Life in Death

by M. Ullrich

  “What?” Marty spun around and was ready to attack the interruption, staring as Blake stood nervously before them.

  “The doctor wants to see you both in Abigail’s room, now.” He left before the last word was finished.

  Suzanne rushed past Marty, whose vision was so clouded by rage that she almost missed the way Suzanne had brushed away a tear. Putting on a pleasant face for her daughter, Marty shook off her anger and followed her ex-wife down the hall to Abigail’s room. When she stepped beyond the threshold, the pitying looks became obvious, but she still looked to the doctor for hope.

  “Doctor, what…?” She looked at her sleeping daughter, her glistening forehead and soaked bandana causing panic to rise in her chest.

  “What happened?” Suzanne rushed to the foot of the bed.

  “Abigail has a very high fever.” Dr. Fox spoke quietly, calmly delivering the words in such a way that the underlying meaning was far from hidden.

  “She has a fever and you left her alone?” Marty felt Suzanne’s fiery blue eyes pierce her from a few feet away. Guilt seeped into Marty’s heart.

  “I didn’t know she had a fever! She had gotten up and was thirsty. She wanted water. I just left for a minute.” Marty stumbled through the excuse, and it just died in the tense space. She explained more for herself than for anyone else. “It was only a minute.”

  “When will she wake up? Will she be able to continue her treatments?” Suzanne fired off the questions rapidly. When the doctor met her with silence and a sympathetic look, she clasped her hand over her mouth and began to sob.

  Marty felt an overwhelming need to comfort her. She started to move, but Blake stepped in and wrapped her in his arms before her foot left the ground. She lowered her head in order to escape the scene before her. It had come to this—Suzanne seeking comfort in the arms of a virtual stranger. After a minute spent collecting her thoughts and the shattered pieces of her broken heart, Marty asked, “Will she wake up?”

  “There’s no way of knowing if Abigail will regain consciousness. The only thing we can do now is stay by her side and keep her comfortable, monitor her condition.” A silent tear ran down Marty’s cheek, and she furrowed her dark eyebrows. “I’ll leave you two alone. If either of you have any questions or need anything, don’t hesitate to get a nurse to page me.” He gripped Marty’s shoulder and offered only a fraction of the comfort she needed.

  Even though it seemed the world was moving in slow motion, in an instant, the family was alone in silence.

  Abigail never woke up.

  They Got Engaged

  How was class?” Marty sat up on the worn leather couch to peek over the back at Suzanne. The muted television flickered in the dimly lit room. Marty had lost track of time somewhere between watching a home renovation show and starting a new novel she had just purchased.

  “Long.” Suzanne threw her overstuffed messenger bag on the floor and walked over to collapse on the sofa. Marty laid back and let the blonde snuggle up against her chest. “I’m ready to quit.”

  “No, you’re not.” Marty kissed the crown of her head. They’d had this conversation at least once a week since Suzanne had decided to go back to school for a bachelor’s in social work a year earlier. The only difference this time was that Marty was prepared with all the answers.

  “Yes, I am. I’m tired. I can’t keep going like this. When I’m not in class, I’m working. I miss having a life, and most of all, I miss you.” Suzanne shyly buried her face into Marty’s neck. She rarely admitted to such things.

  As much as Marty wanted to tell Suzanne that she was right there alongside her, the truth of the matter was that she missed Suzanne too. They slept in the same bed, but they fell into it at different times and woke up on separate schedules as well. Over the past six months, Marty had been bringing more of her work home in hopes of seeing Suzanne for an extra hour or two each day, but they were only able to steal an extra few minutes before one of them had to rush out.

  “What if you cut back to part-time hours?” Marty said. “You can work a few days or nights a week, and my schedule is flexible enough to be home when you are. We may even be able to work things around so we have a full day off together.” Marty ran her fingers through Suzanne’s thick hair, relishing the soft strength of each strand. “We could spend that whole day in bed.” Marty kissed Suzanne’s forehead and inhaled the decadent scent of her shampoo before she tilted Suzanne’s head up. “Eat take out, watch movies.” She kissed Suzanne’s closed eyelids and rosy cheeks. “And we’d stay naked all day long.” Marty pressed her lips to Suzanne’s and kissed her sweetly at first, reminding herself of the unbelievable suppleness of the other woman’s lips. Suzanne started to respond, and Marty opened her mouth slightly, tasting Suzanne’s peppermint lip balm.

