Chapter Forty-Next Time On Oprah…

The next two days I only got out of bed to go to the washroom. I didn't bother to eat. What was the point? My will to live was seriously depleted. I hadn't been this depressed since the cancer diagnosis. I couldn't concentrate enough to read and television didn't interest me. I just lay in my bed staring out the window, not even focussing on the view. I would start a crying jag whenever I remembered little incidents from our life together. The time I had to drag an unhelpful Glorfindel into my bed because I couldn't stand the thought of him sitting in the chair all night, and having nearly put my back out hoisting his limp ass onto my bed and under the covers, made me cry for a whole hour. Nasty jag. I cried so hard, I nearly threw up. Thankfully, having no food in my stomach meant no vomit on my quilt.

The day I was to return to work, I went in and could only work an hour and a half before they sent me home. The music they played in the office was usually fairly innocuous, but Sarah McLachlan's song 'Push' came on and I was reduced to a blethering mess. The lyrics reminded me of our relationship and I couldn't hold it together. I couldn't explain to my supervisor what was wrong, but luckily she assumed I was still messed up from the concussion. She sent me home with orders not to come back for a week. I must've looked pretty haggard for her to send me home for a week. I told her I couldn't leave as we had a strike in two weeks, and she said she gave the file to another guy, and not to worry, as I had apparently left a pretty complete file for him to work with. I didn't remember any of that. I think my memory loss just cemented her resolve to send me home.

The week I was home was a write off. My pyjamas smelled like a serious case of BO, exacerbated by my unwillingness to take care of myself. I didn't shower, barely ate and just lay in bed like a raggedy doll. My mind wasn't taking the loss very well at all. I cried and slept, and then slept and cried. My tear ducts became a good representation of the Sahara. I'd cry and since I wasn't able to produce any tears, my eyes would hurt like the dickens. I didn't know you could cry yourself out like that. I had become an awful science experiment. The sleeping eighteen hours a day and not eating had also screwed with my sanity. While I slept, I dreamed of Glorfindel. Upon waking I was convinced that he was in my apartment and I would climb out of bed to look for him. When I couldn't find him, I'd throw myself back into bed and cry some more. It got so bad, that when I was looking for him, I'd think I saw him hiding in a corner or standing out on my balcony, and I'd freak out and run to him, just to find out I had hallucinated the whole thing.

Funny thing was, I could still feel his presence. When we had first bonded, it was like I had a new sense added to my repertoire. I could always sense Glorfindel, and if he was in the vicinity, I could approximate where he was, if he wasn't in front of me. Coming back to Earth, the link was still there. I think that's why I was so confused whenever I woke up. I could swear he was near, but I guess the trans-universal trip screwed with the distance perception. At least I knew he was still alive. I hoped. I wasn't really completely sure about anything anymore.

Once I was able to return to work without have a meltdown, I basically sleepwalked through the days. Everyone knew something was wrong, but I wasn't talking. I wore the jewellery I came over with religiously and gave vague answers when people questioned me about it. My parents were quite distressed. I ceased to call them every day, calling them maybe once a week, and almost didn't show up to Thanksgiving. I had played sick so I didn't have to go to my nephew's birthday party, but my sister and brother-in-law dragged me to Thanksgiving in October, as they told me I couldn't hide out from life forever. I got into a huge fight with my brother when he demanded to know what was wrong with me. I wouldn't give him a straight answer, and he was really angry. He said I was being selfish and if I didn't rejoin the real world soon, he'd have me committed. I told him that as I wasn't a danger to myself or others he could get stuffed. I didn't tell him how suicidal I was. No point in giving the enemy ammunition.

The months crawled by and I crawled with them. I had taken a leave of absence from work in October, once it became evident that my depression was making me non-functional. I was enrolled in a group therapy day program at VGH and was kept 'busy' from 9am to 3pm Monday to Friday. The program ended for me in the middle of December. With the promise to get involved with Christmas preparations, the doctor in charge and the head nurse grudgingly let me go. I knew they knew I wasn't up to full speed, I was barely at half, and hardly chugging along; but they had to let me go if I wasn't a danger to anyone or myself. I was seeing a therapist once a week on top of the group, which I continued after I got out. My therapist was a nice enough person, but I just couldn't tell her about Glorfindel. No matter how much I knew she'd understand. She was kind enough to play along with my charade, as I think she thought I'd spill the beans at some point. I figured I was Fort Knox and nobody was getting in. Ever.

