Angel of Her Heart. Private to MrAdam. Readers welcome.

[Alana_]

''Miss I'm sorry....We just didn't get him on time......He was gone..Im so sorry''......And that was it..What had been just one day, in a beautiful year, had turned that year into a memory. It just hadn't felt real. A thousand times in the following days, Meg had tried to argue that it wasn't real..that he'd be home...that she'd wake up. ...That the phone call from a stranger, a doctor in a hospital, telling her to make her way over, had been a complete fallacy..a mistake..a part of that dream, that nightmare , she wanted, expected to wake up from...

She didn't wake though. He was gone..Really gone..Taken from her..taken from what had been happening...Her heart hurt..The sorrow was disjointed..It shredded her one day, and weighed a ton the next..It left her feeling like she couldn't breath..That life would run on and on forever with a endless stream of loneliness and lack of belonging. Living was agony..Crying offered nothing only the reason to remember why she cried..And she'd cry again..Friends tried..Friends tried to understand, but they didn't..They still came by, but they didn't stay as long..They hadn't lost interest in Meg..It just hurt them too much knowing when she'd smile, it wasn't a smile....When she'd talk it was in automatic politeness. When she refused their invitations with another ' Oh I've plans', they knew what those plans consisted of her hibernating and waiting for another day to pass by.

But she tried..She did..She'd almost lost her job because living hurt, and simply existing wasn't enough for the company she worked for.. Maybe it was a good thing...They offered counseling..Grief counseling..It had at least taught her to get up in the morning on time, and function better..Function enough that she found concentrating on her job, actually made the day go by quicker.

There had been a time....One God awful day, when she'd wanted to die...truly wanted to die...It was the first anniversary of..................................
She'd visited the cemetery, stood on the worn spot that was her spot, by the grave of a man that had become everything to her, and she'd let herself think of ways...Of whether or not, it would bring her to him..Did she believe enough in an afterlife to try? Did she know if she'd be forgiven if she did, or kept away from him?....She had been just 26 years old, young, healthy and more than her share of attractive..., and she actually had a conversation in her head debating the merits of taking the chance ...
But she'd been afraid..a coward..Living with her grief at least gave her that sense of grief for him...If she died and there was nothing ..no him waiting for her...then she'd have nothing..not even the grief...And the pain was at least something that was hers to give him..

Maybe it had been wrong to love so much....But how do you limit it? How do you fall and want to pick yourself up, and control it?...It had been a fantastic fall...She'd laughed, and held on, ..and given herself over entirely to the most beautiful experience of her life..They'd been so happy..so happy that when unhappiness came, and he was gone, she just 'shut down'. Nothing worked for that first year..Only her job, and the need to earn enough to physically get by, saved her from living to die.

~//~​

It was a cool frosty winter morning, and Meg stood yet again, like most Saturdays by the head stone that was as familiar to her as her hand...Refreshing the constant supply of fresh flowers, she squatted down, and wrapped her scarf tighter around her throat and coughed, then assured him in a husky whisper.. .

''Hi honey....and yes, I went to the doctor..Its just a cold...It'll pass.''

Taking the wilted flowers , she placed them in a little rubbish bag for the garbage, and fixed the fresh flowers to her liking in the submerged flower pot...It gave her something to do...For him.

'' I hate thinking of you being cold here....The grounds so hard...the frost so bloody cold..''

And she smiled sadly, hating to think he was there, and she couldn't warm him..It made no sense, she knew that..It was the nurturer in her wanting to take care of someone she loved.
Everyday though, it a little less painful over the last months, but the longing for him never stopped, nor the fear of one day forgetting every detail of his face, the exact sound of his voice..his scent...his laugh.
She lowered one knee to the ground to balance herself and wiped her gloved fingers across the name imprinted in scripted gold on the granite head stone, pausing on the date he was gone from her....

'' I know...I know....I just can't help worrying about you.''

Kissing the tips of her fingers, Meg patted his name, and stood up, gathering the little bag of spoiled flowers. The visits were a part of something she still needed to do. She needed to see him..even here. Moving on for her meant not hiding, not pushing past what had to be worked through.Maybe she was wrong, but her grief healed her , and was allowing her to retain the emotions that loving him had left her with..Being in love wasn't over yet. Not with him..He'd been too huge an impact on her heart....She didn't want to lose that. But she was afraid , that in time, if she ignored the natural progress her heart needed to make her whole again, that she would forget she loved him.... He didn't deserve that...nor did she.
She just wanted to accept that she'd love him always, ..carry it with her into what ever adventure life had in store, and not feel the hurt of not having him to share it with....

And it was slowly beginning to happen. Very slowly..She was beginning to waken up in the mornings, and not hate the wintery sun...nor hate life...and she was looking forward again to the future...She had no choice after all...He was gone. She could say it now, and not feel the blind panic of last year..Turning away, pausing, she looked back at his name and whispered quietly what was always said.

'' see you next week babe. Love you.''

 

[MrAdam]

Two years ago

“And now I would like to call upon David to say a few words in memory of Michael.”

The priest, his voice all quiet solemnity, stepped aside from the lectern and moved back to the chair behind the altar. David, looking a little older than his 28 years in his dark suit and serious manner, cleared his throat as he left the front pew and walked quickly up the lectern.

David was silent for a moment, looking at the sea of faces staring back at him from the packed church. Many he knew, most he didn’t. He was surprised at how many people there seemed to be, and how many he did not know. As a teacher, public speaking usually held no fear for him, but this was different. He took a deep breath.

“F-for those of you who don’t know me, my name is David, and Mike was my oldest friend. The family have asked me to say a few words, which I am honoured to do.” His voice was soft, hesitant at first, but he found strength from somewhere. He had to do this, and he had to do this well. For Mike, and for everyone who knew and loved him.

“What to say about Mike? Where to begin? Mike’s successes and accomplishments are too many to list. Mike was one of those rare people who seemed to excel at everything he turned his hand to. A gifted scholar, he won nearly every school and college prize going and had his pick of the professions. But I don’t think anyone was surprised when he decided on a career in business. He was always an entrepreneur, an innovator, an individual. It was hard to imagine him working for anyone but himself. And no-one who knew him was surprised at how successful he was. Successful not just for himself, but also in creating jobs, and in sharing some of the proceeds of his success through his companies’ involvement in the community in support of causes that appealed to him.”

“Mike was also an able sportsman. He was not one for team sports, but played golf and tennis to a high standard, and ran a half or full marathon most years. He was a musician – piano, guitar – and when the mood and a few beers took him – even karaoke!”

David paused, gazing out at the assembled congregation.

“But there was something special, something different about Mike, and I think that’s why a lot of us are here today. He had presence, magnetism. That rare kind of charisma that draws and holds attention. He would light up a room. He was a social catalyst. In company he always seemed to know the right thing to say and the right way to say it. He was a master at putting people at their ease, at making everyone feel included and welcome. He spoke, and people always wanted to hear what he had to say. People used to tell him that he should go into politics, and he’d laugh. But he did consider it. But his wasn’t a politician’s charisma or presence, there for show or to manipulate or deceive. “

“Mike was not perfect, however. I think he saw the world in black and white – true or false, right or wrong, for or against. He had little time for vagaries, subtleties complexities. He could be thoughtless, and he could be arrogant. I remember when we were about fourteen; he told me that his girlfriend had told him that he was arrogant. ‘But I’ve a lot to be arrogant about’ he’d told her, and wondered why she wouldn’t go out with him. I tried to explain it to him, but I’m not sure he ever understood” David smiled at the memory. “But he did have a lot to be arrogant about, there’s no question of it. We should wonder that it went to his head so little, rather than so much.”

“He could be thoughtless. I think he found it difficult to empathise with people without his gifts, without his confidence, without the good fortune he enjoyed of a stable, loving family and a good education. If he could, anyone could, and therefore everyone should do as he did. It was just a matter of proper application, of hard work, of determination. So he could be impatient with others who found things rather harder than he did. Sometimes he would become frustrated with colleagues, with friends, if they could not keep up with his expectations.”

“He was not good with hints or subtle clues. For all his people skills, he would sometimes miss what others would regard as obvious clues in the manner and demeanour of others, especially family and friends. One of his former girlfriends once accused him of having “only child syndrome”. I don’t think that’s fair – not on him, his parents, or on only children in general. But there was a kernel of truth to the comment – he could be the centre of his own universe.”

“There are many things that can be said about Mike. He was not perfect, as none of us are. But no-one should be in any doubt about this. If Mike was demanding with his colleagues and employees, he would never ask more of them than he demanded, and gave, himself. If he was sometimes too wrapped up in his own affairs to notice that you were feeling down, it was because he did not notice, not because he did not care. Once he knew, he would never let a friend down. In his black and white world, if he counted you a friend, there was nothing he would not do for you. Once he found out that something needed doing, of course!” David smiled again. “Mike was an honourable man. He played hard, but he played fair. He was loyal. He was honest. He was principled. His faults were faults of omission, of perception, of understanding. They were not faults of malice, spite, greed, or expediency. He was, in short, a gentleman in the very best sense of the word. ”

“We were five when we first met. We lived two streets away, and went to the same school. When we were eight, Mike’s parents told him that they could not have any more children, and that he would never have a brother or sister. He had cousins, but he saw them only rarely. All of our friends had brothers or sisters, or both, and he had expected that as a matter of course, he would too, eventually. I remember offering him my little sister, as a joke. Sorry, Kate! It was only then that I realised just how much this had upset him. I told him that I would be his brother. And for us, that is what we were. He the older, by two months, me the younger. We were children, but he never forgot it. It would have been easy for us to drift apart, as he moved into business, and I moved into teaching. As we moved in different circles, developed new interests, met new people. But he never forgot to make time for me, to do his bit to stay in touch, and keep the friendship alive.”

“Someone very wise once said that mourning and grief are not for the past, but for a lost future. And that’s how I feel today. We are encouraged now to think of a funeral as a celebration of a loved one’s life, but for Mike it was a life only half lived, and cut horribly – and worst of all, pointlessly – short. By rights Mike should have been embarking on a new stage of his life, with Meg. Meg already knows this, but perhaps some of you don’t. I have never, ever, known Mike to be as in love with anyone as he was with her. He’s had lots of relationships, some serious, some not, but nothing like this one. And it was making him a better person, a more rounded person. He was going to propose to her, when…”

David broke off for a moment.
“But because of one stupid, pointless act of violence, a street robbery gone wrong, I find myself talking about him at his funeral rather than at his wedding. And that’s what I find so difficult. The police may one day catch whoever did this, but it won’t bring him back. And so what I mourn today is the loss of Mike the husband, Mike the father, Mike the whatever Mike chose to do next. It’s difficult to be optimistic today. It’s difficult to celebrate a life only half lived, with a promise largely unfulfilled. I find myself facing two choices. One is to rage against the unfairness of it all. The stupidity. The waste. But we know the world is not a fair place. The second is to try, however difficult it is, to think that we who knew him were blessed to have known him, and to treasure that always. I have lost my oldest friend and my best friend. Goodbye, Mike. It was a privilege to call you my friend. To call you my brother.”

 

[Alana_]

The city was buzzing below as Meg watched the forever lights twinkle, and blink...and go on and on and on..., from the large floor to ceiling Georgian windows of her town house apartment. Sipping from a chilled glass of white wine, Meg played back her answer service, listening to two girlfriends coaxing her to join them in some new club just opening off the Square..She'd heard the phone ring, but hadn't answered, knowing what it being Saturday night, phone calls meant conversations that eventually lead to invitations to night clubs or parties..Both, just didn't sit well with her..Not because of ..........................She paused mid thought, and smiled gently and took another sip..Not because of missing or thinking of him, ...rather simply it wasn't her scene..

Turning, she looked around her home, and made her way into the bedroom, with its eclectic mix of old and new furniture......What had been for a short time their home...Making the move from dating, to living together had been something that just happened..There had never been a moment when one of them sat up and suggested it...It just happened over breakfast one morning , when skimming through the news paper, and the section about vacant apartments seemed to just pop out. They moved in two weeks later, and she'd loved every second of the arguments about what was classed as junk, what got to stay, and what just had to go..

Even now, Meg could smile remembering both she and Michael, trying to justify why each would want to hold on to something..Usually something that was hideous..Like her little Buddha ....This god awful little green fat man, squatting on a bright red cushion that looked like he was smirking , way too satisfied for one meant to be humble, .. instead of being peaceful and calm. She'd found him in a thrift shop when she was 15. And he'd traveled with her through her parents divorce, her first move away from home to University, and then.........to Michael.
And there was no way she was tossing out her little fat ugly ...disgustingly smug...looking little friend. No matter how much Michael had tried to bribe her...The little fellow ended up being hidden in a shoe box in case he should just disappear on her, until Meg felt safe enough to reintroduce him..He was however banned from the bedroom, and relegated to a book shelf in the living room, where occasionally, he'd disappear behind one of Michaels business books, and Michael would earn a silent glare from her.

The little fat guy was on the middle of her dressing table..The only 'man' in her bedroom now, and she rubbed his solid tummy with her thumb as she sat down, lowered her glass and applied some night cream..

Looking in the mirror, Megan saw her face staring back...It was, as she'd been told time and time again , a very lovely face..She was a small slight woman of barely 5ft 3 inches, and diminutive proportions..Everything about her was petite..Her features refined, her hair falling in dark brown, auburn highlighted waves half way down her back, her skin pale, rarely tanned, always milky cream, her eyes large pools that were a greenish hazel, and when she was tired, as she was now, seemingly even darker in shade..She'd been involved in modern dance all her life, from the age of 4, and her body was fit, and supple, without an ounce of extra flesh, but yet she'd found curves....Her dancing had been both pleasure and exercise for her. It had also been a therapeutic escape for her over the last 24 months, especially when anger needed to be released, ..dulled, to a gentler more bearable pain.. Rubbing cream onto her hands, Meg turned and looked around her room..what had been their room..What was to have been their room for much longer..

There were only small items of Mikes left in the bedroom..His Ipod launcher still stood on 'his' bedside table, with both their music collection tucked tiddly into a lower shelf.. In the closets there were shadows of space, his friends having helped months after losing him, to pack away most of his clothing for charity..The items left, were some shirts and his bath robes...all worn now, not because of the pain of losing him, but because it made Meg feel good on bad days..It was, for her, Mike still giving her a hug when she'd needed it and his smell would fill her with the calm and strength to gain another day with out him.. There were pictures of him in the apartment with her..The same ones as before, ..but with no new found memories added from old rolls of film..Those were stored in albums, but not here..not with her..They were with friends...Friends that held them for her, until she wanted them back, and she could just remember, with out it hurting too much...
The bathroom was bare of his essentials, but she'd kept his soap dish, .....'just because'..No other reason....other than ' just because'...She had wanted it...no ' just because's....She had wanted to hold it, and know it was his..But all else was gone...This was now the home that was to have been theirs , but was now just Megan Lacy's..

