But I can’t.
Because he was married to my sister, who just died. And having sex with him was already so stupid of me. Letting him cum in me? Amateur move. That just goes to show that my judgment was impaired. Having sex with Marcus was an anomaly. It can’t happen again.
I rinse the suds from my body and dry myself off. My parents are expecting me so we can discuss funeral arrangements for my sister.
I take an old backpack from my college days that I’d stashed in the bottom of my closet and fill it with some jeans, shirts, and undergarments. I also toss in my pajamas so I can sleep comfortably at my parents’ house for the next week or so.
That should tide me over in terms of regular clothing, but I need something to wear to the wake and funeral. My sister’s wake and funeral.
I’ve only been to a couple of funerals, so I don’t exactly have a lot of appropriate attire. Jane’s favorite color was blue, and I have a somber navy blouse that she especially liked. I fold it carefully and slip it into the backpack. She would appreciate the slight variation of color at her funeral. She was never an all-black clothing kind of girl.
But I still need a dress of some sort. Fortunately, I have a conservative black dress squished in the back that I wore to an interview a couple years ago. I’m sure it’ll still fit. It’ll look good paired with a dark blue cardigan I have. It’s exactly the kind of thing Jane would expect me to wear to her funeral, I think.
Once I’m packed, I make sure everything that could cause a fire is unplugged, my windows are closed, and my door is locked tight. I say goodbye to my apartment – and my privacy – for a while.
Back at my parents’ house, my mom and dad have showered and changed into respectable clothing. There are flowers lining the once empty counter space.
“Kelsey,” says Robert in a faint voice. “I’m so glad you’re here. Word has gotten around about Jane. We’ve had more visitors than have ever seen this house.”
On cue, the doorbell rings. Mom wipes her eyes again and heads to answer it.
“Listen, Kelsey,” my dad says. “Your mom … she’s rightfully upset.”
I can tell. Normally, Gail won’t shut up. She’s a chatterbox, going on and on about gardening, bridge, and tennis at the country club. But she’s barely uttered a word since she got the news about Jane.
“It would be a big help if you would go see the funeral home director. Everything’s paid for already since Janie had life insurance. It’s just a matter of discussing the arrangements. I don’t think your mom and I could handle it,” he gulps. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work,” he adds in an agonized voice. “She was our child. We can’t … would you please go and finalize everything?”
Dad chokes on his tears as he tries to get the words out. How am I supposed to say no? I want to scream and say I shouldn’t be planning my sister’s funeral right now, either, but I can’t. Robert looks so defeated. His face has taken on extra wrinkles, his hair greyer than it was just yesterday.
“Of course, Daddy,” I say, wiping away a tear of my own. “I’ll take care of everything.”
“I’ll help,” a deep voice says from behind me. “She was my wife. It’s my responsibility.”
I whirl to meet Marcus’s penetrating blue gaze, and to my shame, my heart begins beating erratically. He’s your brother in law! my conscience screams. Stop this!
But I can’t. Marcus has always had this effect on me, and even my sister’s untimely death doesn’t change that.
My dad nods silently. Mom returns with a casserole and another bouquet of flowers to add to the growing piles.
“Robert, we’re going to need to donate these flowers somewhere. I can’t look at them. All I see is my sweet Janie.” Mom bursts into tears. I throw my arm around her narrow shoulders in sympathy as they’re wracked in sobs.
“We’ll take them, Mom. We can drop them off at the nursing home before we go to the funeral home.”
Mom sniffles and nods. “Thank you, Kelsey.” She takes my hand in hers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“It’s okay,” I say gently. “I love you Mom.”
“I love you, too.”
Dad joins our hug for a few moments until we finally break apart, our tears subsiding. “We should get going.”
Marcus agrees. “I can drive.”
“Okay,” I say.
He’s changed into an outfit he must have left in the guest room a while back. The sleeves of the t shirt squeeze his defined arms. My mouth waters hungrily at the sight, although it’s so wrong.
I remind myself we’re going to plan my sister’s funeral and I need to stop these feelings. But then Marcus meets my eyes and they’re full of heat and desire, the same things I saw in them last night.