Love from the Other Side

by Claire Plaisted

  Kat laughed. “We visited Danny’s mom yesterday and they had frozen more crab from their trip to the gulf than anyone can eat. You make the salad and we’ll bring the entrée,” she coaxed.

  “Kat, why would a married couple spend Valentine’s Day, or night, with the wife’s best friend. Pity, that’s why. Now that would just be so wrong if I let you spend your evening with me. You should be having a romantic dinner with just the two of you.”

  “Please. We’ve reservations at La Bamba’s tomorrow night. Sean finally agreed to leave the restaurant for at least one evening to spend on little ole me! Mexican food is THE romantic food in Texas! And, never fear, I made a trip to the local um, ladies store, wherein I purchased a rather fetching outfit—if you know what I mean.”

  Abby exclaimed, laughing, “Please, TMI, Kat! TMI!”

  With Sean being a chef and caterer, it was the rare time Kat’s husband ran a bakery in the nearby town of Spears and catered. He was so busy he normally worked very long hours.

  “Great. Give us an hour or so and we shall arrive.” With that Kat hung up leaving Abby looking at a dead phone. She’d wished so many times she had as much energy.

  Passing the large bay windows in the front room, she noticed the darkening sky. Except for the lamppost which sat close to her gates that ended her fenced property, and the lights lining the driveway to the house, it was pitch black. In the ten years since she’d inherited the property from her aunt, and moved to the area the darkness was the one thing to which she could grow accustomed. As a child, she’d been terrified of the dark for some unknown reason. At one point, it had been so bad her mother had taken her to a doctor who specialized in such childhood fears. His theory that it represented something else in her life, a previous trauma, childhood abuse, had not set well with her parents. After that, she struggled with the fear and as she got older, she learned to work around it. She never went out alone at night.

  When she wanted to enjoy something, she went with friends. And, always in a group. She’d thought many times, after her parents’ untimely death, she should seek out help. But, as the years past and she became so adapt at avoiding the dark, they became part of her own private routines. Only one person knew. Kat. When told, she’d cocked her head sideways and shrugged.

  “So? I hate snakes. Therefore, I make a point to not go in places where they might be. Not will be, mind you, MIGHT be. I see no difference,” she had commented, dismissively.

  That alone had cemented their friendship as far as Abby was concerned.

  She glanced out the window at the sunset and the sun was still able to be seen. The critter posse was at the door waiting to take part in their evening constitutional. With an eye on the sky, she opened the French doors leading to the patio which in turn led to the ‘dog yard.’

  Barking and yelping ensued as the pack acted as if they’d been released from prison of fifty years. Abby removed one of the winter covers on the chairs and made herself as comfortable as she could while sitting on the edge of her chair. During the day, she enjoyed getting outside. However, this close to night she was constantly glancing at the sky. Fortunately, as it turned colder and the wind from earlier became quite brisk, all three of the canines were ready to retire for the day. Once inside, they quickly snuggled together on Abby’s large sofa and were snoring. The cats, Kittykins and Sandy, had already retreated to their bed upstairs. A.K.A momma’s big queen side bed. No doubt the dogs would be joining them later in the evening.

