Midnight

Rose couldn’t see the light anymore – not that there was all that much to see in a graveyard.

Up until this moment, she believed that fire had to be the worse way to die. Now, as the dirt sucked into her body with every breath she took, her mind was securely changed. Suffocation was far worse than anything else in the world. Every time she opened her mouth, clumps dirt fell in. Every time she breathed through her nose, lines of soil rushed into her nostrils. She tried pushing against the soft soil around her with her arms and legs in an effort to get to fresh air, but they only pushed through without touching so much as a hard pebble to grip onto. No rocks or roots, no edges or sticks. Only dirt. She was falling down into the dark.

Rose screamed against it with what little breath she had to spare, the sound echoed louder in her head than it ever would outwardly. The instant her voice bounced back to her from the dirt walls around her, she realized that her valuable breath had been wasted on the attempt.
The dirt was falling in piles on her face, getting into her eyes. She closed them and struggled, trying to find some foothold, some way to right herself and get back to the surface.

Here these, her final moments, she found herself thinking about whether or not it had been wise to wish for this. Even though it was truly what she wanted even now breathing the dirt that would soon claim her. She couldn’t live without Ronnie, she’d said. Her life was meaningless without Ronnie, she’d cried.
Still, at the hour of her death, she wondered if she’d been a touch hasty…

6:00pm

It took approximately fifteen seconds, give or take.
Rose rolled her bloodshot eyes over to the clock on the nearest wall. She’d spent most of the day counting down the minutes as they ticked by, the sound of the second hand’s movement echoing through her bedroom at the rhythm of a metronome. Throughout the rising and falling of the daylight outside her window, different scenarios timed to that infamous cluster of time ran her thoughts. As the last of the birds sang their song of the evening, she realized that it was a lot longer than she ever imagined.
In fifteen seconds, a person could take their clothes off and put them back on again (provided they were in their sweats). A person could paint all their nails on one hand with sixty-second dry nail polish and have them be surface dry before the second coat. A person could chug three bottles of beer and eat four handfuls of Doritos, read half a chapter in a Stephen King Novel and one and a half in a Chuck Palaniuk or Dean Koontz novel, watch enough of a cartoon to see at least ten possibly funny things or a movie and know the names of all the major actors in it…
Fifteen seconds was a long-ass time.

All she could think about was how she could do all these things and yet, she couldn’t have saved Ronnie’s life.
She thought about the night that he bled to death in her arms, the son of a bitch that stabbed him running off into the night. It had all been over the contents of her purse. Ronnie – who had never feared any man, particularly when it came to her — stood up to the punk. He didn’t see the knife…
It was amazing what a cut only inches long and no wider than that skinny crack in the hardwood floors of her house could do. She’d been told that the injury was a once in a lifetime sort of thing. The knife sliced right through to his heart – right into his aorta. According to the coroner, he was dead before he hit the ground.
She, of course, knew different. It actually took fifteen seconds, give or take. More than enough time for him to fall and look into her eyes as the life drained out of them like so much bathwater when the plug was pulled.
The incessant singing of the birds outside of her window was now threatening to drive her mad, so she got out of bed.

In the kitchen, Rose made herself a cup of tea and padded around the house listlessly. She’d barely eaten, this the seventh or eighth day since Ronnie’s death. The hot liquid that used to wake up her sleepy muscles now soothed them and halfway through her first cup she found herself wanting to go back to bed. Instead, she stumbled to the living room and sat down on her couch.
Once she was sitting, her thoughts started to drift…
The very last time she and Ronnie made love it had been raining.
Not at first. The sky was just starting to darken with purple clouds when he came up with the idea. They had been sitting out on their front porch beneath the awning that normally shielded them from the hot sun. It was still warm out, but the wind had picked up and moved through them both softly. The neighborhood was quiet as dusk started its approach and she and Ronnie sat in their swinging bench, watching the day roll away. Ronnie’s hand moved slowly up her bare thigh and she looked over at his mischievous grin and smiled back.

