A pall had descended over his world and painted it black, that which was left cast in shadows. Faces swam and out of existence, talking to him in conversations he didn’t really remember. Roger, and surprisingly, his wife. Mary Reed. His boss, a few friends from work. Greg and Amy. Andrea. His… fiancées… friends and co-workers, people he’d met maybe once and barely knew. What were they doing here? Every pair of eyes seemed to bore into him, full of concern and understanding, silently assuring him that they were there for him, that he could take as much time as needed to get better and come back, safe and whole Safe and whole. He’d lost two-thirds of himself, and the remainder was a heart attack victim in a hospital bed. Safe. He’d paint the word in sarcasm if he could muster anything more than dull apathy. Roger’s visits were the only real light, the one thing he felt like staying awake for, though the cheery pep-talks he offered didn’t infuse him with strength. “Rest, bro. All you. Almost without noticing how it happens, we trade places, and I toss out the melodies while she harmonizes.At some point, I become aware of the details of her room. Aware of the framed photos of handsome boys–prom dates perhaps–and smiling parents posed in a suburban living room. Aware of the girl-things scattered about with abandon–cotton panties, a sheer bra, fluffy pink bunny slippers, a tortoise shell cosmetics compact, and white plastic disk of birth control pills.Something about the sum of all these parts re-kindles my sexual longing. I look down to find an erection throbbing against my jeans. Marie sees it as well, and as she completes the last bar of the melody, she sets her cello aside.Her pale blue eyes search mine for an instant. Then she grabs the hem of her tank top and eases it over her stomach, revealing the undercurve of her tiny breasts and her puffy pink nipples before it falls to the floor.My fingers are already at work on the buttons of my shirt. Her eyes followed.
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