GREAT EXPECTATIONS

Wanting, but not expecting him so soon, I am surprised to hear an odd noise that seems to be coming from the rear of my house, out near the apple trees. Can he be back so soon? I cross my heart, utter a short prayer and hope. I go downstairs, switch on the outdoor spots and wait. His thin, distinctive whistle escapes through a hole in the darkening night.

Milt has been sorely missed since he left a month ago. I begged him, cajoled him, to stay longer, but the Boss was King. ‘Come Now!’ Tears were in his eyes as he squeezed my cold hand. Sadly I kissed his dry lips. He turned his head to the side, whispered ‘Goodbye’ and left.

Milt’s funeral was small as he wished, no fuss, no stories, no songs, no crowds. I almost made sure only our immediate families came but made an exception for Ralph and Tony, Milt’s (and my) closest, dearest friends. We needed each other. They stood amongst the family telling stories of their youth. Milt would be glad I asked them to the service.

The first nite in my bed alone, I imagine him pulling my blanket off, playing toesies with me. The 2nd nite, the 3rd nite, are painstakingly lonely. That’s about when the weirdness begins. On the 7th night, I get up to go in the bathroom and trip on something. Without thinking, I blame Milt. ‘Why don’t you put your shoes under the bed or in the closet like I’ve been asking you to do for 10 years?’ A bulb goes on in my head. He didn’t leave a shoe there and neither did I. Who did? I turn on the bedside lamp and really get scared. It is Milt’s shoe, one of the pair that was part of his funeral wear. How can this be? First thing in the morning I call Aaron who was to take everything to the funeral parlor. Aaron has no explanation. ‘I gave it all to the funeral director. Suppose, just suppose, the director dropped a shoe and didn’t notice...’ ‘Aaron,’ I reply, Suppose, just suppose, that happened. How would the shoe get into our bedroom? Scratch that theory!’ I come to no conclusion. Aaron says I dreamed it and made it up. But I didn’t. The shoe is now in Milt’s closet. Dare I say aloud what I think? No, It’s too absurd. But from then on I keep the hall light on plus a small nightlight in the bathroom.

I am now taking an occasional sleeping pill, frightened, but longing for the other shoe to appear. It doesn’t. But the hall light is flickering. ‘Milt, is that you?’ At 2:30 a.m. I go to the basement, get a small stepladder and new 75 watt bulb, mumbling as I unscrew the light cover, ‘I’m insane.’ The bulb is not loose or weak. ‘Milt, are you here? Are you coming back? Please come back. I won’t tell a soul. It will be our secret.’ The ladder I lean against the wall and climb back into bed.

It is time for you to start this tale at the top again. It IS Milt. He is coming back. So far I’ve been told nothing, why god decided to let him return to earth, how many souls he is releasing now...and if I stay good and don’t tell, will god resurrect me too? I don’t even want to know. I’ll have to wait, like you, to get the answer.