Curling up with a book....., a constantly hidden guilty pleasure, 'Twilight New Moon', Meg sucked on a candy stick, as she read, and got lost in the romance the world, even in secret, knew about..Was Edward coming back? Was Jonah going to win Bells heart..She personally thought Edward was a drip, and would have preferred Jonah..........until Meg remembered he was barely 17....And she laughed to herself, placing her book mark into page 223, and wrapped the sticky candy in tissue for the garbage..Laying on her side, the frost whitening the corners of the large windows that she stared at, she thought of Michael again......and again...and again..

When would she want to even fantasize about another man? When would one catch her eye, and have her thing 'mmmmm nice'....?....When would she stop looking at the 'friend of a friend I want you to meet', and not compare the poor guy?....
If it was ever going to happen, that 'guy', was going to have to be ultra special, because Michael was still everywhere. In every breath taken, every smile shared, every lost day dream, and every sigh when she'd snap out of a dream, and remember he was ................................

''I miss you baby......''

And as always, she fell asleep , with the last smile from him locked away forever in her memory..It wasn't a pathetic sad young woman that needed to move on that was alone in her home......it was simply a lovely young woman that had loved once...........only once, but who had loved a precious man completely.

 

[MrAdam]

The sensation could only be described as a little like waking up after the deepest, longest sleep. That feeling of slowly resurfacing again from the depths of unconsciousness. Sensibility returning, slowly but surely, as the conscious mind ascends for a new day. It was a little like that, but from a much deeper sleep.

Mike slowly awoke and looked around him. His surroundings – a sunken garden full of lush vegetation, gorgeous flowers, and the sound of birdsong – oddly did not come as a surprise to him. He was not surprised by the square water feature strangely shimmering at the centre of the garden in front of the stone bench on which he was perched. He was not surprised about a number of other things, but the reasons for his lack of surprise were not entirely clear. Something had happened, but his memory was hazy.

He was not surprised that he was dead. The fact of his own demise was just about the most obvious and natural thing to him – I think, therefore I am dead. The last thing he remembered about being alive was the sound of a siren in the distance, a man’s voice yelling into a cell phone, and the feeling of blood seeping through his hands clasped tight over his bespoke tailored silk shirt. Even at the last, he did not believe he would die. Not him. Not Mike. Not now. He was thinking more about how worried Meg would be, how she would moan at him for not just handing over his wallet, and how long he would be off work. And then he just…. died. It had all been surprisingly peaceful.

He was also aware that he had been judged – somehow, by someone, by some process. And the verdict was that he was not yet ready. He did not know why he was not ready, what it would mean to be ready, or what it was that he was supposed to be ready for. The knowledge that he had fallen short of the required standard troubled him, but did not scare him. He had been surprised and disappointed, he remembered. He thought he might even have remonstrated. Failure had not been in his lexicon when he was alive, and to have failed at life would have been beyond comprehension. But all those feelings had gone, and only their echo remained. The most important thing was that he was not to be written off, and he remembered being told not to worry. It was by no means uncommon. He had a pass grade, with merit in parts. But honours were needed here. So here he was. Wherever here was. Whoever he was. Why wasn’t he scared out of his wits? Why was he not full to bursting with questions? Why did he feel so calm?

Even the slow materialisation of a figure on the bench opposite, on the far side of the pool, did not cause any significant alarm. This must be his guide, his teacher, his guru. The figure looked at him quizzically, one eyebrow raised.
“Well then”, the Spirit said, looking around him. “Here we are.”
“Why do you look and sound like Alan Rickman?” blurted Mike.
The Spirit sighed, and rolled his eyes.
“Of all the things you could ask, Michael, of all the questions you could choose, this is what you come out with? But at least this is question for which I can give you a straightforward answer. I don’t look like Alan Rickman. If you choose to perceive me in the form of a British actor, that’s entirely your business, and you should probably be addressing that question to your own subconscious. But if you want my guess, I’d say that it’s probably because you watched Dogma last week. I’m seen as all kinds of things by people, don’t let it worry you, it’s not important. Nice garden, by the way.”
“My imagination too?” asked Mike.
“No, this is real” answered the Spirit. “You’re not imagining anything. But it’s your reality, shaped by your mind. To put you at your ease, and to leave you free to concentrate on what is most important. Speaking of which… tell me why why are you are here.”
“I don’t know,” replied Mike. “I failed the test, I guess.” He shrugged. “And you’re here to help me pass?”
“In a manner of speaking. ‘You have been weighed in the scales and found wanting’, as the saying goes. You appear not to understand why.”
“Well, I’m not perfect, but I think I led a good life. Didn’t I?”
“Clearly not good enough Do you understand why?”
“No, I don’t understand why. I mean, I was a decent kind of guy, I gave to charity, I always-“
The Spirit cut him short.
“Don’t try to justify yourself to me, Michael. It is beyond pointless. You are here, ergo, you fell short. No accidents….” continued the Spirit, dryly, “….no administrative errors, no hilarious mix-ups or cases of mistaken identity. You did not live a good enough life. My job is to help you understand that, and to see if you can learn the lessons you should have learnt when you were alive. So, Michael, don’t justify yourself to me, and don’t lie to me. Never forget that I know you. I see you. I see you as no human ever did. I know you better than you know yourself.”

Mike swallowed. “Right. So how does this work? What happens?”
“We need a focus” answered the Spirit. “What mattered most to you in life?”
“Meg” he answered, without a moment’s hesitation. “Megan Lacey”.
“Why?”
“She’s the love of my life. The One.”
“You loved her?”
“You know I do”
“What does that mean?”
“What?”
“To love someone. What does that mean? To you, I mean.”
“I don’t understand, Spirit. You said you knew all about me. So why do you need to ask this?” A note of irritation had crept into Mike’s voice.
“Let’s assume for the sake of this discussion that I’m not, and never have been, a human being” answered the Spirit. “It’s not a difficult question, surely?”
“With Meg, it’s like…. It’s like it hurts when she’s not there. That I’m only happy when we’re together. I’d come home from work, and see her, and she’d smile that lovely smile, and it’s just…. well… I can’t imagine ever being happy without her. Of ever being parted.”
“Funny you should say that” muttered the Spirit.
“What?”
“Nothing. So you’re telling me that Megan Lacey matters most to you in all creation, and that love is wanting to be with someone so much that no-one else will do, and that separation is almost physically painful?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“One out of two. Not bad.”
“What?”
“Leaving you, your massive ego, and your concern for status out of the equation for a moment, you’re right. Meg does matter to you, and you did love her very much. The problem is, Michael, that you don’t understand love. And I don’t just mean romantic love, I mean love in general.”
“I –“ Michael was about to protest, but thought better of it. “I don’t?”
“Good boy” said the Spirit, “You’re getting the hang of this. I’m here to help you. And the good news is that you get to spend some more time with Meg. She can’t hear you, see you, and you can’t interact with her in any way, of course. I want you to watch her for a while, and tell me what you feel. Think about it.”
Mike nodded. “How… how do I….?”
The Spirit stood up and gestured towards the pool.
“Look in to watch, dive in if you want to move around. You'll get the hang of it."

 

[Alana_]

She loved the winter..It certainly helped when living in a city that had some of the coldest winters in the country..Meg rose, and showered, taking her time for once, and not rushing, having slept truly well.......For once her dreams weren't dreams were calm turned to turmoil..They were peaceful, and extracted from Megan only the snuggling murmurs of sighed contentment in her sleep....
Waking fresh...not tired eyed, and pale faced was beginning to become a condition she was growing adapted too......and the people that knew her..who saw her first thing in the morning, noticed it too.

Her hair was shampooed in coco butter shampoo..her favorite kind...When she dried, and after moisturizing completely, she chose a smart deep burgundy two piece business suit for the day...She had two meetings with two local business's , to renegotiate their advertising contracts with her company....It was not going to be an interesting morning..It would be rather ...a pained experience, she knew..
It was her first meeting solo, and Meg was aware, as the junior advertising executive , the clients would try wear her down with comparisons of 'last years contracts'..

She hummed, and applied her make up carefully..It was discreet, as was her usual style..Meg knew, without being told, she didn't need heavy colors, and weighty creams to enhance what was a naturally pale, and very naturally lovely complexion..After a breakfast of coffee and and french toast, she left her apartment...

Bundled up in an ankle length cashmere coat with her scarf tucked inside, and a over sized wool beret tugged down to one side, her hair billowing in the morning breeze, Meg hailed a cab for the first meeting.

~

It went predictably as she'd prepared herself for. Justin McCabe was an notoriously selfish man, who firmly believed everything he'd earned, he owed no one else for, including his partnering family members. He also had little tolerance for a woman, a young woman, coming to negotiate his contract with the firm she worked for.
The dealings had been enough to darken Megan's mood, and after calling his bluff, she'd walked out of the meeting wishing him good luck, with what ever firm, would listen to his bullshit...
And before she'd gotten to the lobby, her phone had rung, with him stiffly inviting her back up to continue 'chatting'...She'd told him to call her office for a new appointment, ...that he was not the only one in the city that she was meeting with that morning.

And the second meeting,.. perhaps because Meg arrived with the residue of temper still in her general demeanor,.. went much better. After just forty minutes of going over the contract from the year ago, and making the necessary adjustments , it was signed, happily agreed on , and she walked out, with her earlier decent humor restored.

She walked in the park...with the chill cold pinkening her cheeks..It was absolutely freezing, but invigorating, as Megan strolled towards the Boat House restaurant..Taken to a table, over looking the man made lake, had her coat taken by the young waiter, and just sat for a while before looking at the menu.....This had always been a favorite place with Michael.....And she lowered the menu, ordered a small lunch, and drifted into her thoughts, as she sipped a glass of iced water, as she allowed herself a break from avoiding moments in her mind with him...She wanted to think of him...She wanted to remember...She wanted the lull in her day, where Michael could warm her heart and leave her wishing that time could be rewound. When would the longing stop?....Megan didn't know....Only that it was less painful....but it was never far away.

She'd dated..She'd thought she was in love once before....She'd lived with the guy for three months, before they both realized neither was what the other needed....wanted....
Megan had drifted after the break up, working tirelessly , but with her social life one house party after another, until it was beginning to feel tired..boring.....She knew, in her heart and soul, she wasn't built to be on her own,..that she was the missing 'she' in an 'us' that just hadn't been found yet.
Megan was the friend that everyone called in the middle of the night, when their hearts were broken...She was the nurturer that showed up on your door with Chicken soup when you were ill...She couldn't help it..Having been the eldest of a family of four, she being the only girl, and raised by their widowed father, ...she had been the 'Mom figure' from very young..

She loved being involved...Taking care of people..Loved the warmth she felt when a hug was returned in silent thanks, not that she wanted the gratitude....she just wanted the hug..The '' I'm ok now'' hug from what ever friend needed it.........Only after a while, that hug wasn't enough....She wanted more than hugs...more than friendships..more than a social life that seemed to never run out of steam.
She wanted to be held....Looked at like a woman, and held...Definitely not just hugged.

 

[MrAdam]

Mike rose tentatively and stepped forward towards the pool. The walls were raised to about waist height, with neat brickwork covered in rather orderly-looking ivy around each of its four square two metre sides. From a distance it would look more like a well than a pool, but the surface of the water glimmered and shimmered just below the top of the brickwork.

At first he saw nothing, but slowly he started to pick out flashes of images, half-hints of familiar sights flashing almost subliminally before his eyes. The pattern on the rug in the hall, the framed copy of the famous blurry picture he had taken of Meg and her friends at Tony and Chantal’s wedding, the ‘Green Goblin’ statue of Buddha that he would never admin gave him the creeps, the dressing table mirror in their bedroom. Flashes of objects flashes of memory.

“Keep watching” said the Sprit, “It will fall into place soon.”
Mike half-turned away from the pool, one eye now on the Spirit. Suddenly he felt very nervous, very apprehensive.
“What is this about? What’s this for?” he asked, a note of suspicion in his voice. “What am I going to see? Please tell me she’s okay. You’re not…. she’s not… I mean, I couldn’t bear it if…..”
All kinds of nightmares ran through his head. What had happened after he had died? He remembered his wallet being taken, which had his address, and his keys had been in his hand because he was heading for his car, and…. what if......
The Spirit raised the palms of his hands in a placatory gesture.
“The only terrible thing that has happened to her is that you died. Whether she is okay or not, well, you can judge that for yourself. This is not a trap, or a trick. Just watch.”

“Why? What….?”
Mike’s voice tailed off as his gaze was drawn by the images and flashes in the water quickly coalesced into a single image of his bathroom. It was a little steamy, but he could clearly make out the luxury bathroom fittings – the deep spa bath, the heated tiled floor, the large shower enclosure, all misted up. He became aware that he could hear the sound of the power shower hurling hot water downwards like a mini-monsoon trapped in perspex. Then, suddenly, the water stopped. A second or so later, the shower enclosure door swung open, and Meg stepped out.

Mike stared. Before he knew how, he found himself standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Staring at her. She was naked. And wet. And stunningly beautiful. And he loved her completely. Her soft, creamy skin flushed with the heat. Her lovely long auburn hair plastered and gloriously dishevelled. He thought he could smell cocoa butter, but that might just have been his imagination conjuring memories. How long had it been since he had last held her in his arms? How long had it been since he had last kissed her soft lips? How long had it been since he had last taken her hand and whisked her off to their bathroom to share a shower, without warning, without a word, with just a kiss, a sparkle in his eyes, and a smile on his lips? How long had in been since he had covered her in frothy bubbles of coca butter body wash, and massaged and caressed every inch of her perfect body?

He wasn’t sure. It felt like hardly any time had passed, but he knew that couldn’t be true. Time had passed, he knew. He could feel it. However long it had been, it had been too long. A few months, a few weeks, a few days. A few hours, even. Too long. And now…. never again. Never again would he take the girl he loved above all else to the height of pleasure. Never again would he hold her in his arms afterwards. Never again would he see that joyous sparkle in her eyes as she declared her love for him, and he for her.

“Meg!” he murmured. And then, louder. “Meg!
But Meg did not see him, and showed not the slightest hint of even a sliver of awareness of his presence. Instead, she concentrated on drying her hair, oblivious. She was lost to him, or, rather, he was lost to her. For ever. He could look, but he could not touch. He could speak, but she could not hear. He could stare at her body like some kind of celestial peeping tom, but there was little pleasure in that. The pleasure was the pleasure of being in love. The real pleasure of sneaking in on Meg as she came out of the shower had been the look on her face, her smile. The slight blush, the hint of self-consciousness that never quite went away, mixed with a smile of pleasure at his compliments and attentions. Her beautiful, delicate, perfect features were a picture… her smile, her eyes…..

Never again.

And this? Was this what the Sprit thought he wanted to see? Was this what he thought of their relationship, of his love for her?

