A Well-Lived Life 2 - Book 6 - SamanthaChapter 28: Grief Counseling, Part II free porn video
October 24, 1992, Colerain Township, Ohio
When we’d left the cemetery, I felt Caroline had regressed. She was sullen and silent, and expressed no interest in eating dinner, talking, or anything else. I tried a few times to strike up a conversation but she wouldn’t respond at all. Not a word, not a head shake, not a sigh. I feared I’d done her a terrible disservice by bringing her to Milford. I’d chosen to head back to Donna Grossi’s, and after saying hello, led Caroline to the guest house and had her lie down on a bed in the left-hand room. I put my bag in the room on the right and then went back to speak to Donna Grossi.
“She does not seem well,” Donna Grossi observed.
“No. Her brother’s death devastated her and yesterday she asked me to bring her to where he’s buried. I thought going to visit her brother’s grave might help her as visiting my first girlfriend’s grave helped me. It seems as if it might have really hurt her instead.”
“Give her some time. Death is hard, especially on the young when the person who has died is young. It was not easy for me when Joe passed, but one deals better with it in old age. Death comes for all of us, but sometimes, as with your friend, it comes far too soon.”
“What do I do?”
“Wait. Let her sleep. I’ll make you dinner. You should call Joyce. I told her you would be here.”
I nodded, “Thank you.”
“I’ll make enough for your friend. Perhaps she’ll eat later.”
“I hope so,” I said.
“Go to Joe’s study and use the phone there.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I went to the study where I’d sat many times with Don Joseph, and picked up the phone. It felt wrong to sit at his desk, so I simply stood next to it and dialed Joyce’s number. She offered to come over right away and I accepted. Thirty minutes later, she was there with Joseph and Amelia. We exchanged a hug and a quick peck.
“Wow. These two are getting big! Four and three, right?”
“Yes. But you have two in school!”
“I do. How’s Jake?”
“He decided not to re-up when his six years are up. He’ll be out in about six months.”
“What’s his plan?”
“He has quite a few options given his engineering background and experience. Maybe we’ll just be a husband and wife team running all the businesses! How are things with you?”
“Me? Fine. Same with the family. It’s Caroline, Nick’s sister, I’m worried about. She’s in really bad shape. I had hoped that visiting Nick’s grave would help her the way my visit to Birgit’s grave helped me. It seems to have done the opposite. She’s sleeping now, but she wouldn’t talk, eat, or do anything at all after she cried herself to sleep on the grass by the headstone.”
“What did Grandmother say?”
“To give her some time. Let her sleep. See if she’ll eat something later. She talked about how difficult death is for the young, especially when the person who died is young.”
“I can’t even imagine,” Joyce sighed. “Your friend Stephie; that could have been me.”
“It could have been any of us, but it wasn’t. The same is true for Birgit’s accident and Nick’s murder. You know what happened with Bethany. And there was my accident. And so many other close calls. It’s tough.”
“So why are you with her?”
“When she was in Chicago with her parents in August to see Nicholas, she cried on my shoulder and her mom talked to Harry Krajick about how I helped Bethany after Nick died and she thought I might be able to help Caroline. She came to Chicago and she cried a lot last night, and asked me to bring her to Milford. Now I’m afraid I’ve made things worse.”
“Wasn’t she in denial before?”
“Probably, yes; she would never say the words. She finally did last night.”
“Then Caroline’s true grieving process only started last night. Grandmother is probably right about letting her sleep.”
“I remember you helping me, too. I’m grateful for that.”
“I don’t think you want to do that,” Joyce said with a smile.
“I never even saw you that day. That was later!”
Joyce laughed, “Saw me. Right!”
“How IS ‘Bad Joyce’ these days?” I teased.
“Just fine, thank you very much!” she smirked. “Jake was VERY surprised when she visited on our honeymoon!”
I chuckled, “I bet! Shall we play with your kids until dinner is ready?”
“They’d love it!”
