LA TRAVIATA ON A DARK NIGHT


Matt sat in the darkness of his deck, contemplating his suddenly
changed future.  He didn't like what he was seeing.

He took a drag on his cigarette (how long had it been since he'd
given them up?  Eight years?  More?) and winced just a little at the
acrid, hot smoke as it tore through the sensitive membranes of his
throat.  To soothe the burn, he took a long pull from the bottle of
beer in his other hand.  He held the bottle by the neck, as if
throttling it, and he just tilted it up and back so that the cold
amber liquid could flow onto the back of his tongue and wash away the
burn.  'Skyline City Ale, you just can't beat it,' he thought sourly.

When the bottle was empty, he stood slowly, dropped the glowing butt
of the cigarette into the bottle, and shuffled into the house toward
the kitchen.  He opened the refrigerator door and bent down to grab
another bottle of beer.  He took it back out to the deck, and flopped
back down into the wicker chair.  He twisted the cap off the beer,
tossing the knurled top toward the trash can in the corner, not
caring if he hit it or not.  He reached for another cigarette, and
lit up.

There were already five other empty beer bottles standing on the
side table next to the chair, each with its burnt offering of
nicotine in the bottom of the bottle.  He wondered briefly if there
was enough beer in the kitchen to last through the rest of the night.
And enough cigarettes.  If he ran out of either, he would have to
find something else to do, and he really didn't want to resort to
that.  Especially if it meant going to sleep.  He really, really
didn't want to do that.

The Kleiber recording of "La Traviata" was playing in the dark.  Its
darker arias fit well with his mood, its ghostly music just barely
noticeable through the door, through his thoughts.

The houses around his were all invisible in the night.  Not
surprising, considering the time.  Besides, Matt's house was just as
dark.  The difference was that there was a wounded presence within
this house, smoking and drinking and afraid to go to sleep.



*****



When he was a starving graduate student, Matt had a habit of meeting
his buddies at a drinking hole just off campus, by the name of
Archie's, where the beer was cheap and cold, and Archie himself was
almost always found behind the bar.  Matt had known Archie since he
had first landed on campus, fake driver's license in hand.  Archie
critically examined his ID, handed it back to Matt, and said, "Next
time you come in here, you'd better have a decent fake.  This one
sucks."  But he let Matt in, and let him buy beer.  Matt dutifully
found a supplier of quality fakes, and spent some of his father's
money on a new ID card.  The next time he went into Archie's, he
showed it to the wily proprietor, who examined it closely, and looked
up at Matt, who was standing there nervously, awaiting the verdict.

"Jimmy Hamline do this for ya?" asked Archie.

Surprised, Matt just nodded.

Archie handed the fake back to Matt.  "Jimmy does fine work," he
said.  "Whatcha want tonight?"  And, just like that, Archie had
gained another loyal regular patron.

On one particular night, Matt was drinking and playing on the Bowl-O-
Matic game with his buddies at Archie's.  There was supposed to be
some sort of promotion starting up, and they had gotten there early
to stake off a good spot.  As usual, Archie was tending bar.

Around eight that night, a big van pulled up, and an even half-dozen
of the most gorgeous girls Matt had ever seen came in.  Skyline City
Ale Girls, dressed skimpily and being professionally friendly with
all the patrons, the ladies were handing out coupons for free Skyline
City Ale, giving away t-shirts, and schmoozing with the crowd.  There
were three handlers for the six girls, there to make sure nobody got
too friendly with them, and the place was standing room only in a
matter of moments.

Matt and his friends found themselves pinned into a corner, wedged
between the wall and the bar.  Eventually, one of the girls wriggled
her way through the crowd, and Matt suddenly found himself face-to-
face with an angel.

"Uh," was all he could manage to croak out as he stared at her
lovely face.  Curly blonde hair framed two green eyes and a button
nose.  She giggled when she saw him frozen there, no doubt well aware
of the cause of his fitful behavior.  She was carrying t-shirts and
mugs with logos on them, and she held them to her breast as she was
seemingly buffetted by the crowd.

"Hi," she said with an almost shy smile.  "I'm Dianna."

