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After: I Think I Can Feel You


Ashley

There was a knock on my door.

I glanced at the clock. It was seven in the evening. I'd been laying in the bedroom for the entire day.

"Mum..." It was Oliver. He knocked again gently. "Mum."

"Come in," I said.

Oliver pushed the bedroom door opened. He stood awkwardly in the door frame for a moment before he stepped inside. He glanced at the avalanche of Nick's clothes - things I'd gone through searching for his scent. Oliver looked at me. "Mum, I'm sorry I got upset downstairs," he said slowly.

"It's okay," I replied.

He shook his head, "No it isn't. I don't have the right to be angry with you."

"I had just told you that I shot your father, of course you had a right to be angry," I answered.

Oliver hovered above me. I sat up slowly and patted the bed next to me and he sat down. He stared at his hands. "Mum... why would you shoot dad? I don't understand. I mean, you said you guys were fighting but that it was trivial..."

I took a deep breath. "I didn't want to shoot your father when I did it."

"Then why...?" Oliver's eyes were searching mine, begging for answers.

"Before I married your father," I said, "I was married to another man."

Oliver's eyes registered shock. "What? No way. But you and dad -- you said you met him when you were kids."

"I did. I was married to one of his best friends."

Oliver let out a low breath, digesting this information. His brow was furrowed deeply. "But... what does that have to do with why you shot dad?"

"His name was Chris," I said slowly. "And he beat me."

Oliver's look of shock and confusion turned to one of anger, "What?"

"He beat me all the time," I cried, tears coming faster than I'd expected them to, emotion choking my voice. I covered my eyes with my hands an I felt Oliver instantly reach around me to hug me. "He beat me more than I ever even told your father. Your father was so angry when he found out --" I shook.

"Dad saved you from him, didn't he?" Oliver asked, and I heard the respect and reverence in his voice.

"Yes," I sobbed. "But I couldn't save him from Chris."

"Chris did this?" Oliver asked, "Chris is still around?" I looked up at Oliver's beautiful blue eyes. He did so look like his father.

"No," I whispered, "Chris is dead."




Nick

That night, even though she couldn't feel me and I couldn't sleep, I laid on the bed and watched Ashley sleep. I studied her face, the lines time had designed by her eyes, the way her once vibrant red hair was now mostly white. She'd cried herself to sleep, hugging an old shirt of mine to her face, her shoulders shaking, the picture from our wedding on the pillow where I normally would lay.

It was so quiet, I could hear her heart beating.

It was around three in the morning when her eyelids danced with a dream and she whimpered. She looked distressed. "Ashley," I whispered.

"Nick..." she cried in her sleep. Tears snuck from beneath her eyelids.

"Ashley, honey..." Forgetting she couldn't hear me or feel me, I reached over. "Sweetie."

Her eyes sprang open. I saw fear in them. "Nick?" she said into the dark. She reached out her hand. I stared at her palm... and then I reached out my hand and pressed it against hers. She gasped. Tears in her eyes, she whispered, "I think... I think I can feel you."