Chapter 7

I wanted to stay with Melody twenty-four hours a day, but even if that had been practical, Anne Sharpton would not have let me. She insisted that we get back to our normal routines and leave Melody to her own devices. I even went back to my own place a couple of days after she had awakened; but I phoned or stopped by every other day.

Melody wanted to attend Karen's funeral, but decided that the publicity of this would only cause the family more grief. Thus, I went with her the following day to the cemetery. She had bought two red roses to place on the grave, and I respectfully stood back out of hearing as she said her good-bye to her friend.

When she walked back to me, tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she reached for me. Holding her in my arms, I kissed the top of her head and mumbled sweet nothings, wishing I could absorb her pain.

Two days later, she began to withdraw. She would eat, sleep, and watch television: mostly children's shows. She didn't want to talk to anyone or see anyone, other than Tom, Helen, or me. And, then, the three of us were kept at arm's length. She spoke when she had to. She also stopped caring about her appearance, letting her hair go unwashed or combed, and she would wear the same outfit for days on end, not even bothering to change for bed.

Tom, Helen, and several of their friends met at Melody's on Friday morning, two weeks after Karen's funeral. Paul, Kathy, Faye, and I joined them in the clean-up. Tom had contacted the sanitary department and they sent a truck and a dumpster to pick up the trash that was collected. I lost count of the trash bags that went out the door; not to mention the furniture that was beyond repair. In the end, the only thing that Melody had left was the bears I had taken to be repaired.

To top everything off, I was craving a damn drink; exhausted as I was, I went to the tennis court and began hitting balls. I don't know how long I was there fighting off my demons, but it had been dark several hours when Paul found me and took me home. He pushed me into the shower, washed me off, and got me into bed. He spent the night on my sofa.

The next morning, I went to an AA meeting and phoned my sponsor Hal Roberts. He was in his sixties and he and his wife, Nelda, were my second family. He and I went fishing together, and I had dinner with them once a week. I had been going to take Melody to their house for dinner the day that Karen had ended her life.

I met him for lunch at Gordy's and I unloaded on him. He listened, his blue-gray eyes never leaving my face. When I finished speaking, he reached across the table and gently swatted my cheek with his hand. "Son, stop feeling guilty. No matter how much you want to do it, you can't protect Melody from everything. You can only do what you can do and nothing more."

I started to protest that I wasn't feeling guilty, but stopped myself. He was right. I was playing an if only game with myself. If only I had been in the store that day; if only I had called her and asked her to take the day off. I had a list that would have gone for pages had I taken the time to write them down.

As always, after talking with Hal, I felt like things were back in proportion, and I had a handle on them. When we parted, he reminded me that I could call him any time, day or night. He hadn't done that since I could remember; thus, I knew he was worried about me.

Worried about me, too, I stopped at a meeting, held in the basement of the Baptist church that was a block away from my apartment, before going home.

When I walked in the door, I noticed the light blinking on my answering machine. I had three new messages. I called Faye and Paul first and assured them that I was okay. I, then, returned Melody's call.

As soon as I returned her greeting she said, "May I come spend the night with you?"

"Sure, Kitten," I replied, tears streaming down my cheeks. She was finally making an effort of some sort. "You can come over now, if you'd like."

"I'd like, but I'm going shopping with Aunt Helen. I'll be there around six. Want me to grab something for dinner?"

"Chinese would be good."

"Okay. I'll see you, then. Bill?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too, Kitten."

In the glow coming from the two candles in the center of my cedar kitchen table, I watched as Melody took a bite of sweet and sour chicken. When she had arrived she had been wearing jeans, black ankle boots, and a black blouse. I had discovered the silky smoothness of the blouse when we kissed, and I ran the fingers of my left hand up and down her back. My right hand had been busy with her hair.

Thanks to a game of strip Yahtzee, played by throwing the dice and seeing who had the most dots on each turn, she was down to her black lacy camisole, matching black panties, and black socks, and I was down to my socks and boxers.

She wasn't wearing a bra, and I could see her nipples pressing against the silk of her top. I wanted to feel her in my arms, her tongue playing with mine; I was barely touching my share of the sweet and sour chicken, noodles, and egg rolls.

"Bill?"

I looked up from the noodles I was twirling around my fork.

She was standing beside me. She smiled. "May I?"

"Sure, Kitten." I turned my chair so that the back was to the wall.

Curling up on my lap, she picked up a piece of chicken, dipped it in the sauce, and placed it against my lips. I took a bite, chewed slowly, and swallowed. She licked sauce off my mouth, and then ate the rest of the chicken. We shared what was on my plate, and my cock was sounding reveille by the time we worked our way through the food.

When she swallowed the last bite, I pressed my mouth over hers, and she parted her lips for my tongue to pass and caress from the inside. My left hand reached for curls that lay against the back of her neck. My right hand explored her curves through her clothing and, then, luxuriated in the softness of her thighs.

Moaning, she pulled away and removed her fogged over glasses.

"I love when you take off your glasses," I whispered. "It's so sexy."

She feather kissed the tip of my nose and got down on her knees between my legs. She looked directly into my eyes. All I could see was wanton desire in the depths of her dark pools. "Kitten is ready to drink her milk." She began to nuzzle my rock, tugging gently at the cloth of my shorts with her teeth.

"Oh, Baby, yes." I gasped. "I love that." Moments later, I was groaning, and mumbling that my cock was going to fall off.