Mike turned a little, sensing a presence beside him.
“Get out!” he snarled at the Spirit, attempting to push him towards the open door. He passed straight through him. “Get out!” he insisted, raging impotently.
“Fine, have it your own way” replied the Spirit, nonplussed, “Although let me remind you again, that I’m not human. She's really not my type.” He waved his left hand, and the scene vanished. They were back in the garden, standing over the pool.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you torturing me like this?” Mike raged. “Why show her to me like that? Do you think that’s all it was? Physical? Sexual? No. No, it wasn’t. I love her. Don’t you understand? Don’t you get it? What the hell is this all about? Have you been sent to tempt me? To torment me? What? What is this? Who are you? What do you want?”

The Spirit sighed.
“It has to come out some time. Most of the pain is taken from you. It’s for the best. A kind of spiritual and emotional aesthetic, you might say. But if we take too much, we take away too much of who you were. And that rather defeats the object. So, yes. You lost her. You loved her and now you’re dead and you’ve lost her. That’s the way it goes sometimes. That’s the hand that your actions and fate dealt you. You didn’t play it well enough, and now here you are.”

“I love her” he repeated, “I love her like I never thought it possible to love anyone. Damn it, I don’t think I even knew what love meant before I met her. Attraction, yes. Fondness, yes. Compassion, yes. Admiration, yes. But love? No. Not like I love her. She was going to be my wife. She should have been my wife! It’s not-“

“It’s not fair?” the Spirit interrupted. “No. No it certainly isn’t. Not down there anyway. Here, well. You’ll see. Or maybe you won’t.”
“Look, I never got the chance. Meg makes me a better person! Doesn’t she? She’s the best person I’ve ever met… the kindest, the sweetest, the most generous. I know I can be selfish, I know I can be wrapped up in myself. I know sometimes I don’t…. I give of my money, which I can afford, but not of my time. I know I lack… I can lack compassion sometimes. That I’m quick to judge.”
“Do you?” answered the Spirit, “Or are you just reeling off the list of faults that you’ve been told time and time again that you’re guilty of?”
“She made me better. She made me want to be better. I listen to her. I am open to what she says, to her ideas, because they’re her ideas, and because I love her. She was making me a better person. If I’d been allowed to life and marry her, and have kids, I would have been a better person. If I had had the chances that others have, to life a full life, I would have….. I was fucking stabbed by a no mark piece of shit junkie aged 28! Twenty-fucking-eight! Most of my life which you judge unfit was spent as a child, or as a child in a man’s body. What do you expect? I never had the chance. You say I failed at life. You know what I say? I say screw you and screw your judgements. You can’t judge me on twenty-eight shitty years! That’s not enough time. It’s not fair, and you know it!”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that, Michael” said the Spirit, composed and deadpan as ever. “I advise against saying it a third time.”
“She was going to make me a better person. You never gave her the chance, and so I never got the chance. That’s why I am here rather than, you know, wherever. I didn't deserve to be killed, and I don't deserve to be here."

Mike drew himself up to his full height, walked right up to the Spirit, looked him in the eye and hissed.
“It’s. Not. Fair."

 

[Alana_]

A party somewhere had ended..Far in the city, ..a friends appartment told of the left over wine and an Italian supper..It had been relaxing, but hugely entertaining.
Mike led a tipsy Megan out of the lift, as she cooed and flirted with him, her deep rich Burgundy coat trailing behind her from her finger tips, her steps a little unsteady, her speech slurring into the follies of laughter....When he tried to open their door, Meg was determined to distract him, with nibbled kisses, squeezing in between him and the door, her coat dropping from her hand as she slipped her hands up beneath his suite jacket, and smiled an almost coy admission against her kisses to his lips..'' I'm horny baby.''

The door opened behind her, and Mike backed her inside, kisses with him turning from teasingly joking to soberingly seductive...And back....back...one step at a time, he moved her to wards their bedroom, with a trail of scattered shoes, neck ties, shirts, and the eventual thud of his belt pulled from his pants.......

The mattress was deep sprung, and whispered its fabriced welcome as they fell into the welcome softness of thick quilts and pillows......Gentle hands moved to the one tiny single ornate grip at Megan's neck, lowering the halter strap down to reveal flesh that flushed beneach his kissing lips and flicking tongue. The fabric was tugged lower and the pale swell of her breasts was exposed to the heat of lips that sucked and whispered to her lovingly against the pertness that was his to taste from.. Their bodies shifted, ..moved in unity as slender feminine thighs parted and again hands moved to strip her completely and caress slowly among the needs that needed listening..It was a slow, deliberate seduction of two that adored one another, where their arousals wanted the patience of languid fingers and undulating limbs until.................

Megan's eyes opened as she stared across the bed...across where Michael should have been. A slow blink brought with it one lone tear, crossing the bridge of her nose, to pool in damp ring beneath her temple..Perhaps it was many tears spilling into one...Perhaps.
Nights were always the hardest....Days kept her busy.., but at night there was nothing to stop her mind remembering Michael, and their more intimate moments in dreams...Dreams that bubbled beneath the surface of consciousness to threaten day dreams,...but could not be avoided when Megan slept...

She sat up, looked plaintively at his side of the bed and ran her hand over the crumpled quilt that would have covered Mike.
Tonight it hurt....For some reason, every few weeks, things seemed to catch up on her, as if to punish her progress......And Megan lay back down on her side, gathered the pillows to her and hugged them tightly forming a 'body' to hold as she tried to fall back to sleep.

'' I love you Michael''.

When would it stop?.....She guessed never...He was, in the true cliché of the word, ' her great love'.

~

Two days later, Megan went away...She had time due her from work, and she took a 4 day week end, heading out of the city alone...
''You spend too much time on your own Meg's..Let me come with you''..
'' I have it booked Jenna...Im sorry..I didn't think to ask you with your wedding so close..Next time..Ok?''
'' Yeah sure ...Next time.''

And Jenna came by to see her off, watching Megan drive away....in Michaels car....She had gotten rid of most every thing of his, but for the smaller personal things that meant something to her, and ...his car. It was one thing Megan made clear as soon as the suggestions of 'it being time to pack Michaels things away', that the car stayed.
It was, something of his that she could find his scent in...feel safe in, when not in their apartment.
And she for a while felt pathetic, as she knew the others just didn't get it...and of course, Megan knew she didn't quite get it either.

But the car stayed...and she got her full licence a year later, and drove it now with relative ease..
It wasn't a 'womans' car, she'd been told..It was large, roomy, dark and powerful.........But it was Michaels..

The road out of the city was slow to travel on with the inclement weather...Snow ploughs had the main routes cleared, but the traffic moved cautiously...Maybe she aught to think about turning around....Maybe..
But she didn't....And soon the icicle lined hedge rows were cruising slowly past, as the turn offs vanished, and road signs began to introduce the more rural areas ..The last of the falls golden leaves peeped over head from beneath the snow crowned canopies of trees, as 'Havens port' came into a white picturesque view...
It was a pretty town, cut in the New England style she loved..She had a fascination with large old houses, and their wrap around porches, and had 'googled' bed and breakfasts, finding one that just seemed to stand alone among the others...

Sat-nav was an obedient friend, guiding her through the smaller slush stained streets, with the family named business shingles hanging over each store and business..It was just beautiful, despite the weather, and Megan turned right, and down a residential street, with shoveled snow stacked high in white grounded clouds. He had never been here with her..It was one place Michael hadn't come to with her, or introduced her to, or expressed an interest in..It was a quiet,'nothing of a little town',and it was just beautiful...Maybe here, for a couple of days and nights, she could just be Meg...Not Megan, Michael's heartbroken girlfriend.

 

[MrAdam]

The spirit was silent for a moment, regarding Michael with cold eyes.
“So you do not believe you had a fair chance?”
“No, of course I didn’t!”
“Why?”
“I told you why. Because I only got 28 years.”
“Anything else? Any other complaints? Come on, give me the full litany. Give me the whole list of excuses, the full least of reasons why you failed to make it clean through. Because you only lived for 28 years, 6 months, and 23 days? You think that’s not enough?”
“No, it’s not enough. It’s not enough to make judgements. I could have been a better person. A much better person, with Meg. I should have been allowed a full life not…. not killed just when I was getting started.”
“Getting stabbed is a double-edged sword, if you’ll pardon the expression. Yes, you had less time than some, but who’s to say that you would have done better with more time, hmmm? Who is to say that you might not have done even worse with more time? Who is to say that you might not even have been given this chance?”
“I’m lived a reasonable life…. I’m not perfect. With more time, I would have… it’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” snapped the spirit, “Not fair? Well, let me apologise to you for all the unfairness that has been done to you. Born into a wealthy family in a wealthy country at a time of fantastic material luxury, of standards of living beyond the wildest dreams of about 99% of everyone who has ever lived. Nothing was denied you. You had the best that money could buy, and never wanted for everything. But perhaps you were the poor little rich boy, who had all he desired except love? No. You grew up in a happy family environment; your parents doted on you. So then… what? Health? A fitter and healthier specimen would be harder to imagine – no major illnesses, and, if we discount the stabbing, only one injury of any note, and that a broken finger. Not health then. Let’s see…. what could it be? Attributes? Potential? Ability? No, no, and no. Academically gifted, musically gifted, artistically gifted, sportingly and physically gifted? Oh Michael, is there anything you could not do? Anything you ever failed at? Do you even know who failure feels?”

“And…. oh my god” the Spirit’s voice assumed a faux-camp quality for a moment as he mocked him, “you’re gorgeous. And charming. Charming too. Natural charisma. A natural leader. Not just a hit with the ladies, a hit with everyone. You’ve never been short of friends…. and what friends too! What loyalty and devotion you inspire! Do you deserve it? No.”

“Now listen” said Michael, “Yes, I’ve been lucky. But I worked. I worked damn hard to get what I got. Yes, I was blessed. Gifted, or whatever. I don’t deny it. But all that was potential. All my success was because I worked for it. I got good grades at school because I worked, not just because I was clever. Music? Sport? All practice. If I’m wealthy it’s because I worked hard, worked long hours, and took chances. I backed my judgement, and I got my reward. As for my friends, it’s not all one way. I’m loyal, I look after my friends as they look after me.”

“Oh yes. Hard work. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the difference between you and everyone less fortunate than you. That’s what you’ve always thought, is it not? Consider this, Michael. What if the ability to work hard is itself a gift? Can you work hard without self believe, without the tools, without the environment, without the support? A bad workman blames his tools, Michael. But a good workman does not praise them, or even acknowledge their existence. It’s easy to strive for goals you know you can reach. You just succeed a little more each day. Success breeds effort which breeds success. You’ve never known adversity. Never known any real setbacks.”

“This is your judgement, Michael. You were given nearly everything on a plate. You made something of it. I am not saying you lived a bad life. There is much to be said in your favour. I won’t repeat it, your ego needs no further feeding, but in summary, you weren’t a complete bastard, and you could have been. No. You had a code, of sorts. But your life has been one of unreflective, unthinking, smug, complacent, ignorant selfishness, and you need to see this and to understand it.”

“But-“
“There is no scope for arguing here. That is the judgement.”
“But with Meg, I could-“
“What about Meg? Do you think you deserved her?”
Mike thought for a moment.
“No” he answered, “but no-one does.”
“Right” said the spirit, “… and wrong. In that order. But it doesn’t work like that. On top of everything else, on top of all your gifts, you got to experience a very special bond with another human being. No two relationships are the same, but you two….. not everyone gets that. You got it, and you should be thankful, even if it did not last for as long as you wanted. And the fact that it did not last longer, Michael, is at least partly your fault.”

 

[Alana_]

Dinner in the small but exquisitely decorated and furnished dinning room of 'The Travelers Haven' Inn was , sublime. The owner of the bed and breakfast was both housekeeper and cook, and her skills at both were to be envied..
Megan's room was a front facing one, with two windows opening up over the front garden, with views of the picturesque town, and the rolling surrounding hills and distant mountains..It was , just like the chocolate box setting she'd envisaged when she'd googled for a weekend away..

Her meal consisted of a pan fried steak, that melted on the mouth, served with garlic potatoes, and braised vegetables, with a side sauce rich in red wine. She refused desert, choosing instead to have a hot chocolate later in her room before bed, and her hostess promised a little something on the side to nibble on..
Megan left, stating the need for a walk through the town..With her fur lined jacket warm, with a fur trimmed ski hat tugged low over her ears, she looked almost like a native of the town in her laid back more countrified attire.
The town was what dreams were made of..It was larger than she'd estimated at first, but still managed to diligently maintain a feeling of neighborly charm..The streets were spotless, homes and shops pridefully maintained, with the early signs of Christmas beginning to fill the shop windows..

She hated Christmas now. It was a time where being alone took on a new meaning for her. Friends insisted on her joining them, and if she refused.....they joined her for enforced evenings of company. They were wonderful people, and but for them, and in particular Dave and Jenna and their constant, but respectful calls to check on her, Megan would have faded away inside herself..
Standing looking into a small toy store window, Meg watched a model of an old steam train puffing around a miniaturized version of the town...She really liked this town..Liked the feeling of not being on her own, lost in the vastness of the city. Would Michael have ever thought about moving out into the suburbs?..Would he have liked it here too? Turning to walk away, Megan realized they'd never really planned past what had been happening right between them, right up until the night Michael was..........................................

It was David that told her about the planned proposal...About how..................and Megan train of thought was shattered as she distractedly walked right into a stranger; ...the town sheriff, and stumbled backwards, only saved from falling by him managing to grab her on time..

She was mortified..but laughed as he offered to ' give her a pat down' to check she was unhurt...
He was a very handsome guy, ...perhaps in his mid to late 30's...He had one of those smiles that insisted you smile back in return, and as Meg apologized and walked away still laughing at her own clumsiness, he stood watching after her in open admiration of the pretty stranger, who seemed totally unaware of just how lovely it was to make her blush..
And Megan knew that he watched.. , because she committed the cardinal sin that women all over the world warn themselves not to do...She looked back.

And he grinned at her and winked, as Megan turned away too quickly to be cool.

It was a first for her in a long time..To enjoy looking at a man....and to enjoy him looking at her. ....Down the street, she bought a coffee from a street vendor, and walked on...There was no guilt in feeling flattered at a very handsome mans attention...no matter how slight it had been..It had felt good to feel like a woman again......but if Michael was here with me now, we'd not have left the room yet..And I'd not be silly over some strangers smile.
I'd not want it.........Oh I miss you sweetheart. It never stops.

