Sand and Water Chapter 7

Stress

Disclaimer: I own no one!

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Closing his eyes, John entered the casket warehouse. Now that Randy was gone, he had to plan the funeral.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Chris, his companion murmured. He shook his head, in disbelief.

"Speak for yourself! I loved Randy with all my heart and soul," John spat bitterly. He was angry at the world. He snapped at people with the slightest provocation.

Love that had once filled his heart had been replaced with bitterness. Each time he was reminded of Randy, he was in tears.

Life was moving on. Not for John. He lingered on the memories of the love he had cherished so dearly.

In the three short days following Randy's death, Rhiannon had begun to regress. She had started wetting the bed. A beaten thumb sucker, she had taken up the habit again.

Randy's absence was obvious. He had given her baths. He had tucked her in at bedtime. He had read her stories.

John was the only person allowed to touch her. If anyone else did, she scream for 'Papa'. It broke John's heart.

With all that was going on in his life, it was no wonder that John was starting to suffer the effects of stress-related illness. Chronic headaches plagued him. Some days, he could barely move his neck.

"This one," John declared, touching the rich brown treated mahogany wood. The casket shimmered in the harsh fleurescant lighting. "Randy is the only man I've ever loved,"

Within hours, word of Randy's death had spread over the internet. Their friends and family found out. John had been bombarded with phone calls, faxes and e-mail.

"Did I tell you what Grandma Orton had the nerve to tell me?" John muttered, sitting on a bench outside the casket warehouse. Chris shook his head. "She actually said to me, 'I know the pain seems unbearable, but since you're gay, you'll find another lover,' Does that old Bat not realize how much I loved Randy? "

"I know. Elderly people never know what to say around gay people," Chris said, shaking his head.

John had absolutely no one to turn to in his grief. Everytime he spoke to a person, they offered him condolences and stupid comments. Out of all the people in his life, he was only able to turn to one person.

It was the last person he had ever expected. This man had been through it all before. He had lost his partner, the man he had sworn his life to.

Lance Evers

Few people knew he was gay, let alone that he had been a part of a loving relationship only ended by Death.

His partner, Darrin Matthews had contracted AIDS, a souvinear of his wilder days. He had survived ten years with the disease, leading a perfectly normal life. Lance had been with him for six of those ten years.

John's cellphone chirped. Fumbling for it, he found the small phone and pressed 'talk'.

"How's it going?"

"I just bought a sixteen-thousand dollar mahogany coffin for my husband. How's it going in Massachusetts?"

"Your house is pretty much packed up. We're heading out tomorrow,"

"You don't know how much you've helped me over the past few days,"

"Losing your partner is hard. I've been down that road. How's Rhiannon?"

"She started screaming when I left this morning."

"Poor thing,"

"Yeah. Let me let you go,"

"Bye," Lance hung up.

Thunder clapped. Startled, John jumped. Tears flooded his eyes. Deep in his mind, a memory began to take shape. Faintly, Randy's voice echoed in the deep recesses of his mind's eye.

I'm deathly afraid of thunder.

What?
Just am. Always have been. Ask Mom if you don't believe me.

Randy was everywhere, in the sky, in the ground. Everywhere John looked, Randy was there.

Which made it even harder to cope.

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Stress, hmm, sounds like my life. My best friend's going into a mental hospital. I'm worried her boyfriend gonna do something crazy. Writing's my stress-reliever. Expect a lot of it in the next few days!

JenLea

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