“What?”
“I got an idea.”
“Oh, you do?” she flirted.
“Yeah, I do. Let’s try something different this time.”
He’d led her off the porch and back into the house as the sky started to rumble. Up the stairs of their little flat, to the back balcony overlooking their backyard they went. They were only standing outside overlooking the backyard for a moment before Ronnie jumped up on the banister and smiled back at her playfully.
“Come on.”
“What are you doing?”
“Trust me.”

She followed him as he hopped up to the flat asphalt of their rooftop and there they were, standing beneath the unforgiving sky above them. It rumbled in warning as he neared her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Nose to nose they stood, Ronnie looking deep into her eyes.
“I love you.” The words were like the first time he’d said them and they still had the same effect after all this time. She wanted to fall into him and sink deep down into eternity with his head in her hands.

“I love you,” she whispered back. He kissed her and nothing else mattered. As they both descended down to the rooftop, the rain started in gentle kisses on their bare skin. He took off his shirt as she unbuttoned hers. When she was at the last button, he took her hands in his own and kissed them, then gently pulled the shirt down her shoulders and kissed them as well. His warm lips mingled with the cool droplets of the summer storm. He moved her bra strap slowly down her shoulders, his roughhewn fingertips (the fingertips of a man who’d worked hard his whole life), moving against her skin like the softest of sandpaper.
As her bra and shirt fell off her body, he kissed her neck – savored it as though he knew somehow it would be the last time he’d ever know it. His hands found her breasts and he ran his toughened fingertips across her nipples, one way then the other until they were erect. They he moved one hand along the center of her back and up through her long blonde hair, settling somewhere in the midst of her tresses as his mouth came up to kiss her again.

And as they lay down on the warm asphalt of the rooftop, the sky opened up and gave its bounty to the earth – and to them. The two of them had managed to move out of their shorts and before too much longer, Ronnie was inside Rose. Together they made love, her legs wrapped around his waist, his arms cradling her up into his grasp. From where Rose lay she could see the sky light up as the lightning streaked across it. Ronnie’s eyes lit up through his mass of dark hair, now wet and straggly, sticking to his face.
He pulled her up to him and leaned back so that she was sitting on top of him and the cool rain came down in torrents over her exposed skin. Ronnie licked away the rainwater on her breasts and she held his head in her hands, kissing his forehead as the rain came down on them both.

The storm lasted for hours and it was hours before they both climaxed in each others arms as the rain dissipated and the sky crackled one last hurrah of electricity.
And now, Rose sat, the memory of his kisses as real as the heat of the tea in her hands. And it occurred to her, just then, that she wasn’t going to live without him.

