Those Precious Moments
?Most people picture funerals as dark, solemn affairs with grey clouds overhead and an assembly of blank-faced mourners dressed in black. I'd been married to my husband for forty years and I knew as well as anyone that he wouldn't have wanted it like that. Ben spent his childhood on a warm, sunny island and while his body grew up and left home to find a new life in England, his mind stayed tied to that place, forever young. I can't imagine anything he would have disliked more than a boring winter funeral with polite small-talk and cucumber sandwiches.
I arranged a cremation with a small service so that the religious folk could remember him the way they wanted to, but for me the real remembrance was a week later, when we went down to the beach and scattered his ashes. There weren't many of us; just our son and two daughters, Ben's closest friends and me. I wore his favourite dress - plain white cotton with embroidered flowers that reached all the way to the ground. We all said a few words and threw a handful of his ashes into the sea, and then my girls played for us and sang while the rest of us danced, faces shining wet with tears while we laughed at shared memories of that wild hyena we once knew.
As the sky glowed pink and orange, we sat on the rocks, too old to dance on into the night, and swapped stories while we watched the sun go down. With my head drooping on my son's shoulder, I listened to his friend's tales of misadventure and thought back to those last precious weeks Ben and I spent together.
* * *
I have never been so afraid in all sixty two years of my life as that hour I spent in a hospital corridor, waiting for someone to come and tell me if my husband was still alive. My throat was dry but I couldn't make myself move from the saggy old chair to get myself a drink in case the doctor came out while I was gone. As I clasped my hands nervously in my lap, squeezing them so tightly together that my blunt little claws could've drawn blood, I saw a door open and a young male cat in a doctor's coat stepped out.
Before I could speak, he held up a hand, smiling to reassure me, which I was grateful for 'cause I sure needed it. He took a seat next to me, put down his chart and spoke to me in a soft voice that told me the news couldn't be good.
"Your husband wants you see you," he said, and I was so relieved that I missed the next bit completely - probably some medical nonsense I wouldn't have understood anyway. The important part of what he told me was that Ben's heart was failing him and he didn't have long to live - maybe weeks, maybe a couple of months, but not much longer than that.
On trembling legs, I walked the couple of feet to Ben's room and pushed open the door, expecting to see him lying weakened and helpless in the small hospital bed. What I didn't expect was to see him as bright and cheerful as ever, propped up on a bunch of pillows he probably had the pretty young nurse fetch for him.
"Don't stand around in the doorway, come on in and give your husband a kiss," he said, reaching out with his paw. "I ain't dead yet, Flower."
Forcing a smile, I took his paw and let him steer me to the edge of the bed, where I sat and stroked his hair. His infectious charm was already starting to affect me, but even though I could never frown when Ben had a smile on his face, the cold, hard realisation that I would soon be a widow sat at the bottom of my stomach, rotting me from the inside out.
"The Doctor tells me it won't hurt at all when I go," Ben said, his thumb caressing my wrist where our hands were joined. "I'll just slip away peacefully in my sleep."
Swallowing hard, I replied in a tiny voice: "So I'll wake up one morning and find you gone? Just an empty body next to me?"
"Now hey there," he said, his voice low and rumbly like it always was when he knew I was upset. "Didn't I promise when we married that I'd never leave you? I won't be gone while you keep my soul safe in here." He tapped my chest gently, right over my heart.
"Oh Ben, you know I don't believe in all of that," I told him, covering his paw with my own. "Heaven and hell and immortal souls."
I tried to look away but his eyes kept my gaze. Ben's eyes were always bright and kind, keeping their shine while the rest of him aged into a handsome old hyena with wrinkles around his muzzle and flecks of silver in his fur.
"Promise me," he said, squeezing my paw gently, "Promise you'll keep my soul safe."
I squeezed back and my smile finally caught up with my eyes. "I promise."
He chuckled low in his throat and pulled his paw away from my chest to pat me gently on the thigh, saying: "So, they told me I'll start sleeping more and lose my appetite. Never thought I'd let old age catch up with me this soon."
"You'll never be old," I teased. "As soon as you got to twenty-five you stayed that way."
"I ain't looking too good for twenty-five," he replied, running a paw through his thinning hair. "Must be overworked. Guess it's time for a holiday."
I could tell he'd been thinking a bit about the holiday. One thing about Ben was that he always had some plan in his head, sometimes a scheme to get rich or a special present for me. He used to say that if you didn't exercise your brain, it got lazy.
"A holiday sounds like a pretty good plan to me," I said quietly. "We have some money saved up, I guess we might as well spend it." I didn't say 'while we can,' but Ben knew me well enough to hear it.
He grinned at me, his smile wide and confident just like it was when we first met. "Let's get away from all this, just you and me. I'll show you the village where I grew up - always wanted to take you on a nice, romantic walk along the beach, watch the sunset and all of that."