  Chuckling, Abby glanced at the wall clock and decided she better dress for dinner with her friends else they would find her in an old duster she used for cleaning house. Once it was accomplished, she hurried back downstairs to the now quiet of the kitchen. The kitchen doors were her pride and joy. The French doors were weather treated and scratch proof for when her dogs got too excited. It was nice during the day to see birds and hear their chirps. However, dusk was giving way to night which caused her to pull the heavy drapes—made especially for her doors, closed. When she tried to move one of them over it hung oddly. Looking closer, she realized the hook was bent. Sighing, she pulled the curtain as far as it would go. As she reached to pull the other curtain over, she caught a glimpse of movement on the other side of the patio. Her initial reaction was to freeze. As she waited, there was no further movement. After years of practice, she talked herself out of the paralyzing fear and pressed her nose against the cool glass of the door. With solar lights on every side and a large motion sensor attached to the outside brick exterior, there was plenty of light. But there was also plenty of shadow. She forced herself backwards from the doors and looked at the clock again to check the time. Where were Kat and Danny? Surely, they’d had enough time to drive the short distance from one small town to the other. She noticed the dogs had vacated their doggie beds for the upstairs versions and then looked again at the clock. Irritated with herself and drawing in a shaky breath, she turned her back deliberately on the window and busied herself with putting out some hors d'oeuvres, bread sticks and made an enormous salad which was probably more than the three of them could eat. She was just putting the bowl of salad back into the refrigerator when she heard a noise outside. She jerked up and immediately went to the door with the broken curtain. Not one, but all of the solar lights had gone dark. The motion sensor light was dead as well. The only light cast over the large yard was the brightness of a large full moon. She moved and glanced up the stairs but the dogs were quiet. Normally, if there was any disturbance, even a rabbit walking through the yard’s fence, they were the first one to the doors to sound the alert. It was dark at the top of the stairs which was strange. Had the stair light gone out as well?

  A hum suddenly broke through the quiet night. Abby, heart pounding, returned to the door. The humming—something similar to an electric wire’s thrumming, was growing louder. It was then she saw it. The shadow of a person. Abby’s heart fell to her stomach. It was not a man. It was entirely too tall. Terrified, Abby grabbed at her phone lying on the nearby table. With shaking hands, she dialed 9-1-1. She heard a click and started to stammer out her need when the line went dead.

  “No!” she panted, hysterically.

  The humming was steady but it had not increased in volume. However, she could feel the vibration of it pouring through her body. It was then she heard the door. The French door rattled. Slowly, she turned away from table, the cell phone dropping from her numb fingers. Standing at the door was what had made the shadow. So tall the top of its head disappeared above the frame—t had the head that resembled a wolf. But, this wolf stood upright and hand arms and hands. Hands which were even now jiggling the door handle. Frozen, Abby stared into a pair of red eyes. They looked like twin coals burning in a face covered with fur. The whole body was covered in fur or hair covered.

  Abby’s insane thoughts raced through her brain with absolutely no pattern, no logic. She wasn’t able to break the stare until its hand crashed through the glass of the door with ease and turned the lock making the door swing open. Adrenaline rushed through her system freeing her from her statue position. She ran blindly from the kitchen to the front door. It was too late.

  Standing in front of her stood a companion to the monster who was now moving slowly behind her. The each advanced and Abby could find no place to run. In a short few minutes, she was sandwiched between two beings she could never have believed existed. Unable to move, Abby, aware of only the two giant creatures who held her captive, stared up into the glowing eyes of the beast in front of her. Then, unaccountably, she felt a cool breeze from the open door when the one behind her moved away to the kitchen area. She felt, rather than saw it move for she was still petrified and looking up at the one in front of her. It also moved. Backwards. It still faced her but in her fear, she unreasonably noticed a mouth and what could have been a nose. The ears were on top of the head like...like a dog. Or a wolf.

  Her eyes widened as she noticed it was gesticulating. The fingers on both hands were moving in certain signs
. It took several tries before she could speak. She wet her lips.

  “Wh...at,” she croaked out, “are...you?”

  The being simply stared at her and then began the hand movements again. Then, he glanced at her kitchen and moved from in front of her in that direction. She was free. She wanted to run as fast as she could out of the front door. But, she couldn’t make her legs move. Instead, she found her head turning to follow the creature’s movements. It and its companion stood in front of the kitchen table. It took a while for the gesture one of them was making to register in her brain. He was pointing at the large box of Valentine candy on her table. Abby stared at him. Surely, he didn’t mean...he couldn’t mean what she thought he meant.

  “You...you want it?” she asked, in disbelief.

