I closed my eyes, unable to bear the pain that I saw in his. The burning in my chest increased as each breath lingered just out of my reach. I longed for the rich, deep scent of the honeysuckle bush by the back patio. Each spring we stood together and inhaled the aroma with long, deep breaths. To feel that one more time. To take in air. To live. I knew the pain would be unbearable. It would rip into every part of my being and turn me into something I would not recognize. But to leave this world in the dark silence of nothing, a medicated coma, was something I could not, would not do. His strong hands holding mine, gentle eyes bringing me comfort and soothing words made the pain worthwhile. I opened my eyes and smiled.
He leaned in and whispered, “Let go, baby.”
“But, will you…” I said as fragile air escaped my lips.
“Be okay?” he said, then squeezed my hand. “Yes, I’ll be okay.”
I knew better, knew the truth. I could see his heart ripping from his chest as tears filled his charming green eyes. “I can’t leave you.”
“Stop the pain. Find peace.”
I watched as his gaze dropped to my lips. “I hurt for you,” I whispered. “I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I won’t be,” he said as he leaned in and kissed my cheek. “You’ll be with me always.”
The kiss was so soft I hardly felt it. I turned to look at the photo on the nightstand. We were at the beach, in the sand. Our little girl with her blonde curls and pink swimsuit smiled at me with a grin so familiar I could pick it out of a million smiles. The pain eased for a moment as the thought of joining her in death brought comfort. I would see her again, my little girl.
“She’ll be waiting for you,” my husband of fifteen years said to me.
“Yes, she will.” I turned back to stare into his eyes. Stifling a moan I continued. “But…she has others, my mother, your grandmother. You need me here more than she needs me there.”
“Kay, it’s all right. I’m all right. Let go. Stop the pain. Just… let yourself go.”
I reached deep within myself and fought. I fought the desire to let go. Fought my failing body and the invader that had taken over. I must live, I must hold on. Minutes turned into hours as I lay in my bed and listened to Thomas read my journal to me. We relived every moment of little Liza’s life, our life together. As he approached the week of her death he stopped reading and made excuses to fetch dinner. I knew he was not hungry and he knew I could not eat. It was more pain than his weakened spirit could take.
I grasped the leather-bound journal in my hands and hugged it up under my chin. This could not be it, all of it. So much life left to live. A pain greater than I could imagine gripped my chest and squeezed. I was losing no matter how hard I tried. No matter how hard I prayed. I muffled my cries and waited as the locomotive of pain barreled ahead, then rolled past. I could hear him in the kitchen and hoped he would get back before it was too late. Focusing on the picture again, I concentrated on every breath. Quick, shallow and raspy, death selfishly consumed my life.
“Do you want some broth?” he said as he walked back into the room.
I turned to face him. My eyes told him all he needed to know. He fell to his knees by the bed and slid his hand under my head. His fingers laced through my short, thin hair as he stroked my cheek. The tears that flooded his eyes earlier now rolled down his cheeks. Without a word he smiled and reminded me of why we fell in love. I slid the journal to the side and reached for his shirt. He leaned closer and whispered, “I love you madly.”
“Kiss me,” I said with no sound.
The last breath that death allowed escaped my parted lips as I closed my eyes in anticipation of his contact. I felt the warmth of his face as he lowered it close to mine. My husband always had full, smooth lips but in all our kisses, they never felt so sweet, so gentle as they did in that moment. The electricity that flowed through my body with the taste of his tongue filled my senses one more time. What felt like minutes was probably only seconds as my body gave up and death took over. The last thing I felt in life was his kiss.
The first thing I felt in death was pressure. A pressure on my chest that provided warmth and maybe…comfort? Yes, comfort and no pain. No pain! It must be heaven. I tried to open my eyes to see, to face what lay ahead, but I only found the dark and the nothingness. I lay there in the murkiness of the in-between, unable to move. Time took on a different meaning as I sought another existence. The minutes could have been years as my somber state evolved into a semblance of life. The first thing I noticed was sound, and then light that seemed to filter through my closed lids. I heard Thomas weeping and the pressure on my chest grew stronger. Is this heaven? But where is my daughter? Why isn’t she greeting me? My heaven would not include a weeping Thomas.
