The Thaw

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Getting over the deaths of loved ones takes time
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I brushed the wet heavy snow off the stone bench and laid down my blanket and thermos. "Hello, Lu," I said. "It's sunny today, one of those thaw days in February when all you can hear is trickling and dripping water and you can smell the cedar and yew trees and that indefinable something in the air that promises that spring will eventually arrive." I poured myself a cup of cocoa. It steamed; even a warm February day is cool.

Every day for the fourteen months since the car accident, I had trekked up the hill to the cemetery. Lucy's grave had a nice view, a breeze, and the stone bench. Because I worked the seven-to-three shift, there was always daylight, even in February. For the first two months, I had sat mutely; for a month, I had wept; and since then, I had talked to Lucy of my life and how I missed her. By now, I recognized some of the other regulars, and even spoke to some of them. Today, I saw that Elizabeth was there, visiting her husband Donald. I waved to Elizabeth; she waved back. I debated going over to talk to her, but decided to wait until after my visit with Lucy.

I didn't mention Elizabeth to Lucy today, and I felt vaguely guilty for that. Instead, I held the mug tightly in my hands, feeling the warmth of the hot cocoa through my damp knitted gloves. "You used to love these days, Lu, when you'd come back from classes soaked to the bone and you'd take a hot bath, maybe with bubbles, and then you'd call to me when I came in from my classes, and I'd join you in the tub...." I paused and sipped some cocoa. "Awkward slippery love in the tub. I was always half-afraid we'd slip and break our necks but couldn't stop.

"I haven't even touched myself for months because I end up thinking of you, as you were at the end, all...broken and red. But yesterday morning, something shifted inside me."

I didn't know how to say what I was thinking. It wasn't because I was afraid she'd be offended -- she was dead, after all. It was because saying these things makes them real, makes them concrete. "I've been thinking of dating again," I told her. "I know you wanted me to start sooner, but I just... I couldn't..." I looked down into the cocoa. The color of it was shades lighter than Elizabeth's skin, and I was embarrassed to be thinking of her that way. "Lu, I get so lonely. Mike, he keeps trying to set me up with Frieda Jaeger, but you know the kind of woman Mike likes. I want a woman I can talk to, not just roll with." I took another sip. "Though that has crossed my mind. I invited Frieda over for last Friday, knowing what that would lead to." I shook my head. "But I just couldn't. At the last minute, I phoned her and cancelled. I want more than just exercise." I had another sip of cocoa and sat there, mustering nerve.

"I lied to you, Lu. I keep thinking of somebody, of Elizabeth -- I told you about her, her husband was the police officer. But I'm ashamed of myself because her loss is so much fresher than mine. If it's taken me a year to get to this point and she's had half that time..." I blinked and a tear ran down my face. I sat there, frozen for a while.

The sun was almost down now, and the wind shifted. I could hear someone speaking. I recognized the musical contralto as Elizabeth's. "...mind with loneliness. All of the nice men I know are waiting until I give some sign that I'm ready, so the only men who approach me are assholes. But sometimes, Donald, I'm almost willing to fuck an asshole." She stopped, and chuckled. "You wanted to do that, and I wouldn't let you. I'm sorry, dear." I could almost hear her nod. "The answer would still be no, but I'm sorry you got so frustrated." I heard her sigh. "Do you remember that night when I still lived at home, when we couldn't find a place to go? And we ended up making love in the climbing fort of the children's playground? When the weather's nice like this, I think about that a lot. Thought about it this morning, it made me late to work." She chuckled once more. "I had to shower again."

I blushed. It's not polite to eavesdrop, not in the cemetery, and I knew that I should leave. But my cock was hardening, and I told myself that eavesdropping was harmless.

"Anyway," she went on. "I won't be coming back for a while. I've got to get on with my life. There's more than just standing in a graveyard talking to a memory. I've got to get on, make new memories for myself. I'll always love you, but talking to you won't fill this hole in my heart."

I had thought I was immune to heartbreak now, but I was wrong. Elizabeth, gone? We talked occasionally -- I knew she was a student, and I knew about her husband's death. She knew that I had taken the factory job when we discovered that Lucy was pregnant, because there wasn't a big job market for philosophy majors. She knew about the miscarriage, and the car accident. But while the deaths were important events in our lives, they didn't define us as people. I had no idea of what she liked or disliked or what she believed, and she knew nothing about me. We had shared cocoa during the cold snap, and she had brought eggnog for me at Christmas. My conversations with Lucy's gravestone had far more depth than anything I had ever said to Elizabeth.