  Suzanne tangled her fingers into the fine curls at the nape of Marty’s neck and pressed her body against the long, lean form beneath her. She moaned slightly and pressed her tongue into Marty’s hot, wet, and ready mouth. Suzanne started a slow rhythm, her hips against Marty’s firm thigh. They separated, breathing heavily, and Marty started working at the zipper of Suzanne’s oversized jacket.

  “What do you think?” Marty asked casually as she pushed the coat off. Instead of answering, Suzanne threw her jacket to the floor and straddled Marty’s narrow hips.

  “I think.” She leaned forward so they were chest to chest and looked deep into green eyes. “We should be naked now.” Suzanne leaned in to kiss her, but Marty turned her head.

  “I’m serious, Suzanne. Cut back at work and focus on school.”

  Suzanne slid from Marty’s lap and over to the opposite end of the sofa, the worn leather protesting loudly against the movements. She ran her fingers through her loose waves in a frustrated gesture. “You know I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.” Marty sat up and scooted closer, one leg curled beneath her body and her left arm extended across the back of the couch. She tried to rein in her enthusiasm and her eagerness. “Work less or don’t work at all, whatever you need.”

  “We have a mortgage. I have bills of my own.”

  “With the properties I have under contract and lined up to sell within the next six months, I can take care of it. Sure, we’ll need to cut back a bit. Maybe eat at home a little bit more, but we can do this.” Marty reached for Suzanne’s hand, but she was just out of reach as Suzanne stood and started to pace. Marty watched her move about, consumed with nervous energy.

  “I’m an independent woman,” Suzanne declared as she shook her hands out and started to wring them together. “My mother raised me to take care of myself and to never rely on someone else. Hell, I even tried to wrestle the tongs from the lunch ladies in middle school just so I could serve myself!”

  “I know.” Marty laughed lightly. “I love that about you.”

  “Moving in with you before I figured my own life out was a huge step for me.”

  Marty’s eyes had softened, and every bit of gentleness she held deep in her soul was shining back at Suzanne. Marty knew Suzanne struggled to accept her unconditional support.

  “I’m not your responsibility,” Suzanne said with her back to Marty.

  Marty reached beneath one of the sofa cushions and took out the ring box. She approached Suzanne quietly, her heart thudding in her chest. “What if I want you to be?” she asked timidly.

  Suzanne turned around and yelped softly. Marty went down on one knee, wearing her oldest sweats, the jewelry box in her hand.

  Marty started slowly, her voice wavering slightly. “I know how hard it is for you to allow someone else to take care of you, but that’s not all I’m asking. I want you, all of you, every day and every night for the rest of my life. I want to support you in everything you do.” Marty rushed through the words she had been rehearsing for the past week because she knew she didn’t have long before she broke down. “I want to make your life better because you’ve already done that for me. So, Suzanne Carlson, will you marry me?” Marty op
ened the small box to reveal a simple engagement ring barely visible in the dim lighting of the room.

  Suzanne got down on her knees too, kissing Marty soundly and desperately. Her fierceness burned the moment into Marty’s memory. She felt as if Suzanne was finally allowing herself to accept the life she had always wanted, but never let herself imagine. Marty closed the jewelry box and let it fall to the floor.

  They undressed each other slowly, taking their time to revel in each newly exposed inch of skin. When Marty tried to stand up and move to the bedroom, Suzanne tugged her to the ground. Marty covered the expanse of Suzanne’s pale skin with her own body.

  Suzanne spoke tenderly against Marty’s moist lips. “I love you.” She rolled her eyes back when Marty slid her fingernails down her spine. Suzanne moved about and Marty moved with her, making sure they each had a firm thigh between their legs. Marty started to grind her wetness against Suzanne, reveling in the feel of Suzanne’s copious arousal painting her own skin.