One week before Christmas, when I was downtown shopping for gifts, I felt an odd presence near me. I had my iPod on and was listening to a mixed music playlist of mellow artists. Just as I was crossing Robson at Howe, I thought I heard my name being called over the music. I turned as I reached the other side by Chapters, and saw a blond haired man standing on the curb. As my eyes focused in on him, Paul McCartney's 'Maybe I'm Amazed' started playing on my iPod. The man waved at me and started to cross the street against the light. I stared harder. Then it hit me. Blue eyes like the sky on a sunny day, hair the colour of honeyed wheat, the strong sinewy body that moved with a dancer's grace. Glorfindel! It couldn't be. He was in Arda, a whole different universe. Just as he got close to me, another pedestrian accidentally body-checked him as they were walking around him to cross Howe. He bounced off the pedestrian, and fell towards me. As he was about to crash into me, he caught himself and pulled himself up.

"Being human is definitely something I have had issues with. It takes some getting used to," he remarked casually, standing in front of me.

Paul's voice continued over my ear buds, as I pulled one out to listen to this man who looked just like my husband. "Is it really you?" my heart constricted in my chest as I waited for confirmation.

"I am now called Finn, and I have this new fangled body. See? Round ears!" he pulled back his now much shorter hair to reveal perfectly shaped ears. Human ears.

I launched myself at him, sobbing and laughing, looking for all the world like a hysterical woman. "Oh my god! How? What? Why?...I need all the details!" I spoke in rapid fire.

He laughed and swung me around, "All right, all right! But first we should find somewhere a little more private to talk, hmmm?"

I nodded, "Okay. My place is just over in Kits."

"Why not go to my place?" he suggested as he took my arm in his, "It is nice."

I looked at him askance. "You have a place? Since when did you start using my euphemisms? And again, you have a place?"

Glorfindel, or rather, Finn laughed again, "Yes, I have a residence within the city. And I have been here looking for you for some time. Did you know that you are not at your office, and have not been there for a while? I know. I checked. You never gave your home address, so I have had to use the information I managed to glean from others to find you. Your coworkers are quite protective of you. I managed to find out you were not well, which frightened me. Your link felt weak for some time, and I was worried I would not find you in time. But here you are, and you look and feel just fine." To emphasis his point, he squeezed my butt firmly.

I was led to a Toyota Prius, and was shocked when he produced a smart key and opened the passenger side door for me. "You drive?" I asked stunned, "What? Exactly how long have you been here?"

Glorfindel looked a bit sheepish, "I have been here for approximately three years. I believe Eru sent me here before you went to Arda, so I would have time to acclimatize to your planet. It was quite a culture shock. You should have seen my reaction when I saw my first car. I was nearly run over before I came to my senses and got off the road."

I nearly choked as he gently guided me into the seat. "You were nearly killed? Three years? Isn't this clearly a violation of space/time?"

He shut the door and walked around to the driver's side. Getting in he explained, "Eru sent me, so clearly, no laws of space/time are violated. I wasn't nearly killed. My eyesight is still very good, just not what it was when I was an elf. In fact, the only thing that has truly changed are my ears. The rest of me is exactly the same. I have just lost a small percentage of my acuity. I believe it is due to now being mortal. Now, please allow me to drive you home. I want to talk, but I also want to make love to you. Three years is a long time to not be with you."

He started the car and drove down Howe and over the Granville Street Bridge. I think my mouth gaped open the entire way to his home. He pulled in front of a modest two story home on West 34th near Ravine Park in Arbutus. I wondered how he could afford the mortgage or rent on a place like this. Vancouver is one of the most expensive places to live in Canada, and houses on the West Side went for more than $600,000. It wasn't unusual to see homes go for one or two million. Glorfindel opened the car door for me and helped me out. I felt like I had just crossed into an alternate universe. I walked up the stone path in front of the house and wondered just what the hell was going on. Glorfindel was about to tell me.