"Well, Dianna, you can call me Ace," said Matt's sometimes-best-
friend.  Ace had a habit of bailing on Matt at awkward times, but he
was always the life of the party, so he was easy to forgive.  Matt's
stomach fell when he saw Dianna turn away, toward Ace.  Her eyes slid
off his face, and he could almost feel the weight of her sight
leaving his skin.  It made him feel just a little emptier.

On this occasion, though, Ace redeemed himself for quite a few
failings.  "And this speechless one here is my friend, Matt," he told
Dianna.

Dianna turned her thousand-watt smile back onto Matt, and the
butterflies that had been settling in his stomach all took flight
once again.

"Hi, speechless Matt," said Dianna.

It was all Matt could do to sputter out a lame "Hi," to which Ace
rolled his eyes.  Dianna laughed out loud, and Matt thought the sound
was the most beautiful music he had ever heard.  He knew, at that
moment, that he was hopelessly lost.

Later that night, loaded down with mugs, t-shirts, hats, and a neon
beer sign, Matt, Ace and the rest of the crew were just about to
leave.  The Skyline Girls had packed up their gear, and the handlers
were keeping the wolves at bay.  Dianna slipped through the cordon
and tucked a small piece of paper into the pocket of Matt's jeans.
Without a word, she glanced just once over her shoulder, and rejoined
her mates.

It took Matt a couple of days to work up the courage to call the
number on the crumpled slip of paper, but finally, with the help of
about four cans of brew, he managed to quell his fears long enough to
dial and talk to Dianna the Skyline Angel (as he thought of her).

For their first date, Matt was going to take her to - no surprise
here - a bar, but when he picked her up at her apartment, she
required a little change in plans.

"Um, Matt, could we just, like, go out to get something to eat,
maybe?"  Dianna seemed a little embarrassed by the request.

Matt, eager to please her, said, "Sure.  What kind of food do you
like?"

They settled on pizza, and headed out to a place away from campus,
where they had an old-time singalong, complete with a piano player
and a banjo player, the lyrics to old songs projected onto a screen
for all to see.

During one of the musicians' breaks, when the place quieted down
enough to actually hold a conversation, Matt poured her another beer
from the pitcher.

"So, why didn't you want to go to the bar tonight?" he asked.

It was a little dark in the place, but he thought she was blushing.
"Because I'm only 19, and I don't have any fake IDs," she admitted.

"But you're drinking beer here," he pointed out.

She shrugged.  "You bought it, they checked your ID, but not mine.
I'm drinking on your say-so, but a bar with a guy at the door
checking IDs would never let me in."

Matt was startled, to say the least.  "But you're a Skyline City Ale
Girl."

Dianna laughed.  "The promotion company just wants to make sure the
girls are attractive enough, and friendly enough," she said.  "If
we're underage to be working in a bar, they don't want to know about
it.  And the bouncers assume that the promotion company only hires
over-21, so we never get checked."

"Oh, my lord, I'm a cradle-robber," said Matt.  He didn't really
mean it, though, and Dianna knew it.



*****



She made him wait nearly forever.  Actually, it was about six
months, but it seemed to Matt like it was forever.  He had never had
a girlfriend who had strung him along so long without either Matt
losing interest, or the girl finally admitting that she was going to
remain a virgin no matter what, at which point Matt immediately said
sayonara.  Marriage was not the price he was willing to pay for that
particular ride.

It wasn't that Dianna was a virgin.  She readily admitted that she
wasn't.  She was, however, a hopeless romantic, and to that end, she
wanted to feel like both of them were "in love," and not merely "in
lust."

And she certainly wasn't cold.  Even though she wouldn't kiss him on
their first date, and wouldn't even let him touch her boob under her
clothes until their fifth date, once the barriers were breached, she
was as enthusiastic as he was.  She just wanted to be sure before she
allowed any further intimacies, each step of the way with its own set
of requirements of affection and respect.

