Albatross

She was the only thing I paid attention to during the service. The minister droned on about how Mary would be well received in heaven, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and all that. Religion had always been her thing, not mine. No, my thoughts were on the girl sitting towards the back of the church. She had her hands folded demurely in her lap, a solemn little frown on her face. She was fair-haired and skinned, a small smattering of freckles danced across the bridge of her nose. Okay, I amended, her breasts were too big to consider her a girl, but she was young. I wondered why she was here; I had certainly never seen her before. A relative on my wife's side? Somehow I didn't think so.

I wiggled on the uncomfortable pew, trying to show the proper amount of grief during the key points in the sermon. The truth was, I felt a bitter detachment from it all. Everyone thought my wife had died in a car accident on the way to church, and I was content to let everyone keep on thinking that. But in reality church was the last thing on my wife's mind that day. No, Mary was going past the church to the little suburb where her lover lived. Yes, my wife had been unfaithful to me for the last eight months, something I had only discovered after her death. However, it was between me and my private investigator, and no one else needed to know. I wasn't exactly a celebrity, but Mary's death was in the papers and the scandal of a love affair would certainly add spice to the story.

Finally the eulogy ended, but as I tried to make my way over to the young woman I was surrounded by a crowd of people eager to offer their condolences. I was so frustrated, so drained from the last two weeks that tears started streaming down my face.

"Oh you poor dear," said a distant aunt on my mother's side, "Have a seat."

I looked around for the woman, but she had already left. Sighing, I sat down and tried not to gag at the intermingling scents of the perfumed and cologned people swarming around me. Soon everyone started leaving the church, heading to Ellie May's house for the reception. I thought this little tradition to be exceedingly stupid, and wondered how offended everyone would be if I just went home.

Later, as I lay on my bed in the lonely sanctuary of my room, I felt dirty and ashamed. How could I have been thinking about another person during my wife's funeral? It was true that Mary and I had never been as close as married couples are supposed to be. She was a math whiz, and one of the three top financial advisors in the city. Her logical brain just couldn't get around the fact that as a pianist, my work is not really routine. Much like a writer, creativity ebbs and flows. But I had loved Mary, and though for a few months before her death I had suspected she was fooling around, I told myself over and over that she would never do such a thing. I had been so wrong. Now everything felt wrong. Is this what your supposed to spend your whole life doing? Building a relationship with someone, sacrificing, compromising, and then one day, for whatever reason, losing them? What then? Do you start over; begin the torment of dating, falling in love, making new vows? Or do you stay alone, living a simpler but less full life? With these thoughts in my head, I fell into a troubled sleep.

A week went by after the funeral and I tried to get back into my normal schedule. It was odd how my feelings would change. One minute I was perfectly fine, relieved even. The next, I would see something, hear something that reminded me of my dead wife and the tears would start to flow. On one such occasion, I decided the best thing for me to do was get out of the house. I walked, feeling refreshed by the cool spring air and the sun on my head. I felt as if a layer of cold had melted off of me, relieving me of some burden. By the time I got to town I was two miles away from my house and not in the mood to walk back. Cursing, I dragged myself to a bus stop and sat with a groan. As the bus pulled up a few minutes later I resolved to get more exercise. I got on the bus, shoved a dollar in the slot, and started to make my way to the back. I stopped short when I saw a familiar face. The girl from the funeral! I hurriedly sat down next to her as the bus left the stop. She was looking out the window, looking at her shoes, looking at her nails. I knew she was embarrassed that I had recognized her, and I wondered why that was.

"Um hi," I started lamely, trying to break the ice. "My name is Al. I couldn't help but notice that you were at my wife's funeral. I didn't recognize you, so I was wondering why you were there." She looked at me quickly then looked away again.

"I knew Mary, but not very well," she murmured, "I didn't see her often."

Well, it was a start anyway. "What's your name?" I asked, "Maybe my wife mentioned you."

"Oh, I don't think so," she said quickly.

"Your name?" I prompted, undeterred.

"Morghan." The reply was hesitant, reluctant.

I desperately wanted a phone number, an address, hell, even a last name would do, but I knew I wouldn't be able to get any of it unless she warmed up to me some. "Listen, I was wondering if you were interested in having lunch with me. I would really like to get to know you better."

She looked at me as if I came from another planet, but after a moment nodded yes.

"There's a deli next to the bus stop, why don't you meet me there at one tomorrow?" she said.