There were new sounds in her bedroom when she slipped beneath the covers later that night..Her hot chocolate waited by her side, with a little bowl of chocolate dipped strawberries..Fluffing her pillows, she opened the page on a book she was promising herself to read, and listened as she sipped.
There were no sounds of the city..No distant sirens..no fog horns way off from the harbor...There was no feeling of waiting. Just waiting for something..
She had since she lost Michael, found she'd acquired a feeling of constantly waiting for something to happen...to go wrong...to frighten her..to surprise her.
But here, all she felt was ...comfortable. Old pipes creaked over head as someone in another room ran a bath....Down stairs she heard her hostess locking up, and heard the sound of whispered good nights along the guest corridor as the lady passed by as her guests went to their rooms...She in turn, going to her own private rooms.
It was like being in a version of home..This was someones house..their home..It wasn't sky-raised apartments full of people that didn't know each other..Strangers spoke to one another here...they said good night for Christs sake as they went to their rooms. It was precious.

It was a startling realization that perhaps it was time to move on.....Not just mentally...but physically too..To find a place to call home, that hadn't been where Michael lived with her..It was a god awful feeling though.
How could she think of leaving their home, and finding a place for herself without all the rooms that Michael shared with her?.

 

[MrAdam]

“Now” said the Spirit, “I want you to go back to where it all stared for you and Megan, and I want you to watch. And I want you to tell me what you notice that you did not notice at the time.”

The garden faded away and Mike found himself back in the ballroom at the Regency Hotel, at Tony and Chantal’s wedding reception, where they had first met. Mike found that he was wearing a tuxedo, as was the Spirit, stood next to him.
“It’s all right” said the Spirit, “we can’t be seen or heard. Go where you like, and just watch.”

Michael wandered vacantly around the room, no-one so much as glancing in his direction. He felt himself drawn to a corner table, where his younger self was sitting sipping champagne. David was there too, and Mark, and Lars and Julia, and Becky, who had been his girlfriend for a semester or so when they were students. The old crowd, back together again, for Tony’s wedding. The mood was happy, pleasant, reflective… tipsy.

Lars was talking about his and Julia’s holiday plans. Mike was listening, leaning back casually in his chair. The table was covered in drinking detritus – a few empty wine bottles, odd pieces of cutlery from dinner, disposable cameras, champagne corks, upturned place name cards, popped party poppers and silly string. Michael could not help be struck by how good he looked, or how good he had looked. He was tall, with short dark brown hair which was gelled and swept back to his right, hiding a very first signs of a receding hairline at the temples. He was a little over average height, 6’ tall or just over, and broad shouldered. His body was toned and well-muscled, and his movements – such as when he moved to top up his companions’ glasses – were casual but precise. He was listening to Lars’ story, his head canted on one side as he always did when listening, a smile playing on his lips. He looked a man at ease with himself, and with the world.

As Lars finished speaking, it suddenly became obvious that David was not listening. Instead, he was staring past were Lars was sitting towards the dance floor, which was just starting to reach critical party mass. As one, they followed his gaze towards a group of girls dancing to something comfortably, warmly, nostalgically cheesy. And to one in particular. David was just staring at her. She was lovely. Even Becky would have said so, in spite of her derisive snort and eye-rolling at most of her male companions, David in particular, and the male species in general.

Mike… Dead Mike, that is, watched Meg dancing as he had done on that night. It was so bittersweet…. to see her again, as he had seen her, that first night…. but with the gnawing knowledge that he would never hold her again. He pushed that from his mind as best he could, and just watched.

Probably the most captivating thing about her was that she wasn’t trying. She was lost in the moment, dancing, her lithe, graceful body just following the music, just enjoying herself, with her friends, oblivious to everything else. The smile she flashed to the group of children frenetically bouncing around the dancefloor. The look and smile she exchanged with her friend as they sung along to the chorus. That smile, above all else. The way it lit up her pretty face. The way it lit up the room.

Michael glanced at himself, and saw himself smiling. With a sudden moment of clarity, he remembered the thought. Wouldn’t it be great if I could make her smile like that at me?

David gradually became aware that he had been rumbled. He coloured a little, making a show of cleaning his glasses. He hesitated a moment, deciding on how to play this rather embarrassing moment. Wisely, he opted against denial.
“Who is that”?” he asked, “She’s gorgeous!”
“One of Chantal’s friends, I guess” said Becky, “I don’t remember seeing them at the church.”
“Big wedding, though” said Lars.
“Only one way to find out!” said Michael, draining his glass. “Excuse me.”

Michael smiled at himself. He was smooth, he knew. But this night was his crowning glory. He had never been as good as he had that night. Maybe it was just the right amount of alcohol in his bloodstream, maybe it was her, maybe it was just fate. But he played a blinder that night, and he would get to see it all again.

He followed himself as he rose from his chair, initially planning on heading to the dance floor, but stopping when he saw the girls head back to a table. He changed direction, and subtly wandered over to the bar, losing himself in the throng, and moving for a better look at their table. He turned to a waitress, who was returning to the bar with a tray of empties.

“Excuse me. I was wondering if I could ask a favour”. He smiled his best smile at the woman, a good twenty years his senior. He lowered his tone confidentially. “I was wondering if you could help me. Uh… don’t look now, but there’s a girl over there I’d love to get to know better. I’m just about to go over and say hello, and I was wondering if you could just, you know, wander by with some more wine.”
The waitress looked at him, a little puzzled and suspicious at first, but soon won over by his candid manner and slightly sheepish grin. She smiled at him.
“Yes sir” she said, brightly. It felt oddly flattering to be let in on the intrigue by this handsome young man. “Happy to help.”
“Just after I take their picture, if that’s okay”
“Sure.”

Mike watched himself amble over. His manner exuded complete confidence, with just a slight swagger. He looked good. His suit was not ostentatious or flashy, but fitted him perfectly, and suited him perfectly. His shoes, like his suit, was Italian, and made to measure. The top button of his shirt was undone, and his tie was a little loosened, giving him an air of raffish insouciance. He confidently approached the table as if it was the most natural thing in the world, a smile on his face, his dark eyes sparkling. His complexion was ever so slightly tanned, the result of his quarter-Italian, three-quarters northern European heritage.

“Good evening” he smiled. His gaze took in all four companions, but started and finished with one of them. “I’m Mike. I was at college with Tony. I guess you must be with the bride?” Without waiting for an answer, he picked up the disposable camera from the table. “Oh, have you taken pictures? Putting these on each table is a really good idea. May I?”
He picked up the camera, but waited for a nod or sign of permission before taking the picture. And how could it be refused? They shifted a little closer together as Mike looked through the viewfinder.
“Smile!” he said. Admiring one smile in particular.
“One more for luck. Great!”
He smiled again, placing the camera back on the table.
“May I join you?” he asked, just as the waitress walked past. “Oh, waitress!” he said, beckoning her over and taking a bottle from the tray. “Thank you. Anyone for a top up?”

Mike watched himself. He had gone right up to her, when she was with her friends, and just introduced himself. He watched himself make small talk with the group, introductions, explanations. He watched himself take an interest in all of them, include them all, but focus on Meg. He was confidence personified, but with just enough self-effacement to fall short of arrogance. He watched them exchange subtle signals in their private language. Do you like him? Shall we leave you two? We’ll be over there. He watched himself unsuccessfully trying to hide the knowing smile that flickered across her face when Jenna and Yvonne made their excuses to leave the two of them alone.

He watched himself talking to her, asking her about herself. Making her laugh. Earning that smile. He did not know it yet, but he was already in love. Soon he would tell her that he wanted to see her again – just the two of them – as the wedding was only for the couple that really mattered. I like you was his message, I’m not trying to pick you up. He would give her his number, take hers in return, and head back to his friends. He would intend to leave it there, and phone her. That was his plan. He would sweep her off her feet, but set her down again, and return at more opportune moment. He was a gentleman. And he was serious. But the attraction was too strong, and the last dance of the night would see their first kiss.

Mike watched himself, waiting for himself to change gear in the conversation, looking for clues about what she did for fun, where he should take her to, when he felt a presence at his side. The Spirit.

“Stop swooning over your own wonderfulness. Come back here and listen to what you missed. What you missed the first time, and the second time.”

 

[Alana_]

The days spent away from the city , were good days....Long walks in the cold invigorated Meg, and her thighs ached with strain of miles spent exploring the town, instead of the more unpalatable exercise suffered in the corner of a plush gym, with its diet drinks and 'private trainers'.. It was a good feeling..Each night when she went up to her room, Megan was tired..Not drained from trying to keep occupied.., nor not exhausted because sleep was broken with dreams that in sleep brought her pleasure, but when they woke her, left her missing Mike again. While she hadn't him in life, she had him in her sleep. He was there nightly....And she lived out the moments that she needed with him.....Laughing....love making....Just being held as she lay there looking into his eyes.........Until she would waken, and he'd be gone from her again..

But the trip away seemed to be allowing her escape or...let go. Because now, when Megan went to bed, in a house that wasn't her home, she slept peacefully. On the morning of her departure, she bid her goodbyes, and did something that had been more and more on her mind..She stopped on the main street, and called in to a real estate office, gathering up what brochures were available on houses in the district...And again, as Meg fastened her seat belt, she experienced the guilt that trundled her excitement into the ground. How can you think about giving up your home...Mike's home with you?.....Oh Jesus...I miss him...I miss him.........But I got to breath again.

Today, while she was traveling in day light, it was a horrid murky morning...There was a mist that seemed to just lay inches over the top of the road, and cars traveled slower..Turning on the radio, Megan tuned in one of the morning breakfast shows, and listened to what was happening in the world...Music played, phone calls were taken, and she laughed as one caller after another told stories on the days chosen topic...

''Could you play my wife's favorite song?...Thanks man. ....

She should have turned the channel....She should have turned the radio off.....She shouldn't have listened as Bob Dylan's soft gruff voice filled the car..

~

''Lipstick repair Jen''......And Yvonne and Jenna were gone..........Yvonne's smile was anything but coy as she slipped past Meg, leading Jenna behind her by the hand....She and Michael were left alone....In an aloneness he was definitely more at ease with than she was....He spoke of his interests with ease, drawing Meg into conversation she would normally struggle with.....Well, struggle with with a man that seemed to cause butterflies in her tummy, and made her skin to tingle.......It was not something that she was used to.....She was used to men...Could hold her own with the best chatting about what ever gained her interest......But with Mike, she faltered at the first hurdle.....Without the girls, she was jelly and sat with her hand tucked beneath her chin, happy to listen to Mike's voice..watching his lips...and how his smile never failed to reach his eyes....He was confident...He was funny...maybe a little smooth, but there was a gorgeous charm in the grin that warmed his handsome features with boyish mischief, that softened the edges that could have been spoiled..but weren't.

She saw the guy, she was earlier told was Dave, watching them....There was a look ....something that wasn't quite happy in how he was looking at them.....or maybe it was in how he looked at Mike......But the man that was charming her siting across from her, soon had Megan forgetting about his friend.

They laughed..constantly laughed.....There were moments when she reminded herself this could be nothing more than a pickup....It happened.....They were both adults..both unattached. ...But already Megan felt a string that tugged gently from her smile to her heart. They swapped numbers..He was to call her....She wanted to believe he would....she hoped he would...............Good byes were shared...She stood, about to follow after her friends...He stood....to go back to Dave.......And then the music started...

'' When the rain is blowing in your face

For ever afterward, Megan could never remember how it began........Dancing slowly together....They moved together with what she believed to be, a natural ease...She fitted beneath his chin, her hands resting with one on his chest, and one on his shoulder...The tension was almost tangible...There was no teasing, no talking..nothing only his breath on her temple, with his natural musk so soothingly seductive , that her eyes closed and Meg turned her head a little more into the warmth of Mikes shoulder...The floor was a little universe of couples sharing their own secrets, as a the world closed around her and Michael and it became very small, and very exclusive, as..............

~

The air bag hitting her face stunned her..She didn't see the surge of the four wheel drive losing control the far side of the road, breaking through the dividing barrier, traveling far too fast for the conditions of the mornings weather....She didn't see because Meg was lost ..Listening to the song they'd danced to....and kissed for the first time to, ..being played by another man, for his wife.
The force of the impact twirled her car like a spinning top on the road, until it skidded to a jolting halt , nose down in a ditch...She remembered then the pain in her chest...or was it her lungs...But it was heavy..Crushing her breath, as she fought with the air bag, and two other drivers came screaming down on foot to her, banging on the side window and pulling on a door that wouldn't open..Someone somewhere yelled '' Not to move her!'', and then the distant sounds of someone else yelled that they'd rung for the emergency services...Megan wondered who needed the help...Confusion probably saved her from panicking, and shock cocooned her from further pain, as she faded into the blessing of unconsciousness and someone whispered to someone else, that the other driver was dead.

~

''BREATH DAMIT!!''

Another someone was feeding her oxygen, pumping air into her lungs...Lungs that hurt...She tried to tell him...But there wasn't a sound...She could feel everything..hear everything....Her lungs on fire as she fought silently within...Maybe she was already dead. Was this what it was like?...To feel the pain of the blow that stabbed her in the chest, and stole the air she needed?...Again he yelled...The 'he', was a paramedic that worked coaxing a tube down her throat, swearing as Meg coughed and gagged, and he told her to relax..to listen to him..to swallow..not fight him....She couldn't breath on her own...Something inside was broken..

''Jesus...Im going to lose her!''

No..No....She didn't want to be lost....Didn't want to be gone....Megan fought..Fought the lovely warmth that was soothing her..calming and numbing her...She didn't want the delicate tingle of kind heat creeping from within her...She wanted the pain of struggling to breath......And then for a moment, she thought of Michael.....Had dieing been like this for him? Had he been afraid?.......If she died, would she find him?....Did she believe?....

''I got her..I GOT HER''!

No...No..!..She wanted to go....She wanted to see...to know..to find Mike...To hope..No No....No no..Stop....let me go!.
And then suddenly she was breathing...Suddenly Megan felt the pain again, and her fingers tightened into tight fists, as she gurgled on a groan around the tube filling her throat, delivering air to her one functioning lung..She wasn't gone........and thankfully then, she just escaped into unconsciousness again...and didn't know the seconds of battling to live or give up.

 

[MrAdam]

“What did I miss?” asked Mike, curiosity piqued.
“Something pretty much everyone else noticed” answered the Sprit. “Now, look again. And do not move.”

Mike felt a strange jarring sensation, as his view changed abruptly from one moment to the next. One moment he was watching himself placing his hand lightly on hers, canting his head to one side, lowering his voice to a confidential whisper, and telling Meg that he wanted to see her again. The next he was stood a little way back from his friends’ table, watching them have the same conversation about Lars and Julie’s holiday plans. It was a little like skipping back a scene on a DVD – everything dropped instantly and smoothly back into place, and the jump was only in his head. He watched himself rise from the table.

“Who is that?” a reddening David asked, “She’s gorgeous!”
“One of Chantal’s friends, I guess” said Becky, “I don’t remember seeing them at the church.”
“Big wedding, though” said Lars.
“Only one way to find out!” said Michael, draining his glass. “Excuse me.”

