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So he hadn’t even tried to call while she was asleep, he had just blown her off again. Perhaps he was just running late and hadn’t gotten a chance to call, she told herself, trying to be confident, trying to tell herself that something “more important” hadn’t come up. Not so soon after their reconciliation. Not already! She told herself not to wait around for him, not to let him do that to her again, but it didn’t work. She knew it wouldn’t. Even if she called it something else, she was still waiting, and every minute that passed brought a deeper ache, every minute that passed brought her closer to the inevitable tears. She tried to busy herself, not to sit by the phone or watch the door, not to wait for him to come. She fixed dinner, enough for two just in case, and sat down to eat. Slowly she lifted the fork to her mouth, barely able to choke down the few bites she forced herself to eat before the plate went into the garbage, and still there was nothing. The emptiness of her little. "Aren't your feet cold?" I asked, looking at her bare toes.She smiled and brushed while I built up the fire. I came and sat beside her, our hips touched."She's a sound sleeper," the woman said, nodding at her daughter."Is she?" I said. She raked her hair back. It fell nearly to her waist."Um," she said, putting down her brush and turning to welcome me in her arms. We kissed gently and at some length. I pulled her onto my lap and my free hand explored her body starting at her knee and working its way north under her gown."He's been dead nearly half a year," she said, her head on my shoulder, my hand in the middle of her back."You're still in mourning?"She nodded."No more talk," she said in a whisper. She stood and led me to the other bed. She rolled in on the thin, straw mattress and waited, lying on her back, her eyes open, while I undressed.We caressed each other for a bit, and then I mounted her. She pressed her face tightly against my chest, and I felt her mouth open as our pace.
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