It was about forty minutes before Donna Grossi called us to the table. I went to check on Caroline, but she was sleeping, so I didn’t wake her. We ate a delicious, high-carb meal, and Donna Grossi prepared a plate for Caroline that I could take with me to the guest house and heat up later if Caroline was willing to eat. Joyce and I helped clean up, and then she gathered her kids and headed home. I thanked Donna Grossi profusely, and went to the guest house.
I poured myself some bourbon I found in the small bar, and set down on the couch with The Economist. Just before 9:00pm I heard stirring in Caroline’s room, so I put down my magazine and went to check on her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking just as she had when we’d left the cemetery.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” she said, in a barely audible whisper.
“Will you eat something? There’s wonderful pasta that Donna Grossi made for us. I can heat it up.”
She nodded but didn’t say anything, so I went to the small kitchen, got the plate from the refrigerator and put it in the microwave. I hated the things, but this seemed like a good time to use it. A few minutes later, when the food was hot, I put it on the table, and then went to the bedroom to bring Caroline to eat.
She picked at the food, but did eventually eat about half the plate which made me feel better. At least she’d have some sustenance, even if it wasn’t as much as I thought she should eat. When she was finished, I cleared the plate away, washed it, and set it on the counter to take back to the main house in the morning.
“Will you hold me?” she whispered.
I nodded and led her to the living room where I decided on the recliner. I sat down, and she got into my lap. I reclined the chair a bit, and she curled up, with her head on my shoulder and her right hand flat on my chest. I put my arms around her and held her loosely. I felt I needed to get her to talk, but at this point, I had no idea what to say or even what to do. It almost seemed as if we were back to square one.
“Do you want to talk?” I asked after about fifteen minutes.
She shook her head, “No.”
“You need to talk, Caroline. It’s the only way I can help you.”
“I don’t want to,” she sighed.
“Will you tell me how I can help you?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she sighed.
I decided at that point that I’d have to wait for the morning before I’d try to talk to her again. We simply sat quietly for perhaps an hour when she needed to use the bathroom. While she was doing that I turned down her bed and when she came back, I suggested she sleep. I left the room so she could change and get into bed, and went to the other room, put on my pajamas, and then went back to check on Caroline. I didn’t see a light under her door, so I went back to my room and climbed into bed.
It seemed as if I’d just fallen asleep when I felt the bed move and groggily turned to see a shadowy form climbing into bed and getting under the covers.
“Hold me,” she asked.
I put out my arm and pulled Caroline to me to cuddle. She put her arm over me and sighed deeply. I waited to see what would happen and was happy when her breathing changed and it was clear that she’d fallen asleep. I’d been afraid she was going to do something I was sure she couldn’t consent to. But my worries had been unfounded and I soon fell asleep.
October 25, 1992, Colerain Township, Ohio
“Thank you,” Caroline said when the alarm rang early on Sunday morning.
I reached over with my right arm and turned off the alarm. When Caroline didn’t move, I put my arm around her again.
“You’re welcome. Are you feeling better?”
“Yes. I’m sorry about yesterday.”
“It’s OK. A lot has happened since Friday afternoon.”
“He’s really gone, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“I like you holding me. Do we have to get up right away?”
“No. So long as we leave by 8:00am we’ll get back to Chicago in time. It’s only 5:45am.”
“Good,” she said, snuggling closer.
“You need to restart your life,” I said.
“I know. Mom wants me to start at Arizona State with one class next semester.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” I said. “I want you to see your friends and write in your diary.”
“I know. I’ll try, OK? The diary part, I mean. I already saw Janey a few times.”
“Good.”
“May I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why wouldn’t you let me kiss you last time?”
“Because you were far too emotional and far too upset to do that.”
“And now?” she asked, lifting her head.
“I’m not sure eight hours of sleep is enough to recover from what happened yesterday.”
“Eight? More like fifteen, I think.”
“Since yesterday at noon? I suppose that’s true. But even so, I wonder why you wanted to kiss me.”
“I wanted to feel loved. I wanted to feel good.”
“How do you feel right now?” I asked.
“Good.”
She rose up and touched her lips to mine. I gently pushed her back.
“Caroline, this isn’t a good idea,” I protested.