"I have to go," I told Lucy. "I have to go."

I grabbed up the blanket and thermos and walked up the hill to where Elizabeth was. She was walking towards me, and we met at the huge monument to the Gunderson family. "Hi," I said, struck by sudden stupidity, wishing I were clever.

"Hello, Charlie." How had I never realized how attractive she was? Her skin was a rich warm chocolate color, a shade lighter than her eyes. Her long coat was the orange of a campfire.

"Cold?" I asked her. "I've got some cocoa."

Her smile was luminous in the twilight. "I'd love some."

I didn't see why I should be nervous, but my hands were shaking so badly I had to take off my gloves to pour the cocoa. Her hands were bare, and my frost-white hand touched her earth-warm one as I passed her the mug. I didn't let go of the mug but held onto it so she couldn't take her hand away from me. We looked into each other's eyes for a long, long time, connecting, and then I kissed her. It was only one kiss, but it lasted and grew into another kind of kiss, our mouths opening and exploring, tasting one another. She tasted of cinnamon and nutmeg and spices that I had known long ago.

My heart beat urgently in my ears, hands, cock. With my other hand I reached up to touch softly her warm neck and her hair, drawn back to cover the nape. I traced the outside of her delicate ear.

Our first kiss still continued. Her smooth strong teeth scraped lightly on my tongue as her tongue cleverly explored my mouth. One of us, both of us, broke the kiss and then we were frantically kissing each other's face, chin, throat, and making urgent little sounds. Finally she pulled back. I noticed that we had spilled the cocoa, leaving a scribble of melt in the snow.

"Lay down the blanket," she whispered to me. "Mr. and Mrs. Gunderson won't mind."

She unzipped my jacket as I undid the wooden toggles of hers; when I opened her long coat I took a deep breath of humid woman-scented air. It only took me a moment to pull the tails of her blouse free and slide my hands inside, along her ribs, to the border of her breasts. Her bra was soft and satiny, and I paused at the old boundaries.

Elizabeth sat on the blanket, pulling me down. She slid up my shirt and undershirt, exposing my stomach and chest to the air. My nipples tingled. She kissed them, sucking each one into her mouth. When she lay back, I followed. It didn't matter that we were in public; what mattered was our need.

Her breasts fit within my hands, her nipples pressed against my palms. I slid my hands inwards and discovered a front closure to the bra. After pushing the cups away, I gathered her breasts into my hands. She gasped as I stroked them with my thumbs, and she pressed her hips against mine. Her mound pressed against my hard cock.

I kissed her again as she ground her hips against mine, there on the blanket in the dusk. Her hands moved down my body, caressing here, stroking there, and scratching lightly along my waist. Finally she unfastened my belt and pants and slid a warm soft hand into my pubic hair. My cock was still trapped along my hipbone.

This time I broke the kiss to lean back and free my aching cock. The sudden release of pressure made my cock seem softer, but she quickly wrapped it in her hand and pumped lightly, delicately. I stiffened completely again. I flipped her tartan skirt up around her waist and discovered wet white panties, damply hinting at the matted curls within. She lifted her knees to help me slip the panties off.

I turned myself around to kiss her pussy. She was deliciously wet, but she pulled me away. "Please," she said. "Later we'll do all of that and more but for now, please. I want you in me."

"I want to be in you," I told her.

We fumbled a bit, then, changing positions and getting the head of my cock to the entrance. She took hold of me, and guided me into her warmth and wetness. There was no delicacy about our love-making: it was urgent and fast and hard, the full length my cock sliding in and out of her, her pussy gripping my cock and squeezing it, shaft and head. I could see her white teeth in the darkness as she bit her lip, concentrating on my cock, on what I was giving her. She made little breathy sounds and I grunted with every stroke, and we continued like that for a very long time.

And then she changed position slightly and I changed position slightly in response, and it changed how everything felt, and the hot nervous energy of orgasm built and flamed. Elizabeth screamed and I barked and we both melted as we came.

We lay there, wrapped in each other, listening to the sounds of dripping water and our breathing. Finally, as the sweat chilled on our joined skin, we looked at each other and there was a quiet, embarrassed moment. "I've got a confession to make," I said. "When the wind shifted, I could hear what you were saying."

Elizabeth smiled shyly and said, "I have a confession, too. Before the wind shifted, I could hear everything you were saying. I've listened to you for months." She slid her arms under my jacket, around my back, and pulled me tightly against her. "Your cheeks are all pink. So we've had the exercise. Now talk with me," she said. "At my place."

So I did.

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