7:00pm

From the moment she decided that she would do it, she found herself trying to think of ways that it might be possible. Movies held so many myths about suicide that she was never really very sure of a way to realistically do it. The only way she did know that would do it for certain, was pills.
She’d made an appointment with a psychiatrist days ago (whom her mother had recommended shortly after Ronnie’s passing) with no real intention of going. When she realized that death was the only real way to see Ronnie again, she decided that keeping her appointment might be an ends to a means.
So, she got off her couch and got dressed with a motivation she hadn’t had since Ronnie’s passing. Rose was in her car and on her way just in time to make her appointment.
And now, she sat in the waiting room, her paperwork filled out, her insurance information given to the receptionist…waiting. There was no one else in the room with her and she imagined that this was on purpose. After all, what was the point of all this if everyone knew you were there?
After an eternity, the door opened and the doctor poked her head out of the doorway, clipboard in hand. “Mrs. Stewart?”
Rose stood up and followed the doctor through the doorway, where she introduced herself with a handshake and a smile.
“I’m Dr. Jones, nice to meet you,” she’d said. “Let’s go to my office.”
Rose hated psychiatrist’s offices. She’d only been to one before and it was all she would ever need. But today she had a clear mission and she intended on carrying it out.
Her office had the soft smell of potpourri and perfume and it looked more like a den than an actual office. There was a bookshelf with dozens of books on religion and philosophy, each shelf filled with just enough books to leave a space for a little statues and brick-a-brack. The walls held framed phrases on parchment paper – “Life is what you make it”, “It’s not how much you do, but how much love you put into doing it” and other such gems of wisdom. They all fell flat in Rose’s eyes.
“So how are you today?” Dr. Jones asked after she’d sat down on the expensive comfortable couch several feet from Dr. Jones’ uncomfortable looking chair.
“Not so good,” she responded in truth. “I’m actually feeling a little weak right now.”
And so it began. The doctor began her clinical mental probe of her and Rose played along, being careful to stay away from anything that might be interpreted as suicidal. At the end of the session, the doctor scratched her head listlessly and went to her script pad.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m going to prescribe you a little something to help you sleep.”
“No,” Rose responded. “I don’t want any drugs doctor.”
“I realize that, but Rose, you have to understand. If you can’t block out your thoughts, if only for a little while, you can’t get a proper perspective of things. I’m going to give you a very low dose of Xanax. At best, I suspect it’ll put you to sleep, so if you’re still working, I suggest you take some time off before taking these.”
With mock reluctance, she responded with a meek; “Okay.”
And when she was standing at the door of her the car, prescription in her hands, she could feel Ronnie’s presence. It was a cold chill up her spine that felt more like his slow deliberate fingertip tracing the curve of her back. She closed her eyes for a moment and envisioned him standing behind her, his cool lips pressed against the skin of her neck.
“Soon, my love,” she whispered.
9:00pm
It took the pharmacy only an hour to fill her prescription. Rose took the bottle and went to her car. She sat in the driver’s seat and stared at the label, her nerves starting to get the better of her.
Come to me…
Her trance was broken. Ronnie’s whisper was right next to his ear.
Rose…
Suddenly, she had the feeling that there was someone staring at her from behind. She dared a look into her rearview mirror. Staring back at her was Ronnie – only he didn’t look like himself. He was pale, dreadfully pale and his eyes were like black holes burning holes into her.
She froze, the seconds passed and her mind tried to analyze what she was seeing. As she sat in paralyzing fear, the corners of Ronnie’s mouth turned up.
Be with me…
A knock on her window jarred her out of her trance. She looked up to see the pharmacist standing there, money in his hand.
It took Rose several seconds before she could process. Once it sunk in that she was staring up at a real human being and not some ghastly wrath from the beyond, she rolled down her window.
“Sorry, Ms. Stewart,” he said. “But you forgot your change.”
Rose thanked him and took the money. When she started her car, her hands were shaking.
10:00pm

In the time that passed, Rose couldn’t sit still. The experience of seeing Ronnie in her car left her startled beyond recovery. She paced her floors, unsure of what to do next. Was he trying to reach her? Or was she going mad? Had he even been there at all?
A knock came at her door and she answered it. She just barely acknowledged her sister, her thoughts consumed with the realization that Ronnie might be trying to reach out to her.
“Hey, to you too,” her sister, Miranda, commented, acknowledging that she had not even said hello when she opened the door. “I just came over to see how you were.”
“I’m great,” Rose said sporadically. “Just great. Do you want something to drink or eat?”
“No…” Miranda regarded her with curious silence.
“Okay, well, come on in. Have a seat or something.” Rose went wandering into the kitchen. She hadn’t really heard Miranda’s answer and it didn’t matter. Her automatic functions had settled in upon the arrival of a guest in her home. It was customary to offer a drink, after all.

“I’ve got some tea,” she said from the kitchen. “How many sugars do you take?”
Miranda – perplexed by Rose’s attitude – simply sat down at the dining room table. “Just one, please.”
In another few moments, Rose came out with two cups of lukewarm tea that she’d had sitting in a teapot for at least an hour. Miranda took a tentative sip as her sister sat next to her and she debated on what to say next.