  It still amazed Marty how quickly and powerfully they reacted to each other. Without a touch, Marty was already pulsing. Now naked and under the torturous touch of expert fingertips, she danced the fine line between pleasure and pain. “I love you too,” Marty replied as she filled both hands with Suzanne’s luscious ass. She pulled the blonde against her, silently encouraging more pressure and spreading her lover wide open.

  The couple made fast, passionate love the first time, both achieving body-shattering pleasure against the other’s bare skin. But once they had calmed down and breathed deeply, Suzanne took her time loving Marty after ushering her to bed. Marty felt Suzanne counting each of her ribs with moist lips, and she giggled when Suzanne tickled her navel with her tongue. When Marty looked back into Suzanne’s eyes, she saw all the promises Suzanne was too scared to make aloud.

  Hours later, when both of them were finally sated and covered in a light sheen of sweat, Marty wrapped her in a tight embrace she hoped would be Suzanne’s safety until her dying day.

  “Yes,” Suzanne whispered into the still night.

  “Hmm?” Marty replied sleepily, unsure if Suzanne had uttered a word or if it was the blustering wind against their window.

  “I want to marry you.” Suzanne kissed Marty’s hand. Marty chuckled. “What’s so funny?”

  “I was beginning to worry this was all just part of the kindest let-down in the history of proposals.” Marty laughed again and pulled Suzanne even tighter against her. “Or that maybe you were trying to make me come so hard that I’d forget I even asked you.” She bit down on Suzanne’s earlobe, and the blonde squirmed.

  “You figured me out.” Suzanne flipped over to look at Marty. She brought her right hand up to frame her face. “But since my plan didn’t work, I guess I’ll just have to marry you.”

  “You’ll have to settle for being my wife, sorry.” Marty received an exaggerated eye roll in return.

  “Not as sorry as I am.”

  “I’ll make you suffer.” Marty launched herself on top of her fiancée and smothered her loud laughter with kisses that lasted until the sun brought the black sky to life with a bright hue all its own.

  Chapter Four

  Abigail would’ve hated everyone crying. She always did hate when people were sad. She’d do anything to make someone laugh. Sadness was not allowed around her.” Marty laughed slightly in spite of herself. “Just recently she came into my room after I left the dinner table crying.” She cleared her throat in an attempt to let the words come out easier, more naturally. “She sat next to me and stared—really stared at me for a good minute or two before saying with a straight face, ‘Knock, knock.’ Of course I asked who was there and she said, ‘Boo.’ ‘Boo who?’ I replied, and she smiled this huge, proud smile and said, ‘Don’t cry, it’s just a joke.’ And just like that”—Marty snapped her fingers at her sniffling audience that lined the pews of the small church—“I was laughing, and I was wrapped in her tiny arms and somehow I felt like everything would be okay.” Marty closed her eyes and stopped talking. Everything wasn’t okay, but that wasn’t what her audience needed to hear. “Rest peacefully, baby girl,” Marty finished in a whisper before rushing back to her seat in the front row.

  The silence in the church was appropriate and deafening. The service drew to a close and everyone proceeded to Marty’s house for a small reception after the burial.

  Marty sat on the couch and rolled the glass tumbler between her palms. She had poured herself a drink nearly two hours ago and she had yet to take a sip, but it kept her hands busy. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop once she started to numb the pain. People were still floating through her home, chatting quietly and offering condolences when necessary. The process of a funeral was all so weird to her. Why did she have to feed people, entertain them, act grateful for their presence when she was the one suffering? Marty felt distanced and detached. Words of sorrow echoed in her mind while the thought of Abigail bounding down the stairs haunted her vision.

  Marty’s gut twisted when she thought of the way Blake consoled Suzanne throughout the both the viewing and funeral. You lost your place with her. With Abigail. You don’t belong anywhere. She felt someone sit down beside her, and she stopped looking at the spot on the pale yellow wall she had been studying for twenty minutes.

  “Hey.” Charlotte dared to break the silence. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine.” Marty kept her eyes on the amber liquid in her glass. She didn’t dare meet her friend’s compassionate brown eyes, fearing Charlotte would see the lies written across her face.

