Dawn painted a narrow band of pink just beyond the trees, cutting a widening wedge into the dark blue of the night sky. Myra had been up for hours. This was the last night she was to spend in this house, the home she loved. Memories assailed her, creeping into her consciousness unbidden. If only she could forget. . . Jeff, the laughter, the love, the celebrations, the parade of dogs who came in a predictable succession to fill the hole in her heart left by the passing of the the ones before. They were all here, amorphous reminders of a time gone by.
She clutched a photo in her hands. It was taken just the day before the shrill ring of the telephone forever altered her life. Jeff was on his way to the airport that Tuesday. He was headed for Houston to attend a conference. Rare were the days they spent apart. In the twelve years they were together she could count on one hand the nights when she didn't feel Jeff's reassuring breath on the back of her neck as she fell effortlessly into the arms of Morpheus. It wasn't possible. She heard the words spoken by the disembodied voice at the other end of the phone, but they didn't register at first. It was a mistake. It couldn't be Jeff. After what seemed an eternity, Myra heard a scream in the room. It came from deep in her soul, from the core of her being.
The next few weeks were a blur as people wandered in and out of her life. She was in a waking dream, a nightmare from which there was no escape. She played over and over again what she remembered of the conversation with the police officer. The taxi carrying Jeff to the airport came to a screeching halt when a bicycle appeared out of nowhere in the path of their car. An eighteen wheeler, traveling a little too fast, descended on them like an avalanche, with screeching brakes and the smell of burning rubber. Jeff didn't have a chance. He died instantly, they said. The driver of the cab was in intensive care, his future uncertain.
Myra always thought of that day as the dividing line in her life. Before was filled with promise. After, was a black and white world in which she lived, separated from the rest of humanity by a bubble whose membrane she couldn't penetrate. All the success of her past meant nothing now. She was a publicist, with an impressive clientele in the film making industry. They tried to keep her busy in the early days, filling her hours when they could, with meaningless activities, designed to keep her from dwelling on the inevitable.
Months went by and Myra found herself pulling away from all living things, save for her dogs, Cece and Harley. She would bury her face in their fur, tears falling in a steady stream. For their part, they were happy to be with her and seemed to feel her pain.
It was hard to believe, as she stood here on this last morning that more than four years had gone by since Jeff left her. Vestiges of him still remained, making it that much harder to leave the last place they called home. There was no choice though. The bank was foreclosing and they had no collective heart to hear her silent plea. Myra picked up the last of her things and headed to the car, with Cece and Harley clutched to her chest. For the very last time, she closed the door behind her and walked haltingly down the path.
The End - Part 2
Copyright© 2011 - Geri Sonkin
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