A silence fell as Mike headed off towards the dance floor.
“He’s not-?” asked Becky, incredulous.
“He is. He damn well is.” said David, leaning back deep into his chair, arching his back to stare at the ceiling. He laughed softly to himself, a brew of amusement sand resigned bitterness.
“I fucking hate him sometimes.” His laughter took the edge of his remark, but some of the barb remained. “You fucking… fucking fucker.”
“You know he’ll get her too, don’t you?” said Mark.
“Yep” answered David. “No doubt about it.”
“Are you seriously going to let him do that to you?” demanded Becky. “He’s supposed to be your friend!”
David shrugged, resigned. “Yeah, but what you gonna do?”
“I wouldn’t take that from any of my friends” said Becky, “If I like some guy and one of my friends knows that and flirts with him anyway, I’d tear her a new one!”
“What? You saw him first so you get first dibs?” enquired David, eyebrow raised.
“Damn right” replied Becky, “those are the rules, man. You don’t just…. he’s got no fucking respect for you, none at all, and I don’t know why you put up with it!”
“What? You want me to go over there, punch him repeatedly in his smug face, tell him that I saw her first, and drag her by the hair back to my cave?”
“So you’re just going to accept it? You have your eye on some chick, and it’s okay for him to just barge in front of you?”
David sighed. “I just said I thought she was attractive, that’s all. I wouldn’t even have mentioned it if you hadn’t…. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We all know that there is no possible world in which she would ever be interested in me, and at least this way we get to skip the bit where I either I chicken out or make a dick of myself.”
“Oh come on, you don’t know that!”
“Yes I do. Oh, and if you tell me that I’m ‘really sweeeeet’, I will have to kill you. Now let’s talk about something else.”
“It’s about respect. And if you don’t talk to him about it, I will. I’ll kick his ass for you if you’re too sweet to do it yourself.”
“Don’t bother. Mike probably thinks I was just pointing her out, possibly even that I was pointing her out to him. Or he’s already decided that I would have no chance, even if I did pluck up enough courage to say something. But he might… so he will.”
“But that’s not his decision to make!”
David shrugged. “But that’s what he’s like. That’s what he’s always been like. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’ll go over there, and talk to her, and get her number, and then he’ll come back over here and tell us all how great she is. And you know what? He’ll be completely oblivious. But it’s not the first time. I’m used to it.”
“No.” said Becky, “that’s fucked up. He’s supposed to be your friend.”
“He is my friend. Look, if she was my girlfriend, or even if it was someone I already knew, he wouldn’t do anything. Even if he really liked her.”
“It’s a low minimum standard for a friendship you’re setting there, David” said Mark, “Saying ‘it’s okay, he wouldn’t try and sleep with my girlfriend’ doesn’t really cut it.”
David laughed. “You know exactly what I mean. If I said, ‘look, I really like her’, he’d go right over there and hit on one of her friends as a way of introducing me to her. But I’d have to tell him and make it obvious.”
“Which is why he was such a terrible boyfriend. And why he’s such a terrible friend in many ways”, said Becky, “Guys are terrible at reading people, picking up on hints, or anticipating stuff, but Mike…. sometimes if I’d had a bad day I felt like I had to send him a fucking memo before he’d notice!”
“It’s the way he is. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“David, if I kept stamping on your toe with my heels, there would come a point at which you would tell me to stop it, whether or not I meant it.”

Suddenly, the room froze, leaving just Mike and the Spirit.
“Well?” asked the Spirit.
Mike did not answer. He was visibly shocked…. His face was pale, and his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what he had just heard.
“I don’t know what to say…. I had no idea they felt like that about me.”
“They don’t. They’re your friends, Michael. They haven’t been secretly hating you all your life. But they’re not blind to your faults, and it’s your faults that you’re here to address. Now…..”

The Spirit stopped suddenly, a look of concern crossing his face for a moment.
“Reflect on what you have just heard. Right now you need to be somewhere else.”

 

[Alana_]

Somewhere along the journey from roadside to hospital, Meg's condition wavered between serious and critical..Respiratory distress induced quickness of breath, and a horrible gurgling of the punctured lung filling, smothering her with her own fluids..
The 'he, that was the paramedic' that worked on her, told her his name was Grant, and his heavy inner city accent spoke of hard lives and often gang related violence...He was a beautiful dark skinned angel, who never left her side, constantly relaying back to the hospital her changing statistics, as the driver powered his truck through the traffic..
Meg was awake, but not fully lucid..She watched how his gentle chocolate brown hands had cut open her tshirt, sliced through the tiny bow of her bra, and then how his fingers pressed carefully, counting each rib until the culprit was found..Again he spoke into his head set, and she closed her eyes and wondered why she felt so calm. It was eerie.

Shouldn't she be more afraid?....Shouldn't she be more frantically fighting?...And slumber of a kind stole Meg from her thoughts, and she found that warm place again, with its welcoming soft arms gathering her to it.

''Fuck!..Doug pull over..she's in cardiac arrest!''

~


There was somewhere else..Somewhere that was nothing and everything all at once. There was an emptiness of space that was magnificent, and yet harbored everything in its dark but welcoming ...something. She had been 'there'...To that 'there' that could have given back what had taken so unfairly........But...

And she'd cried...pleaded.......while she'd been yanked back...was sent back,...was both pulled and coaxed, and 'it' even took the seconds of memories away, leaving her with the inner struggle of knowing something......but yet not knowing.
The pain of the defibrillator robbing her of the comfort of the dark hurt like bitch...She remembered hurtling, sobbing in silence, locked inside herself, pleading to be let go..But they wouldn't let her.

And someone there, in that ethereal darkness hadn't wanted her... And that hurt most of all.

~

''Ssssh..Don't keep touching her Dave!''

Jenna's voice...Soft kind gentle Jenna was in a flurry of whispers warning Dave not to keep trying to waken Meg..

Let me stay here!!...Please!

She remembered that plea...that desperate begged plea.
But she was back...With the tubes working from her, filling her lungs through the small life saving incision below the broken rib, and the moist cool oxygen in her nose, as she blinked slowly against the florescent light , and Meg groaned against the realization that she was 'here'..
Being 'here' wasn't where she wanted to be..She remembered things...Beautiful things, that were kind and loving, impassioned and powerfully emotional...And she remembered their whispers...Whispers that were so loving so needed.....But while she remembered...she couldn't remember.
Somewhere, those minutes between 'here' and 'there' she'd found .....What?...What had I found? And damn, it was gone...Staring up with glazed slow blinking eyes, Meg whispered the first word that came to her lucid moment in hours and hours..

''Mike?''

The voices quietened..both beside her...and her heart..She wanted to cry, but it hurt, the tightness in her chest reflecting on the pull on her lung as Meg gasped on a sob.

''Oh God''

Why didn't they let me stay there?.......Why didn't they let me stay?And the monitor beside her bed did a little flip as her blood pressure raised, and Meg's hand reached awkwardly to feebly tug on the tiny straw like tube up her nose.

''Shit..Dave go get her nurse.
Megan...Ssssh..It's Jen love...Sssh ..dont touch that.''

''Where's Mike...Mike?''

''Honey..sssh....Oh Meg, Mike's not here.....Just me and Dave..''

''But...what happ...................''

A young nurse rushed in, and quickly ushered Jen outside to Dave...She calmed..or tried to calm an agitated Megan, until it became apparent a mild sedative was in order.
And Jenna leaned against the hall wall, as the Doctor on call closed the door behind him to Meg's room, and Jenna stared at Dave..
Shocked..and totally confused..Her face was pale as she wiped a hand across her puffy tear reddened eye lids..

''She's lookin' for Mike''..

 

[MrAdam]

The room faded into nothingness. Mike waited for something to replace it, but nothing did. Everything was white. Just white. He was not aware of any dimensions or texture, just his own form, the Sprit, and…. white. The Spirit looked worried. Mike had not properly noticed the earlier concerned look, but could not fail to miss this.
“What? What is it?”
His mind raced. What could be worrying the Spirit? He always seemed so sure, master of time and space and everything. All knowing, all powerful… yet……

In a hearbeat, they were in a hospital room. A crash team was swarming over and under and around the patient, moving as a single organism with impressive practice and precision. The doctor barked something in medical jargon.

“What-?” asked Mike, his question caught in his throat as the nurse shifted position to allow him a better view of the patient. It took him a second or so to see past the bruises and the black eye from the airbag, but he passed them he did. Meg. The pretty delicate features of the most beautiful girl in the world – battered and bruised. Her perfect pale, flawless complexion discoloured. Her beautiful eyes shut. Her lovely auburn mane now tepid and lank. Her lips turning blue. But beyond all that, beyond the physical, was the sight of someone who he loved, someone who loved him, in desperate, desperate suffering.

“Meg!” he yelled, rushing forward, trying to push past nurses, but instead falling through them. “Meg!”
He threw himself on the bed, first trying to frantically smooth the hair from her eyes. Then trying shaking her shoulders. Desperate for any kind of human contact... contact denied to him.
“Meg! Come on, Meg! Don’t die! Don’t die! Fight it, Meg! Please… please don’t die! Don’t leave me!”
He felt tears prick his eyes, and made no effort to fight them back.
“Come on, come on…” he muttered, “Talk to me, please talk to me. Please wake up!”

“It’s not her time yet” said the Sprit, “She’ll make it. She’ll be okay”.

But Mike didn’t hear. He took her hands in his, squeezing tight.
“Don’t die, Meg! Don’t die” he pleaded, breaking down into anguished wracking sobs. “Please….”
He caught his breath suddenly. He looked down, and noticed with a sudden start that he was holding her hands. He stopped sobbing, and just stared as her eyes opened. And looked. Straight at him. She was groggy at first, but then her eyes focused on him.

Their eyes met.

Around them was controlled chaos.
“Clear!” shouted the doctor.
In the doctor’s world, Meg’s body jerked violently with the shock. But in Mike’s, she seemed to sit up from her body, her mouth silently forming his name in surprise, wonder, and delight. He saw her reaction shift from joy to alarm at his expression, at his tears. Her features formed wordlessly into sympathy and concern.
“Don’t die, Meg. Don’t die.”
“But I-“ she breathed.

“It’s not her time, Michael” said the Sprit.
“It’s not your time, Meg” said Michael. “I love you, and I’ll be watching over you.”
“I want to-“ The words stuck in her throat, barely more than a whisper.
“Tell her she needs to live” said the Spirit,
“You need to live” repeated Mike, “The world still needs you, Meg”
“Go back now” said the Sprit.
“Go back now.”
Meg’s form started to sink back into her body. She tried to fight, clawing at the air, grabbing at Mike as if she was drowning.
“Don’t fight it” ordered Mike. “Don’t fight, Meg.”
He pulled her into his arms and held her tight, rocking her gently as she sank back into her body, and out of his reach once more.
"I'll be waiting"

“We’ve got a pulse!” called one of the nurses, and the resuscitation collective shifted into a new phase.

Mike rose from the bed, and turned furiously to the Spirit.
“Did you do that to her?”
“No”
“To teach me a lesson? You punish the innocent to torment me?”
“No”
“Why?”
“I didn’t.”
“What gives you the right to-“
“I didn’t.” The Sprit drew himself up to his full height, his tone hardening assertively, insistently.
“But you could have stopped it?”
“Yes and No. But almost entirely no.”
“But you-“ he paused, tears streaming down his face.
“Go to her, Michael. I will leave you alone for a while. I thought you would want to be here, that’s all. I will leave you. Call me when you’re ready.”
He patted Mike on the shoulder, his first gesture of anything approaching affection.
“Take your time.”

The Spirit vanished. Mike slumped into a chair at Meg’s bedside, and wept as he had never wept before.

 

[Alana_]

There was a lovely glory in being sedated..Meg was at ease, comfortable when she was lazily 'awake', and peaceful when asleep..In her sleep, and in her half awake, she felt 'that beautiful tingle' of not being alone. He was there..Somewhere, somehow, there with her. His scent, that she'd tried to preserve in her memory wrapped itself around her, and saved her from tears..She could remember parts...The fight with her doctors, with Megan not wanting to come 'back'..Wanting to stay 'there'..in that lovely nothingness that gave her Michael...

She remembered enough now, to remember she'd hated him for a split horrific second, as he'd held her and told her to go...It was a dreadful feeling to have her love tested through anger, when suddenly the defib electric jolt shattered her wish.....
It had hurt..It had pained her heart in a way his passing hadn't. At first, for the first day, she'd felt he'd not wanted her...Had left her yet again, until common sense insisted on her listening to it. He'd not left her...He'd been taken.....And Meg was ashamed for those seconds that she'd put her own needs ahead of his loss...
But God how she'd missed him..yearned and craved another touch, another moment; ...to relive that last second again with him, before he'd gone to work that last morning...Just to make it 'vital'..To make that last kiss a little more loving...To stand watching him a little longer, and just remember everything....

The second day, Megan was sure she was either losing her mind, or.....that yes, Michael was there..She could feel the warmth in her skin, as if a hand had held hers, or a finger had traced her cheek, and Meg welcomed it..Whether it was her medications that allowed her feel Michael with her, or a vivid imagination, she didn't know....
Nor did she question...She just wanted him with her , no matter how it happened.

The somberness of being alone lifted, and she fancied she might even know a little happiness..It was an odd feeling..Being happy, with Michael still gone, but not gone..Even if it was the contortions of being semi lucid on medications..
She had him..That was what mattered. It was her little secret, and when she was in that fuzzy sleepy inbetween place, in the early morning, when the sun filtered through the tilted blinds, she could see him..His lovely face...the sadness of seeing her hurt, the ethereal touch that wasn't quite a touch, but that Megan still felt..

'' Please don't leave me''

Again, and again, she's sleepily asked repetitively of him, with a flicker of a smile, and a sigh that was almost content..What was happening, she didn't fully understand...and she didn't ask. Because the answer meant....well, the answer meant knowing, what she didn't want to know. She didn't want to face the reality of the glazed blessing she was allowed see now, only to waken up one morning, sedative free, and be alone again..For now, she needed this..Needed the austere make believe as she healed, as her visitors reminded her how lucky she had been.

Michaels car was , thankfully reparable...Dave had taken it upon himself to have it towed back to the dealership where it had been bought. Jenna was there daily, helping Meg with the girly things of nail polish, foot massages and pedicures..Cute funny things that her friend could give her to make her feel better, as Jen bantered her way though the visit, not knowing that Megans smiles were a little brighter, and easier, because of her secret , and the new memory of Mikes scent..
God was she mad?..Had she lost it? Was this what her life was to be? Some pathetic young woman, who had loved so much, she had created a little place in her soul for someone that has spoiled her for anyone else. Was she pathetic?...It was something that she shuddered inwardly on thinking, but.......She had loved him...Still loved Michael..And, if that was to be how her mind worked, to fool her into being happy, ...then Meg was 'happy'...And she'd worry about the rest later.....She'd worry on the morning she'd waken , and the sunlight would reflect the wall, and not the broad shouldered man that had found a way to save her from herself.