It was so out of the realm of experience for Matt, he found he was
fascinated by the mystery of it all, and so fell even more deeply in
love with her.  On a cellular level, he knew he was in love with her,
but on an intellectual level, he still did not realize it, and so the
dichotomy was pitching within him as if he had a tuning fork embedded
in his sternum.  He couldn't even draw a deep breath when he was with
Dianna, because that damned tuning fork was resonating, the sine
waves washing through him from the ends of his hair all the way down
to his toenails.

They had been going out twice a week for a month, and they were
about to kick it up a notch, though at the time, neither of them knew
that.  On this particular evening, Dianna was cooking dinner for
four.  Emily, her roommate, along with her boyfriend, Jason, were
joining Dianna and Matt for dinner.

By the time Matt got to Dianna's apartment, chaos reigned supreme.
There were pots and pans on nearly every available horizontal surface
in the kitchen, and there were some serious spaghetti sauce stains on
the backsplash, on the walls, on the cabinets, and even on the
ceiling.

"Wow, it looks like somebody was murdered in here," said Matt in awe
as he surveyed the damage.

Dianna, frazzled nearly to the breaking point, stared him down.  She
pushed a damp, golden curl out of her eyes with the ladle she was
carrying, unaware of the smear of tomato paste she was leaving on her
temple.  "There might be a murder taking place soon, if you don't
ease up on the smart comments," she warned.

Matt held up both hands and backpedaled out of firing range.  "No
harm meant, kiddo," he said.  'Note to self: no kitchen jokes with
this one,' he reminded himself.

Emily grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the carnage of the
kitchen, handing him a glass of wine.

"Don't pay any attention to her," she told him with a smile.  "She's
really quite a good cook.  Just a little... messy.  And a little
intense."

"So I see," muttered Matt.  This was a Dianna he had not expected to
see.

By the time they all sat down at the card table set up in the middle
of the living room, however, all was well.  The table was very nicely
set, with two candles in the middle, the rest of the lights in the
room dimmed.  There was good, crusty garlic bread in a golden basket
lined with a linen napkin, and pasta steamed from the four plates.

Matt's first forkful confirmed Emily's comment.  It was homemade
sauce, meaty and excellent.  He was impressed, and said so, which
made Dianna smile.  Matt watched her face illuminate with her smile,
and silently vowed to make that happen as often as he could.

Much later that evening, Emily and Jason had retired to Emily's
bedroom, and Matt and Dianna were lounging on the couch, watching a
late movie on TV.  They were cuddled up together, and when Bogart
kissed Bacall, Dianna turned quite naturally to Matt, and he bent
down and kissed her.

It wasn't long before the movie was completely forgotten.  They were
engrossed in their kissing, concentrating on imparting desires and
intents to each other.  Matt's hand found its way beneath Dianna's
sweater, and his fingers slipped under her bra, pushing the cup off
her breast as his hand caressed her soft and sensitive flesh.

After a time, she allowed him to pull her sweater up and off, and
she reached behind her and loosened her bra and shrugged it off.
This was only the third time he had seen her naked breasts, and he
thought she was the loveliest creature he had ever had the good
fortune to see.

He worshipped at the altar of her breasts, licking and suckling
there, feeling her nipples expand as he gently bit down.  He licked
the traces of salt from the undersides of her mounded flesh, and
loved the taste.

He put his hand on her thigh, and for the first time, she didn't
silently remove it.  He slowly moved his hand higher, until his thumb
was pressing against her crotch, and still she allowed this
familiarity.  In fact, her legs parted just a little, a sign from her
that he should continue.

And continue he did.  Going very slowly and carefully, he rubbed on
her through her clothes, all the while still tending to her sensitive
breasts.  He could feel heat and a hint of moisture on his fingers,
and so he lifted up his hand, to her bare waist, and he worked his
fingers along her tummy.  He felt her suck in her stomach to make
room for his hand to get underneath the waistband of her cotton
pants, and he was able to reach down far enough to just feel the
crinkly hair of her pubis.

In the meantime, Dianna got bolder, herself.  She began rubbing the
shaft of flesh in Matt's trousers.  When she opened his fly, he
forgot all about what he was doing, and concentrated, instead, on
what she was doing.