“That’s what you said in Chicago.”
“And I still think the same way.”
“Let me do this for you, please.”
“For me?”
“For helping me. For bringing me here. For everything you’ve done.”
“You do not need to do that!” I said. “Just go to school, see your friends, and write in your diary. That will make me very happy.”
“You don’t want me?” she asked, sounding sad.
“It’s not that,” I said. “It’s the situation. I’d feel like I was taking advantage.”
“Taking advantage?”
“Yes. Because of how distraught you were Friday and yesterday. I don’t think you’re back to normal.”
“I thought you said I could never get back to normal? That I would always hurt.”
“Both of those are true, but you’ll find a ‘new normal’. My first night in Stockholm, someone offered what you are offering to try to help me. I felt it was wrong then, just as I feel it’s wrong now.”
“How will I know when I’m normal enough? How will you know?”
“I’m not really sure,” I said.
“Then how do you know I’m not normal enough?”
“A feeling,” I said.
She took my hand and moved it to her small, cotton-covered breast. She pressed and I felt her nipple harden.
“And how does this feel?”
I gently pulled my hand away.
“Very, very nice, but that’s not the feeling I was talking about.”
“If you can’t tell me how I can know or how you can know, then I don’t see how you can so you know it’s wrong.”
“I’m not going to let you argue me into this,” I said.
“Fine,” she sighed.
She moved from my arms and got out of bed. In one swift move, her nightgown was over her head and on the carpet. She was wearing sheer light-blue panties, but nothing else. She was definitely a very pretty girl.
“What do you think of my argument?” she asked with a smile.
“Very, very nice, but this is wrong. I can’t.”
“I have a better argument,” she said with a small smile.
She quickly removed the panties and stood naked before me, her light brown pubic hair drawing my eyes down from her breasts.
I smiled, “Also, very, very nice. I like what I see. But put your clothes on, please.”
Instead of doing as I requested, she climbed back into bed and snuggled close.
“Please?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper, but conveying desire.
“Sex is no cure for how you’re feeling,” I said.
“How do you know what will cure what I’m feeling?”
“Caroline, yesterday you were completely distraught and unable or unwilling to talk.”
“You talked to me at your house. You let me cry it out, then brought me to say goodbye to Nick. Then you let me cry again. You took care of me, and let me sleep. You fed me and let me sleep in your arms. I know what happened. I’m ready to move forward. And this is my next step.”
“Why?”
“Because you care. And when I cry afterwards, you won’t be upset and freak out. You’ll hold me and comfort me. Then you’ll take me to Chicago and I’ll go home.”
“Cry afterwards? Why?”
“You said I’ll need to cry, a lot. And I know it will be emotional and that will lead me to cry. And you’ll understand. Please? Just love me? Make me feel loved.”
“Caroline,” I sighed.
She moved up and kissed me softly, and her hand slid down my pajama-clad stomach. I quickly grabbed her wrist, then rolled away, and got out of the bed. What happened next was entirely predictable. She turned on her stomach, buried her face in the pillows, and started crying. I had a distinct feeling I was being manipulated, but I was fairly certain that her behavior was based on real emotions, strong ones, and my feeling was wrong. I gave her a couple of minutes to cry before I spoke again.
“Caroline, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“I said what you wanted,” she sobbed.
“About Nick?”
“Yes,” she choked, continuing to cry, “I wanted you to love me in Chicago, but you wouldn’t ‘cause I couldn’t say it. I came back to say it so you would!”
I hadn’t made the linkage, but I could see how it was linked in her mind. But was it something that I could do with her? Would I feel right? Would she? What would do the least harm? I didn’t know the answer to that, and didn’t think I was going to know it in the next few minutes. And if push came to shove, I’d say the correct answer was to tell her to get dressed, have breakfast and drive home.
What would she do in that case? Refuse to dress? Refuse to go to Chicago? If it came to that, I’d have to call her parents and ask them to come get her. I had no idea what would happen then, but the problem would be theirs, not mine. That sounded crass even in my mind, but what was the alternative if she refused to get up?
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