to Alex. But little Willy was still quite wee and contentedly snoozing away. I came back from the fitness center, and this time not just doing the executive workout in the hot tub and sauna, but pushing myself on machines and weights. I lost weight during my depression, but now my appetite was taking off, and I knew if I didn't work out it would start showing up on my gut. I took a warm shower before I went to bed and dried off and paused in front of the big dresser mirror in the bedroom and looked at myself naked. And I said, `When you gonna wake up, Willy?' No response, of course. So I got into bed and read for a bit, then turned out the light and was just about to roll on my side when something flashed in my head. I remembered the first time I was in bed with a girl, naked. I was seventeen and she was a friend of my cousin. I don't think you ever knew her. Anyway, she and her family were renting this cottage next to ours near Big Mirror Lake outside of Eagle River. We were in lust with each other for about three days, and on the last night, when the adults had gone off to a restaurant, we got under the covers and took each other's clothes off. Nothing really happened, and I always felt unlucky missing out on my first real opportunity. Now I realize, having raised my own daughters, that maybe I had some good sense. But I started to picture her little tits and how her nipples got long when she let me suck them, which was all she let me do, and how that got me so hot. And then I mentally recalled the litany of other girls--there haven't been many, by the way--the first good one being Jessica Roby. You gotta remember her, late in the summer after we'd graduated from Memorial. She and I had a torrid affair and we screwed whenever we could. And I quickly got to Ellie when I was nineteen and was falling in love with her. Like I told you a while back, I didn't have sex with her until I was convinced I really loved her--which didn't take many weeks, actually. And I thought about you and your incredibly arousing skills as a lover and all the sexually charged activities we've enjoyed. And how your naked body is as amazing as any of the women I've been with. I don't know how long I was picturing all of this, but, without realizing it, Willy was at full mast and was leaking like a sieve. I was kind of scared actually. It was like one of my first real boners all over again. And just like one of those early woodies, it started shuddering when I touched it lightly. I didn't even have to masturbate. I just touched the tip and the shaft and my balls and I exploded all over my belly. Some of my gusher even reached my face and I haven't been able to shoot that far in years. After I caught my breath, I started laughing. I'm still smiling. Ben.
Three Months Later
I know it's been a few months, but things still good, the euphoria still surging through me. Mixed with some uncertainty now, too, because I've had a few dates with two different women I've met. The first was a bust--nothing in common. But the second, a woman named Maureen, is someone I'm very interested in seeing again. It's extremely difficult starting over. Almost shakes the confidence I've been gathering over the past few months. Wish me well. Ben.