By Tori Tucker When the doorbell rang it woke Cathy out of a sound sleep. Blinking slowly up at the sun streaming in through the skylight over the bed, dust twisting through the bright afternoon rays, she waiting for the sound of Duff’s work-boot clad footsteps going to shoe away whomever dared interrupt their private life in the backwoods, but as the reality of his death came crashing back to her, just as it seemed to every time she woke from sleep, Cathy stretched and grudgingly extracted her weary self from the tangled bedding to see who called. As she shuffled down the wood paneled hallway, past the paintings she’d done so many years before, back when things had been so perfect, she rubbed sleep from her eyes as she pondered just who could have come to see her, who it was that had trekked the long journey down the old, forgotten dirt roads, and up the winding drive that lead to their cottage-- no, her cottage now. After all, it wasn’t as if she made good company these days. These days all she could amount herself to was fleeting, fake smiles and red tired eyes, mumbling words that only half made sense, and only half listening to the simpering, overly sympathetic replies. It could be Danny, or perhaps his wife. The pair of them had been absolutely indispensable the past few years, and especially the past few weeks since Duff’s passing; bringing food to the house, or helping with paperwork, sometimes even housework when it all seemed too much for her. At her age things should have seemed too much for her for quite some time now, but it had never been that way when Duff had been there. Somehow everything seemed doable. Even when they were both well into their seventies, it just worked. Nothing seemed too much: ever. It could be one of her students, perhaps one that had heard a bit later than everyone else about her husband’s passing, bringing more flowers that would inevitably end up in the trash with the others. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate the sentiment. It was only that they were a constant reminder of what had happened, and they always died too quickly anyway. But nothing could have prepared her for the man that stood on the other side of the door, with his perfect white teeth gleaming in the sun as he flashed her that familiar charming smile. “Marty?” she laughed, actually laughed in disbelief, the first genuine smile in weeks flickering over her lips. “What are you doing here?” she asked as he pulled her into a warm hug that lasted just a bit too long, just as his hugs always had. He was still so strong; youthful, even. “I only just heard the news Tuesday,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. “Are you doing alright?” He stepped back, cupping her shoulders, his glittering green eyes looking over her concernedly. “Tuesday…” mumbled Cathy. “What day is it?” “Thursday,” he replied, reaching up to tuck a lock of greyed hair behind her ear. She shook her head in disbelief. “You just dropped everything to fly down here? All the way from Kansas?” “Missouri,” he corrected, just as he always did, his eyes crinkling in a small smile. She’d missed that smile in many ways. She’d missed a lot about him. There was a time she might have been willing to spend a lifetime with him, but things change. She’d changed. She bit her lip, eyeing him and the way his eyes swept over her. “Don’t look at me like that, Marty.” “Like what?” he asked innocently, finally releasing her shoulders. “Like I’m somethin’ broken. I’m tired of it.” She didn’t mean to sound harsh, but that’s how it came out. She closed her eyes. They stung so much it almost made her tear up. “I’ll try not to,” he replied quietly, stepping forward again to wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Why don’t we go inside. Is that okay?” he asked, quietly. She nodded, allowing him to guide her into the entryway and down the hall into the kitchen. As they approached the island counter Cathy broke away. “Sorry about the mess,” she muttered, only half meaning it. It really wasn’t that bad, yeah, there were a few dishes in the sink, a few crumbs on the counter, and the trash was probably past due to be taken out, but it wasn’t exactly a disaster area. She crossed to the sink to try to do some damage control, forcing the water on to half-heartedly rinse the dishes, but Marty followed her, leaning against the counter by the sink. “It wasn’t easy finding you out here you know,” he said, glancing out the picture window above the sink. “It’s beautiful out here though. Very you. Secluded, private… gorgeous.” “How’s Sarah- or was it Susan?” interrupted Cathy, pushing past him so she could put a plate in the dishwasher. “Sandy?” he laughed. “I haven’t seen her in years. We actually broke up a few days after your retirement party coincidentally.” “Oh.” “Cathy, I’ve missed you.” He leaned over the counter, trying to catch her eye, but she wouldn’t look at him-- couldn’t look at him. He persisted. “Why did you stop calling?” She