~

The morning before she was discharged, Meg woke, fresh, off all meds but for some antibiotics, and carefully slipped out of bed, to carefully shower..There was a sensation of being watched..but she could see nothing, and she was afraid of it..The inbetween wasn't inbetween anymore..It was definable, and it threatened those early morning interludes before the world intruded....The sun still filtered through, still a beautiful white gold of ribboned beams through the blinds, but she saw nothing of Michaels face......nor did she feel the touches that had comforted her. It had been like that for the last two days now, with the sedatives having been stopped.. But Megan could 'feel' Michael still. ...That tingle...That precious shiver on her skin as she inhaled and could 'feel' the familiarity of him that had been sadly lacking for two years now..She wasn't mad..She knew that now.

~

Home..She was home in their spacious cosmopolitan apartment..The home she'd thought about leaving...There was still that little dream of moving on, but she couldn't...Not now..Not if ................If what?...
Jenna left her,...ushered out by Megan with hugs and honest thanks..;her bag unpacked by her friend, the tiny bandage checked beneath her left breast, and her refrigerator replenished..She was a wonderful friend...But Megan wanted to be alone.....Wanted to know if Michael was gone from her..
She turned, and leaned against the apartment door, and found she was looking...Looking when for the past days there had been nothing to see....But she felt him..Right?...She still felt him..Oh Christ dont let me be completely insane.

''Michael?....baby, I love you.......Honey, are .....are you....here? ''.

And Meg was afraid....Not of being alone again....But rather the not knowing....And the hopes not knowing inspired. Hopes of what?...What hopes could there be? What now?....What was to happen ?...How could faith be so twisted as to allow her see him....and to entrap Mike somewhere that was nowhere..?..
Her chin quivered..Dark eyes spilled over with half panicked tears of dread..Was he gone?..Was he still here with her?...Had it all been some wretched disillusion designed by the safety of drugs and dreams?

'' Honey....I know you're here...You have to be...Mike..please..Oh God please''!.

 

[MrAdam]

Mike sat slumped forward in one of the visitors’ chairs by Meg’s bed. Outside, it was night time, but hospitals did not sleep – they powered down. The lights were low, but fluorescent, radiating an eerie half light that looked utterly unnatural. The visitors were long gone. The senior doctors were at home with their families, their junior colleagues holding the fort with the aid of caffeine and willpower, hoping for a quiet shift. The nurses moved from room to room, from bed to bed, taking readings and notes, giving medication here, taking a pulse there. And documenting everything on the little charts on whose testimony the doctors would rely on the morning round.

All was silent, but for three rhythms. The soft, beep-------beep------beep of some contraption by Meg’s bedside, marking time or some other measurement. In the daytime Mike had hardly noticed it, but now it was louder, more insistent. The second and third rhythms were more temporary…. the sound of the nurse’s footsteps as he heading up the corridor…. the plaintive protest of an unanswered phone at a nurses’ station…. Ringing….. ringing…… ringing…… The caller insistently waiting for someone to crack, return to the desk, and answer.

Mike was all alone. He had tried to talk to Meg again as she drifted off to sleep. He fancied that she heard him, that in the space between waking and sleeping, their worlds became closer. But perhaps that was just wishful thinking. He had not wanted to recall the Spirit, partly through petulance, and partly because he wanted time to think, to work things out for himself if he could. But he was getting nowhere.

“Spirit…?” he whispered, tentatively. Trying it out, seeing if he would come.
The Spirit appeared next to him, still in the form of Alan Rickman.
“You rang?” he asked, quizzically.
“I am lost, Spirit. I admit it. I am so lost right now…. I don’t know anything any more. Nothing makes any sense. I have so many questions, but I can’t sort them into a priority, or an order, or anything like that. I don’t know what to ask first, and I think if I ask the wrong question first, you’ll judge me. I am not used to being dead yet, Spirit. And then what you showed me at the wedding…. and then Meg’s accident. And then…. you know. You said you know me, Spirit. If you know me, tell me what I need to hear right now, because I don’t know where to start.”

The Sprit nodded.
“Okay, Michael. I’ll tell you what you need to hear. It might not be what you want to hear, but here goes……”

“One. I’m sorry about what happened to Meg. Let me cut a long story short and tell you that no-one made that happen except the person responsible for the crash. It wasn’t to hurt you, or to make any kind of point. Once it happened, I knew what would follow. I thought it would be good for you to be here when she nearly died. I thought it would be good for you, and for her. Time will tell on that one. But there was no intention, no plan. So it’s okay for you to feel lost at the moment. Overwhelmed. That’s fine. That’s okay. Two. Let me tell you what you have to do. Two things. You need to come to an understanding of what love is, and – and here’s a little clue for you, it’s related – you need to understand what you could and should have done to be a better person.”

“What David said… what Becky said…. I….. Are those things true? Am I a terrible friend? Did I treat Meg badly? I don’t think I did, but I can’t be sure of anything any more…” asked Mike.
“Yes, they are true. Dave understands you very well. You and Becky were never right for each other. Meg, on the other hand, you put first nearly every time. And that’s another hint for you, Mikey-boy. But would it have lasted? That I cannot say, but over time, well…. who knows? But remember this. You don’t get to have friends like Dave, Lars, Mark, Julia, Becky, and you certainly don’t get girls like Meg if you’re an arsehole. You didn’t do badly, but you didn’t do well enough. Not quite. But when you find out more about the person you were, you have to be open to the fact that you’re less perfect than you thought, but don’t lose sight of your good qualities either. Else how can you find out what you should have done differently?”
Mike nodded, mutely.

“Three. You are to watch over Meg. You can go back and forward in time as you wish, see what you need to see. I will make some suggestions too. As I told you, she can’t hear you or sense your presence in any way.”
“But, earlier-“
“Earlier she nearly died. That’s different. She won’t remember it.”
“But when she was drifting off to sleep, she-“
The Spirit shook his head.
“A heady brew of morphine-induced hallucination and wishful thinking, I’m afraid.”
“But-“
“Four. You want to know if you get to see her again when it is her time. The answer is yes, no, and probably. Probably because we do not know what course her life will take, or whether you will pass the test. If you’re a good little boy and she’s a good little girl, you will see her again, but you won’t be Michael and she won’t be Meg. You will be the soul that was Michael, and she will be the soul who was Meg. You will be together, but you will have transcended your humanity. It’s better, but you won’t understand that until you’ve done it. In summary – don’t worry about it, because it’s more than your still-mostly-human mind can handle. Friends don’t let friends do metaphysics, Michael.”
“I couldn’t be happy without her.”
“Don’t worry about it. All you need to know is that you will meet again, but it will be different… and better in ways you cannot yet understand.”
“Right” said Michael, dubiously. “What else?”
“That’s my list” answered the Spirit. “Other than to say that it gets easier from here, honestly.”

Mike watched over Megan as she slowly recovered, treasuring the moments when, in spite of everything the Spirit said, she seemed to sense his presence. He felt calmer, and took solace in Meg’s gradual recovery, and in the attentions of her friends. He wished he could talk to Dave again… to apologise perhaps, but also to find out what he needed to know. Dave was always wise, always insightful. He wondered what Dave would make of all this. What would Dave say that love was? What would Meg say?

He took pleasure in Meg’s recovery, and felt elated when it was time for her to return home. She looked so much better, and even though she could not see him, he could watch her. He was looking forward to going home with her, to watching her, to seeing what she was doing these days, how work was, what had happened to all of their friends. The possibility that she had met someone else occurred to him only briefly, and he pushed it from his mind. He would watch over her. It would be okay.

But it was not okay. The moment she was alone in their apartment, she was calling for him, desperately. He answered, but she could not hear. Nothing he could do or say could make her hear, give her the comfort she so desperately needed. He felt impotent, alone, lost. Useless. Worse than useless. He felt her pain as if it were his own. They were separated, but he knew she was there…. she did not know about him. She would have no idea what had happened, what happened after death.

He tried to hold her, but held empty air. He tried to wipe away her tear tracks with the tip of his finger, brushing over her cheek, while looking deep into her eyes, whispering words of comfort. Something he had always done when she was sad when they were alive. But she could not hear, not see, not feel.
“Sprit!” he called, in desperation, his own tears welling up. “Do something for her! Please… please do something…!”

 

[Alana_]

She hated him again...Meg's tears of absolute desolation turned ugly.. The living room turned into a miserable place, a miserable hearth to her home, without him there..Shoving away from the door, she launched herself across it, to the bedroom, and at Michaels ipod , ripping it from the night stand, pulling the wires from the wall as she hurled it and the docking station across the room.

''I hate you!''...

She flung what wasn't tied down, from picture frames to the pillows off their bed, as long suppressed frustration vented itself in a rage that stabbed at his memory..

''I hate you!...Look what you've done!....You bastard!''

Dropping to her knees, clutching her ribs, Megan cried into the crumpled bed linen left straggled on the beautiful bed, that they'd shared secrets in. There was no effort made to regain her composure, as her heart ache resurfaced afresh..She had seen him..she knew that...And he'd left her again...

''I'll never forgive you ..........You left me.......I'll never forgive you.''

She slumped to her hip, with her right shoulder resting on the bed, her hands limp either side of her, as the phone rang..Jenna..She was home, wanting to check that Meg was ok, and her voice sounded concerned on the answer machine, as she kept asking Meg to ''pick up''..

Meg didn't...she didn't care about anything...Not herself..not Jen, not Michael..He'd left her ...and left her again. And she'd loved him..still loved him...Still longed for and missed him,but was just broken inside. She wasn't whole without him..Breathing hurt..living was a chore...and moving on was impossible. Selling up and moving she knew now, would make no difference....
It didn't matter where she was.., she loved him...would always love him, and idea of a life with out him was no easier to deal with today as it was two years ago. She was Michaels...had been Michaels..and he hers....And he'd sent her back into the middle of a new grief that scored its mark in her heart with the sharpness of a serrated blade.

~

She woke two hours later, her phone ringing, her body stiff, slumped against the side of the bed, where she'd literally wept herself into a sleep that left her more drained than rested..It was Jenna..Her voice reflected her worry and relief....'been ringing all afternoon..Why didn't you answer?'..Megan's clouded mumbled explanation of having taken a sleeping pill sounded better and plausible , than the truth .I've just had a nice little tantrum, because I thought my dead boyfriend was here, but he wasn't, so I had a nice little tantrum/breakdown/attack of self pity. She could almost imagine Jen's reaction to something like that.

Megan hung up, looked around her bedroom, and ran a jaded hand through her hair..Taking a robe, she went to the bathroom, and stripped down, careful with her ribs. They'd asked her to try keep the small incision dry when showering or bathing, and gave her a clear tap to cover the small bandage, which she did while waiting for the shower to run warm..
In the full length mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself, and moved nearer barely recognizing the naked pale young woman, with the black eye and bruising down one of her sides from beneath her arm pit, right down her hip.

But somewhere there she saw Megan..the Megan Michael had loved, and who had simply adored him..She saw the body that had been made love to, and had ached with an ache only Michael could sooth...She remembered early morning love making when one would turn to the other, and they'd begin their day............................................She missed laughing with him..missed everything.
The mirror fogged over slowly, and Meg found she was once again fighting tears as guilt shamed her for what she'd said earlier..

I love you Michael.

And she turned away from her little message on the mirror, got into the shower , and just knew, she was going to have to try..really try, or she'd waist into some creature he'd never have imagined she could allow herself become.

 

[MrAdam]

But the Spirit did not come.

“Meg! I’m sorry, Meg! I’m sorry! Meg! Stop it…. please, please listen. Please hear me! Please! I didn’t mean…. I never….”

Mike stood over here, watching her bury her head in the sheets. Never before had he felt so powerless, so hopeless. He gave up trying to talk to her… she could not hear him, and would not want to hear him. He sat on the bed next to her, almost afraid to try to touch her in spite of his certain knowledge that he could not.

He would do anything to take the pain away from her. What if they had never met? What if he had never approached her at the wedding? What if he had never phoned her? What if, what if…… if he could change things, if he could take it all back, if his death would mean nothing to her, would he change things? Would he undo everything that they had had together, to leave her for someone else to discover? Would he sacrifice all of those memories? Would he give up what most gave his life meaning? Yes. Yes, he thought at that moment that he would. There was nothing he would not give to make her pain go away.

He had had it easy, he now realised. How dare he rage at the universe at the unfairness of it all? How dare he complain like a spoilt brat? He had not suffered. Not really. It was over quite quickly, and before he realised what had happened. And since then…. well, he was not quite himself any more, he knew. And he remembered what the Spirit had said, that his death was partly his own fault.

And it was. The guy had approached him in the car park, asked him for money. Half-heartedly muttered some obvious and ludicrous lie about a taxi fare home when everything about him screamed ‘drug addict’. Mike could have muttered some obvious lie about having no money, avoided eye contact, sidestepped him, got quickly into his expensive car, and roared off back to his luxurious apartment and wonderful girlfriend. And thought no more about him.

But no. For some reason, he had decided to give him a lecture. About pride. About responsibility. About working for a living. About how he would be ashamed to be begging when there were jobs to be had. About how he should just sort himself out. Why had he done that? Why? He could have just ignored him. But no, he had to belittle the guy. He saw it all now. He had probably thought he was helping him, but all he was doing was making his own superiority clear. Most people would find it easy enough to justify not giving money to a drug addict. But he had to go further, and tell the guy exactly why he was not going to get a cent.

What happened next was hazy, but he must have provoked him. Drug addicts could be volatile, unpredictable. Maybe the sight of him, looming large over him in his designer Italian suit was just too much. He had pulled a knife. Even then, he could have handed over his wallet. Or perhaps even just backed away. But he had felt so invincible that he had laughed in his face. And that was just about the last thing he did.

It was his fault. His arrogance had got him killed. Maybe he did deserve it. Maybe not. But Meg didn’t. Meg did not deserve this. She was the one suffering, not him. He could not quite bring himself to want to swap places, for he could not make himself will her death, but….. if he could take the pain away from her, any way, any way at all. He would. But he couldn’t.

He moved closer to Meg, lying flat on the bed on his side near to where she was kneeling, slumped forward over the bed. He gently stroked her hair, or tried to, and whispered into her ear.
“I’m sorry, Meg. Please sleep now. Please sleep.”

Once she had drifted off, the Sprit appeared.
“For God’s sake!” snapped Michael, “Please, do something to help her. I don’t know how long it’s been now, but she shouldn’t be…. like this. This isn’t her. Look, I’ll do anything you want me to, just…. please. Help her. Do something.”
“She doesn’t need my help” answered the Spirit.
“She does. How could you watch that… how could you remain unmoved? How can you do nothing?”
“What you just saw, Michael, was a good thing. She nearly died. She thinks she saw you. Even if she’s not sure about that, she’s thinking about you because she thinks she might be with you again if she’d died. It has brought a lot to the surface, and that’s a good thing. That’s healthy. She’ll feel better for it. And she doesn’t really hate you, by the way.”
“She did see me, remember?”
“Yes and no. She did, but she doesn’t remember.”
“I think she does! I thought she meant me being killed, but maybe she means me telling her to carry on living!”
The Spirit shook his head.
“That’s not possible” he said, firmly. “Look, if she remembers anything, it’s her imagination that she’s remembering. I told you – drugs and wishful thinking. But listen…. and think carefully. Think about how you’re feeling at the moment, and then tell me. What is love?”

