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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1334095-Untitled
by Pete
Rated: E · Draft · Action/Adventure · #1334095
Not sure where this is going...be patient pls!
Ed didn't know how he was going to make it. Each morning he awoke exhausted; each night it was an agonizing process of trying to get to sleep. Warm milk, sleeping pills. It was only at almost the crack of dawn when exhaustion over-took him that he finally fell asleep and the nightmares kept him from getting a decent nights rest.

Work finally had to tell him to take some time off. Luckly benifits would cover it. So here he was. The third week of a 3 month leave, a yard full of leaves, a new bbq and a freezer full of meat, and no desire. No energy. No need.

Meg's death hit him hard. Harder than he thought is would. Even after the service, he found no peace. During the spreading of her ashes on her favorite river he seemed to be robotic, not just in his actions but in his words and emotions as well. It's only now, a month later that he can see how almost programmed the last 6 weeks was.

Twice now he had caught himself starting to speak outloud to her, asking her for her opinion or where the damn tape was. That was the hard one, he asked Meg where the tape was to seal the box of her clothes that she wouldn't ever be wearing again.

Ed and Meg didn't have children, but not for a lack of trying. The doctors finally concluded that not only was Meg infertile, but so was he. "It's ok hon" Meg would tease "At least we both share the blame" then she would smile at him. Ahh that smile, those lips. He fondly remembered many coffee shop talks he would get himself in toruble for completely tuning out what she was saying, but loosing himself in simply watching her talk. It never suprised him that that same mouth could be so nice, so nasty and so sensuous, sometimes all at the same time!

Now though, he had to learn to be a bachelour again. All those years. It seemed like a memory, a faded parchement that you would find on a musuem wall. Yellowed, and wrinkled. Brittle with missing edges, and brown writing so close to the same color as the paper that it was almost impossible to read it.

Faded memories. The more he thought about being alone, the more he remembered the firs time he and Meg first meet and the trouble he got in follwoing her home to her Dorm. 6 months and almost a restraining order later he convinced her to have a coffe with him, and 2 of her friends. It took 10 minutes of her friends attacking him before he even got to ask if she wanted cream in her coffee.

That seemed to change things. He never knew why though. 20 minutes later she asked her friends to leave. 2 weeks later they had their first date... she called him... and a month later they were officially dating. The year after, in their 4th year of University, they were married in Italy; and all those years later, she still seemd to be a part of his life, even though she was not physically there.

The hardest for him was watching her die. He thought about it over and over again, until the agony of it left him with bile in his throught and days of poor or no sleep. She just didnt' die, hit by a car, or have a heart attack, it was cancer. It ate her up first. Then spit her out, leaving nothing but a weak, husk, that died days later asking over and over again why she was alive.

Ed looked out the front window, his eyes glazed over again. He'd been there long enough that the tea he had in his hand was cold. It was the phone that startled him back to reality, and spilling tea on his floor; it's shirll cry a stark change to the silence that surrounded him now.

He mechanically picked up the phone and answered "Hello"

"Mr Treliene?, Ed Treliene?" The voice was femanine, strong, but reserverd. The first thing that popped into Ed's head was a Secretary for a very high up management type.


"Mr Treliene, I represent a party who would like to contract your services for a few weeks."

"I'm sorry, contract my servces? I hadn't realized I was in the market?"

"You wern't, but we have been searching for someone with your particular skills. We found you by looking at university's"

"Wait how did you find me at a University, I haven't been there in almost 10 years?"

"True Mr Treliene, but you do have a year book for your Science Department, and in your case, had an active role in it. I even have your old email address"

© Copyright 2007 Pete (peteleeb at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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