sighed, her shoulders slumping, a bowl dangling from her fingertips over the sink. “I don’t know. Things change, life gets busy… You know how it is.” “You never answered my calls.” “I was overseas.” “For five years?” “Well- No, but…” She turned to him, her eyes flickering up to find his. “Marty, I can’t do this right now. I can’t. I’m not…” She stopped herself. She wasn’t… what? Strong enough? Not really here, perhaps? “Cathy, I didn’t come here to interrogate you.” Biting at the inside of her cheek, she turned her head further away. He deserved some kind of explanation, but in truth there was none to give. Perhaps it had been guilt that kept her from returning his calls. Guilt over what exactly? There simply weren’t words for it. She threw the bowl down, the cheap ceramic shattering in the sink. “Then why did you come?” she asked, suddenly angry with him. “Why did you come here? I didn’t ask you to come. I didn’t want you to-” “I know,” he cut across her, his tone steady, but firm. “I came because… I care about you. You know that.” Cathy crossed her arms, bracing herself against him. “I came because… I wanted to make sure you were alright. I know how you get when you’re upset.” “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she spat, angry tears brimming in her eyes. She turned away so he wouldn’t see. “It means that I’ve seen you heart broken. I know you don’t operate well without him. I saw it that first week I knew you.” He moved to touch her arm but she swerved away. “I came because I want you to be okay. Maybe it won’t be today. Maybe it won’t be for years, but I need to know that you’ll be okay someday.” “Goddamn it,” she hissed, frustratedly wiping a tear from her cheek. “If you don’t think my being here will help then I’ll leave,” he said, his eyes wandering over her turned back. “I’ll leave right now if you want me to. I just… I couldn’t stand the idea of you dealing with this alone.” She bit her lip, trying to keep the tears from falling. She didn’t know what she wanted. Marty had always been such a good friend. He’d always been caring, tender. When they’d been lovers all those years ago there hadn’t been a single moment he’d been unkind, or even cool to her. That was part of why it had hurt so much to leave him. The floorboard creaked behind her. Hands: his hands, came to rest fleetingly on her shoulders as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of her head. For a moment she thought of Duff, how his fingers always seemed to be stained black with oil and smell of machinery. Marty’s were different, his touch less familiar, his fingers too tentative... “I’ll go,” Marty whispered into her hair. His hands fell away, and he began to move past her, when her hand shot out to catch his arm. “No,” she whispered. He turned, his eyes going to her hand at his arm, before seeking her gaze once more. “No?” he asked, studying her. She shook her head and bit her lip. “No,” she stepped forward, her arms slinking up to wrap around him. “Please stay,” she whispered into his chest, tears soaking through his shirt. “I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to do with myself. I just don’t-” She broke off unsure of what to say. “It’s alright. You’re gonna get through this.” She nodded, drawing in a quivering breath. He held her to him, gently swaying their entwined, withered bodies back and forth, trying to calm her, and after a while she felt at ease, really at ease. It was almost as if she’d forgotten what it felt like not to be constantly on edge. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, her voice low and tired. “It’s alright,” Marty replied, kissing her forehead. “Why don’t you go sit down for a bit. I’ll take care of the bowl.” “No… no, I should-” “You should let me take care of this.” He leaned back a bit so he could look her in the eye. With a sniff, Cathy nodded and pulled away from him, her hands lingering as they slid down his arms. “I’ll be out back then,” she murmured, flitting away from him. “Come find me after?” She opened the door to the back porch and turned, waiting for his reply. His eyes glistened as they traveled over her, the ghost of a smile flickering over his lips. “Of course.” Over the next week Marty had all but moved into the house. The whole thing was entirely too familiar to feel comfortable for her. He moved around the house as if he owned it despite the fact that he’d never even visited before the day he showed up on the doorstep; and most frustrating of all was that he wouldn’t allow her to lift a finger to help him. Cathy had even became annoyed upon returning to the house one day to find that he’d vacuumed. And when she’d offered to make up the guest bedroom for him the first evening he informed her that he’d already taken care of the matter. Marty had always been far too efficient and accommodating, but this was a whole other level. Cathy found that she was making more and more excuses to get out of the house, either to pick something up from the store, or