Dianna reached into his opened zipper, grasping his hard cock
through his underwear, and she squeezed.  Matt involuntarily moaned,
and she alternated squeezing and rubbing, squeezing and rubbing,
until, nearly without warning, Matt's muscles contracted, and he came
in his underwear, making a huge wet spot.

"Oops," giggled Dianna, and she took her hand away.



*****



For the next couple of weeks, this became somewhat of a ritual for
them.  Toward the end of the evening together, they would conspire to
find a secluded spot for themselves.  Sometimes, it was either
Dianna's or Matt's apartment, but roommates tended to get in the way.
Sometimes, it was in a car, but it seemed too much a game for high-
schoolers there.

Whenever or wherever they could, they would reenact that first time,
with some progressions.  Dianna by this time would boldly grasp
Matt's naked member, and Matt, for his part, had easy access to
Dianna's pussy, so that they could mutually masturbate each other.

Finally, though, another big step in their relationship happened,
when, one night, Dianna surprised Matt by taking his cock into her
mouth, sucking and licking him until he exploded.  She turned her
head away just as the first spurt erupted from his cock, and it hit
Dianna on the cheek.  She squeaked and ducked, and the subsequent
pulses of semen shot up into the air and landed more or less
harmlessly in Matt's lap.

A week later, Dianna allowed Matt to reciprocate, and their
relationship moved from mutual masturbation to mutual oral
stimulation.  Things were progressing, and Matt, though technically
still not getting the real deal, was surprisingly happy.



*****



Another month went by, and a new milestone was reached.  Emily was
spending the night at Jason's apartment, and Matt and Dianna took
full advantage.  They played Naked Chef, until an unfortunate
splatter of hot grease from the broiler changed Matt's mind about
cooking in the buff.  Dianna laughed out loud as she put butter on
his wounded penis, and watched with shining eyes as he expanded and
hardened as she nursed his burn.  Dianna found an apron for Matt to
wear, and laughed until tears sprang from her eyes when she saw him,
naked except for the apron, bending over to retrieve the steaks from
the broiler.

"Hey, I didn't know we were having hot buns for dinner, too," she
said, and off she went into more gales of laughter at her own joke.

Matt took it all with good grace, even though he didn't find it
particularly amusing.  He did like the fact that he was making her
laugh, even if it was at his own expense.

Naked Dinner followed Naked Cooking, and Naked TV Watching followed
Naked Dinner.  Naked Oral Sex took place during Naked TV Watching,
and that was followed by Naked Cuddling After.  They were on the
couch, holding each other, and Matt was so comfortable, he was
finding it hard to stay awake.

"Mattie?"

"Hmmm?" he answered.  Only from her would he put up with being
called "Mattie".

"Will you stay the night?"

Well, that woke him up.  And it woke up his little friend, who
almost instantaneously began poking her in the small of the back.

Dianna giggled when she felt his cock twitch against her back.  "I
take it that's a yes," she said.

And so they repaired to her bedroom.  Dianna carefully removed the
stuffed panda, the stuffed rabbit, and the stuffed Raggedy Ann doll,
and she pulled the bedspread down and folded it at the foot of the
bed.  She slipped between her cool sheets, and beckoned for Matt.

As he climbed in beside her, she laid down the ground rules.  She
snuggled up to him, putting her arms around him, in case her words
stung him at all.

"I just want to feel your presence here tonight," she whispered.
"Nothing more, Mattie, just sleep with me.  Okay?"

"Of course okay," said Matt.  And it really was.



*****



Their existence as a couple was now established.  Sometime over the
past several weeks, they became exclusive.  Their casual dates with
others were always less important than spending time together, and
the other potential lovers just seemed to slide away unnoticed.

They were regularly sleeping together, but not "sleeping" together.
Matt stayed at Dianna's, or Dianna spent the night at Matt's, two or
three nights a week.  They explored each other's bodies, but the
final act of consummation was yet to occur.

Since Dianna still worked many weekends, they came up with a
compromise for going out: Friday night became Matt's night to go out
with his friends, and Saturday night he met Dianna at the place she
and the other Skyline Girls were working, and waited patiently while
the handlers kept grimy paws off his girl as best they could.  By the
end of her shift, Matt was usually boiling mad at some drunken slob
who was drooling over Dianna, but she was able to just laugh it off,
and put him back in a good mood.  After all, he was the one going
home with her.