  As if in answer, the creature who’d been trying to communicate picked up the box and handed it to the other one. They both looked at her. When she said nothing, they turned to the kitchen doors and, bending low, exited the house. Clutched to her former captor’s chest was the big red box of candy. She moved to the kitchen door and watched as they disappeared into the dark. One moment they were there, and the next they simply were not. Immediately, the lights in the yard sprang on to shine brightly all over her neat yard. Abby’s legs simply gave way and she sank to the floor.

  She had no idea how long she had been sitting there when the barking of her canine trio at the front door brought her to her senses. They were heralding the arrival of Kat and Danny. In moments, Kat had breezed through the door and into the kitchen. One look at Abby on the floor had her yelling for her husband. She wrapped her arms around Abby, tightly.

  “Abby! Abby, what is wrong? You are white as a sheet! Why is the door open? Why are you on the floor? Honey, what happened?”

  Danny joined her trying to ascertain the emergency while all three dogs, who had suddenly appeared, were trying to lick the face of their mistress at the same time.

  Kat cried, “Oh, honey, don’t cry! We will make it better, I promise! Just tell me what happened here!”

  Abby raised her tear stained face to her friend’s and nearly unable to catch her breath from laughing so hard, she gasped out, “Who knew? Monster’s need love too!”

  Burying Love

  By Cathy-Lee Chopping

  The day is hot, my suit jacket suddenly feels too tight and I’m feeling light headed. I have to sit down on the empty seat next to Henry. He’s wracked with grief; his face is twisted with pain as he watches the first handful of earth being trickled onto his ex-wife's coffin. It lowers slowly, mourners crying and wailing as they release their emotions to the sky. The scene is sad yet strangely beautiful; Valentine's Day, the red-brown earth against the perfectly tended, deep emerald grass; the blood red roses in contrast with the polished white and gold coffin.

  She was his world. It’s written all over his face that he has no idea what he will do without her. The love which had poured from him during the eulogy was incomparable, the brave face slightly robotic. It was obvious it wouldn’t have been from lack of love they had separated.

  He squeezed hands with his son, who was only six years old and crying for a mother—he doesn't entirely understand, is gone forever. I hope he remembers her, I know she loved him very much. My heart aches for him growing up without his Mummy. I want to take him up in my arms and hug all the pain away.

  Maggie’s mother-in-law did a lovely job on the little boy’s suit, making sure she spent time on the tailoring. I feel warm at the small but beautiful gesture she has given this family in such a sad time. He wipes his eyes and I ache.

  My eyes rove around the crowd, seeing family and friends I've not seen in many years—all come to pay their respects. I heard lovely words about Maggie at the service; from how much she loved her family, cared for her friends and neighbours, and how much they would miss her. She was their rock, their first friend, their go-to person for sweet preserves and pickles she made in her warm kitchen over cups of tea with whomever walked through her door. I wonder why they wait to say nice things about people until they're gone. I’ve so many questions for them. Why didn’t they say thank you and how much they loved and appreciated her when she was right there in front of them?

  Maggies headstone. It reads “A beloved wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend.” She really was loved.

  My gaze turns back to Henry, and I place my hand on his shoulder to comfort him. He places his hand on top of mine and bows his head, pain overtaking his brave facade. I wish I could speak to him, but this isn’t the time.

  The coffin has come to rest at the bottom of the grave. I can see the tops of the roses from where I sit. The smell of the rich earth fills my senses and the priest drones on, “Ashes to Ashes...”.

  I smile sadly as this is real life. It’s true what they say, no matter the possessions—the car, the job, the house—no matter what you have in your life, be humble because our graves are all the same size.

  Friends and family approach Maggies grave, dropping roses down into the darkness. I shudder, hearing the quiet thud of the dirt and the flowers. I feel claustrophobic thinking of all that earth above, and a panic attack threatens.

  To calm myself, I think of the person I love most in all this world. Henry.