to check the mailbox all the way at the end of the drive. Even when she was home she would spend time either locked away in her studio, something she rarely even did the past few years when Duff was there, or go outside to wander the back garden or the woods. However, there were moments that she caught herself settling into Marty’s presence, which frightened and confused her. Some nights they would be sitting on the porch together and she would find herself thinking of how nice it was to have someone to sit with in the dark and quiet again before she’d remember that it wasn’t Duff sitting beside her. Another evening at dinner she found that she was laughing, really laughing with him like they had all those years ago when they both lived in Missouri, and she couldn’t tell if she was truly happy or not, but it did make her forget about her unhappiness a bit so it couldn’t be all bad. The back garden was overgrown. It had been for years, but it had always had a sort of charm, the smell of honeysuckle and magnolia suffocating all else, but now, the garden beds looked disheveled and unkempt. Cathy wandered through the yard, pulling her sweater a bit tighter around her frail form as she found her way towards the archway Duff had built at the back of the yard, the one that lead out towards the woods. Studying the wilted vines that hung limply from the old arch, she sighed and made a personal vow to at least try to spruce up the garden later in the week, before bowing slightly to stumble under the arch and into the small clearing behind the garden. Beside the dwindling wood pile that lay just outside the garden wall hung a swing from a gnarled old oak tree. Her heart ached as she crossed to it, brushing some fallen leaves and debris from its seat as she lowered herself gingerly onto it; the swing had been a surprise from Duff for their twentieth anniversary. Taking a deep breath, Cathy closed her eyes as she leaned back in the seat. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, just breathing in the rich earthy air of the forest and listening to the birds chirping overhead, but after a while she must have dozed off because when she opened her eyes again, it was to the sight of Marty leaning over her, the same worried expression playing over his face as it had for days, and the sun was beginning to sink from the sky. “I thought you’d run off on me for a moment.” He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Why don’t you come back inside. It’s starting to get cool out here.” She pursed her lips, studying him. His hair was so white: not a single strand of blonde remained. His skin had dried and withered, and yet he was still very much unchanged by their years apart. Cathy narrowed her eyes. “I thought I told you not to look at me like that.” He chuckled. “Of course, you’re right.” He cupped her shoulder. “Come on. I made some dinner.” “You didn’t have to do that,” she muttered, feeling slightly annoyed. “I know.” He shrugged. “But I did.” Shaking her head agitatedly, she worked herself out of the swing before she took his arm and allowed him to lead her back towards the house. That evening Cathy had retired to her room, leaving Marty to finish the dinner dishes by himself as he wished. She’d opened the bedroom window, trying to rid the staleness from the room that seemed to linger since Duff’s passing. Blinking wearily up at the skylight, she stared out at the stars overhead. It was a clear, calm night. As the breeze drifted into the room, she drew in a deep breath of the cool night air and closed her eyes, tilting her head back to allow the wave of crisp evening wind to wash through her. “Asleep already?” Cathy started slightly, unused to the presence of another person in the house. She blew air out of her nose. Duff wouldn’t have asked her stupid questions. Duff would have just let her be. She opened her eyes to find Marty leaning in the doorway. “Just relaxing,” she muttered, pushing her hair back. “Clearing my head.” Marty shuffled into the room, wrapping his arms around himself. “Cold in here,” he commented. “It’s comfortable.” “Did I do something?” he asked abruptly. She glanced at him out of the side of her eye. “No… What do you mean?” “Don’t play dumb with me, Cathy. I know you too well for that. You’ve been avoiding me all week. What is it, just because I didn’t call before I came out here or-” “No,” she sighed. “No it’s not that it’s just… It’s nothing.” “It’s not nothing.” “Marty, do we have to do this now?” “Yes,” he fixed her with a stare, moving to the other side of the bed. “Cathy, what is it?” “I thought that would be obvious,” she muttered darkly, drawing her arthritic knees up to her chest and wincing slightly. “This isn’t just about Duff.” “No, it’s because you come into my house and just start doing everything.” “Don’t kid yourself. This isn’t just because I vacuumed either.” He sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to her and held his head in his hands, trying to calm