Inseparable

Alone

For several months, I visited the places my Ana loved. I visited the Caribbean and stayed in the same room we had the last time in this small village. I spent our anniversary in Milan like we had several years before. I went to Santorini and walked the beach barefoot, just as she had done. I ended up in Morocco because of a dream I had while in Greece about an abandoned castle. Ana and I had seen this ancient palace while passing through Chefchaouen. I recalled Ana having joked and told me she wanted to turn it into a home and live there, filling it with our children. This was before we knew she couldn't have children. I bought the castle, paid for reconstruction, and instructed the contractor to turn it into a home fit for a large family.

I visited London and walked Hyde Park because Ana loved the walkways and fountains, and the park was always full of children. Ana grieved about not being able to bear children. While in Europe, I went to some museums to admire the artwork she loved, making sure to visit the Louvre and see Vincent Van Gogh's work in France. Ana adored Van Gogh.

I returned to Italy and saw Giovanni and Estelle; they were happily married with two additional babies, and the restaurant was doing well. Angela was a doctor in the town where Ana and I met her. She was thrilled to see me, but she cried when I told her the news of Ana's passing. She informed me about her schooling and how her youngest brother was in his last year of medical school. Due to the grief, the loss, and the lack of blood intake, no one worried or wondered why I had not aged. I suppose the sadness added to my appearance. I returned to North Carolina two years later; John and Alma were exceptionally busy as grandparents. Both of them, profoundly concerned over my well-being, begged me to stay, but the house and the city weren't the same without her. I explained to them that if I went into the city, people would recognize me and wonder why I had not aged since Ana and I married. I explained to them how I usually avoided any chance of being found out as an immortal.

I stayed for as long as my heart would let me; I spent hours at Ana's grave. I talked to her and cried. I couldn't withstand the sheer emptiness. That was the last time I saw John TallTree and his wife and children, and I think Alma knew it would be the last time she saw me. John embraced me in a bear hug and wished me a swift journey to finding Ana's soul once again. Alma gave me a picture she had drawn many years ago. Ana and I were sitting on the porch, her on my lap. It was beautiful; her artwork had always been exceptional.

The picture was a magnificent gift. I hugged her and then thanked her. It was the best gift anyone could've ever given me; besides returning my Ana, I kept the drawing. I framed and preserved it so that I could always remember it. I can even remember that exact day and our emotions and feelings; I don't need a picture to remember her face.

I don't think I could forget her face or how she looked beautiful and radiant in the morning. The way that she laughed and her adorable giggles. The way that she closed her eyes and moaned when sweet and decadent flavors pleased her. I miss the touch of her hand. I miss the smell of her hair. I miss her breath on my neck. I miss the whispers in my ear. I miss the moans. I miss the looks of pleasure and her delight as she orgasms. I miss bathing and washing her, spoiling her with shopping sprees. I missed falling asleep with her head on my chest, her hair like a crimson waterfall cascading around us. I miss everything about her. The pain inside me had made life meaningless—indescribable loneliness. My words cannot do it justice. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. I roamed aimlessly for the next several years, lost in my misery. I returned to New York to our home and lived secluded for ten years after her passing. The pain is still as intense, but I think I have learned to grow accustomed to it. I expected it every second of every day.

It was thirteen years after Ana's passing, the first time that I sexually touched another woman. She worked the streets at night, and I'd run across her here several times. She had a petite body and red hair. I paid her handsomely to return to my home. I warned her about my size, and she reassured me not to worry. I asked her to wear black lingerie with a garter belt I purchased that day. I told her to keep her hair down and not to speak. She willingly agreed to continue, even after my warning and instructions. I bent her over, only the garter belt, her ass, and her long red hair visible.