I came back from Marilyn's house absolutely exhausted. Why did Cindy introduce us? Was this a test to see if I would choose her in this life and reject Marilyn? If that were the case, I wasn't exactly batting a thousand.
I actually kissed Mar the moment I got in the door―first time alone with her. What the hell was going through my mind, or minds, as the case might be.
It turned out we were not only a couple back in the past, but I was a passionate lover. The whole business was too much for me and too hard to deal with, lacking clear answers.
It began to drizzle outside and the streets were misty―the kind of fall day where leaves run like watercolours in rain.
I shivered and saw the temperature in the house was only sixty. I turned on the furnace, lit a fire and fixed a rum hot chocolate with the ratio close to fifty-fifty.
Yeah, a stiff drink but I was feeling really stressed out and frustrated.
I wanted to phone Cindy but would just end up wanting her to provide answers. I felt this was something I'd have to work through without her.
The hot drink worked its magic and in no time at all I felt warm and mellow. The rain started to really come down but I felt secure and sheltered, closed off from the cold and wet outside.
I opened my laptop to browse but within minutes felt too drowsy to concentrate.
I lay back on the cushions, closed my eyes and ended up back in the dream from the previous night.
I was on the Bluffs again above the lake, but alone this time, looking for Joey.
My whole body seemed to ache. I was mourning Marilyn―they found her that morning dead on the rocks near The Palace Pier Ballroom where she had been singing.
Joey had been missing all day and Marilyn had made me promise to look out for him. I went to the little promontory jutting out above the waves and that's where I spotted him―splayed out on the rocks below, like a seagull washed up on the shore.
The dream seemed interminable, images of darkness and pain―a double cremation and no burial. I scattered both sets of ashes over the lake and watched the waves reclaim them.
I never went back to the Bluffs―couldn't bear it―couldn't listen to the one recording Marilyn made either, so I buried all mementoes and suppressed all thoughts of both of them again.
That last day when I left, the waves were roaring, driven by a November wind. I could feel the waves pounding, unrelenting and grim. The din was overpowering and it broke me until I finally gave in.
I awoke with a start, confused by the pounding of my heart and a banging on the front door.
I staggered from the den to the foyer and opened the door to Cindy who simply wrapped me in her arms and held me while grief coursed through me.
"I tried to get back as fast as I could," she whispered, "I knew you'd need me."
I buried my face in her rain-jewelled hair and let her and the rain heal me.
