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THE FUTON Continued Excerpt from February Noelle Alexandria was like a ghost of Christmas that should have never been a ghost and that's the way it was. She was the wrapping paper that was the shroud of Dariel that I opened to find my wife alive again. Alive. Dariel was the greatest gift the world has ever given me, ever will give me. The only other gift that comes close is others allowing me my misery on my birthday, and if they too are miserable that is icing on the cake. The only gift that I really open on my birthday is that my place in my heart where I remember the day Dariel I died, the day I killed her. Dariel loved me even though she knew me and she loved me enough to accept me without trying to change every fucking thing about me. She understood me without me having to explain myself. And when I did explain myself anyway, she was an active listener and took a passion in my feelings and thoughts on things even if they were far different than her own. She respected me and I trusted her. In my trauma, Noelle Alexandria was now the ghost, one that I was not the least bit haunted by, and Dariel was now, once again, if not my only concern certainly my main one, either way the only one worthwhile that I could hold in my arms. I was in heaven. THE FUTON by NELSON GARY For a few moments, I was free, really free enough to feel my body get all warm with happiness. When I got warm enough to notice how cold the bag of bones I held in my arms was, I was nowhere near heaven. I was in hell. Remembering Dariel dead in my arms, experiencing it all over again. I took Noelle's wrist in my hand as I had Dariel's. There was a pulse. There was Noelle. Only Noelle. All I could see was Noelle. All I could feel was Noelle. The whole lousy world was one big Noelle. I had not been in heaven. I was not in hell at the moment. I was in the place where people have delusions about there being such places. Home, Sweet, Home. Earth. The only thing...»»

F I C T I O N

	March 2003