“Are you okay?” she asked Rose.
“Never been better. In fact, Ronnie contacted me today.”
Rose didn’t notice the blood draining from her sister’s face. “Contacted, you…?”
“Yeah. Yeah, while I was at the drug store today.”
“Rose…Ronnie’s dead.”
“I know that!” Rose glared at her sister in surprise. “I know he’s dead! Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot. I know he’s dead.”
“Um…okay…”
“Look, I was sitting in my car and I looked up into my rearview mirror and there he was, just as big as life.”
“Uh-huh. Did he say anything to you?”
“As a matter of fact, he did. He asked me to come with him.”
Miranda’s face got paler. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’? He asked me to come with him. I’ve been thinking about it, you know? I’ve been thinking about what he had to mean and…well, it’s so simple. He misses me!”
Miranda glared at her. “Rose, he can’t miss you, honey. He’s passed on-”
“No, no, he hasn’t,” Rose felt a tickle of frustration and hysteria in her stomach and a rumble of giggles came tumbling out of her. “See, he can’t move on because I’m still here. I’m still here! Don’t you get it? He misses me!”
“Okay, but, he can’t want you to come with him. I mean, don’t you think he wants you to live the rest of your life in happiness–?”
“How can I be happy? How can I go through the rest of my life not having him here with me? He knows that, Miranda. He knows that I’m miserable without him. He knows because he’s miserable without me.”
“So…he wants you to be with him.”
“Yes! Exactly. I need to be with him.”
“Rose, you can’t be with him. You’re alive. You…you can’t be thinking what I think you are.”
Rose started to say; “Yes! Yes, I am thinking that! It’s the only answer, after all!” but her common sense stopped her. The words sat on the back of her throat waiting for the okay to come spewing out to her sister, but she stopped them cold. The look on Miranda’s face said it all. She was pale with worry and fear, her eyes as large as saucers. Her sister thought she’d lost her mind.
“No,” she forced herself to say. “Of-of course not. I wouldn’t dare…”
But the subterfuge didn’t take. Miranda stood up slowly, her mouth pursed in determination. “Let’s just make sure of that.”
She made a beeline for Rose’s bathroom, which triggered Rose’s internal alarm. “No!” she balked. “What are you doing?”
Miranda was going through her medicine cabinets, knocking things this way and that, before finding the one thing she’d been looking for – Roses’ pill bottle, full of a month’s supply of Xanax. Rose leapt at her to snatch them back, but Miranda yanked them sharply out of her reach.
“You need help, Rose,” she said firmly.
“Miranda, knock it off! I need those!”
“I’ll bet you do.”
“Miranda, come on! I have to have something. Look, a real doctor prescribed those, okay? A psychiatrist! I’m talking to somebody already.”
Miranda looked at the bottle, then back to her, confused. “Then what are you talking about Ronnie and being with him? You don’t sound like you’ve talked to anyone.”
“Just put the bottle down, okay? I promise I won’t do anything crazy.”
Miranda regarded her for a long moment, analyzing her. Then she turned and opened the bottle, pouring them down the toilet. Rose jumped at her, knocking the bottle and remaining pills out of her hand and onto the bathroom floor. She attacked her, grabbing her by the hair and pushing her into the wall behind them.
“Goddammit, Miranda,” she swore bitterly, kneeling down on the floor and picking up the few pills left. “How can you be so fucking stupid?”
Miranda glared at her, arm sore from her run in with the wall. “Fine,” she growled. “Take your stupid pills. I hope you choke on them.”
And she stormed out. It wasn’t until Rose heard the door slam that it hit her. She was on hands and knees trying to salvage pills to kill herself with and she’d just attacked her sister to get to them. A sick feeling welled up in her stomach and she started to weep.
“I just want you back,” she wept into her hands. “God, Ronnie, I just want to be with you…”
The feeling of ice cold hands gripped her shoulders and she relaxed at the familiar sensation of Ronnie massaging her. His thumbs rubbed circles in her back, comforting her and her tears started to dry up.