I felt a lump in my throat as I realised he was trying to make the last time we had together special. I tried to swallow it down, making a promise to myself not to spoil the rest of Ben's days by dwelling on how they would end. Instead, I would treasure every moment I had left with him, enjoying him while I still could.
* * *
We took a plane to the island where Ben grew up and I expected him to sleep on the way there as he'd taken to napping during the day this past week. Of course, I should have known that he'd spend the entire journey pointing out of the window like a little cub on his first plane ride. I hid my smiles of amusement and tried to make out the details that he saw, but my eyesight was never as good as his, especially since I was given those glasses I refuse to wear. We kept our conversation light and I tried not to think about how I'd miss his silliness once he was gone.
The money we'd saved got us a nice little cottage a minute's stroll away from the beach, and I followed Ben through every room as he picked things up and studied paintings and talked nonsense about feng sui. In the afternoon, he took me out for a meal in the restaurant his parents had treated him to for his eighteenth birthday, and I ate seafood while he toyed with a steak He joined me with the chocolate pudding though, somehow managing to clear his plate and lick it clean despite his low appetite.
That evening, we walked along the beach like he'd promise we would, kicking off our shoes and dipping our paws in the sea. The sand was refreshingly cool beneath my bare paws as I dangled my shoes by the laces and listened to the quiet whisper of the waves.
"How about that sunset, huh?" Ben said quietly, taking my paw in his.
I looked up to the horizon and saw the last rays of light shine a deep purple through the cotton-wool clouds that hung all over the sky. "It's beautiful. Did you come out and watch the sunset often when you were young?"
"Not often enough," he replied. "You're lucky I didn't - if I'd appreciated this kind of thing when I was younger, I'd never have left and found my way to you."
I smiled down at the sand. If I closed my eyes and forgot why were here, I felt like we were on our first date again. This wasn't the first time in my life I'd felt like that with Ben - he'd always found ways to make me fall in love with him all over as if it were new. For a brief moment, I almost let myself start to cry as I thought about what life would be like without him.
"Remember the first time we met?" Ben asked. I could tell he'd picked up on my mood and was trying to distract me, but I was happy to be distracted.
"Crowded bar, terrible music," I replied, the memory coming back easily; it was a favourite of mine. "You were twenty-three, I was only eighteen. You could've had any young vixen in the room."
"It was my turn to buy drinks," he said, taking up the story. "There I was, standing at the bar with all those girls wearing nothing more than short skirts and low cut tops that didn't fit. And there you were, looking a little lost and wearing that pretty red dress that covered your legs and chest."
"I didn't think much of how I looked, back then," I laughed.
"You wore your hair down. I remember how it framed your face. And you didn't try to cover yourself with make-up like the other girls. I liked that."
I shrugged. "Never had the confidence."
"Well I thought it was refreshing, seeing a girl with natural beauty," he said. "And the way you covered yourself up, I couldn't help but wonder what was underneath."
A giggle escaped me as I slapped his arm playfully. "And there was me thinking you were such a gentleman when you offered to buy me a drink."
"That was just me tryin' to get you drunk so I could take advantage of you," he teased. "And as far as I recall, it worked."
"You never took advantage of me. All you got that night was a kiss."
He stopped walking, turned me around to face him and placed a soft kiss on my lips. "A kiss is all I needed," he told me softly. "I fell in love with you that night and I've counted myself lucky ever since."
My heart pounded in my chest, just like it had that first night when the handsome stranger had bought me a drink and asked me to dance. I'd been so nervous on my feet, but he'd taken control, holding me safely in his strong arms and smiling down at me with his eyes. At the end of the night he'd walked me home and turned away without even hinting that he might want to come inside. I was so charmed that I called him back and planted a kiss on his lips; something I'd never been bold enough to do before.
He was my first boyfriend and my first lover, although it was a long time before I decided I was ready to take the first step. Ben was patient and waited for me, even though sometimes I could tell how much he wanted me. Our first time together was on our first anniversary as a couple - I can remember crystal clear how I timidly stripped off my clothes and spread myself out for him. He was so gentle as he took up my weight in his arms and pressed our bodies together, and he took his time kissing every inch of me until I was perfectly relaxed.
"You're thinking about our first night together," Ben said, drawing me back to the present. I didn't ask how he knew; so much of our lives were tangled up in each other that sometimes even our thoughts matched up.
"Remember how worried I was because I didn't have condoms?" I said as my arms found themselves around his neck, his paws gravitating to my waist. "I should've realised that you weren't the type to spend a night in a girl's bed without bringing protection."
"If I were that type I'd have kids all over the place," he replied teasingly as he nuzzled my cheek, his breath warm against my ear.
"And here I was thinking you were a gentleman," I teased back. Our bodies were perfectly aligned, touching at every point as we swayed gently under the moonlight.
"Would a gentleman ask his wife to make love to him under the stars?" he whispered, sliding a paw around my back and resting it firmly on my rump. My breath caught in my throat and I couldn't help but giggle slightly at the thought of two adults who should know better having sex in such a public place. Not that there was any doubt in my mind that we should, of course. My husband was not the sort of man to pay much attention to silly principles, and I loved him too much to worry about decency.