The pressure gave way to lightness as Thomas stifled his sobs. Now. Now she will come. The weeping turned into a hushed conversation as I discovered the ability to open my eyes. Although cloudy, I could see the light-blue ceiling of my bedroom and the large ceiling fan. A shadow stretched across the room drawing my attention. As if learning to move for the first time, I clumsily turned my head to see Thomas blocking the window. With his back to me, he spoke smothered words on the phone. Ending the call, he put the phone in his pocket and leaned against the window frame. His forehead pressed against the glass; he allowed the tears to return. Maybe this is my heaven after all. I’m with Thomas. How could it be any other way? With each passing moment, control of my body was turned back over to me. I slowly pulled up and reached for him.
“Thomas,” I tried to say but only a gargle escaped my dry lips.
He lifted his head and turned to find me sitting up in bed. He rushed to my side and sat down. “Oh my god, Kay. You’re… you’re…alive?” He squeezed my hands. “But…but how?”
I’m in heaven. My personal heaven, I thought, but could not yet speak.
“You’re…with me. You’re…alive?”
He held my face in his hands and kissed me. This kiss was deeper, harder than the last. I sensed his excitement as his tongue explored my mouth. I wrapped my arms around his back and pulled him into me, closer and with purpose. He tasted as he always did but it now seemed different…something was different. My desire for him intensified as he laid me down on the bed. With his body covering mine, my urges for him were growing, changing.
He released my mouth to explore my neck and shoulders. As his lips teased my skin, his scent wafted up and filled my nose with a delicious aroma and my belly with hunger. As I reached for his head and ran my fingers through his wavy hair he stopped.
“My god, it can’t be. Jesus. Thank you. Thank you.”
I smiled and focused on the perfect jawline and freshly shaven skin that covered it. I wanted to taste him there. As I placed my lips against his hot flesh he said, “Babe, you are so cold. Too cold.”
He sat up and grabbed the blanket at the foot of the bed. “Let me cover you up.”
No, I want your body to cover me up, I moaned as I pulled him back on top of me.
He looked into my eyes and said, “Wait. Wait. This isn’t the time for this. We need to get to the doctor. This is…all wrong. You died. You were here for thirty minutes, lying here…no pulse. Nothing. You…” His voice cracked as he cleared his throat. “You…died.”
I rubbed his face and smiled, then I shook my head and squeezed his cheek. Thomas reached up and grabbed my wrist. Holding on, he placed the fingers of his other hand on my neck at the carotid artery.
Babe, I started to say but still couldn’t get the words to form. I wanted to comfort him, convince him that I was okay but my words came out as groans.
“SSSHHH.” He looked into my eyes.
What are you doing? I pulled from his grasp.
“I can’t feel your pulse. Kay, at its weakest I could always find it.” He placed his ear against my chest. He lay motionless on my chest for several seconds before he said, “You’re not breathing, Kay. You’re not breathing.”
He jumped from the bed and stood over me as I thought again about his delicious flesh. I sat up and leaned against the headboard with my arms crossed. Come here, baby. Sit with me. He heard only groans and gasps.
Thomas sat on the bed and grabbed my hand. He looked into my eyes, then leaned in and took me in his arms. “You’re back. You’re with me. I don’t understand how.”
I’m here. I rubbed my lips against the soft lobe of his ear.
“But…” he started as he sat back up. Holding me at arm’s length, he looked deeper into my eyes.
But what? I tilted my head and focused on his face. Things were still cloudy and blurry.
“We need a doctor. No way this is possible.”
I leaned in and tried to say, Does it matter?
“Your eyes. They’re…can you see?”
They’re what? His scent filled my head as the moisture in my mouth increased.
“They’re cloudy. Gray.”
Through the haze, I could see the worry in his brow, feel the tension in his grip. My husband has always been strong, sturdy. I needed for him to see it was okay, to be strong again. I also needed to nibble on his lip. Nibble his lip? Why? What am I thinking? I fought the urge to lunge forward and hold him down. Instead, I leaned in and licked the side of his neck. As my tongue reached his jaw I felt a sudden loss of control again. I wanted to taste him, really taste him. I closed my teeth on his jaw and nipped. He tried to pull away as I sucked a small drip of blood from his skin.
“Kay, dammit, what are you doing?”
He tried to remain calm but I could sense his confusion. Can you sense mine?
I could not think of the answers to his questions as my thoughts became foggy with desires, hunger and my newfound appetite. He grabbed my wrists and held my hands on my lap.
“That hurt, baby. Please. Just lie down and rest. I need to get the doctor and we can figure this out. Is there no pain?”
