• When the doorbell rang at three in the morning, he knew. He knew everything was over. He got off the couch he had been waiting on for hours and shuffled to the door. The doorbell rang again, the impatient person at the door pressing twice this time. He opened the door slowly and started into the weary faces of two police officers, both male. One of them shifted his feet uneasily and cleared his throat.
    “Don’t tell me, I already know she’s gone.” He sighed heavily. The policemen eyed each other. One coughed.
    “Sir, I am very sorry for your loss.” He said. His partner nodded.
    “So sorry.”
    “Was it…did she…” He started, but a choked sob rose into his throat. He covered his face in a hand and exhaled slowly. “Excuse me.” He said, standing there and trying to regain his composure in front of the policemen. He cleared his throat and dropped his hand, exhaling once more. “Was it easy for her? I mean, it wasn’t painful or anything, right?” He asked.
    “No, sir, no pain at all. It was instantaneous.” The partner said. The man in the doorway nodded.
    “Good, good. She wouldn’t have wanted to suffer. I wouldn’t have wanted her to suffer.” He said quietly. The policeman reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white business card.
    “Here is the information for the morgue and the location of the nearest funeral service.” The officer said in an almost monotonous tone. The partner looked uneasy about the whole process, but the older officer had clearly done this several times before. With a shaking hand, the man took the card. He concentrated on not crushing it within his palm, which was still shaking.
    “Again, sir, we are very sorry to have to come to you with such grave news.” The partner said.
    “The morgue might call and ask you for a positive identification, but she was intact enough for a good identification.”
    The man winced at the word ‘intact’, like she was a broken toy or some other oddity, and not a human being.
    “Goodnight, sir.” The police officer said, and managed a half-smile.
    The man grimaced. His devastation and the officer’s cool manner were mixing in him, making him sad and angry at the same time. He couldn’t help but say, “And you wonder why people dread the doorbell ringing in the middle of the night. Goodnight.” He said coldly, and closed the door.
    He glanced at the information on the little slip of paper and set it on the table next to the door. He sighed heavily and walked slowly to the couch. He fell on it with such force it scooted an inch backwards.
    So, she was really gone. Forever.
    The love of his life, who was in this very house not so long ago, was locked in a narrow freezer with a tag on her toe.
    Flooded with this image, he buried his head in a pillow and cried himself to sleep.
    *
    He awoke Sunday morning and wondered why he didn’t smell coffee. Robin always made coffee early Sunday morning, before they went to church.
    Grief welled up in him again as he remembered the events of the night. He stifled a sob. Desperate for something to maybe ease his mind, he got off the couch and went to make himself some coffee.
    Out of habit, he grabbed two mugs from the cabinet. He sighed heavily when he realized this, poured both cups full to the brim, and set the extra mug in Robin’s place. He drank his slowly, watching the steam rise, curl, and disappear in the extra mug.
    “Oh, Robin.” He murmured to the cup. “I love you, I still do, and I miss you. Please come home.” He listened for the front door. When all was still silent, he sighed and downed the rest of his coffee, leaving the other cup to cool on the table.
    He summoned up the energy to get dressed, and drove to their church. Today, he reasoned, was a good day to talk to God.
    He prayed silently the entire service. He didn’t sing, didn’t say his amen’s and hallelujah’s, didn’t even listen to the sermon. He knew it was about her, though, because he kept catching Robin’s name said aloud by the preacher. Instead, he whispered softly to God, hands clasped so tight his knuckles were turning white, head bowed so low his neck began to cramp.
    Dear God, why did you take her? It wasn’t her time to go. I know you have your plan for everything, but why take her? Why, Lord, why? She was so beautiful and perfect, and, and…
    He stopped to choke back tears, making a hiccupping sound. The lady beside him patted his knee softly and handed him a handkerchief. He took it, dabbed his eyes, and thanked the lady for her kindness. He clasped the handkerchief between his hands and squeezed them even tighter, resuming,
    Lord, please give her back. Please. I’ll do anything. I’m nothing without her. I’ll be good, Lord. I won’t even sin again. I’ll go to church every day. I’ll repent for anything I’ve ever done. I NEED her. Please, God, bring her back!
    But God didn’t answer, and he went home to his empty house. He dumped the coffee left on the table in the sink and put the cup in the dishwasher.
    He went upstairs and crawled into Robin’s side of the bed. Her sheets smelled like her perfume and faintly of their love, and her pillow smelled sweetly of her shampoo. He cried again, depression and hurt devouring him from the inside. He felt nauseous.
    His love was gone, but still he loved her with all his heart, with everything he had. He did not want to live this way. Not with all this sadness, this empty feeling that filled the void her death had created.
