When I awake several hours later, it's still the middle of the night. My arm is still wrapped around Delia's waist, and she's still asleep beside me.
I watch her for a few seconds.
At least I think she's asleep.
I watch her for a few seconds more.
How come she's not breathing?
For a terrifying moment, I wonder if she's still alive.
Damn it, I should've never let her take one of those pills.
Panicked, I dig my fingertips into her ribs, and she responds with a slow, deep breath. I watch her for a little longer, and it turns out that she's just in a deep sleep. Being careful not to disturb her, I slowly move my hand upward until my palm is resting over her heart. Yes, I know that I'm being a worrywart, but I'm still concerned about the side effects of the pill. And I don't think I could bear it if anything happened to her. But my fears are unfounded – her heartbeat is strong and steady. Satisfied that she's all right, I snuggle closer to her, bury my nose in her hair, and a sigh of gratitude escapes from my lips. This is heaven, lying next to her.
And then the guilt returns. I'm supposed to be comforting her, not the other way around. And even though it's clear in my mind that I would never take advantage of Delia in her time of grief, someone forgot to tell my body that. I'm still a man, after all – a man with desires, urges. And lying next to her is re-awakening the urges that I thought died when my wife did.
No, this is wrong. The last thing I want to do is hurt Delia. She's been hurt enough as it is. And if I lie here any longer, I may do something that I'll deeply regret.
I reluctantly remove my arm from around her and carefully ease myself up from the bed. I would sleep in the chair next to her, but feeling what I feel for her right now, I don't trust myself around her. I – we – will both be better off if I sleep downstairs on the couch. I pull the blanket atop her, tuck her in, and allow myself one more kiss on her cheek before heading downstairs.
Back downstairs on the couch, I spent the rest of the night and the early part of the morning trying to sort out my feelings for her.
Yes, we've known each other for years. Yes, we're friends – good friends.
But now…now I'm feeling something more than just friendship for her.
Maybe you're just a lonely guy who's gotten so turned on by lying in bed with an attractive, desirable woman that your hormones are doing all the thinking for you.
Maybe, but it's not just lust I'm feeling for her…no, it's something more than that.
But right now, a cold shower may not be a bad idea.
---
The shower helps to clear my mind and wakes me up. Even though it's not even six AM yet, I decide to have some breakfast and read the newspaper. As I pick up the paper lying on the doorstep, the headline jumps out at me:
Local Boy, Four Others Missing, Presumed Dead In Shipwreck of the St. Anne
With trembling hands, I bring the paper inside and unfold it to read the rest of the article.
Ten-year old Pallet Town native Ashton Ketchum, along with four others, are missing and presumed dead following the sinking of the cruise ship St. Anne off of the coast of Vermilion City early Thursday morning. Ketchum, who had recently begun his Pokémon training journey, was aboard the ship along with Cerulean City Gym Leader Misty Waterflower, 12; Pewter City Gym Leader Brock Slate, 15; and Team Rocket members James Morgan and Jessica Rochester, ages unknown, when the ship sank. In addition, several Pokémon belonging to the victims are also missing and presumed dead. A memorial service for the victims and their families is planned for today…
The memorial service -- I had completely forgotten that it was today. But then again, it's only for the victim's families – I'm not related to any of those who died aboard the ship. Maybe Delia doesn't want me there. Maybe she wants to mourn Ash privately. If that's what she wants, I'll certainly comply with her wishes, but still…I'd like to be there with her.
And I'd like to do something for Ash. I'd like to honor his memory somehow. After all, I've known the boy practically all his life. He and Gary were inseparable as children.
Gary…I wonder if he knows yet? I'll have to see if I can get in touch with him later.
But right now…I glance at my watch. It's still too early for the florist to be open. I'd like to get a memorial wreath of some sort for Ash.
It's so hard to believe that a boy as full of life as Ash Ketchum is dead. The last time I spoke with him, I gave him a hard time about not having captured as many Pokémon as Gary. And the time before that, I dismissed his supposed sighting of the rare Pokémon Ho-oh as nonsense.
I regret that now. I'm supposed to be supporting new Pokémon trainers, not trouncing their confidence.