There was pain. The pain related to need and the fulfillment of hunger. The other pain was gone but was replaced by new sensations. A part of me could hardly speak but another part told me to ease his mind, lessen his pain. That’s why I was still here wasn’t it? Because he needed me still? Or because I was not ready to let go?
“No pain,” I moaned as my mouth began to form words. “Better.” I’m not better, I’m not right. Nothing is right. Isn’t this what I wanted? To be back with him? Am I alive or dead? Does it matter?
He glanced at the photo on the nightstand then looked back at me. “You’re not you.” He released my wrist and stroked my face again. The perfect contrast of his steamy-hot skin against my ice-cold flesh stirred the desire again, stirred my appetite. I needed him now more than ever.
“Look at me,” I mumbled as I placed his hand on the large scar hidden beneath my gown, the place that used to be my breast. “Feel me. I am me.”
“You can hardly speak. You’re not breathing. You’re ice cold. You bit me,” he said without moving his hand.
I lay down and placed his other hand on my right breast. My only breast. I am here. I need you. I love you, my cloudy eyes relayed.
He dropped his head as a tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek to the circular line of blood droplets on his jaw. Without words, he crawled over and lay beside me. I pressed my body against him as he rolled toward me, face-to-face. I felt heat as he ran his hand up my back. It was difficult to focus on the things I used to think about when we were lying together like this. I felt his hardness as he pulled my leg up over his. He squeezed my bottom and buried his face in my neck. His kisses felt warm and moist. I wanted him still, as I used to. I thought of our many romantic moments and many nights making love in this very bed, our bed.
As his musky scent floated up into my face again, I found my thoughts drifting from making love to…to eating? My mouth filled with saliva as my arousal took on a different meaning. I wanted to eat and felt an overwhelming craving for him, his flesh. With each kiss and passionate caress, I fought harder and harder but remembered less and less. I went from remembering fondly the last time we had sex in the car to the pleasure I would feel by sinking my teeth into the thick muscle of his chest.
Thomas pulled away as I scratched my nails down his arm. “Ow, babe, what…why are you doing that?”
I pulled him closer and rolled over on top of him. Pinning him down between my legs, I leaned in and pursued the taste of his mouth, every inch. Our tongues fought for control as I thrust my hips and rubbed myself against the hardness beneath me. I slowly pulled myself up and lifted my gown over my head. With a toss, it was on the floor and I was pressing myself against his chest. My thoughts of love, passion and pleasure were replaced with hunger, need and delirium. I fought again to uncover the memories and reasons I never wanted to leave him. But as he rubbed my back and squeezed my bottom in his hands, I became foggy and confused. Night was day and dark was light. I did not recognize my thoughts or my feelings.
The desire to feel him inside of me quickly lost out to a searing anger that crept in and demanded control. The combination of an undefined hunger and unconscionable rage bloomed in my spirit and forced me to bite down on his lip and tug. Blood filled his mouth and flowed into mine, fueling the rage that I did not understand. As he pulled away, I pushed closer. The taste was an explosion of satisfaction akin to a cold drink of water in a hot desert. I needed it and fought to keep it. I gripped his head and drank in the metallic flavor as if there was nothing else in the world. My hips continued to thrust and grind against him, growing faster with the approach of my climax.
Galvanized by fear and survival, Thomas managed to tear away from my teeth sunk into his flesh, and struck me across the face. I felt no pain as he erupted from the bed with blood dripping down his chin. The rage driving me and forcing me to feed picked me up and lunged me back at him. He swung at me again and I fell into the trail of blood on the floor that he left behind in his escape.
“Shit, Kay, what in the hell are you doing?” he yelled as I fought to sit up.
“I’m…sorry?” I moaned as I looked up at him, fighting to remember what just happened.
“What’s going on?” Thomas said as he walked to the chair in the corner and sat down. “Why is this happening?”
I pulled myself back up onto the bed and carefully watched him. My aroused state remained as I relaxed back against the pillow and allowed my fingers to explore the damp place between my legs. I slowly stroked myself as I inhaled the coppery scent of his blood in the air, which sparked my memory of why he was bleeding. The remaining tendrils of humanity in me wanted to cry, beg for his forgiveness, but it was short-lived as I watched him stand there and sensed the fear that had been building. He glared at me from the corner as I savored the aroma that consumed my senses and helped me reach an orgasm.