    Suicide briefly crossed his thoughts.
    He’d have to sell the house. He couldn’t afford to pay the mortgage alone. What would he do with all her things? He couldn’t just sell them all. Throw them away. And the funeral! How much would that cost? Could he even bear to go?
    These thoughts swam through his head again and again. Finally, he got up and got the card still on the hall table. He stared at the numbers, seeing the stark contrast of the black glossy letters on the white paper, but instead of seeing the numbers, he only saw what they meant. Each time someone called this number, that person had felt like him. They had lost someone they loved, and they, too, felt desolate and empty.
    This made him feel a little better.
    He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the shiny numbers.
    After what seemed like hours of questions and condolences, the whole thing was set up. Her funeral was planned for tomorrow, and her parents were to pay half. They had called him.

    ****
    “Oh, Brian. How are you doing?” Her mother’s voice was warped and wavered from her grief.
    “I miss her so much, Mom.” He said softly. She sniffed.
    “I know, honey. Us, too. We loved her as much as you did. We still love her.” She said. “I don’t know why I keep speaking in the past tense!” Her voice cracked.
    He wished he could hug her, knowing they’d find some comfort in each other’s greif. But she was two hours away and he was in no condition to drive. An hour and a half the way he drove.
    “We’ll always love her, Mom.”
    “You know, we’re prosecuting that sonofabitch.” She said suddenly. It was the first time he had ever heard her curse. “His trial’s a month from now. Manslaughter, Reckless Driving, Drunk Driving, Possession, and Assault with a Deadly Weapon--we’re trying for it all.”
    “He won’t get life.” He sighed.
    “He might. Dave and I are going for it. We have a good lawyer.”
    “Not with our justice system.”
    “That’s not stopping us. Our baby is dead and…” She stopped suddenly as the full weight of what she had said settled upon her again. She burst into mournful sobs. “She’s really gone. Our poor, beautiful baby. Our only baby.” She croaked through her tears. Brian heard the phone trade hands and her crying faded into the background.
    “Brian?” It was Robin’s father.
    “Hi, Dad. How’re you?”
    “Shitty.” He replied simply.
    “Me too. I scheduled the funeral for tomorrow. I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to do it while she was still fresh in everyone’s memory.”
    “Good, good. You need any help paying for it?”
    “I wish there was no reason for it to take place.”
    “We all do, son. We’ll pay half, ease a little bit of your troubles.”
    “Thanks, Dad.”
    “It’s the most we can do for her now. Have you seen her yet?”
    “No, I’m going to the morgue later. If….the damage….isn’t too great, we can have an open casket service.
    “Could you offer up the dress we gave her last year? She loved that dress.” Her father said, his voice getting rough. He was clearly masking his pain.
    “It’s in the closet. I won’t forget.”
    “Do you mind if we come down and stay the night? I think we all need each other now.”
    “Of course I wouldn’t mind. We bought a four bedroom house with you guys in mind. I’ll leave the key under the purple flower pot in case I’m still…away.”
    “All right, son, we’ll let you do your business now. We love you.”
    “Love you too.” He stopped for a minute to think. “Hug Brenda for me, okay? See you guys later tonight.”
    “Bye.” Robin’s dad said, and hung up.
    ****
    Brian set the phone on the kitchen counter and wiped his face with his hands.
    “Ugh. Robin, come back.”
    He rummaged through the closet, trying to find the plastic wrap that contained her favorite dress. He finally found it in the very back, wrapped in clear protective plastic. He uncovered it and laid it gently on the bed. It was a summer dress, made of a soft, silky fabric dyed a light shade of pink that reminded him of cotton candy and the dresses of little girls. Last year’s birthday present from her parents. He stared at it a minute, resisting the urge to touch it. He went to the closet and brought out the shoes she wore with it. He threw them on the bed and winced as one bounced off and hit the floor with a loud thud. He ignored it and went to her jewelry box, pulling out the necklace he had given her on their 10th wedding anniversary. He held it in his hand, moving it so the opal caught the light. The silver chain was cold to the touch. He opened the drawer of her dresser and pulled out the necklace’s blue velvet box, and loving placed it inside. He found a plastic grocery bag in their bathroom and put her shoes in it. On the dresser, his cell phone broke the silence with the shrill, manufacture’s ring. The tiny perfumes bottles she had put up there rattled softly from the vibrations. He jumped and went to get it. He looked at the screen before answering.
    “Hey, pal.”
    “Hey, I just heard. I’m so sorry, dude.”
    “Yeah, me too. But hey, I’m about to head out to the funeral home, so I’ll talk to you later. The funeral’s tomorrow. Spread the word.”
    “I will. If you want, I’ll come by later.”