  We met at work when we were much younger, the last two people working the late shift over many evenings and weekends. Casual awkward conversations between customers turning to sweet gestures deep and meaningful. We would walk down to the beach after work and sit on the cool sand, watching the stars and talking late into the night, sometimes not returning home until dawn. I had kissed him first, and the first night we’d spent together was a midnight moonlight beach picnic that had found us waking up together to the high tide lapping at our toes.

  As time went on, he eventually fell madly in love with Maggie and married her, his responsibilities changed and he would stay at work longer rather than on the beach with me. When baby Andy came along he’d stay back at work all night.

  It was a mad love we had, and I wish I’d been able to make it work with him. He’d been a husband and father and had taken his responsibilities so seriously he’d pushed everyone away whether he meant to or not.

  We’d drifted apart slowly as the years ran away, but I never stopped loving him and I hope he knows.

  The panic abates and I focus on the gravestone. It's strange how after everything in this life we’re reduced to a piece of granite and a mound in a field. It seems like a bad joke. As the song goes, ironic.

  People are starting to wander away, to hug and kiss one another, giving condolences and making plans to catch up—they all know they won't keep, but won't admit to it.

  They leave the grieving man and his son, who is holding on to his father’s hand for dear life, terrified he’ll also be lost to him if he lets go.

  They said the car accident was not his fault, and Maggie had suffered a brain aneurysm which had led to her car hitting his as she made her way to pick up her son from Henry’s house.

  Henry had been running late bringing Andy home from the park, and the accident had happened so quickly. His hands still bear the scratches from the windshield glass in the collision and their sons head was still bandaged. His little face was still bruised and his lip still puffy.

  But he was alive, they both were.

  But not Maggie.

  I stand, still light headed and walk to the edge of the grave. The priest ignores me and watches Henry and Andy with pity in his eyes before turning away. I drop my own flower down into the coffin and wince at the louder than expected thud as it lands. My eyes fixate on the gravestone again, I can't keep my eyes off it.

  The words and the name etched into the stone,

  IN LOVING MEMORY

  OF

  MAGGIE MIDDLETON

  I shake my head as my eyes start to blur and I turn my attention back to the grieving pair and kneel before them.

  Henry stares through me as I place one hand on each of their knees.


  Andy meets my gaze and I brush a tiny tear from his cheek.

  “You know your Mummy will always be with you, right Andy-Pie?”

  Andy nods slightly, not looking away from my pale blue eyes.

  “Right in here.” I pat his tiny chest. “You’re loved so very much and will never be alone.”

  Andy’s little hand squeezes mine softly.

  Henrys eyes are glazed unseeingly with tears but I speak to him anyway, knowing he cannot hear me. “Henry, I love you so much. You know that I do. I’m so sorry to have caused you both so much pain! I wish I could’ve spent more time with you when I had the chance.” My hand caresses his face and he closes his eyes in response, tears sliding down his stubbly cheeks. “Henry...always remember the beach.”

  I feel a faint pull on my arm, it’s my mother. I can smell her perfume and I know I’ll go with her in a moment. I place Andy’s hand lightly on Henry’s arm and stand up next to my mother.

  Henry turns to Andy and envelops him in a huge hug, both of them grieving together as they should.

  Andy whispers “Mummy.”

  Henry nods and doesn't let go. “I know she's here buddy, she won't be able to go until we tell her that we’ll be okay.”

  It's Valentine’s Day. The day of Love. And I can see it right in front of me. So much love, kindness, sweetness and sadness, all for Andy’s mother and Henry’s once-wife. I feel warmed by it.

  Henry stands and leads Andy to the gravestone. He bends and kisses the photo propped next to it and I see for the first time it is a beautiful portrait done at Christmastime. I love that picture.

  Her shining blue eyes stood out in her creamy skin and auburn hair.

  My mother pulls on my arm again, this time a little more forcefully.

  I turn to her and see her looking so young in the afternoon light.

  “Just a few more moments.”