“Stay here,” he said as he rushed from the room. The loud bang echoed off the walls as the door slammed. I stayed.
Thomas paced across the hard tile floor as he stared at the photos on the door of the refrigerator. Fun times, holidays, picnics, all the things he would miss out on now. But would he? She’s still alive. Kay is here. Thomas let a smile form as he thought about having his wife back. He had been resigned to losing her forever. He had accepted their fate and was prepared to be alone. The sickness invaded their lives, allowing her to linger for years. Just when they thought it was beat, it reared up in true carcinoma fashion and destroyed the future they had planned. His acceptance, however, was not reciprocated. Kay fought every ounce of it, would not accept her destiny. After the loss of Elizabeth, she would not allow another death to consume her husband again. She almost refused to let it take her. Every moment, every treatment, every hope, filled her heart. He knew she would lose the battle. And now…
And now she was lying there in the bedroom, waiting for him, wanting him. But what was she doing? Why couldn’t she speak to him clearly? More importantly, Thomas thought, where was her heartbeat? He thought about her pale, cold flesh and how odd it felt. She didn’t feel like his wife. Even during the chemo, her skin was soft and supple. Thomas dialed her doctor’s number, then slammed the phone down on the table as the answering machine picked up. He waited, then dialed again. Leaving a message that was sure to confuse the doctor, he poured a snifter of whiskey and sat at the kitchen table.
He stared at the closed bedroom door as the first sip of Johnny Walker Red stung his injured lip. A warm, sharp sensetion filled his mouth and flowed down his parched throat. The burn met his stomach as tears formed and threatened to flow down his cheeks again. By the fourth sip he was evaluating her once-beautiful eyes. Now when he looked into her face, he saw only dull gray eyes, cloudy and lifeless. Thomas finished off his whiskey and set the glass on the table with a thump. He traced the rim with his finger, fondly remembering the first time he convinced her to try scotch. He wiped at a tear that had escaped his eye as a sharp pain reminded him of the bite on his jaw. It continued to throb with each beat of his heart. And that…what was that? She attacked him. What more would she have done had he not struck her? He winced as he remembered the sound of the slap. He had never raised a hand to his wife and never would. But this was not his wife. She was…something else.
Thomas watched the shadows grow long as the sun set behind the house. Time didn’t exist, or at least didn’t matter as he tried to make sense of the day and what he had witnessed, what he was feeling. He stood in the window and squinted at the bright orange glow, listening to the birds sing. He closed his eyes and pictured the day they had installed the bird feeders, and he allowed another smile. She loved the birds, the flowers, the spring. In his heart, Thomas felt the desire to hold her. Regardless of the circumstances, his wife was in there, waiting for him, needing him. She was there, after he had thought she was gone forever.
Thomas lifted the window to hear the orchestra of birds a little clearer and a small breeze lifted up and carried the scent of honeysuckle into the room. His senses were consumed by the aroma and his mind drowned in the familiarity of it. He was not ready to let go after all. His desire to hold her blossomed into a desire to feel her body, taste her skin, fill her with his need. Thomas moved toward the bedroom door, drawn by an unseen force. It was his soul being pulled to hers, needing her, wanting to be one with her. Their love was too strong. It was staggering, the purity with which they could love each other, and this unconditional love would not allow the bewildering reality to keep them apart. Thomas leaned against the door and grasped the knob. The low throaty moan of a voice he recognized resonated from the other side. His mind became jumbled as he tried to distinguish his feelings of excitement from his feelings of fear.
I waited on the bed, swimming in my own pool of confusion. I felt nothing that made any sense. I wanted to make love to my husband. I wanted to eat. Why were my only feelings those of hunger? A sexual hunger and a ravenous, feral hunger? Why did my heart not beat? How long had he been gone? Where was everything that used matter to me? I found myself slipping away and what used to be me was almost gone. Kay did not exist anymore. I had to mourn the death of my body and now I mourned the death of my essence, my soul. I was no longer there to fight the fierce predatory urges. I had no power at all. Each of my senses was alert to my surroundings but for only one thing—him. I wanted him, his flesh. I felt nothing else, heard nothing else, saw nothing else.