    “Sure, Robin’s parents are coming too.”
    “Good. You shouldn’t be alone.”
    “Yeah. Thanks for looking out for me.”
    “What are brothers for?”
    Brian hung up, turned off his phone, and pocketed it. He took up the dress, put the jewelry box in the bag with the shoes, and lugged it all downstairs. The annoying sound of the plastic wrapping allowed him to not think about anything else. He slipped his shoes back on and took Robin’s burial clothes, he admitted to himself, to his car. He hung the dress in the back, off what Robin lovingly called the backseat “Oh, s**t!” bar (because when you’re scared you grab it and go, “Oh, s**t!”, as many of her poor passengers did). He threw the shows unceremoniously into the passenger seat. He sighed, looking sadly at Robin’s once-favorite dress. Memories of her in it flashed before his eyes. He glanced at the information sheet the cop had given him, slid into the seat, and drove to the address of the morgue.
    ***
    The mortician led him to a cool, aluminum colored room, where rows and rows of drawers lined the wall.
    “Deceased’s name?”
    “Robin Monroe.” Brian said, hating the way the mortician asked his question so easily and coldly. The mortician went to a drawer, where his wife’s name was neatly scrawled on a piece of paper slipped into a plastic sleeve. Brian sighed.
    “You sure you want to do this?” The mortician asked, showing a slight glimmer of humanity. He pulled out the door and it hissed on its ball bearings. On the cold metal was a sheet, clearly covering a body.
    “I’m sure.” Brian said slowly, and secretly wishing that everyone had all been wrong and that this wasn’t his wife and she had just gone to some impromptu sleepover at her friend’s. And then he realized he was in denial.
    He steeled himself as the mortician pulled back the sheet.
    Despite himself, he gasped and put a hand to his mouth.
    It was his wife. It was really her. There was the scar on her collarbone from a rollerblading accident. There were the cute freckles dotted across the bridge of her nose. There was the birthmark on her left shoulder. Her face, her beautiful face, was flecked with cuts, presumably from the windows, and it was discolored and pale. Bluish, almost, he thought. The mortician replaced the sheet.
    “When is the service coming to pick her up? I know with unnatural deaths like this they like to provide the families with a sense of peace and do the services earlier than most.” The mortician asked.
    Nosey little turd, Brian thought viciously, and then said, “Tomorrow, sometime before two so she can be prepped. It’s an open casket service.” Brian replied.
    “You’re very cool and composed about this. I congratulate you.”
    “We are in a giant freezer.” Brian said sarcastically.
    “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rude.”
    “It’s fine. You didn’t mean it harshly. It’s just been a long day.”
    “Would you like me to show you the way out?”
    “Yes, please.” Brian replied, looking wistfully at the sheet. The mortician closed the drawer.
    ***
    The people at the funeral home were exactly as he’d expected: overly cheery, obsessed with trying to console him, and trying to sell him the biggest goddamn coffin he’d ever seen, along with a price tag to match the monstrosity. He loved his wife with everything he had, but that still didn’t necessitate a $4,300 box that would rot in the ground. He wrote a check for all his dues, gave them the dress and shoes, but pocketed the necklace. It wouldn’t do him any good if someone stole it.
    Her parents’ car was in the driveway when he finally returned. He entered the house and Brenda poked her head into the hallway from the kitchen.
    “Brian, sweetheart, where’s your measuring cup?”
    “In the cabinet second from the fridge with the glassware. What are you doing, Mom?”
    “Well, since we’re more than likely having the wake here, I’m baking!” She called out.
    “s**t. I forgot about that.” He cursed under his breath. Dave came out of the living room and hugged him.
    “Hey, Dad. You okay?”
    “Yeah, yeah.” He cleared his throat loudly. “As fine as I’ll ever be.” He let Brian go.
    “Did you get the dress?”
    “Yep. Ready to go at the funeral home.”
    “You know,” He said, listening to the clattering in the kitchen. “She’s only trying to keep herself busy. She’s taking it real hard.”
    “Everyone is. We all miss her. We miss her a lot. You know, we were talking about finally having a baby.” Brian said, sitting on the couch. Dave settled himself in a chair.
    “s**t, son. That’s great. Was great. I wouldn’t tell Brenda though. It’d break her heart even more to know she almost had a grandbaby.” Dave said quietly.
    “Yeah. She was real excited.”
    Dave only nodded.
    “You know, I love the Lord and all, but sometimes I wonder how He works. Why’d he take her?”
    “He was jealous that we had one of His angels.” Brian said slowly.
    “Right you are.”
    Brenda popped into the room in a frenzied whirlwind.
    “Large platter?”