"Why Benjamin, what would our children think if they heard you saying a thing like that?" I teased.
"Does that mean you're going to make me wait until we get back to that little brick hut?" he asked, knowing full well that I didn't.
My paws slid down his shoulders, over his chest and rested on his stomach, just at the edge of his shirt. "What kind of wife would I be to make you wait?" I asked, pulling his shirt up over his head. Up until his illness, Ben had kept himself fit, and his chest still had some muscles, although the fur wasn't as soft and sleek as it used to be. I ran my paws over the shaggy fur on his stomach and up his chest while he pushed my skirt down over my hips.
Stepping out of the skirt, I started to undo his belt, smiling as he planted soft kisses on my neck and throat. He told me I was beautiful in a low murmur that vibrated across my chest and whispered into the curve of my jaw that he loved me. I wanted to say those things back, but when I tried to speak all that came out was a broken sob. Holding back my tears, I buried my face in his chest and tried to focus on the paws that roamed over my chest.
"Don't hold back," Ben whispered, sliding my top up over my belly. "Let the tears flow, my Flower."
Another sob escaped me as I stopped holding back and allowed the tears to flow down my cheeks and into his chest fur. He held me close for a couple of seconds, then gently eased me back and helped me out of my top. His trousers soon hit the ground with the metal clink of his belt and we were both standing there in our underwear, arms around each other and kissing deeply, my tears covering both of our faces.
I clung to him, not ever wanting to let go, trying to show him everything I felt through that kiss, but of course he knew it already and always had done. It was him that arranged us both on the ground, undid my bra with ease and gently kissed each of my nipples in turn as I lay there on the sand and looked up at him, trying to memorise every detail. His boxers joined our heap of clothes on the sand, his cock jutting out proudly from his body as he kneeled above me - the illness had not taken this away from him yet.
I moaned for him as his paw stroked over the soft fabric of my underpants, and my paws joined his as I helped him slide them over my thighs and down my legs. He placed them on top of his shirt, careful not to cover them in sand, and returned his paw to the place between my legs, running gently over the flesh and parting it. He didn't need to check whether I was ready for him, but I know he liked to feel the warmth of me and the softness of the fur between my legs.
"I love you," I whispered, finding my voice as he lined himself up and slowly entered me. His cock fitted me perfectly as if we'd been made for each other - a familiar expression of our desire for each other. We didn't make love in those days as often as we had in our youth, but I never stopped wanting Ben as much as I had the night I gave him my virginity.
He began to thrust slowly, taking his time - enjoying me, as he would have put it. We knew how to please each other as if by instinct - I gently rubbed the sensitive spot behind his ears and made the soft noises that I knew he loved to hear as he angled his thrusts to brush over my clitoris. As I began to feel my orgasm wash over me, his breathing started getting heavier, telling me that he was close as well. Sure enough, it was only a few moments after I stopped twitching and lay still with half-closed eyes that he stiffened and I felt a warmth inside me as he came.
We lay together for an hour or so before we were ready to make love again, Ben stroking my hair and me holding on tight as if he would float away at any moment. The tears came again and he kissed them away one by one, whispering to me softly:
"I love you, my Flower, my Lily. It's okay, it's okay to cry."
I breathed in sharply and wrapped my arms around him a little tighter. "I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling weak, like I'd broken my promise to myself.
"No, I'm sorry," he murmured against my cheek. "I'm sorry I have to leave you."
"I'll keep your soul safe for you," I promised, almost believing, despite myself, that he would stay on with me somehow after he died.
He kissed me and we made love again, laying together until the sun came up.
* * *
That was the last time we made love before Ben died. The holiday seemed to take away the last of his strength, and even though he was always alert and cheerful up until his death, he spent his last few weeks in bed, barely eating. Towards the end he was almost too tired to speak, though he always said "I love you, Flower," every night before we went to sleep. He wanted those to be his last words.
I knew as soon as I woke up that Ben was no longer with me. When I opened my eyes I saw him lying there, too still, his presence gone from his body, and a great sadness washed over me. My eyes were dry; I'd already cried all of my tears.
Whatever a soul might be, I still keep his safe like I promised. It might not be a tangible thing that I can hold and touch and kiss, and it might not be a spiritual or religious presence that I can feel in my heart, but when I wake up I still smell his scent and sometimes when I turn around I can almost hear his voice. When I close my eyes, I can still see him perfectly in every detail, more detail than I ever managed to see with my tired eyes. I remember his laugh, the feel of his big paw in my little one and the feel of his long, slender cock inside me as we made love for the last time, and the first time, and every time in between.
I scattered his ashes in the sea and danced with our children on a beach far from his home. And even though I still get sad sometimes, thinking about him and wishing he was there to hold me close at night, I know that a part of him lives on in them, and in me, and in everyone he ever touched in his life.