The Undertaker

Twenty-five minutes and eight stations later, we finally reached 59th Street and got off. We found ourselves on a high, wind swept platform a half-mile west of the lakefront. The tracks and the station were up at the second story level, giving us a three-hundred-and-sixty degree panorama of a run-down southeast side neighborhood. We slipped around the corner of a billboard and tried to blend into the graffiti. I looked at my watch. We had ten minutes before the express train to Indiana caught up with us. Sandy looked at the panorama and pulled out her camera.

“Get me in the foreground and you can get top dollar from The Enquirer,” I said.

“That is so unfunny. The Enquirer? I'm an artiste, you dolt.” Clearly, I had hit “ze hot button.” I made the mistake of grinning and she saw me. Her eyes narrowed. “You were pulling my chain, weren't you? Teasing me, about my work? About my camera? Do you have a death wish, Talbott?” She walked slowly toward me with her lethal fingers out. “You like pain?”

“No, no, I love photography. Black and white. Never color.”

“Why do you think I work at that art gallery? You think I like that old fart Fantozzi chasing me around the storeroom. The kids pictures? The Polish weddings?” I've been taking classes at the Art Institute, working on my own show,” she said, still coming at me. “Le Magnifique and all that other crap pays my tuition.”

“I was only teasing,” I said, backing up until she had me trapped against the billboard.

She broke up giggling. “That was way too easy,” she said as she pressed in against me. “Gino was right, you really are a wuss.”

“There's a reason why men hate women, you know.”

“It isn't fair, is it?” she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “And now I've got you right where I want you.” She put her arms around me, her small, hard breasts pressing into my stomach. One could argue that it was just “one of those things” — two bodies at the same place at the same time. Most guys wouldn't complain or even comment, but this wasn't “one of those things.” She knew exactly what she was doing and I didn't dare say a word. That would only make things worse. I could have turned or pulled away, but she had me backed up to the billboard, so I couldn't do that either. I didn't want to. And I couldn't kid myself that I didn't like it, because I did.

Her head only came up to my chest. I looked down and saw those jet black eyes locked on mine. Neither of us said anything, but almost imperceptibly she shifted her body and her breasts moved ever so lightly across me. I closed my eyes. That was one of the most incredibly erotic feelings I had ever experienced.

“Please don't.” I leaned forward and whispered into the top of her head. I could tell she was about to say something, so I laid a gentle finger across her lips. “Please don't,” I repeated, thinking how wonderful her hair smelled. “And don't say anything. Please.”

She could tell from my expression that I wasn't playing anymore, so she backed away. She started to say something, but she stopped and looked confused and deeply embarrassed. I could see she was about to cry. “It's your wife again, Terri, isn't it?” she whispered as she pressed her face into my chest and began to blubber. “Peter, I didn't mean anything. No, that's a big lie. I did mean something. I meant a lot! But I was only being playful, flirting, trying to make you feel good. Now I feel so horrible, because the last thing in the world I want is to hurt you.” She buried her face in my chest and started to sob. “I can do that Peter, make you feel good and help you, if you'll let me.”

I tipped her head up and pressed my finger against her lips again. “It's okay. We can talk about it later, I just can't talk about it now, okay?” I knew this was going to happen some day. It had to, and I knew I would be no more prepared for it then than I was the day Terri died. Maybe I would never be. Looking down at Sandy, I knew the choice was going to be made for me, and I had better figure out how to deal with it.

Mercifully, I saw the headlights of two silver, electric railroad cars bouncing down the tracks toward us. “Let's get out of here,” I whispered. She pulled away as the train stopped next to us and we quickly got aboard. The car was about half full, but we were able to find an empty seat near the back. Sandy sat down a few inches away from me, stiff and wooden. Seconds later, the train pulled out and quickly picked up speed. I looked out the window. There wasn't a single cloud in the high, blue sky, but I knew Terri was up there somewhere watching all of this. I was still hopelessly in love with her, but I knew I was quickly falling in love with Sandy at the same time. But she had me tied in knots so bad, I couldn't even talk to her about it.