    “Er…I don’t know. Just poke around some. The cooking part was Robin’s bit. For everyone’s health, she insisted upon it.”
    “Okay.”
    “Are you making dinner or just baking?”
    “Both. Why?”
    “My brother is stopping by so we’ll need enough for four.”
    “Chris is coming?”
    “He’s the only brother I have.”
    “Right. I’ll go find that platter now.” Brenda said, leaving for the kitchen again. Cupboards thumped softly as she rummaged through them. Dave coughed and made a weird choking noise. Brian looked over and saw how his nose had turned red.
    “I miss her so much, Dad.”
    “I know, son. We all do.”
    “I know, but I feel like I have to keep telling someone how much I miss her to make it seem real to me. Remember our wedding? That was the greatest day of my life. I’ve been happy since then…until now.”
    A loud wail from the kitchen interrupted his recollection. They rushed in to find Brenda squatting on the floor with a plastic bowl in her hands.
    “Honey, what’s the matter?” Dave said, going up to her and hugging her close. She held out the bowl.
    “It’s Robin’s baby bowl! She ate out of it every morning when she was small. It was her favorite!” She gasped, sobbing. Dave took the bowl gingerly in his large hand and looked at it woefully, a small tear falling down his sun-hardened cheek.
    “Our poor baby.” He whispered, setting the bowl on the counter. Brenda leaped up and snatched it, cradling it to her bosom, still crying softly. Brian put his face against her shoulder and an arm around her neck, trying to soothe her while a few tears of his own escaped into her cotton top.
    Brenda was setting plates on the table in an almost mechanical fashion, her eyes puffy, when the doorbell rang.
    “I’ll get it.” Brian called, going for the door. He opened it, and his brother, seeing his pale face and pink eyes, immediately stepped in and caught Brian in a bear hug.
    “Hey, little brother.”
    “Hey, Chris.”
    “How you doing?”
    Brian was tired of this question.
    “My wife just died, that’s how I’m doing.”
    “Sorry.”
    Brian sighed.
    “No, I’m sorry. I have no right to take it out on you. It’s just too much right now. Come in; it’s almost time to eat.”
    “Sounds great. Smells good, too. Is Brenda cooking?”
    “Who else? She’s a beast in the kitchen. Where do you think Robin got it from?”
    “Robin makes the best desserts.”
    “Made.” Brian sighed. “But you’re right.”
    Dinner was quiet. The only sound was the clinking of utensils and glassware. Brian picked at his food. It smelled amazing, but he couldn’t eat. His stomach writhed with grief.
    “Brian, aren’t you going to eat?” Brenda said, noticing his plate.
    “I’d love to, but I’m just not hungry.”
    “Have you eaten anything today?”
    “I had coffee this morning.”
    “That’s all?”
    “Wasn’t hungry.” He mumbled.
    “You’ve got to eat. Robin wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself.”
    Brian slammed down his fork and it skittered across the table.
    “Well, Robin’s not here, is she? She’ll never be here again! She’s gone, and there’s nothing we can do about it. I’d eat the ******** house if it would bring her back, but it’s not going to happen. She’s not coming back no matter how much we miss her. I loved her with everything I had, and He took her away from me. I didn’t do anything, and she didn’t do anything to deserve this!” He said angrily, tears welling up in his eyes. He dropped the hand that had been pointing to the Heavens.
    “Excuse me.” He muttered, and went upstairs.
    The bed still smelled like her. He buried his face in her pillow, inhaling her sweet scent. He was still like this when someone entered.
    “Brian.” Dave said softly.
    Brian muttered something incoherent in the pillow.
    “Brian, I know you’re upset. Do you want to talk about it? Brenda was going to come up, but she felt awful for setting you off. All of us are bombs at the end of our wicks right now. I just want you to know that I and everyone else downstairs are here for you, just like you’re here for us.”
    Brian sat up.
    “I know, but after losing my parents I couldn’t bear to lose anyone else, especially this soon and suddenly. Now this has happened, and I’m going through it all over again on a whole other level I never knew existed.”
    Dave exhaled deeply, unable to think of a reply.
    “We’ll all get through this together, Brian.” He said eventually.
    “I hope so. I’m only half a man without her, and I hate living like this.”
    “Things’ll get better. Give it time.”
    ***
    Brian slept on the couch that night. He couldn’t bear to sleep in his bed. It was too full of her. Too full of memories. Too full of the happiness that had drained out of him when the doorbell had rang in the middle of the night.
    His sleep was fitful, filled with dreams and memories of his wife playing as if on a giant loop. He missed her laugh. He missed her love. He missed her. On and off throughout the night, images of her swirled before his eyes. He woke up early to pots banging in the kitchen.
