THE SIXTH & SEVENTH

Work just about gets me through the waking hours, though I know I am starting to behave like a zombie through lack of sleep. My parents phone each evening to check if I am okay, and I try to force a cheerfulness into my demeanour that is clearly not natural. I decided not to go down to Brighton until the day of the funeral as I am still struggling to write my eulogy. Tonight I have to finish it, so I resist the urge to lose myself once again in the kitchen and force myself to sit down in front of my laptop.

Strangely enough, once I start, this time I can't seem to stop. I fill page after page with funny, inconsequential stories about both her life and our life together. When I finally read the final draft and hit Print, I know I have produced something Nonna would like.

It is after midnight, and I know I have to be up early, so I decide to take a shower but am interrupted by a ringing on the intercom. Startled, as I never have visitors, let alone ones at this time of night, I lift the receiver and utter a cautious "Hello?"

"Why are you still up?" Taylor's unmistakable voice comes through. I am so surprised I drop the receiver, fumbling for several seconds before I finally pick it back up.

"Taylor, what are you doing here?"

"Why are you still up?" he repeats.

"How did you know I was still up? Are you stalking me?" My voice is incredulous.

"I was passing and your light was on, okay?"

"Um, I am hardly on the main road, and anyway, how did you know which is my light?" I retort.

"Okay, so I wanted to make sure you were all right. Look, can I come up? Sorry, I know it's late."

I pause for a second, unsure, but curiosity gets the better of me, so I press the buzzer to let him in. A minute later I hear footsteps up the flight of stairs, and I open my door, not wanting the knocking to wake my neighbour, a lovely nurse who I know is on the early shift in the morning. I beckon Taylor in and stand back with my arms around my waist once I have shut the door.

I have not spoken to Taylor since our encounter in the office on Tuesday, but he has been around on our floor more than normal. I thought he was just in meetings, but now I am wondering if something else is going on.

"Why are you here, Taylor? I have a really early start tomorrow."

Several expressions pass across Taylor's eyes. He moves a couple of steps towards me, and I catch a hint of Taylor's unique citrus scent. "I needed to know you were okay" is all he says before taking another step in my direction. I feel a bit like a cornered animal with nowhere to run. 

I swallow and take a deep breath. "You could have called me."

"You never replied to my last call." Taylor is now only a couple of feet away from me.

"I didn't realise I had a message until after you told me," I whisper, my heart starting to beat rapidly. With one final step Taylor is right in front of me, forcing me to look up into his dark eyes. I feel myself melting under his molten gaze. His arms come around me, one snaking behind my waist, pulling me against his body, the other drawing my head up towards his. When his lips finally touch mine, the kiss is nothing like the ones we have had before.

The gentleness astounds me, bringing tears to my eyes. As he explores my lips, my mouth parts and he slips his tongue in, caressing mine. His hands mirror this action, gently exploring my cheeks, my hair, my back. While I start to feel aroused by his kiss, the overwhelming emotion I feel is comfort. 

The kiss deepens, but I can feel his control as he maintains the lightness of his touch. My head is spinning. The emotion and lack of food over the last couple of days catch up with me, and I feel my legs buckle under me. Like some overwrought character from a historical novel, I feel my world go black and I faint.

I come to and find myself lying on my futon with Taylor hovering anxiously over me. He reaches over, smoothing my hair back off my face. "Are you okay, Abby?" Taylor’s face is calm, but underneath I can see anxiety in his eyes. I push myself up into a sitting a position. "Bloody hell, you seem to be starting to make a habit of passing out on me." Taylor offers up a weak grin.

I am desperately trying to regain my composure but still feel dizzy. Whether it is from the kiss, lack of food or just the stress of the last week, I am not sure, but when the tears start running down my face, there is nothing I can do to stop them. Taylor draws me into his lap, and I find myself sobbing into his warm chest uncontrollably. When at last my tears start to abate, I push myself back and desperately start trying to smooth my wild hair and wipe my face.

"Oh god, I am such a mess!" I wail. I try to stand up off the futon, but Taylor takes my hand and tugs me back down. "Easy now, Abby." Taylor's voice soothes my frayed nerves. "Take a deep breath and just sit for a while." I find myself complying, unsure about what is going on, but looking up into Taylor's face, trying to get a clue. Taylor holds my hands in his lap and strokes them gently. Slowly he moves up to my arms, then around my back and slowly up into my hair, all the while gently moving his fingers in slow circles.

"Lie down, Abby." I go to argue, but he pulls me down so that I am lying on my side. He spoons his body around me gently and carries on stroking up and down my body, interrupting only to switch the side lamp off and pull the quilt over me. I feel my eyes growing heavy, and when Taylor whispers, "Go to sleep," in my ear, I find myself drifting into a mercifully dreamless sleep.