The Spirit vanished. Mike sat and thought.

Before he knew it, the phone rang, and Meg awoke. He watched her undress, catching his breath at how ill she looked, how lurid her bruises. How much he wanted to make it all better. How he would do anything to make it better.

“I love you, Michael” she said.

“I love you too Meg” he said, tears welling in his eyes. “Which means that your happiness is more important to me than my own.”

 

[Alana_]

Time seemed to have lost meaning for her...Yesterday, today, tomorrow all rolled into one endless feeling of just existing. Meg had thought she was past all of that..Past laying awake , wishing, and hoping..Hoping for what, she wasn't ever sure...
Mike was gone..Hourly..no..Not hourly...Every second of every day she thought about the hospital stay...The 'knowing' she'd seen him..Every second of every day, she knew she hadn't been delirious... But then every second of every day, she knew she had to have been..Mike was gone!....But when she allowed her mind to clear, sit quietly, just forget the sounds of outside, she felt him..People always gave the usual bullshit when someone died...'as long as you remember them, they'll be with you in your heart'..
She wasn't just remembering Michael Meg wanted to scream...she could feel him.!

A week after coming home, her bruising subsiding to a lovely shade of yellow green, Meg closed the door on her first day back to work. She leaned against the door tired, and raised her hand, looking at the set of keys dangling from her fingers..Michaels car was back.

The garage had returned it during the day,leaving the keys with the door man. She'd gone down to the underground parking space to look , and stayed just staring at it for far too long..It was perfect...Just like before, his pride and joy was back, polished, with its new car smell inside, and her sun glasses back in the glove compartment, with some cd's and a St. Martins medal pinned to the lining of the compartment..
She almost smiled seeing it,and rubbed her forefinger over the tiny silver oval shaped jewel. Her Mum had given it to her the first time Megan moved out , telling her St.Martin would keep her safe. She'd pinned it to the glove compartment on the night Mike had first brought home his spanking new car..She didn't know if he shared her faith or not but he'd never commented on the little medal.

Had it worked the day of her accident? She didn't know, but she wasn't going to take the medal out , and as she closed the compartment, backing away from the car locking it, she silently thanked who ever was responsible for her good luck..be it the Saint, the paramedic, or the manufacturers of the powerful car..

Tossing the keys on the coffee table, Megan kicked off her shoes, and headed to the kitchen to prepare something warm for her supper..Leaving the lasagna warming, she went to the bedroom to change into something comfortable..Her little Buddha grinned his grin at her,and Meg rubbed his belly before slipping into a pj bottoms and tshirt, brushing her hair and cleaning her make up from her face sitting in front of her dressing table mirror.. Something caught her eyes...And she stared, and stared right into her own reflection, and moved in closer, her focus then drifting from her eyes to the reflection over her right shoulder.

The room was white on white..White walls, white viol drapes on huge windows, ...pale bleached pine furniture with white bedlinen, on a pale bleached lacquered wooden floors . The evening sun glowed through the drapes, and Megan peered and felt her eyes watering almost afraid to blink...Slowly she turned, and walked towards the spot she'd watched, her hands clenching and unclenching nervously , as she whispered..

''Are you trying to drive me insane?''

It wasn't there for her to see now...Or maybe it was, and she just needed to see it through the mirror;.....that brighter shade of white that she'd seen, and almost take shape...It wasn't white..it was white...It wasn't there, it was there..It was mind numbingly clear that she was seeing something,but it was nothing...
Megan sat on the corner of her bed, their bed, and backed on to the center rising up on her knees,her hands on her lap..

'' Did I do something wrong?''

The room felt lovely...It was almost peaceful..She didn't feel afraid, rather just anxious........Was it him?....Had she totally lost the plot now?....Was she finally so absorbed in wishing and hoping , that Megan couldn't tell the difference between what was real, and what was in her imagination?

''M...M....Mike?.....Try....Just try to let me know you're ok?...........Cause I don't know what to do..........Please be ok love. ''

And she looked at her little Buddha and actually felt embarrassed with him watching her talking to herself....and to someone that wasn't there for her anymore..

 

[MrAdam]

Mike followed Meg on her first day back to work. He was curious…. of course he knew what Meg did for a living, knew about her job and her company and some of her colleagues, but he had never really imagined her at work. Probably he had thought that she would come and work with him one day, or would stay at home to take care of their children. It wasn’t that he didn’t take her career seriously…. Or as it? He hoped not. He wanted to watch Meg at work, to see what she did, how she acted, what happened.

And he was glad that she was on the mend, physically at least. She looked better. Her skin was paler, clearer. He hair was lustrous again, lovely dark brown waves, and her eyes had a little of the sparkle back. The hospital greyness had separated out into dark hair and pale skin that he loved so much. She always looked good in her work clothes. Mike remembered how they would turn the ‘good evening’ kiss when they returned from work into something more…. her jacket, her blouse, her skirt slipping to the floor. There was nothing quite like slowly unbuttoning her blouse, either as they kissed or as she played with his shirt buttons, or just watched, nibbling at her lower lip and smiling at him…..

Mike walked behind Meg as she entered the building, needlessly hurrying to avoid the closing automatic doors. He stood back as various of her friends and workmates emerged to make a fuss of her, ask after her health, and welcome her back. Mike stood back and watched with some pride, but no surprise, at how much she had been missed. Everyone loved Meg…. you just couldn’t help it. But he was the one she had loved in return.

He took a few quick steps to get himself out of the path of one woman who was approaching Meg. He still found himself avoiding people, stepping round obstacles, and so on. He had no need, but the habits of a lifetime still held sway. But this woman altered course suddenly in turn, once again heading for Michael. He side-stepped, leaving the path towards Meg open. But she stopped short, and seemed to be looking directly at him. Mike glanced over his shoulder – surely there must be someone behind him. He must be mistaken. But no.

“Don’t I know you?” she said. Mike stared back in surprise.
“You can see me?” he asked, quietly. The woman did look familiar, but he could not immediately place her. She was older than him, late middle age, but not quite old enough to be classed as elderly. Her hair was dyed black, and her business suit was smart and fashionable. She looked like she was older than she looked.
“Yes, I can see you” she replied, a look of amusement crossing her face.
“How-?”
“I’m like you. I’m dead. I’m a ghost. I can see you. You can see me. They can’t see either of us. See.” The woman stepped straight through a courier approaching the reception desk with a package that required a signature.
“So who are you, and why are you here? I think I know you from somewhere, but, well, my memory isn’t what it used to be.”
“Mike. I’m-“ He stopped short, not wanting to hear himself say that he was stalking his former girlfriend from beyond the grave because a ghostly Spirit who took on the form of Alan Rickman had told him to, in order to learn some truths about himself. Saying it out loud was somehow worse than believing it.
The woman followed his gaze to Meg.
“The wedding! That’s where I know you from! You asked me to bring you some wine over, do you remember?”
Mike thought back. He remembered asking a waitress to bring some wine past at just the right moment, but had he not seen the whole thing over he almost certainly would not have remembered what she looked like.
“You remember that?”
“I do. You were such a cute couple, you stuck in my head. I thought it would work out between you….. well, that is to say….. you’re dead, but you know what I mean.”
“So why are you here?”
“I have some issues to resolve. It has taken me quite some time, but I am getting there. I need to see my son back onto the straight and narrow first. He comes first now – as he should have come first in life. I’ll make him listen.”
“Listen? But they can’t hear us! We can’t talk to them, can’t touch, can’t interact in any way!”
She laughed. “That’s what they tell you. But it’s not true. That’s what they want you to think. Remember when you were alive, all those stories? Visions, strange dreams, odd intuitions, eerie coincidences? Not all of them are supernatural, of course, but some of them, some of them must have been ghosts like us? Wishful thinking is one thing, but some of those stories… some of them are just to detailed to be anything but the truth.”
“Meg was in hospital recently – she nearly died. She saw me, she heard me. Then she went back. The Sp…. I was told that she could not remember, that it was impossible. But I think she remembers…. she wants to know why I did not take her, why I did not let her die?”
“Why didn’t you?”
“He told me not to. Said it wasn’t her time. But since….. when she was in hospital, sometimes I think she could see me, when she would wake, or when she was drifting off to sleep.”
“They say that the living have material perception and spiritual perception. Both can’t function at the same time, but when the first shuts down, or is weak, the second becomes more powerful. The stronger the link you have with a person, or a place, or an object, the greater your chance of influence, of being able to interact.”
“So why didn’t he tell me this?”
“Your Spirit Guide? I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think they like interaction between the living and the dead. So they tell people that it’s not possible. Tell them that they need to learn more about themselves, and just watch and learn. But I think that’s selfish. How can I look after my own interests while my son’s life is heading for disaster? How can they say that I neglected my son while I was alive, and then now tell me that I can’t put it right.”
“I was told I was selfish” said Mike, “but surely it would be more selfish just to sort myself out. Meg is in a terrible state, and I want to fix that. Or help, if I can. The Spirit doesn’t care about her.”
“They don’t care about the living. They only care about the dead.”
“I thought he was an Angel, or something. I thought he was telling the truth.”
“Listen, sweetie, forget everything you thought you knew about religion and the afterlife from when you were alive. There are no answers there. Judge for yourself, that’s my advice. If you had a strong link with your girlfriend in life, you should be able to interact. But you need to practice.”
“Will you show me? Teach me?”
She shook her head. “Not everyone can do it. You just have to concentrate, and you just have to want it enough. The harder you work, the weaker the resistance gets, or the stronger you get – I don’t know which. Try it and see.”
“I will, thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. I’m Mike.”
“Olivia” she answered.
“Where can I find you?”
“I’ll find you. Try tonight, and we’ll talk tomorrow. Let me know how you get on.”

 

[Alana_]

She got home...Another day over, ..another meeting that she'd been distracted in and useless..; lost in her own head the entire way through. Her boss called her to one side afterwards, concerned, but his interest in his business had to come first..He asked Megan if she ''should really be back in work''..That maybe she was still too shocked..''It was all understandable.''It was happening again..Meg knew she wasn't working quite up to par, and he was giving her a gentle warning...''You have time due Meg...Take it.''.And she nodded, going back to her desk, to close off her computer.

She'd sat there stupidly until the lights went out and Meg realized she'd lost another hour and a half of time. She needed help, she knew it. ..She didn't know the clinical terms, but her emotions were strangling her..The need for Michael was greater than the need to get over him, and that was wrong..
Michael was gone..Common sense told her she had to get past the grief..She'd almost done it once....She simply had to get past the need to love him..and the hope that somehow, he was still there.

At home..Their home..she hung her coat in the entrance closet and stood on the threshold looking in. She hated loving him like this....Hated this feeling of being ' a left over'..But she loved him..hated him.....and she'd absolutely adored every second she'd had with Michael..He'd given her a year..one perfect year where nothing could have stole a second from her that mattered more than him. She'd never believed in ' true love'..but in him, she'd been flung head first into it, and Megan wanted it back..

''If you can hear me........you better find a way of letting me know Michael..''

She walked inside, and swallowed back tears that never seemed too far beneath the surface. Her eyes skimmed the room, looking for him..looking for a shadow that wasn't a shadow..or a light that wasn't quite a light..Dropping her keys, Megan slipped slowly out of her shoes, and turned around viewing the entire room as she did so..

''If youre here...and youre going to stay with me, you better find a way Michael of letting me know.....or Im going to prove to myself I am nuts...and bring a man home to your bed, and I'll screw him..I'll make you watch..Do you hear me!?''

Her chin quivered..She hated herself now...The idea of another man laying a hand on her made her skin crawl , and she knew Michael would know that..Especially if he was really there, and witnessed the mess she was in..

''I don't want to be alone.....I dont want to be by myself....I promise, I'm finding someone ...anyone...I dont want you..I dont want you..You've no right to be here..''

Her cry ended in a whimper, and Megan sat on the edge of the couch afraid of her own mind..
Yes.she needed help..Help to prove what she believed wasn't true...She needed to not believe Michael was there..Needed to believe she could get past her grief, and not believe..Not believe..Not think he was there..Not a part of her confused life now, but part of her beautiful past.

''I just want to be happy again baby......Anyway I can.....Please...Please if you're here...Please show me.''

 

[MrAdam]

Mike felt edgy, antsy, nervy, twitchy, jumpy… all of those things. He felt almost human again, like he used to feel before a big tennis final or before a really important meeting. Tense and relaxed all at once, excited and calm, measured and panicked. But most of all… alert. His senses tingled, adrenaline started to flow, and his mouth felt dry. None of these feelings were possible, but still… there they were. Was this a good sign? If he felt more human, would it be easier to talk to her?

He paced up and down the hallway in their apartment. Yesterday, he had done it. Not much, but he had her attention. He had not imagined it. This was not wishful thinking. The Sprit was wrong, and Olivia was right. He had wanted to tell her, but he hadn’t seen her. She would find him, she said. But he thought about what he would do, what he would say to Meg when…. when… not if…. but when he found a way to talk to her. It was not what he wanted, not really. Not what either of them wanted, but he was dead. This was the next best thing. They could be together still. They could talk… and he could help her. Help her at work, be her constant friend and companion. She would never be alone… never. They could not grow old together – that was denied them – but he would stay with her until her time came… and then, and then! And then they would be together again, in whatever happened next. It was different, the Sprit had said, but it would be good. And he could learn at the same time… learn from Meg…learn from his past and from his faults… learn whatever the Spirit wanted him to. But just grant me this, he thought, grant me Meg. I will watch over her in her world, and she will help me mend my broken soul.

His heart sang as he heard the keys in the door. He bounded over to the door, waiting for the door to open. He smiled his bestest, smoothest, smile. His pick-up smile, the one that Meg knew him well enough to know was an act. The one he used to smile at her when he wanted her to drop whatever she was doing, and be whisked off to the bedroom.
“Hello Meg” he smiled. “I’m back”.

She walked straight through him. Never mind, he told himself. Try again.

''If you can hear me........you better find a way of letting me know Michael.''

“I’m trying Meg, I really am. I need you to listen to me. We can do this, Meg, we can. Listen. Listen hard for me.”

Nothing.

''If youre here...and youre going to stay with me, you better find a way Michael of letting me know.....or Im going to prove to myself I am nuts...and bring a man home to your bed, and I'll screw him..I'll make you watch..Do you hear me!?''