    “Mom, is that you?” He called. Brenda came into the living room, still dressed in her pajamas.
    “Oh, I’m sorry, Brian! If I’d known you were down here, I would have been quiter. Why aren’t you upstairs?”
    “I can’t sleep in that bed.” He said, getting off the couch and stretching his stiff limbs. Brenda looked at him sadly.
    “I understand. Do you want anything for breakfast?”
    “I’m not hungry. Thanks though.”
    “Brian, honey, you have to eat.”
    “I would, but I’m really not hungry. I’ll just make some coffee.”
    “Okay.” She said, and went back into the kitchen. Brian followed after her. He dumped out yesterday’s coffee, rinsed out the pot, filled up the machine, and put the pot back in its cubbyhole. He dumped some ground coffee from the fridge into a filter, placed it in the machine, and switched it on.
    “So, did Chris crash here or did he go home?”
    “He went home.” Brenda said, frying up an egg for herself. “Are you sure you—“
    “I’m not hungry, really.” He said, cutting her off. He sat down at the table, waiting for his coffee to brew. Brenda sat down in front of him, her egg on a plate before her. She popped the still-runny yoke with her fork and mixed the white with the yellow.
    “What are we doing to do without her?” Brenda said quietly. “She was such a beautiful person. She loved you so much.” She looked up at Brian. “When she met you in high school you were all she talked about. Brian-this and Brian-that and how cute that Brian Monroe was, and how you two sat together at lunch but she was too afraid to tell you how she felt. When you asked her to prom she came home so happy. I can’t even begin to explain how excited she was.
    Brian smiled.
    “I was nervous as hell when I asked her. I was so afraid of rejection. She was just so pretty, I thought, she’d never date a guy like me. It blew me away when she said yes. We’ve been together since then.”
    “She knew you guys were going to get married. You loved each other so much.”
    “Stop using “love” in the past tense, Mom. I still love her. I’ll never start.”
    “Sorry, hon. It’s just that she’s…” She stopped, unable to finish.
    “Gone, Mom. You’ve got to say it at some point.”
    Brenda took a forkful of egg and chewed it slowly. She swallowed.
    “I know. I don’t want to, but we have to. All of us.”
    “Yeah. What am I going to do? I can’t keep the house, and I don’t want to go through all her stuff.
    “We can go trough it together. Keep the special things. Sell the rest.”
    “I suppose. Sell the house, too.”
    “Sell your parent’s house?” Brenda gasped, shocked. The fork, full of drippy egg, hovered in front of her mouth.
    “I can’t keep it without Robin’s extra income, and I’m not getting a roommate.”
    “Give it to Chris.”
    “I’ll need the money. He doesn’t want it anyway.”
    She made a noise of agreement and ate the rest of her egg. Brian got up and poured the finished coffee into a cup.
    “Want some?”
    “Not after an egg.” Brenda replied, making a face.
    Brian sat back down and blew the steam off the top before taking a sip.
    “You drink it black?”
    “Thought I’d try.” He replied, taking another sip.
    Brenda sighed, pushing her plate to the center of the table.
    “I should start baking. I’m going to the store.” Brenda said, suddenly getting up. She took her plate and stowed it in the dishwasher.
    “You want me to go with you?”
    “No, I’ve got it. I might need help bringing them in, though.”
    “I’ll be here.”
    She smiled and hugged him.
    “I love you, Brian.
    “Love you too, Mom.”
    “I’ll be back in an hour.”
    “Okay.”
    She left, and he heard the engine to Dave’s SUV turn over in the driveway minutes later. The house was quiet again. The large clock in the living toom was the only sound, cauting off every second with a deep tick.
    All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep until it was time to go to the funeral service. The sleep afterward to avaid everyone. Sleep and forget. He considered sleeping through the funeral. He wanted to go, but he didn’t want to go. He didn’t know if he could handle it. He went to the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of Tylenol. He poured out a handful onto the countertop.
    He wasn’t taking his life; Brenda and Dave needed him just as much as he needed them. He just needed enough to knock him out for a while. He picked off 12, and put the rest in the bottle, replacing it in the cupboard. He filled a cup with water and went to the couch, still unwilling to sleep in the bed. He didn’t tthink he’d be able to ever again. He took the pills, one by one, and curled up under a blanket. He felt the mediation begin work on his brain. Sleep and forget.
    He passed out shortly afterward.
    “Brian, wake up.” He heard his name said above him and he opened his eyes. The blue fleece of the blanket was still over his head. “Get up, lazy a**. You need to get dressed.” He felt his brother poking his side.
    “Quit. I’m up.” Brain said gruffly. His head swam in a happy stupor.
