Lost and Found

For a moment I go deaf.  All my senses shutdown like an overheated computer.  I then feel my legs give out from under me and my head starts to spin as if I'm on a roller coaster.  The next thing I know I'm in my favorite chair, a chair that Melanie got for me last Christmas.  "Mr. Tunnel.  Mr. Tunnel can you hear me?"  I feel my eyes slowly bulge out of my head.  "Oh I'm dreaming.  I'm dreaming! This is only a damn dream!"  I never knew I could cry so hard and so loud in my life.  "Mr. Tunnel we realize how hard this is for you but, we need to ask you some questions."  

"Did you and your wife have any enemies, anyone that might have a grudge against you?"  

I paused for a minute, "No not at all, I mean.  Everyone loved Melanie.   She was..she was...(sniffling)She was an angel."

"Well, if anyone or anything comes to mind here is my card, and we will keep you updated with any facts we get.  I am truly sorry Mr. Tunnel. I really am."

The rain starts again.  It batters and beats the top of the house as I sit in the chair that she bought me.  I never liked her going jogging after dark.  She was a beautiful women jogging around in a high to mid class neighborhood in the midst of night all by herself and I wasn't here. But what was she doing jogging at night in this kind of weather?   Maybe she started that fire preparing for a romantic evening, and got restless while waiting for me to come home from work and wanted to clear her head.   Instantly I begin to curse myself for my cowardice personality.  For not being strong enough for her, for neglecting the women that I loved for a job that I hated.  This is what life has done to me, and may even someday do to you unless you got the gallantry to put it in its place.  

The day of the funeral was just as dark and damp as the night that she died.  As I said, Melanie was an angel on earth and was loved by many.  Her friends and relatives hid behind black veils and black umbrellas.  An occasional muffled scream would show itself as the sermon carried on like a rhythmic childrens book.  Her father looked at me across the six foot deep grave with eyes of scorn.  He never liked me for reasons I may both agree and disagree with.  Afterwards her mother gave me a clamping hug, her hands clenching my back as if she wanted to tear my shoulder blades off.  As she released her death grip, she looked me in the eyes, said nothing, then turned and walked away in the light mist of rain.  

The sky turns a strange hue of grey, black, and green.  I just stood over the grave caressing her casket before they bury her later this morning.  I got in my car, and lit up a cigarette. Something I never did because Melanie never liked the smell.  Wiped off my tears and began to just drive.  I drove for hours, with no intention of going anywhere.  I haven't ate or slept in days, how could I.  Just being in an empty house was now unsettling enough.  Sleeping alone in the dark is something I'd imagine her doing now.  

It was about 8:30 p.m. when I finally decided to head home.  On the way I stopped at the liquor store that I hadn't visited since our anniversary last year.  The place still looks the same.  The  same shitty music with the same bland color of tiles that have become unglued to the floor.  I grab a cheap bottle of whiskey, some beef jerky and head for the check out counter.  The clerk gapes at me with a look somewhere in between pity and boredom.  Walking out the door I thought I heard him say, "Melanie says hi".  I paused, turned my head around. 

"What was that?"

"I said, have a good night."

I just glared and nod my head at him.  I adjusted the radio knob to an oldies station and headed for home.  Flowers of condolences sent by neighbors gather around the outside of my front door.  The house looks untouched, immaculate as she always kept it, still warm with her presence.  I switched on the kitchen light and begin to drink. I turned to the radio that she kept in the kitchen and pressed the power button 'on' . Melanie and I both were fans of the oldies,  she liked to listen to them while she cooked.  

Three hours later and the drinking has not numbed any pain at all.  Instead of feeling somewhat at ease I now just feel a mixture of hostility and desperation.   Her French perfume is still soaked into the couch as I lay down and try to get my head together.  My head feels like its spinning at mach speeds.  My brain feels like its in a frying pan boiling in hot slimy oil. I begin to clench my jaw so tight that my teeth feel like they are going to crack and break into tiny bits of sand.  Closing my eye lids as tight as I can I let out an ungodly, blood curdling howl that echos off the walls and bounces back into my ears with an intense sting.  

At some point I must of passed out because when i opened my eyes, I was on the floor with my face laying in a pool of my own slobber that wreaked of cheap whiskey.  I collected myself from the stained carpet and went to wash my face to wake my senses up a bit.  Looking at myself while drying off my face It all of sudden becomes clear of what I have to do.  "I want my wife back.  And I will get her back."  I finish this short little conversation with myself with a strange, sick, smile that I never seen myself give before, and would never want Melanie to see either.  

I wasted no time.  I grabbed the shovel in the garage that Melanie often used in her garden along with a lantern we took during our camping trips in the summer.  The rain had ceased which gave me a window at which I could do what I was about to do.  Driving around town at 2:00 in the morning was an eerie thing.  It was completely deserted and without pulse.  The only somewhat life form was only the traffic lights, flashing all colors with a rhythm that like of a heart.  I catch a glimpse of myself in the rear view mirror and see in my eyes a savagery, a look that I never knew could exist within myself.  This look made my stomach turn and my heart ache with the love that I had lost but, will soon be affixed with again.  

The air is unfamiliarly still as I exit my car along side of the cemetery.  There was no breeze, only a hint of rain mist floating in the air like tiny particles of snow.  I began my prowl to Melanie's grave.  I can't help but speed walk although my conscience is still tugging at what little morality I have left.  The shovel punctures the fresh grave like butter as I dig and dig with every ounce of strength and speed I have.  Despite all the dirt the casket still  had a thick film of polished shine from this morning.  I open the casket, gently pull her out of the death vessel and just hold her for a few minutes.  She feels cold as I hastily take off my jacket and wrap it around her frail shoulders.  I hold her head close to my chin like an infant, loosely but securely.  

I again had the only thing in this world that gave me hope.  I again had a reason to exist, to feel, and to love.  I experienced my own brief taste of hell when heaven took back one of its angels, my angel, and she will always be mine.  To get her back I had to dig into death's lost and found and so I did, for she is too divine to be labeled as dead.  

                                                                                        The End