Could he have seen Ho-oh? No, of course not. But I shouldn't have casually dismissed Ash's observation, either.
Speaking of which, I probably should check in with the lab once more. I dial the number of the lab and
Foster, who's in the middle of feeding all the Pokémon breakfast, reports that everything is fine.
"How's Mrs. Ketchum doing?"
"A little better. She's still sleeping."
"Are you going to go to the memorial service with her?"
"I don't know yet, Foster. It's really supposed to be for the victims' families."
A creaking on the stairs tells me that Delia's awake. "Foster, I have to go now. Tell everyone to keep on doing what they've been doing. I'll talk to you later."
As I hang up the phone, a bedraggled-looking Delia comes staggering into the kitchen.
"How do you feel, Delia?" I ask as I put the teakettle on the stove.
She slumps down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "Groggy."
"That's probably the aftereffects of the sedative. Why don't you have something to eat? That should make you feel better." I open the refrigerator door. "I think Mrs. Casey brought over some blueberry muffins yesterday."
"That's okay. I think some toast will be fine." Delia makes a motion to get up, but I gently ease her back down into her seat.
"Sit, Delia. Let me take care of you." I locate the bread and put two slices into the toaster.
"You've already done enough for me the last couple of days, Samuel." And for the first time since Ash's death, a slight smile appears on her lips. "And don't know how I'm ever going to be able to thank you."
"You just did, Delia," I smile back.
"What's this?" She picks up the newspaper and, to my horror, I realize that I forgot to hide it from her.
"Delia, wait! Don't…"
Too late. Her face falls and her eyes begin to swim with tears.
"Delia, I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to see that headline." I reach for the newspaper, but she continues to stare at it.
"Those poor children," she says softly. "They were just babies too. Babies like Ash. They didn't have a chance to grow up."
"Delia, this article is obviously upsetting you. Let me have the newspaper and…"
She looks up at me suddenly. "You're coming with me to the memorial service, aren't you?" Her eyes are pleading. "Please say you will. I don't think I can go through it by myself."
"Of course I will, Delia, if that's what you want."
She nods. "I'd like to get flowers or something -- maybe some roses. Too bad the ones in my garden aren't blooming yet."
"Actually, I was thinking of a memorial wreath myself. Maybe we can go to the florist when it opens and see if we can find one." The teakettle whistles, and at the same time the toast pops out of the toaster. I assemble a quick breakfast for the two of us and sit down across from her at the table.
Delia takes a sip of her tea. "Samuel, why didn't you stay with me last night? When I woke up this morning, you were gone."
I choke on my toast. "I…uh…"
Because I was too absorbed in my own selfish thoughts that I felt guilty being around you.
Because I was sorely tempted to do something that I would've regretted for the rest of my life.
Because when I was lying next to you last night, I desperately wanted to make love to you. And I knew that in your emotional state, you wouldn't have resisted me. And I would have never been able to forgive myself for taking advantage of you in your time of grief.
"Samuel?"
"I...uh…I woke up early and decided to have a shower and make breakfast." I quickly gulp my tea, hoping that Delia won't notice my reddening face. I'm still ashamed of the thoughts I had about her last night.
"Oh."
I place my empty teacup down on its saucer with a loud clack and jump up from the table. "Um…Delia, do you think you'll be all right by yourself for a little bit?"
"I…I guess I will. I was going to take a shower and get ready for the service."
"Are you still feeling groggy from the pill? Dizzy? Nauseated? Anything like that?"
"No."
"Good. I'm going to run back to the lab for a little bit and check on everyone. And I'll stop by the florist on the way back and pick up a wreath. Would that be okay with you?"
"All right, Samuel. I trust your judgement." She gives me a funny look. "Are you feeling all right? Your face is red. Are you getting sick?"
And now I feel even worse for making her worry. She's got enough on her mind without worrying about me and my guilty conscience.
"I…um…Delia, don't worry about me. I'm fine. The person that you need to be concerned about is yourself." I push the plate of toast at her. "Now why don't you try to finish your breakfast? I'll be back soon, I promise."
I hurry out the door.
Right now, I can't face her.
To be continued…