    “Eh, fine. But you’d probably like to know that the funeral’s in an hour and a half. With a thirty-five minute ride, you’d better get your a** up and in the shower.”
    Brain groaned, removed himself from the blanket, and got off the couch. He stretched.
    “Man, you were out. I called your name for like five minutes, bro.”
    “Sorry. Blanket must have muffled it.” Brian lied.
    “Yeah, well, you hop your greasy butt in the shower. And shave, too.”
    “Yeah, sure, whatever.” Brain said, going upstairs.
    He took his shower, shaved, and dressed in his black suit. He was buttoning the blazer when someone knocked on his door.
    “Brian, it’s me.” Brenda called.
    “Come in; it’s unlocked.” He replied. She did, dressed completely in black.
    “How long have you had that dress? Looks new.”
    “It is. I bought it when I was out and realized I didn’t have anything to wear to the…” She trailed off. Brian sighed heavily.
    “Funeral.” He finished for her. She gulped and nodded, wringing her hands.
    “I want to look nice, for her, when I say goodbye.” She said softly, picking up a perfume bottle from the dresser. She set it down lightly.
    “I understand.” Brian said, fumbling with the buttons. The shower had helped clear most of the drugged haze from his head, but he was having problems with coordination. Not to mention he never really liked blazers.
    “Let me help you, hun.” Brenda said, shooing his hands away from his chest and buttoning it up with expert precision.
    “Thanks.” He said, embarrassed of his ineptitude. She nodded.
    “Are you going to say anything while we’re there?”
    “You mean like a soliloquy or eulogy or whatever?”
    She nodded.
    “I would, but I don’t know what I’d say. You can’t put what I felt for her into words. Is Dave saying something?”
    “Yes. He and I talked about it last night.”
    “That’s good.”
    Brenda glanced over at the clock on the bedside table.
    “I’d better get going, I suppose. Better early than late.”
    ***
    The church he and Brenda had attended for the better half of their marriage was strangely quiet, save for the deep baritone of the priest floating through the cemetery. The back of the church cast a looming shadow that crept closer as the sun fell. Friends and families clad in black and gray clustered around the coffin, half looking at the priest, half at the other attendants. It was only Brian who stared at the lifeless body in the coffin, his poor dead wife, clad in her pink dress, eyes closed, made up in the make-up that that was supposed to ease the shock of her appearance and tried to imitate her beauty in life. It didn’t come close. The pale rose blush on her cheeks was eerie; giving her the look of life that Brian knew was not there. He fingered the jewelry box in his pocket, and wiped the tears brimming in his eyes with the back of his other hand. He didn’t care who saw him. He was a grieving man and was not afraid to hide it. The priest finally finished and gave Dave center stage. Dave took a deep breath.
    “I do not wish to make this long and drawn out; or to speak about why we’re here. I’m speaking for Robin, the most precious thing I ever had the good fortune of having. Robin, my daughter, my friend, my guiding light. She was such a good girl. She never got in trouble at school. She made good for herself. She found a good job and a better husband.” He paused for a moment, gazing at Brian. Brian nodded, indicating for him to continue. “I’m speaking for remembrance of Robin, to say that I want everyone here to remember her for who she was, not where she is now.” He glanced briefly at the coffin. His face crumpled slightly but he regained composure, only now there was a shaky edge to his voice as his self-control began to crumble. “I want everyone here, all of you, to never stop loving her. To regard her as fondly as you used to. Robin is gone, but she is not lost.” She sniffed, a tear rolling down his cheek. Brian felt the same liquid warmth from the depth of Dave’s words and the sorrow of which he felt sliding down his face. Brenda was sobbing quietly into a handkerchief, her body shaking with her mourning. Dave’s arm wrapped around her sagging shoulders. Brian stepped forward, swallowing the lump that had accumulated in his throat. Complete silence fell upon the cemetery, save for the soft weeping of Robin’s parents and the sporadic sniffles of various members of the congregation. He felt eyes on him, making the hair on the nape of his neck stand up. He pulled the blue velvet box out of his pocket, opened it up, and gently pulled out the necklace. The silver chain reflected the sunlight. He glanced at it momentarily, then opened the dainty clasp and set the necklace in its rightful place. He didn’t bother to close it around her neck. With trembling fingers, he brushed her cheek tenderly, feeling the soft powder of her makeup. Great, gasping sobs rose up and wracked his chest. Tears, almost painfull hot, welled up in his eyes. Before his grief got too great, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. He looked down at his wife, his beautiful, loving, perfect, amazing wife, and memories played in his head.
    “I love you, Robin Monroe.” He murmured, drawing back his hand. He turned away and wiped his eyes.