“No!” he shouted, “Meg, no! I am here! You have to listen to me. Listen, please. We can still be together, we can-“

“Not like that” said Olivia, materialising suddenly next to him. “That’s not how ghosts work. You know better than that”
“What do I do?” Mike asked, “how can I make her hear me? Yesterday she saw me…. Well, nearly, saw something, but today…. How do I do it? How?”
Olivia’s eyes widened
“She saw you? Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, of course I’m sure”
“But you’ve only been here for, what, a week? Already?”
“Yes. And when she was sick, I think she saw me then, too. Or sensed me. Help me, please. Help me bring her some comfort. Help me talk to her.”
“You have to be patient, Mike. But you must have been so close to her in life to be able to…. already. That’s some connection. With my son it took me months. But you two. Well, perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. With a connection like that, you might even…. “
“Might even what?”
Olivia shook her head. “Walk first, run later. Now, remember you’re a ghost. You work in subtle ways. Subtle. Shouting and screaming and waving your arms is no good. Now. Put your arms around her, as if you could touch her, and whisper in her ear. Calm her, reassure her. Maybe she will hear, maybe she will hear you subconsciously and be calmed. Try it.”

Mike moved behind her, wrapped his arms around her form, crossing his hands over her breasts, but unable to touch her. He wade as if to kiss her neck, and then whispered into her ear.
“Meg, my darling. I am here. I am back. I will never leave you. My body may have died, but my love will never die. Wherever you are, whatever you do, you will always have me here. Always, I promise you. I never got to say the words, Meg, but for better, for worse, in good times and in bad, I am yours forever. I love you, Meg.”

 

[Alana_]

If she was mad, it was the easiest succumbing into insanity ever. If she was sane, then sanity found itself joined with a perplexing, almost frightening magnificence. It did not roar at her that she was or wasn't nuts...it simply whispered to her..Whispered quietly to calm...to listen...to accept within herself what ever she was....If it was madness, Meg discovered she was, right at 'that' time, happy to die raving mad, because it meant in her addled mind, Mike was there.
If she was sane, and was actually feeling................feeling what?
Feeling something...; feeling as if the weight of the world was being lifted from her very heart by a unseen strength..by a feeling of warmth to the sensitive pulse spot beneath her ear lobe.., then she was just happy to know in her heart then she wasn't alone. That Mike was there.

Somewhere, while she didn't hear him, she heard him...She felt his words..their meaning..their promises...He was calming her.....Soothing her and allowing her to wind down and just, ...become aware that he was there with her...loving her.
She closed her eyes...Listened..Listened from deep within herself, and heard him....Sure she cried..Why not?...The relief was huge...the realization of it meant was beyond her scope of understanding....but...he....was....there.

It became very natural to let her body relax, ..to let the tension drain, ...to feel how the warmth she remembered from Mike filter into the very fibers of her flesh..Was it her memory that told her of his scent, or was that real?...That male musk that no chemical could copy.....;..a scent her own distinct senses responded to avidly.

''Oh thank God''.

He was behind her...She knew it then..There, but not there...No form to touch...no whisper to define, but Megan knew Michael was there. Every part of her shivered...trembled in an anticipation of acceptance...Slowly with her eyes still closed, Meg turned...She didn't dare look..Not because of fear of the unknown..but because she was afraid if she saw that empty space infront of her, she'd stop believing. So she kept her eyes closed, and raised her right hand...She knew from having been held, ..having stood by Mikes side, exactly where he'd be..Her finger tips touched just above her forehead level to where his strong stubborn chin would be...She swallowed nervously, as her forefinger raised that little further, to where the cupid's bow of his lips would be, and Megan felt her chin quiver with both a smile and further threat of tears..He was there....As surely as she was, he was there...Somehow.

Every pour of her body told Meg he was.

''I'm yours...Only yours.''

Her hand in its blindness observed where his race would be...From his forehead, down over his brow to his nose, over his lips, to his chin, her fingertips scanned...Fingers that were unnervingly sure, and confident. Only a year she'd had with him, but Megan knew every aspect of Michaels appearance, ...every perfection, every imperfection...And she had done by nothing only an instinctual awareness that wasn't learned, nor forced...She'd just known him.

''I ache''

Her whispers were so tender, so honest...so utterly void of anything only a sadness that was prepared to accept anything so long as it brought her Michael..She wanted to see him...but still didn't look.....Her mind gave her his image..Gave her the face that smiled, and cried , and laughed with her in moments shared with others or when they were tucked away alone, in their own world.

''How''?

Would he know how he was here? How it was happening?....Why?....She dint' care..She honestly didnt care.

''You wont go, will you?......Say no...Ohhh Mike..Say no''.

Meg remembered the first time they'd made love.....How from the moment they'd gone out that night, the air was full of a tension that both understood to be desires silent time piece ticking down those last lazy minutes to when...........................
Goosebumps. He'd given her goosebumps. And she'd been so afraid he'd read her like a book, and know she was already deeply in love. It had been beautiful. So so beautiful, and they'd deserved more.

And her moist eyes opened with her fluttering blush and gasp for breath...In remembering that moment.., she'd been so locked in its bliss, Meg had forgotten to breath..It wasn't quite a smile that flickered on her lips, rather the threat of one, ..In the middle of the living room, she was light headily drunk on euphoria.., with feared emotions and worries locked deep inside her, draining away now in dizzy relief, and 'hope was born.' Her eyes didn't see him , but as her head tilted back as if to look up into his face, Megan 'knew' he was there...

''Please....
I'll do anything...Just please let him stay with me...please.''

 

[MrAdam]

Mike’s eyes widened in surprise. She could sense him, he knew she could. He watched as she turned towards her, his arms moving to wrap around her waist. He could not feel her, but…. neither was he holding thin air. He could not feel the full weight of his arms as he had done when he had ‘held’ her from behind moments earlier. Now she knew he was there, it felt like something was supporting them, as if they were underwater. Could he develop this, he wondered? Could he learn to hold her once more?

He caught his breath as her fingertips traced over his chin and onto his lips. Could he feel something? He wasn’t sure. But the trace was precise – exact. Her eyes were tight shut. She could sense him, and not just in the corner of her eye, for a moment, like before. Now she knew he was there. There was no doubt. Could be no doubt.

''I ache''

“So do I, Meg.” he answered, emotion choking his whispered reply. “I am here now. It’s not what we wanted, but it’s the best we have. I am here. I will never leave you. I want you to be happy, Meg. Do you understand? I want you to be happy. I want that more than I have ever wanted anything. Don’t grieve for me, Meg. I didn’t suffer. You suffered, not me. I am fine. I grieve for you and for your suffering, Meg. I understand now. I was away… I don’t know where… I don’t know for how long… I don’t know why. But I am back, now. And I’m never leaving.”

“Keep it simple, Mike” said Olivia, “she can only just sense you. She can’t make out your words. But this… even this…. Incredible.”

Mike started. He had forgotten Olivia.

''How''? asked Meg.

“Don’t worry. I am okay. I am worried for you. I want you to be happy. I will never leave.”

''You wont go, will you?......Say no...Ohhh Mike..Say no''.

“No. I will never leave you. Never. I will watch over you always. I will always be here. Now….” he moved to steer her towards the kitchen, but walked through her. He grimaced in frustration and went back to try again. “You eat. You need to look after yourself. You’re still not fully recovered. Do it for me, please.”

Meg froze. Everything froze. Everything except Olivia, who had stopped time.

“Wow” she said, “That was something else. I have never seen anyone with such a close link. Never seen anything like it!”

“How did you do that?” Mike asked, a note of suspicion creeping into his voice.
“You can too. Remember? We can go back and forward. You just need to practice. Practice, practice, practice. That’s the name of the game. You keep talking to her. She can’t hear like you can hear me, but on some level, subliminally, subconsciousless… I don’t know. She can. If you keep it simple. You can project your emotions, simple answers, ideas, concepts, pictures. Just concentrate, and try to send them to her.”
“Will I ever be able to touch?” Mike asked. “I can feel something, but….”
“What?”
“It’s like…. I don’t know. When I hold her, I can’t feel feel, but there’s something there.”
“It’s said that-“ said Olivia, stopping abruptly, changing her mind. “No. I don’t know anyone who can touch.”
“Wait” said Mike, “what were you going to say?”
“It’s nothing, just rumour. Probably nonsense.”
“Tell me” he insisted.
“Well….” she began, reluctantly, “I don’t want to get your hopes up…. but I have heard it said that someone, a ghost, once managed to interact, to get a physical presence. But it’s just a story. I don’t know of anyone who has managed it. I think it’s just a urban myth, a rumour.”
“Heard it from who?”
“Others. Other ghosts.”
“And you didn’t want to find out more?”
“Honey, I can’t even get my son to feel my presence. Sometimes I can put ideas in his head – once I got him to change his lunch order, or I think I did.”
“Can you find out for me? If you know others… ghosts. Can you ask?”
Olivia sighed. “If you like. But listen, Mike, honey…. Don’t get your hopes up. You and that girl had something special in life, and it endures somehow. I’m so jealous I could kill you.” She smiled sadly. “Enjoy what you have. See if you can build on it. See what you can learn. Be grateful for what you have, don’t ruin it by chasing an impossible dream.”
Mike nodded. “No point running before I can walk. I-“ He stopped short. He was about to talk about himself, about to miss what Olivia had just said to him. The old Mike would have missed it.
“I’m sorry about your son, Olivia. I don’t know if there is anything I can do, but if I can, you let me know. If you want someone to talk to who isn’t here to judge you.”
Olivia laughed. “That’s sweet of you, Mike. Thank you. Maybe one day we can see if you can talk any sense into him. But for now, I will leave you two alone.”
“Thanks for coming. And thank you for everything. I owe you.”
“Think nothing of it. Just look after that poor girl, would you?”
She smiled maternally at Meg.
“Take care of her” she said. And vanished.

Time was still standing still. With an effort of will, Mike forced it forward. He wrapped his around Meg again.
“Meg. Put on some happy music. Cook some yummy food. Read one of those sappy books I used to tease you about. I’ll be watching over you.”

 

[Alana_]

Inside the panic Meg had become accustomed to was gone. It was a panic that she'd gotten so used to she'd forgotten what it was to be without it. The knot was gone.
Even on good days, it had always been there, flexing its little clench on her gut, ..tightening its band around her heart , and the only company she had on many nights sleep wouldn't come.

But, as the evening went from dreading going home, to knowing now, she wasn't alone in her home, Meg calmed; eased up on the rush of hopes and wishes she constantly had since losing Mike, to being as close to happy as she'd been in a long time. It wasn't the same joy she'd woken to every morning with him by her side. It wasn't that 'turn in the middle of the night, and feel his arm tighten around you' joy . But it was a secret little joy she had just for herself..She could never tell anyone. No one would understand..How could they..The only reason she understood what was happening, was because she'd take Michael anyway she could.

She did play music..And turned the lights down but for one reading lamp, where she cuddled beneath it with a soppy silly love story and relaxed. She drank a couple of glasses of white wine, with the chicken pasta she suddenly had a craving for, and realized then too soon on checking the time, that her first almost good night was now gone after midnight. She was wide awake on undressing, and taking a quick shower..The doors steamed over in the cubicle, and Megan looked through the steamed glass, wondering if Michael was still there. She smiled a private smile, rinsed the conditioner from her hair, and remembered other times where showering was less duty, and more pleasurable.

At two in the morning, she gave up. She couldn't sleep and Meg rolled out of bed, checked the tv at the foot of the bed, but fond nothing that interested her...She rummaged through her night stand, and found some dvds she and Michael had made over their time together.., but hadn't had the courage to look at since he'd.........since things had changed.
They were date stamped, and she slipped into the dvd player, the disc she figured to be the first they'd made on the Christmas morning she'd given him the gift of a new sleek digi cam. In minutes, Meg was on her stomach, laying on the foot of the bed, laughing at his first 'production'..It was a production in torturing her, as Mike followed her around their apartment Christmas morning, with Meg pleading he leave her alone..She was in over sized pj's, her hair unbrushed, as she warned him not to follow her into the bathroom..All of which he promised he'd not do...but as soon as he heard the water running in the shower, Mike of course entered and Megan screamed laughing trying to cover herself in the shower with her hands and a face flannel.

You promised Mike!

''Oh come on now..show me your good side''

Mike get out!

''Nope...come on..don't be shy baby.''

Promise you'll not be taking this out at the dinner table when the others are here?

''Um..Ok..but you got to be nicer to me''

Brat!

and she laughed, turned her bottom to him, and Mike zoomed in on her ass, mimicking some sleazy porn director, as he opened the door of the cubicle, and Meg looked over her shoulder at him, playing 'shy' perfectly, as she batted her lashes..

I'm cold love....I can't get warm.

''Okay honey, you want me to...you know, warm you up?''

Mmm humm...Please?

And Meg turned around for him, her head tilted to one side innocently, as she ran her soapy hands over her breasts for him, and the bubbles trickled down her belly, over the curved loveliness of her crotch, and Mike got his frontal of his girlfriend, who came a little closer to the lens and mouthed..

I love you......Lets play.

And the large tv screen showed the camera being lowered to the vanity. The focus was tilted, left running forgotten as Mike lost interest on being director,...joining Megan his priority as he watched her backing back against the shower wall, the spray spilling over her body.. Things got very quiet, as Meg watched him strip down, and the expression on her face said so much of how she loved him,...loved looking at him....There was no talking, no teasing, just his back on the screen, shielding Meg as Mike stepped into the shower, and......................

The bed seemed huge, as Megan rolled onto her back, the sounds of the tv relaying the more intimate moments shared with Michael..She didn't have to look at the screen, to know what was happening...To know and remember what it was like to have his hands moving on her, claiming her as her hands moved on him..She didn't need to see them kissing to remember everything about his lips on her..on her body...She didn't need to hear the gasp that was her when Michael pinned her against the wall, he standing behind her, taking her as he groaned into her ear how much she was loved..She didn't need to look to see that the rhythmic wet slapping sound was his body driving into her, his hands on her hips pulling her against him, as she clung over head to the shower attachment..
Meg didnt' have to look at the screen to know the exact moment when she climaxed, and he brought her on again to another one, before his body bucked and Michael was as lost in her as she was with him.

Her fingers were wet...She had touched as she'd listened, to their lovemaking, and her body had ached as it always had...Michaels voice on the tv.. , his impassioned whispers, incited reactions as she listened to his arousal and she came quietly....Soft moist flesh relented and soothed her entire body as it fell silently into that lovely warmth, and Megan turned onto her side, her hand still between her thighs, as she heard the tv hum, the dvd finished, and she lay there looking up the bed at Mikes side of the bed..She cried again..but not the pained cry of before....She gathered his pillow to her, and just had a little cry of relief..Mike was here...with her..Doing for her the best he could to be with her. And she loved him..adored him...Cried it into his pillow before sated, peaceful exhaustion took her, and Meg eventually fell asleep, praying to God that in the morning she'd know the feeling of him with her still.