  Charlotte’s tone turned from soft to firm with disbelief. “Marty, talk to me. You haven’t said a word since the eulogy. It’s been a tough year for you. I’m afraid if you don’t talk now, you’ll—”

  “I’ll what? Get depressed?” She looked at her friend with a cold, empty expression. “I have nothing left, Charlotte, nothing. Suzanne and Abby were everything to me.” She looked down again in an attempt to hide her tears. Two hours of contemplating her drink, and within seconds she swallowed it down without feeling it burn. Scotch was never her drink of choice, but she always kept it in the house just in case Suzanne’s parents dropped by.

  “You listen to me.” Charlotte reached out and took Marty’s left hand, her ring finger adorned with a tan line. “You are one of the strongest, most determined women I know. You’ll make it through this.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” Marty confessed quietly. “I deserve this pain.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Stop what? Speaking the truth?” Marty shook her head and looked up at Charlotte, but Charlotte was peering over Marty’s shoulder. When Marty turned to see what had suddenly distracted Charlotte, she wished she had never looked.

  Suzanne was standing next to Blake, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, offering a sense of security Marty once had. Throughout the entire day, Marty had stood witness to this ghost from Suzanne’s past, an old boyfriend she was told, being more of Suzanne’s present than she was allowed to be. It made her already twisted stomach sink deeper.

  “What do you know about him?” Marty pointed her empty glass in Blake’s direction.

  “Blake?”

  Marty nodded, her eyes never leaving the solemn couple.

  “Not much really. Suzanne hasn’t been answering many of our calls, and when she does, the conversation is short.”

  “Excuse me.” Marty made her way to the stairs without looking back. Charlotte looked again to Suzanne, whose eyes followed Marty’s departure.

  “I can’t do this,” Suzanne mumbled between clenched teeth. Everyone was staring at her or standing and waiting to talk to her. There were too many questions, too much judgment, and it made her feel as if she were on display. Her chest tightened, and she fought to take in a full breath as she pulled away from her fiancé. She all but pushed the kind man toward the door.

  “What do you need?” Blake asked quietly.

  “I need to leave.” Bl
ake nodded and Suzanne added, “Go start the car, I’ll be right out.”

  Suzanne made her way through the crowded space, saying her good-byes. She only stopped for a hug from Charlotte, the only person in the house she felt genuinely cared for her and wasn’t just curious about her new life. Her parents sat alone in a corner. Her father picked at his third plate of finger food while her mother stared at a family portrait that still hung on the wall. The photo was taken just after Abigail’s fifth birthday when Marty insisted they get unoriginal portraits taken on the beach. Every bit of the posed picture was cheesy, but the grins they wore in the picture were genuine. Suzanne approached her parents slowly.

  “Mom, Dad, we’re leaving.” Suzanne’s father scrambled to find a place to set his plate before hugging his daughter good-bye. “Have you seen Carla anywhere? I saw her before with the Dannys, but I’ve lost them.” She referred to her brother-in-law and nephew with the plural term of endearment Marty came up with the moment they found out they were naming their son Daniel Junior.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Carla asked me to say good-bye to you for her. Little Danny fell asleep, and they wanted to leave as quickly and as quietly as possible to keep him from waking. You know how hard it is to get a cranky five-year-old back to sleep.” Angela Carlson fixed the collar of her black pantsuit.

  “Yeah, I do.” Suzanne narrowed her eyes at her mother. She was sure she was saddened by the loss of a grandchild, but she wasn’t nearly as expressive as Marty’s mother. Suzanne looked over her shoulder at the woman who openly sobbed as she attempted to clean up the dining room.

  “Where’s Blake? I’d like to say good-bye to him.” Angela craned her neck and tried to spot her daughter’s fiancé.

  “He’s already in the car.”

  “Well, I hope the two of you come by for dinner soon. I’d love to get to know him better.”

  Suzanne regarded her mother with a look of pure confusion. Never once had the Carlson matriarch invited her and Marty over for a casual dinner. She never made the effort to get to know Marty. The most she had ever offered her ex-daughter-in-law was a polite kiss on the cheek during the holidays.