Midnight…
“What?” she said aloud.
His soft lips caressed the back of her neck again and she melted. Everything was all right now.
We’ll be together forever…come to me at midnight…
11:30 p.m.
Rose’s heart had been pounding since Ronnie’s last visit to her. She stood at the gates of the cemetery where Ronnie had been buried and peered between the bars. Somewhere beyond the darkness, he was there waiting for her.
She walked along the high rod irons until she found a gap and slid between the bars. She took a moment to turn on her flashlight before marching into the oil slick black around her.
In the time since he’d died, Rose had been to Ronnie’s grave enough times to know where it was and how to find it, even in this dark. She walked effortlessly past overgrown tree roots and gravestones small enough to kick over or run into before she finally came to Ronnie’s plot.
It took her a moment to find it, for Ronnie only had a plaque to mark to spot. When she found it, she knelt down to it and kissed the cool stone. “Soon,” she whispered, tracing the letters of his name. “Soon.”
As the night hour grew late, she grew weary from exhaustion. Rose lay down on the grave, resting her head on the cool stone. As she lay there, she closed her eyes and imagined him lying next to her, looking just the way he had the last time she’d seen him – color in his cheeks, dark eyes full of life, knowing smirk on his face. In her mind’s eye, she could see him just as clear as day.
And suddenly, she could feel his warm breath on her face as he whispered; “Open your eyes.”
She did and there he lay, just as she’d seen him in her mind. Alive, just as alive as he had been weeks before. He smiled at her and her heart skipped a beat.
“You’re here,” she said, giddily.
“I missed you…so much.”
He kissed her, taking her face in his hands. She kissed back eagerly, wanting to devour him for all the passion that welled up inside of her.
“Is this it?” she whispered into his ear as he kissed her neck. “Together now? Forever?”
“Yes, my love.”
He took a moment to look into her eyes, seemingly to drink her in. “I love you, Rose.”
“I love you, Ronnie.”
Ronnie gently slipped his hands between the fabric of her shirt and cupped one braless breast in his hand as he kissed her. She responded, slipping out of her shirt and pulling at his belt buckle. Once she got his pants unbuckled and unzipped, he grabbed her by the arms and pushed her down to the grass. Rose’s heart was beating so fast that she could hardly catch her breath as Ronnie held both wrists together with one hand and hiked up her skirt with the other.
The moment that he entered her was like no other time before this. She felt a surge rush through her like a million hands over her skin. When she closed her eyes, she could hear her heart pounding its way out of her chest as Ronnie filled her again and again, holding her in his arms as she held on for dear life.
The feeling was so all-encompassing that she didn’t realize she was sinking. The dirt on her skin felt more like the warm embrace of the earth than a warning to her senses. And when she first climaxed, the earth around her shook, but she didn’t notice…
…until she opened her eyes. Ronnie was no longer on top of her and above her was the sky…and about three feet of dirt on all sides of her. She lay there for a moment, confused. How did she get here?
Forever…
Suddenly, hands reached up from the depths of the earth beneath her. They grabbed her around the chest and waist, the cold, clammy feeling of them chilling her skin.
“No!” she started to scream. She felt Ronnie’s skin on her cheek. She turned her head slightly to look and screamed with all her might.
The corpse was indeed Ronnie, or only what was left of him. The black holes and crevices of decomposition in his skin made him barely recognizable. He smiled with purple lips, his teeth covered in dirt.
She screamed as he pulled her down the remaining three feet. Rose reached frantically up for the sky as the dirt fell down on her, falling in her mouth, her eyes, suffocating her. All the while, Ronnie whispering into her ear; Now we are together forever…
***