Older Women, Wild Desires #Erotica #Anthology

Finally, I ask, “How about William? Is he married? What’s he up to?”

Zelda’s face becomes a mask and she says, “Oh, you didn’t hear… honey, William died.”

A million questions spill out of my mouth. I can’t keep up with myself. I want to know everything: when did this happen, how did it happen, why him, so young? And when Zelda tells me William’s wife died at an early age, even before I split with Jack, my head starts ringing like a bell.

And the only question left is why didn’t we find each other? In all those years, when I thought about William—and I did think about him, often—why didn’t I open the phone book? When I was single and he was a widower we could have softened the edges of each other’s lives. And now that would never happen, because he’s departed this Earth.

I drown my grief in red wine, and not merely for William’s sake. It’s my own despair, as well. Everything that might have been, gone. Suddenly I see a perfect life together. I see the life I want for myself right now, and I know I can’t have it. Because he’s gone. He’s dead. He’s never coming back.

Throughout my niece’s wedding reception, I hold back tears. Look how young they are! She loves Dumbo, God only knows why. Maybe they’ll be happy together for the rest of their days. But not me. I’m old and shrivelled, and the one man who might have made me happy is gone.
I drink and drink and drink, but every glass of merlot makes matters worse.

My daughter’s still dancing with the young people when I’m ready to stumble home, so Zelda drops me off at my dark and gloomy house. Alone, I sit on the stairs and try to get my shoes off, but my drunken fingers refuse. My dizzy brain swerves to the left, and teardrops land on my hands as I crawl up the stairs. My legs are done for the day. I’m not sure how I manage to haul myself into bed, but I’m still fully dressed when my head hits the pillow.

I’m out like a light.

When I wake up, my mouth feels full of cotton. Water? Can I get some water over here?
My heavy eyelids take their time, but when they open I see… no, it couldn’t be. There’s a figure standing in the doorway: a tall black man with a kind face and a heart that glows as brightly as his soul.

I’m not afraid, because I know this man. I knew him.

It’s William.