Not Being Dead

Sarah Jean recovered herself faster this time than last. “I'm sorry,” she muttered into my shoulder.

“Glad to help,” I replied. I moved to break the hold but she resisted. While not the most comfortable situation in the world, this was still nice and if she didn't mind, why should I?

She shifted position, rotating so that she was leaning back into me rather than talking into me. She looked up at me but I couldn't really see her and I suspect the same was true for her. “Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” I politely replied.

“Why can't I get into your head?” she asked with a sigh.

“Oh you're in my head alright,” I responded.

She giggled. “Something happened to break our link. That I understand but I'm confused why I can't restart it.”

“That's the problem?” I checked.

She nodded. “Part of it anyway. It's why I couldn't feel you were still alive.”

“I've been so tired this week I just blamed everything on that,” I explained. “I knew I didn't feel right but didn't realize it was that.” When that link is active, I feel a gentle warmth, like being constantly hugged. I guess I knew it was gone but didn't know that was it. “Maybe I am dead.”

“Don't say that. That's not funny.”

“I didn't say it to be funny,” I noted. Then I grinned. “Maybe you're dead.”

“That is also not funny,” she declared. After a moment she added “You do smell like you could be dead.”

“Well I wasn't prepared for company this morning,” I retorted, “no matter how frantic or pleasant that company may be. I can go get cleaned up if you like.”

“Not just yet,” she informed. “I'm still enjoying you not being dead.” She nestled into me. “Just a bit more.”

So that's what we did.

One of Those Things

Eventually she calmed down enough to properly come inside the house and sit down. The advantage to that was primarily my relaxation. I was concerned about what the neighbors would think. Not that my neighbors are especially nosy or that I'm concerned about impressing them, I was just worried that they would think I'd done something to cause this reaction. You can only control people's perceptions so far but I really didn't want to become That Guy That Makes Women Cry.

This also gave me the opportunity to put on real pants instead of my comfy pants. With her this worked up, a bit more formality might help settle her mood a bit. At the very least it might settle my mood a bit.

There was enough sun so that the kitchen was nice and bright this morning. I directed her there, poured us coffee, and very politely encouraged her to explain why it was so surprising to see me today. Not that there shouldn't be some level of enthusiasm upon seeing me but this was a bit more than normal.

She huddled over her coffee cup, almost hugging it as she had me. “Do you want the long version or the short version?”

I sighed as I sipped my coffee. It was going to be one of these things. “Give me the short version. I don't know that I'm awake enough for anything complicated at this point.”

She took a deep breath, looked up at me as if to speak, and then returned her gaze to her coffee. Before I could prompt her further, she spoke, the words wavering from her with emotion. “I saw you die.”

I considered this for a moment. You'd really think this would phase me more but even my tired mind offered explanations. “You mean you had a dream that I died or that you had an impression that something...”

Sarah Jean cut me off abruptly. “No. I saw you die. In front of me.” Tears silently began to slide down her face.

Now I was confused, tired, and confused. Yes, twice confused. “But I didn't die. I rather think I would remember that.”

This statement did little to calm her. “You died in front of me and then I couldn't sense you anymore and I was so worried and here you are and...” She broke off into sobbing again.

I believe I've made it quite clear in the past that I am a big idiot, especially when it comes to the workings of the female mind and emotions. I have often reflected on previous situations and realized where I'd gone wrong, even if the correct course of action remained unclear to me. On this occasion, I tried to not overthink my reaction. She was crying and hugging her had stopped similar crying. I was interested in stopping these tears as well. I slid my stool to the other side of the island so I could be next to her. Upon wrapping an arm around her, she once again buried herself into my shoulder to soak it with her tears.

While still confused and concerned, I was also pleased. This seemed to be the correct course of action. I was also pleased that she hadn't knocked us off our perch when she'd crushed herself into me. Not falling was nice.