himself. “Is it because of the retirement party? Because that was stupid. I knew then that it was stupid. I just-” “Would you just shut up?” she snapped, hitting her fist on the pillow beside her. He turned. “It is about the retirement party! Cathy, it was just a stupid kiss. I know it was-” “It’s not! It’s-” she broke off and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Marty… I just lost my best friend: my husband of… God, fifty-six--seven odd years? And you think I’m upset because of a sloppy attempt at a hookup at my goddamn retirement party fucking five years ago? You have some damn nerve.” Marty flinched as if she’d hit him. “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. I just wanted to help.” He stood and moved toward the door. “I’ll go in the morning if that’s what you want.” Cathy’s eyes flashed to him once more. “No, I didn’t mean--” “Well tell me what you want then,” he expelled, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Cathy, I can’t tell if you’re happy to have me here or not. You can’t just blow hot and cold.” She pursed her lips, knowing full-well that he was right. “I just…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to find the right words. He moved towards her, carefully sitting down beside her on the edge of the mattress. “What do you want?” Her lips trembled as she opened them to speak. “Duff,” she whispered. “I just want Duff.” She shook her head and closed her eyes. Marty touched her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles on her arm with his thumb. “I know.” “I can’t even cry anymore,” she mumbled. “What can I do?” he asked tenderly, running his hand down her arm to entwine their fingers. She shook her head. “What do you want me to do?” he tried, giving her hand a squeeze. “Do you want me to leave?” “No,” she answered too quickly. “No, I don’t want that… I… I am glad you came. It’s just that… I don’t know how to cope with all this. I want to just… I want things to be like they were, and I know I can’t have that. I know that.” He shifted to look at her. “So what can I do?” She thought for a moment. “Just… stay? I know I haven’t been… myself. I just-- I need time.” “But you do want me to stay?” he asked uncertainly. Her lips twitched into a small smile. “Yes.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “If you haven’t lost all interest in me,” she halfheartedly teased. “Oh, believe me,” he smiled. “I never lost interest in you.” She chuckled. “Oh, I know.” As she met his gaze she was taken aback to see how sad he looked. “Marty?” He shook himself. “Hmm?” “I do love you. You know that, right?” He smiled and shook his head. “I know.” She narrowed her eyes. “I mean that. I’m not just saying it, Marty. I’ve always loved you.” His brow furrowed. “You loved Duff.” “I did,” she agreed. “I do still. But I love you too, Marty. I always have. That’s part of why it was so hard for me…When I left I mean.” His eyes flickered between hers a moment, as if trying to make out if she were being sincere or not. “Cathy, you don’t have to do this.” “Do what?” He shook his head and turned away once more. “Never mind.” Frowning she reached out to touch his cheek. “Duff knew how I felt about you,” she murmured. “But he also knew I loved him.” Marty’s eyes met hers briefly before quickly returning to his lap. “I’m not gonna lie, your name did come up in arguments sometimes… In the few we had.” “Why are you doing this?” Marty whispered, more to himself than her. “Because I want you to know.” She took his face in both her hands now. “There were definitely times Duff felt threatened by it, but once, not even very long ago, he told me that it was okay. Marty, he said it was better to love more than one person. He told me-” she paused to smile to herself. “He told me it was because my heart was too big. Now, I don’t know if that’s true, but I do know that I loved you for years, and even though I didn’t realize it for a while, I think I always loved you.” His eyes found hers again. “You left me.” It was a question. “I know,” she replied evenly. “I don’t regret that either.” She traced her thumb along his cheek. “We wanted different things. It wouldn’t have been right for me to stay, to keep you from living the life you wanted.” “But I didn’t,” he replied, moving away from her touch. “The only person I wanted those things-- a house, a family, I wanted with you.” “Do you still want me?” He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?” Cathy bit her lip. “We could start over.” He blinked. “Cathy… Don’t you think you might be rushing into-” “I’m seventy-six years old, Marty. I think it might be alright to rush things a little.” “I didn’t mean… It’s just that Duff only died-” “I know.” Her gaze fell to her lap. “But I’d like to think he would have been happy for us. He would have said… It’s better to live and love, than it is to mourn.” She looked up to find Marty watching her wearily. “Of course, if that’s what you still want...” He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again. Clenching