    When no one else stepped forward, the priest closed the lid of the coffin and crossed it.
    “May God be with you, and you with God.”
    “Amen.” The crowd said, crossing themselves. Two burly men picked up the coffin and gently set it into the pre-dug hole. Family members and friends filtered forward, dropping roses on the closed casket. Dave took the shovel offered to him and tossed in the first spadeful of dirt. He passed it to Brian, who delivered the second spadeful. The shovel was then passed to one of the burly men, and the two of them completed the rest. Brian felt himself starting to weep again, if he ever stopped at all, as the sight of the casket got smaller and smaller under the shower of dirt. An arm wound itself around him, and he didn’t bother to see whom it belonged to. All that he knew was that attached to that arm was a shoulder to cry on, so he did.
    Brian sat on the couch, staring at his dull shoes. He should have polished them. Food warming in the oven distributed its scent around the house, but Brian was in no mood to eat. All around him, relatives and old friends shuffled around him. He heard them talking but his depressed mind heard nothing like incoherent muttering. A hand waved in front of his face. He snapped out of his hazy thoughts of Robin and looked over. Brenda’s face smiled wanly back.
    “There’s tons of casserole in the kitchen.”
    “Yay, funeral green bean casseroles.” Brian said. “I think I’ll pass. I’m not hungry.”
    She frowned.
    “Are you sure. You haven’t eaten a thing all day.”
    “I’m sure there will be plenty of leftovers. I’ll eat when I’m hungry.”
    “Okay, hon.” She nodded, and shuffled off.
    The couch groaned in protest as Chris sat down. Smile smiled weakly at him.
    “Hey, little bro. How’s it hanging?”
    “To the left.” Brian sighed, referring to the joke they’d had since they were teens and under any other circumstance would still be funny. Chris chuckled softly. He handed him a wrapped package.
    “What’s this?” Brian asked, taking it.
    “A leather bustier and handcuffs.” Chris said, but when met with a cold gaze from Brian, quickly added, “Sorry, that wasn’t funny. Just open it and see.”
    Brian did, and held the opened gift in his hands.
    “Oh, Chris, did you do this?”
    “Yes. Came out this morning.”
    Brian stared at the newspaper clipping in the frame. His wife’s smiling face started back through the glass, her obituary and the newspaper article about the crash surrounding her black and white picture. He got up and placed it on the mantle, stepped back, and stared at it. He smiled. At least her tragic death was worth writing about. He was glad someone other than the people that knew her cared.
    “Thank you, Chris. This is amazing.”
    “No problem.”
    ***
    After everyone left, Brian was in the house alone. Even Brenda and Dave had left, although Brenda wanted to stay longer. He had already poured himself a glass of wine and was sipping it between leftovers he was placing in the fridge. He’d eat well for at least a couple weeks, if, he though, he could bring himself to.
    But oh, he missed her. He’d miss her laugh, her stupid jokes, her cooking. He didn’t want another partner, because she was his soul mate. His only love. He’d been with her through thick and thin. She was the only woman he’d ever made love to, and probably the last. She was the only one he had ever loved. She was there when his parents died in his sophomore year of college. She graduated with him. And after all that time, he never regretted his decision to be with her. Christ, she became his wife. But the Good God All-Mighty decided it would be in his best interest to take her from him.
    Brian sighed and downed his wine. Guilt clawed at his insides. He knew he should have said something at her funeral but he knew then he wouldn’t have been able to. Too hard. Too personal. Too final.
    He couldn’t say his last goodbye.
    He’d just go to her and tell her just how he felt. He and his wife. Mono y mono. He took the bottle of wine and a bottle of whiskey and two glasses with him.
    The roads were clear that time of night-- it was close to 1 am -- and he got to the cemetery earlier than he had before.
    Her grave smelled of freshly upturned earth and the bouquet of roses set by her gravestone by Brenda.
    He sighed and settled down, pouring a glass of wine and setting it atop her marker. He poured himself a glass as well and toasted the other, making a sharp tinking sound.
    “To Love.” He said, and took a great gulp of his. He took a deep breath.
    “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier, it just that I was scared, y’know? I didn’t want to say goodbye to you. But that’s why I’m here now. I want to say it to you. I still love you, and I’ll come visit you every weekend.
    The alcohol was already affecting him. His stomach was empty after not eating for almost two days. His cheeks felt a little warm.
    “It’s just that, well, I don’t want to have to let you go, but I have to, right? For both our sakes. I just find myself wishing over and over that you had my baby, our baby, before you left us. To keep a beautiful piece of you here with me.”
    His eyes flooded as he thought about it, but he sniffed and held back.
