I pulled the elastic on his shorts and let it snap back against him. He yelped, then I rose from the bed, singing like Eartha Kitt as I slipped into his moccasins and pulled on a thick robe.

“C’est si bon.
 C’est un café au lait.
And I bring it today.
 Maybe on a tray, okay?” 

I then scurried into the kitchen, still humming. I know he watched me go; I heard him chuckle. Heard the mattress softly protest as he stretched to stay warm under the covers. Drifting. Dreaming. Thinking. 

I still wonder at how could I have found such a man. Me! Whose life had been anything but filled with grace and beauty. Who had learned far too early how to use others for his survival. Who had been selfish and feral in his existence. I was hardly deserving of him. 

I should have remembered something my Gra’man had once told me. Never question the fates, for they will never explain and may take offense. Just accept when you are happy, and be thankful. 

I should have listened to her. 

I should have requested the day off, or at least postponed my classes until later. He was right about his mother; she would never have fired me. She knew I loved her son beyond measure and would support him in every way he needed...as well as those he didn’t... 

Or he thought he didn’t. 

Like a child. 

Had I not been caught in that avalanche, nothing could have come between us. 

You may have heard of it. First day of spring after a winter of heavy snow. Caused by a snowboarder who had snuck into a closed off area. It even buried part of his mother’s lodge and the public ski lift. 

My students and I were on an upper slope when I heard it coming. I rushed them to a protective cover. All but one was safe when it crashed in upon us. 

I remember feeling only anger, not fear. 

And then nothing. 

Just darkness and silence. 

And my existence was no longer part of Dair’s. 

And yet I...I could not leave him, not even in death. No more could I touch him. Nor he hold me. Or hear me whisper how deeply I had loved him. But still I remained.

It was a form of hell.

Perhaps of punishment.

Or perhaps...just perhaps...a way of giving me time to find one through whom I could tell my story.

Can it be possible, you may wonder, for one who has left the corporeal world to now speak in it? This is not so difficult to understand. It has taken me some years, but I have located a conduit who has kindly opened himself to me. Many writers speak of their works finding them rather than them finding their works, and here is such a case.

Now my one and only past will flow through him.And every word shall carry none of the carefulness or false remembrances which so easily taint all memories. For in such an existence, only truth is allowed to me. And I must honor it.

So please believe me when I tell you of how lovely my Dair is. How decent a man he is. And talented. And kind. And know I do not say this because I love him. 

Loved him. 

No...still love him. 

I say it because it is true.

At least, it was... 

But since my death, life has been her cruelest to him.For everything that happened to him in the years following was my cause. Not by my fault...and yet, it was. So much so, I wonder if becoming one with him was right for me to do. Because now I fear...I fear he no longer remembers our last morning together. He no longer sees those gentle words between us as being lovely. As lovely to him as they are to me.I fear they are tainted by knowing that was the morning my story ended.

For now I can see...he believes his did, as well.