I agreed, and was able to get off the bus near my house well enough, but when I was sure that it was out of sight, I couldn't help but do a little dance. Morghan had actually agreed, maybe I could sleep tonight.

The next day I got up early and did some grooming. With a shower, a good shave, and some clean clothes, I looked more like my former self and less like the wreck I had become. I paced my house, wondering what I could do or say to impress Morghan, and finally laughed at myself. I hardly knew her, how could I know what she liked? Nervously flattening my fly-away brown hair with my hands, I got in my car and headed for the deli. I was forty-five minutes early and had three cups of coffee before she arrived. She sat down and gave me a nervous smile. We got through the orders well enough, but when the waitress left we had nothing to distract us from each other.

"So what do you do for a living?" I finally asked after five minutes of uncomfortable silence.

"Well, until recently, I was living at home. I've been working as a secretary, but now that I'm living on my own I should probably start looking for a job that pays the rent." she replied.

"Why did you move out?" I asked, curious. Morghan immediately looked uncomfortable.

"Never mind," I quickly amended, "You don't have to tell me."

She shrugged. "It's not a big deal, I just needed to get away."

I nodded, and soon we were on to other topics. She was so mysterious, this woman sitting across from me. I could tell she was intelligent, and the conversation was certainly stimulating when it wasn't about her personal life. But when I accidentally mentioned something about my wife or her home, she closed up like a clam. She must have liked me well enough, however, because before we left she gave me her number.

Morghan and I continued to see each other often, and our friendship slowly bloomed into something more. One day I was sitting at my piano, trying to get my creative juices flowing, when there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Morghan standing there, a strange look on her face.

"I think I'm ready," she said quietly.

"For what?" I asked, totally baffled.

"To be with you... that way." She looked at me nervously, as if braced for rejection.

"Oh sweetie," I whispered. "Are you sure you want to? I'm thirty-eight, you're twenty. Maybe you should be with someone younger."

Morghan shook her head, "I want my first time to be with you."

Later, as we lay on my bed intertwined, I felt like life could never get better. On some level, I knew that what I was doing was wrong, that it was unacceptable to be with someone so soon after my wife's death. " Oh to hell with that!" I thought angrily, "She was the one who was unfaithful to me, not the other way around!" My conflicting thoughts were interrupted by Morgan's hand hesitantly touching my chest.

"Al?" she whispered.

"Yes?" I asked, fearing that she already regretted what we had done.

"I need to confess something to you, and I don't want you to be angry." She sighed heavily when I didn't respond. "I was at the funeral because I felt I owed it to you. You see, Mary was sleeping with my dad. I knew it was wrong, knew she was married to you, but no matter how much I hated him and hated her, I could never bring myself to tell you. I was such a coward. That's really why I agreed to lunch at the deli, so that I could finally tell you the truth. But then I got to know you, and oh Al, I love you so much! I just hope that you love me enough to forgive me."

I sat there, shocked. Revulsion filled me. I had sworn never to have anything to do with that man, and now here, in my bed, was his daughter!

"I think you need to leave now," I said quietly, barely able to contain my rage. I reached over and tossed her clothes.

"But Al!"

"Out, get out of my house, now!"

With tears streaming down her face, Morghan got dressed and left the house. It wasn't until I heard her car drive away that I gave into my own grief.

Two months, it had been two months since that horrible confession. Morghan had called several times, but I never picked up and eventually the calls stopped. I was a man locked inside my own misery. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, playing piano was a joke. At first I was angry. Angry at women, and what they had done to me, how they had ruined my life. But slowly I realized that I was really angry with myself. Morghan had told me her secret because she loved me, she had given her trust to me physically, mentally, and emotionally, and I had betrayed her. Now I knew I had to have her back. I threw on my coat and was just about to open the door when someone started pounding on it. I took a step back, and Morghan burst into the house.

"Listen to me you jackass!" she screamed at me. "I loved you, I trusted you, why did you have to break my heart? We had something going here, we really did, why did you have to ruin it?" She collapsed on the floor, sobbing.

I knelt down next to her, cradled her in my arms. "Shhhh, I'm so sorry, I don't know why I was like that. I was about to go find you, I swear. I was stupid, I don't care that you're my wife's lover's daughter. I realize now that that doesn't change my feelings for you."

Sniffling, she looked up at me, "You really want me still? You want to be with me?"

Hugging her tight to my chest I kissed the top of her head. "Yes, I want to be with you. I can't live without you... Morghan, you make me complete." Even as I said the words I knew they were true. Sure, life was more simple when you were alone, but who wants a simple life anyway?