On Fridays, Matt usually met up with Ace and his buddies at Archie's.

"So, dude, you and Dianna are really hot and heavy," noted Ace, a
cheesy leer on his face.

Matt didn't comment.  He just took a sip of his Skyline City Ale.

"Come on, Matt.  She's a hottie.  I'll bet she's smokin' in the sack."

"Maybe she is," said Matt.  "But I don't know."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Tony, another of Matt's friends.

"We haven't done it yet."

Ace guffawed, and the others all joined in.

"You expect us to believe that?" cried Ace.  "She's spent the night
a few times, you said."

Matt shrugged.  "We sleep together sometimes, that's all.  Just
sleep."

"That can't be all.  Come on, Matt, out with the truth."  Tony
wasn't about to believe it.  Standing here with his friends, Matt
barely believed it, too, and yet he knew it was true.

"Man, if I had her in the sack, I'd flip her over and pound it to
her so fast..." Ace said, a far-away look in his eyes.

Once upon a time, Matt would have agreed wholeheartedly.  But not
now.  Not by a long shot.



*****



They had been seeing each other for nearly six months when Matt took
Dianna to a fancy restaurant for dinner.  After the meal, Matt
ordered two Brandy Ices.  When the waiter brought the drinks, Matt
slid his chair over closer to Dianna's.

He held his glass up in a toast.  "To you, Dianna.  To the girl I
think I'm falling in love with."

Dianna looked completely taken by surprise.  "What did you say?" she
whispered, her eyes wide in disbelief.

Matt smiled.  "I think I love you," he repeated.

Tears trickled down her cheeks, but Dianna didn't seem to notice
them.  "I love you, too," she said softly.

They leaned across the table toward each other and tenderly kissed,
their drinks forgotten.  They didn't waste much more time at the
restaurant, and in a matter of minutes they were in Matt's car, and
headed back toward his apartment.

They barged through the door, and didn't bother turning on any
lights in the apartment.  It was a small place, and they both knew
the way to Matt's bedroom.  They tumbled to the bed, still fully
clothed, and locked into a tight embrace as their lips searched and
found each other's mouths, and they kissed open-mouthed, tongues
wrestling in a desperate dance of passion.

They were sensitive to each other's patterns, and the fumbling and
niceties they had each been guilty of in the past were forgotten.
This was heat, wicked and undeniable, and they were both willing
participants in stoking the fires.

Clothes were practically ripped off bodies, the garments flung to
the floor on either side of the bed.  Matt's pants ended up in a heap
at the foot of the bed; Dianna's bra landed draped across his clock
radio; Matt's underwear got wrapped somehow around his arm, and he
had to shake them off.  If somebody had been secretly filming them,
they would have gotten a hilarious sequence of Matt violently shaking
his arm, trying to dislodge his boxers, all the while unwilling to
break the suction his lips were creating with her lips.  Dianna, for
her part, was writhing beside Matt, working on getting his socks off
his feet, contorting herself so that she could continue sucking on
his tongue while reaching for his dangling feet.

The happy couple didn't take the time to appreciate the humor of the
scene, however, caught up as they were in the passion of the moment.
Eventually, they were sufficiently situated, and Matt, with Dianna's
enthusiastic assistance, rolled over on top of her, settling between
her splayed legs, and found himself sliding home.  No fumbling around
here, his rampant cock seemed to know exactly where to go, and was
guided like a heat-seeking missile into her moist depths.  He sighed
as he felt her knees bend, her ankles grip his thighs below his ass,
and her hips thrust up toward him, wanting him deep.  He, too,
flexed, and worried briefly about whether he had the equipment to get
as far inside her as she seemed to want, but those worries fluttered
uselessly away when he heard her sigh, pleasure and happiness quite
evident in her breathy voice.

It wasn't until several minutes later, when they both felt Matt's
cock expand and pump his seed deep inside Dianna, that it occurred to
either of them to worry about protection.