and unclenching his hands, he moved to touch her cheek, before leaning in to press a light but lingering kiss to her lips. As he pulled away he rested his face against hers. “Is it what you want?” he whispered against her cheek. She nodded, closing her eyes and pressing a firm kiss to his lips. That night he slept by her side, his arm wrapped loosely around her waist. It was the first night since Duff’s death that she’d slept soundly; she had never been able to get used to sleeping alone, not even on business trips. Sometime around midnight she stirred, sensing a change in the air. Groaning sleepily she opened her eyes, finding that she’d turned over in her sleep and was curled up against Marty’s chest. Smiling contentedly she rolled over to find a more comfortable position, when her breath hitched, her eyes opened wide in surprise as she found Duff lying beside her. She blinked rapidly to be sure he was really there and not just a figment of her imagination. When he did not disappear she reached out to touch his arm. “Duff?” She breathed, her withered fingers making contact with his arm. He turned his head to look at her, making her gasp. He was young again, like when they’d first met. His long ash brown hair tumbled into his face and he smiled, his eyes crinkling in that mischievous way she loved. “Hey there, sweetheart.” “Are you really here?” she whispered, careful to keep her voice low, for fear of disturbing Marty. “In a sense,” he replied, taking her hand in his. She breathed out a small laugh, tears gathering in her eyes, real tears. Happy tears. “Why?” His smile faltered slightly, but he squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I’ve come to take you with me.” “With you?” Her heart skipped a beat. “It’s time,” he replied simply. Her heart dropped, her head turning to look over her shoulder. “Marty’ll be alright. He still has time,” Duff whispered. “Can I say goodbye?” she asked, still watching Marty as he snored softly. When Duff didn’t reply she turned back to him. He pursed his lips, but after a moment nodded. Drawing in a breath to calm herself, Cathy sat up to turn to Marty, but tensed as she realized she was no longer in her body, rather sitting in it. Her breath caught as if cold water had been poured over her. Trying to brave through it, she closed her eyes and turned, lifting further out of her body to lean over him. She managed a sad smile as she looked over him, sleeping peacefully. She reached up to brush the tear away, but stopped just short as she saw her hand. It was no longer withered and old, but young and taut, yet translucent. She paused, turning to Duff once more. “Can I touch him?” she asked, her voice quivering. He nodded again, watching her sympathetically. She turned back to Marty and reached down, resting a hand over his heart. Slowly and cautiously she leaned forward to press a featherlight kiss to his lips. “I love you,” she whispered against him. “I’m sorry.” With nothing left to say she sat up once more, tilting her head as she watched him. Marty didn’t stir. Pausing a moment longer she brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead, before turning away, finding it all too much to bear. Duff stood beside the bed now, smiling softly down at her. Taking a deep breath she met his gaze. He offered her a hand. Moving to the side of the bed she took his hand and unsteadily stood. “You ready?” She looked around, half expecting the roof to fly off, or a portal to open, but the bedroom was just as it always was. “What do I have to do?” she asked apprehensively. “Just walk through the door,” replied Duff, still smiling reassuringly down at her. Cathy peered past him at the bedroom door, a knot forming in her stomach as she found his gaze again. “Duff?” “Yeah?” “Can I kiss you?” her voice cracked with her plea. He laughed and touched her cheek. “You don’t have to ask,” he whispered, leaning in to capture her lips with a hungry kiss. “I missed you,” she cried, resting her forehead against his. He smiled crookedly and pressed another kiss to her lips. “I missed you too.” He pulled her closer to him, his hands resting at her waist. “Does it hurt?” she asked her eyes flickering to the door. “Not at all,” he replied, taking her hands. “What happens?” “We’ll be together for a while,” he replied, caressing her cheek. “But eventually we’ll have to part. But it’ll be okay. We’ll find each other again in the next life.” She blinked up at him, “The next life?” “We’ll be together again.” “But we’ll be different people?” “Yeah.” “Will I forget you?” Duff brushed a tear from her cheek. “For a little while,” he whispered soothingly. “But when we meet again we’ll know… And I know that I could never forget you.” She let out a choked laugh and hugged him, pressing herself as close as possible. Duff chuckled to himself and leaned his head against hers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Straightening up, she nodded. “Okay… I’m ready.”