    “We all miss you a ton. More than a ton. A ton of tons. What I wouldn’t give to hold you again, Robin. I miss you so much. I love you, and I always will. I just never knew that when we vowed ‘’Til death do us part.’ That it would be so damn soon. I would have done anything for you. Anything, Robin. Remember that one time I went to the store for you? I felt so stupid buying that girly crap for you, but you wanted it and it made you happy so I did it. Or you remember that one time I took the day off work to clean the house so you wouldn’t have to? It was a shoddy job, sure, but seeing your smile when you walked in the door and the whole house smelled like cleaner and Febreze and you knew I tried and you liked it and it made me happy that it made you happy. You were my everything. You made me whole. You were my world.” He really was crying now, missing her and absentmindedly taking togs from the whiskey bottle.
    “I’m such a ******** wreck. I don’t know what to do without you. You know, I poured two cups of coffee the other morning because I forgot you weren’t coming downstairs to drink it? I can’t sleep in our bed. It hurts me when your side is so empty. Most of my life all I’ve ever known was you, and it’s so hard not having you there anymore.
    He hiccupped, a sob catching in his throat. He leaned against the side of the gravestone, downing her glass of wine that was on the gravestone. His brain felt numb and fuzzy.
    “You should come back. It was so much happier with you here.” He said. He started at the empty glass, shrugged, and threw it away. He drank a deep draught from the whiskey bottle. He smiled at the bottle sluggishly.
    “Hey, Robin, I think I’m drunk.” He said, laughing loudly and taking another swig. His cheeks felt hard from the salt drying on his face. He sat, leaning on his wife’s grave, utterly drunk and depressed, saying nothing, just staring blankly into the grass. After awhile, the church bells rang at two. Two tolls of the somber bell. Brian finished off the last of his whiskey and closed his eyes. The alcohol had affected his mind, and he was grateful. None of the now painful memories swam before his eyes. Something flittered across his face, it felt like a moth, and he brushed it away.
    “Damn bug. Go away. I’m mourning here.” He slurred, without opening his eyes.
    Again, something brushed against his face, and it felt like butterfly wings. He forced his eyes to open.
    Staring back was another pair. They were filled with a fierce green gleam, but Brian could see through the eyes.
    Then he knew he was drunk.
    “Robin?” He whispered, his voice cracking. Even if it was a hallucination, he’d know those eyes anywhere.
    “Yes, my love?” The voice was faint, ethereal.
    “You’re dead. I’m drunk. This isn’t real.”
    The eyes moved back. He could see the rest of a face now, and her hair moved like she was trapped in water. Faint white light illuminated the graveyard around her.
    “But it is.” She smiled. He stared, shaking his head. It made his brain feel like it was rattling around in his skull.
    “I’m drunk. Seeing things. Impossible things. You’re dead!” He blinked, trying to rid himself of the hallucination. He touched his face, and the now familiar feeling of wings erupted on his cheek.
    “You’re right, I’m dead, but I’m here. You asked me to come back, but I can’t stay for long.”
    “How?” Brain said. It was all he could say. He reached out to touch her. His hand went through, distorting her image like a ripple in a pool of still water. He drew it back and she regained her stable form.
    “Love is eternal. Come back with me, Brian. Be with me forever.”
    “Yes, yes!” He cried, tears leaking out of his eyes.
    “Shh, no more crying. You’ve done enough of that.” She cooed, touching his eyes.
    “Can I really go back with you?” This couldn’t be happening. It was too bizarre, too real to be true.
    “Do you really want to? You can’t return to the Land of the Living.”
    “Who have I to live for but you? Tell me how to do it.”
    “I was pulled her. By your love. It never died even though I did.” He tried to touch her again. He wanted to touch her. Again, his hand only went though.
    “I want to be with you forever, Robin.”
    She smiled.
    “I was hoping you would.” She touched his hand. There was no strange feeling of wings this time.
    “I love you, Robin.”
    She said nothing, only kissed him softly on the lips. It tickled, like being brushed with feathers. He felt her growing solid. He grasped her hand in his, and looked down at her. IT was then he realized that she had not gotten solid, but him translucent. His body, slumped over as if in a drunken stupor, lay below him a good five feet below, and growing steadily. They were floating up, hand in hand, the light surrounding Robin growing brighter and brighter. Once everything around them was blindingly white, she squeezed his hand tenderly.
    “I love you Robin. I always will.”
    ***
    The autopsy report would indicate that Brian Monroe, aged 31, was found slumped over on the grave of his newly buried wife. Heavy traces of alcohol were found in his system and it was the only thing in his stomach, so the morgue practitioner declared the cause of death alcohol poisoning.
    However, the thing that puzzled everyone was the smile that stayed on Brian’s face, even after he was dead.