'Uh-oh, too late,' they both thought as Matt's semen splashed across
Dianna's spasming walls.  And still she held him to her.

They made love twice more that night, but remembered to use condoms
after that first unbridled encounter.  For the next couple of weeks,
they were distracted, thinking about the possibility of pregnancy,
but, true to the unfolding fairy tale, their worries were all for
naught.  Dianna's period came right on schedule.  They decided not to
tempt fate again, however, and now that the last barrier had been
breached, they made love whenever they could, uninhibitedly and
safely.



*****



Matt finished up with his Master's, and took a job with an
investment banking firm.  Dianna got her Bachelor's in Elementary
Education, and was hired as a third-grade teacher at one of the local
elementary schools.  They were entering a very practical time of
their lives, and that practicality expanded to include their living
arrangements.

It only made sense, they told their families and their friends, that
they move in together.  Why pay for two apartments, when they were
really only using one?  And so they made that huge step, and found an
apartment that was handy enough for them both.

On their first weekend in the apartment, they inaugurated the
bedroom, the couch in the living room, the spare bedroom, the living
room again (but this time on the floor), the kitchen, and even the
bathroom.  The only reason they missed breaking in the balcony was
because it was getting cooler at night, and they were too busy in the
other rooms to consider that they were forgetting a spot.

Dianna loved making love with Matt, and she loved showering him with
affection.  Even on those occasions when he would bring problems at
work home with him, brooding in front of the television, she gave him
his space.  She didn't particularly avoid the room, but she was
content to walk by, kiss him on top of his head, and continue on with
whatever she was doing.  She knew that, eventually, he would snap out
of his bad mood, and come searching for her.  Many times he would
come up behind her as she was picking up clothes off the closet
floor, or perhaps putting groceries away in a bottom cabinet, and he
would fold over her, pressing himself against her backside, and he
would reach around her and take both her breasts in his large hands
and squeeze them.  It was often the onset of some of their more rough-
and-tumble lovemaking, and many times Dianna would emerge from their
sessions with rug burns on her knees or on her butt.  She would
happily tend to these minor scrapes, smiling inwardly over their
cause.



*****



Their relationship survived three moves, a wedding, Matt's transfer
to an office in a city over 200 miles away, Dianna's mother's stroke
and rehabilitation, and the arrival of two baby girls.  In fact, it
did more than survive: it thrived.

For their tenth anniversary, Dianna's parents took the girls for a
week, and Matt and Dianna went on a well-deserved vacation to a ranch
resort in the Rocky Mountains.  Matt had some reservations about
leaving the girls with Dianna's parents, but Dianna insisted that her
mother, despite her slurred speech, was certainly healthy enough  and
energetic enough to watch the girls, especially with her father, just
recently retired, now staying home.  Matt reluctantly agreed, but he
privately called his own mother, and asked her to stop in and offer
some help, just in case.

The first two days, Dianna was almost beside herself with missing
her girls.  Emily was seven, and Mathilda (Mattie for short - it was
an inside joke for Dianna and Matt, to be sure) was five.  She
finally convinced herself that her mom and her dad, having raised
three girls and a boy already, could probably handle Emily and Mattie
for a week, and she managed to relax, and even have a good time.  The
ranch offered horseback riding, swimming, tennis, massages, and
spectacular meals with a perfect mountain view, so they weren't
exactly roughing it.  Dianna sampled it all, and Matt discovered a
love of fly fishing that occupied him for most of the week.

He didn't forget about their anniversary, however.  On the proper
day, he arranged for a little package to be delivered with dessert at
the most formal dinner of the week, along with a bottle of good
Champagne.

The waiter poured glasses for all the guests at the big round table,
and Matt raised his in a toast as a small package was placed before
Dianna on a dessert plate with a filigreed pattern worked in silver
and gold.

"To the most beautiful woman west of the Mississippi," he intoned.
"My lover, my wife, my best friend forever."

Dianna watched her husband with shining eyes, and then lifted her
glass and touched it to his.

"To forever," she said softly, and they intertwined their arms and
drank from their glasses, just as they had done at their wedding, ten
years before.