His aroma drifted through the cracks around the door. The wonderfully musky fragrance of a man as well as the metallic scent of fresh blood. My nostrils flared as I drew in his smell. His presence was a magnet to me and it brought me up from the bed and toward the door. My hunger responded to him, like a ship to a beacon on a stormy ocean. I pressed my hands against the door as the knob slowly turned. The door swung open as I stumbled back. Thomas walked in and grasped me in his arms. The warmth of his body and the feel of his strong hands sparked the old Kay in me as he pressed closer and squeezed me tight. Maybe I was not all the way gone. Maybe I could fight this a little longer.
Thomas walked me to the bed and laid me down. With his eyes closed he leaned down and kissed me gently on the forehead, then the cheeks and finally the lips. It was familiar and sweet and I reacted as I used to by kissing him deeply and without restraint. As his tongue explored my mouth, his hands explored my body. Stroking my thighs, my stomach and then my breast, his lips found the sensitive crease of my neck above my collarbone. I arched my back and ran my finger through his damp hair. Oh, Thomas. I was back in my world, my life, my love.
I felt the intensity of his desire as he settled between my legs, his body pressed firmly against mine. Our sensuality returned us to a time of no sickness, no medication, no death. I was winning, controlling it all. Thomas pulled my arms above my head and brought his lips to my mouth again. Planted beneath him, I savored the feel of his body and delighted in the surge of excitement that filled my stomach and stilled heart. For the first time since I awoke, my cold body generated heat. My need for him became intolerable as I rolled my hips up and allowed that precious warmth and moisture to caress and tease him.
“I want you,” I murmured into his ear.
“I love you so much,” he whispered as he struggled to sit up and remove his jeans.
As he pulled away, the space between our bodies did more than increase my longing; his taste on my lips woke the untamed Kay. I followed him up and grabbed his face between my hands. Pulling him to me, I placed my lips on his mouth, then nipped his lip. He jerked back for a moment, then took me into his arms and threw me back on the bed. With my arms pinned over my head again, he lowered his body onto mine. He looked into my eyes as his reservations dissolved. He ignored the things that bothered him before—the cloudy eyes, the cold skin, the nonexistent heartbeat. Tears rolled down his cheeks and landed on mine as I tried to reach his tender flesh with my mouth.
Thomas tightened his grip on my arms and lowered his face to mine. He kissed me again with such force that my own lip began to bleed and the once-soft kisses became a battle to consume each other’s mouth. The taste of his blood coated my tongue and enraged the new me. I fought it desperately as the weight of him between my legs fueled my eagerness to feel him inside me. Each of my desires was at war with the other, creating an agony that devoured my existence. Thomas moaned and pulled back from my face as I tilted my hips up and opened to him and the joining we both desperately needed. I watched his face through the cloudy mask of my vision as he entered me and began to satisfy my craving.
We moved together as one, like we used to do when we lived and loved and the world made sense. My pleasure, matched by his, escalated and made everything else cease to exist. No more life, no more death, no more pain and no more fear. He groaned over and over as our lovemaking overwhelmed and endured. Thomas released my hands as his thrusts became sharper, stronger and wild. I grabbed his back and raked my nails down his sides as blood from his lips dripped into my mouth. I caught sight of the wound on his jaw and pushed myself up and flipped him over onto his back.
Straddling him, I leaned forward and took his jaw into my mouth as I rode him toward climax. The old Kay retreated as the new Kay sucked the blood from the newly opened wound. Thomas moaned, then fought to push me away. Lost in my hunger, I planted my teeth deeper into his jawline. His moan turned into a scream as I pressed harder, then slid my lips down to the warm pulsating artery that ran down the side of his neck. I could sense Thomas reaching his climax so, as was always my habit, I forced the apex of my own and our coupling ended—two people, one shared explosion. At this most vulnerable moment, I tore into his neck and let the warm blood flow. Thomas screamed and tried to push me away.
“Stop…Kay…stop,” he mumbled as he let his arms fall back to the bed. “Why baby…why?”
The new Kay won as I devoured some of the lean muscle of his neck. He grabbed my head but could not move me as I continued to take what I wanted. Weakened, his grip on me slipped away as the life slowly flowed from his body. I leaned back and lay on the bed beside him, the blood covering us like a blanket. With both of my hungers momentarily satiated, I found my senses returning. I watched patiently as the light left his eyes.
“My Thomas,” I groaned.
The scent of honeysuckle flowed through the open door, reminding me of a life I had once lived. The metallic aftertaste on my tongue reminded me of a death I must endure, his death. I didn’t know how long I’d be waiting there but I knew somehow, with time, Thomas would be back.