An Affair of the Mind

                                       An Affair of the Mind

She was smaller than I remembered. Her coal black hair was shorter and teased rather than flipped under her ears. She was standing with her back to me when I entered the funeral parlor. The sweet scent of carnations was heavy in the air, and thin wisps of cigarette smoke drifted past me like formless spirits. A soft babble of familiar voices hummed in my ears.
         I dropped my gaze so I could see her eyes when she turned toward me. And when she did, my heart flipped like it did fifteen years ago; and I almost forgot we were both married.
         She took my arm and I felt a thrill like a dope addict shooting up.
         "Danny, is that really you?"
         I couldn't answer, but I was smiling like an idiot.
         "You haven't changed a bit." She said. "Let's go outside and talk."
         "Ok. " I said. It was the best I could mange. She led me past smiling faces with questions in their eyes. They all knew how close we had been. Outside, the air was warm and a playful breeze ruffled her hair.
         "You knew I'd be here," she chided.
         Yeah, you're right I thought. I had just turned forty and I was still bewitched. Linda had lit a torch in my heart, and when she left, someone forgot to blow it out. I guess it was me.
         "You're right," I said. "I'm sorry about your Grandmother."
         "She didn't suffer, Dan." "Are you happy?" she asked suddenly.
         She was looking at me like a child asking her father if he got her anything on his long business trip.
         "Sometimes." I said. "But, I still dream about you. And the truth is I've never really stopped thinking about you." I never planned to say that, but I knew then that it was true.
         "I think about you too. I want you to be happy. Say you're happy." She said pleadingly.
         "Are you happy," I asked instead.
         "Uh huh." She nodded, "I have two boys, and I love my husband."
         "Great." I said. "Don't get me wrong. I love Mary, but sometimes it's hard because I know I'm missing something. Something I lost and never got back again." But I wasn't sure what that something was.
         "You don't hate me, do you?" When we broke up, I thought you were going to kill me." She said shuddering.
         "No, I never hated you. But the thing is, when you left me, I was still in love with you. You never cut me loose. And through all these years, I just couldn't let it go."
         "You can't still love me after all this time."
         "But I do." I said. "My body is tingling. I haven't felt this way in fifteen years."
         She smiled and shook her head. "You know what I think? I think you're in love with a dream."
         "Maybe, but I held that dream in my arms for almost six years." I touched her arm and we started walking.
         "I always liked that, Dan. No one ever made me feel like you did. Mike can't. He's passionate, but he can't turn me on the way that you did."
         "Why was she doing this to me?" I wondered.
         "Then why did you leave me?"
         She must have been waiting for this, maybe even rehearsed it.
         "Because I could never make you happy," she said. "We would have both been miserable. I was afraid of you. You expected too much from me. I wasn't an angel. I was mean and bitchy. I still am. But you never saw that. It was like you were obsessed with me. But I did love you, Danny. You believe me don't you?"
         I just nodded. I knew she was right, but I had to find out for myself. "We better go back in." I said.
         Back in the funeral parlor, she led me to her grandmother's casket. I stood there remembering how her grandmother used to glare at me and shake her head. Now her face was chalky and shriveled like dried out Play-Doh. There is nothing beautiful about a corpse.
         "She treated me mean." I said.
         Linda smiled. "She never did like you, did she?"
         Before I could reply, she started glancing around the room. I knew how she felt. We were as inconspicuous as a full moon on Halloween night.
         "Go ahead. You can leave me."
         She smiled at me, sighed, and walked over to a group of relatives, while I made the rounds and offered my condolences. I noticed her mother slumped on the parlor couch. Her eyes were puffy and her lips quivered. I went over and took her hand. It took her a few seconds to recognize me.
         "I wasn't there, Dan. I wasn't there at the end."
         "Don't feel guilty, Marge. You did the best you could." I sensed Linda behind me.
         "I have to go home Mom, she said. "I'll be back tomorrow night. OK?"
         "OK, be careful." Her mother replied.
         "Want to walk me to my car?" she asked as I turned to her.
         I nodded and we walked out to the parking lot. She had a metallic maroon Cutlass waxed so brilliantly, I had to reach for my sunglasses. I was ready to say goodbye, when she said, "Get in."
         I just looked at her.
         "We have to talk." She said.
         I went to the other side while she unlocked the door. I got in.
         She put her hand on the back of my neck and stroked my hair like she used to do.
         "Do you know what I've always regretted?" she asked.
         Then suddenly I knew why she still had a hold on me. It was there all these years, but I never saw it.
         "Yes." I said. "We never made love to each other."
         "How did you know?"
         "Because it would have answered a lot of questions and solved a lot of problems."
         "I wanted you to," she said, "but I was afraid, and you never pushed it."
         "I thought if I did, I'd lose you," I said.
         "I still want to," she said. "Isn't it funny?"
         "What's funny?"
         "That I still want to."
         I just stared at her. "We'll never be able to." I said.
         "I know," She paused. Then she said, "but maybe when a little old lady comes knocking on your door, you'll still want me."
         That remark got to me somehow, and for the first time I saw her as she really was. A woman pushing forty, flirting with an old boyfriend, but risking nothing. Without touching her, I pictured her in my mind, undressed her, and screwed her. And when I looked into her eyes, I could find no love, only burned-out desire. Emptiness bubbled inside me like peroxide on an open wound, and finally killed all traces of my parasitic obsession.
         And then she kissed me. Her eyes were closed, and suddenly I began to feel a great weariness like a drowning swimmer.
         I pulled away gently. "I better let you go. You have a long drive home and we're both going to be in trouble." My hand was on her knee, but that's as far as I wanted to go. We were just teasing each other. I got out of the car holding her hand.
         "Don't forget what I said tonight," she said. "I really do care about you."
         I leaned down and said, "I know you do, and you're right about something."
         "What?"
         "We should have made love."
         She smiled and I closed the door softly. We waved as she drove off. And so we parted, perhaps, for the last time. The affair I played in my mind for so long was over. A quiet peace calmed the winds of regret and urged me home to a more sensible love with my Mary. I can only hope she didn't let the pilot light go out.
                                                                                                   The end.