A jolly businessman from Knoxville by the name of Ned piped up,
"Only west of the Mississippi?  Ain't you limiting yourself a touch,
Matt?"

"Not really," replied Matt, gazing at the girl he still thought of
as his bride, his angel.  "When we're back home, she'll be the most
beautiful woman east of the Mississippi, too."

Dianna blushed, but nobody but Matt saw it in the candlelight.  He
smiled at her, and she sat down and began to carefully remove the
ribbon from the present before her.

She pulled the tape off the end of the wrapping paper, and gently
slid the box out.  It was a jewelry box, wine red, nearly square, and
she slowly opened the hinged cover.  Inside, she found a double
strand of exquisite natural pearls, nestled in its protective velvet
interior.

Dianna gasped.  "Oh, Mattie, they're beautiful!  But this is much
too expensive!"

Matt brushed off the comment, as if he spent nearly one-tenth of his
salary on gifts for his family nearly every day.  "A throat as lovely
as yours deserves them," he said.  He stood and helped her work the
clasp, and she pressed her fingertips against the lustrous pearls, as
if she wanted to be sure they were really there, around her neck.
Matt put his hands on her shoulders, and she reached up with her
other hand and placed it on top of his.  She turned her head around,
and Matt quite naturally bent down, and they kissed as sweetly as
they ever had.

"I love you, Mattie," she whispered.

Matt whispered back, his voice a little rough with his emotions,
"And I love you, Dianna the Skyline Angel."

Matt got lucky - very lucky - that night, out West.



*****



In what seemed a blink of an eye, Matt and Dianna were celebrating
their twentieth anniversary.  Their girls were getting to be grown-
ups, what with Emily now seventeen and driving, and Mathilda just
turned fifteen.  The baby of the family, Matthew Jr., was a
surprising souvenir from their trip to the mountains, a rough-and-
tumble nine-year-old.

Matt's formerly thick head of hair was thinning considerably, and
there were streaks of gray at his temples that Dianna found adorable.
There were worry wrinkles like crow's feet at his eyes, but they were
offset by the laugh lines bracketing his mouth.

For her part, Dianna had gained some extra pounds over the years,
but the beauty of her youth was still quite evident, especially when
she was out with her daughters.  It was clear where they got their
extraordinary good looks, when Matt's three women were together.  He
was a proud father, and a proud husband.

If Matt had been more of a believer in the powers of an ironic fate,
or if he had been more familiar with certain passages of the Bible,
he might have worried somewhat.  Instead, he was caught completely by
surprise.



*****



"Honey, I'm not feeling that well," said Dianna one morning.  "Would
you please call in sick for me?  I think I'm going to go back to bed."

Matt was a little irritated, but it was only because he was running
a few minutes late, himself.  He looked at Dianna, and swallowed his
irritation.  'She really doesn't look like she feels very good,' he
thought.

He watched her turn and slowly head out the kitchen, toward the
staircase.  He rinsed his bowl and put it in the dishwasher, half
listening to make sure she was all right climbing up the stairs to
their bedroom.

Their girls were both home for the summer from college.  Emily was
at work, and Mathilda was sleeping in again.  Matt had mentioned to
Dianna that he needed to lecture Mattie about being so lazy, but she
counseled patience.

"She's only nineteen," she said.  "She's only a kid once."

"Hmmph," grumbled Matt.  "If I remember correctly, when you were
nineteen, you were working."

Dianna smiled at him, and put her hand on his cheek.  "I was working
nights and weekends, and sleeping until noon, just like she is," she
said.

Matt laughed, a little ruefully, and recalled, "And I used to follow
you around like a little puppy dog."

Dianna laughed with him.  "You were so cute," she said, remembering.

Matt called in to the school for Dianna, and double-checked his
briefcase to make sure he had all the papers he needed for his
morning meeting.  He was about to step out into the garage, when
something made him go back.

'Just to make sure she got into bed okay,' he told himself.

He jogged up the stairs, and turned into their bedroom.  Dianna
wasn't in bed.

Puzzled, he stepped around the bed, and found Dianna lying on the
floor, her head on her scrunched-up pillow and her comforter wrapped
around her.  Alarmed, he knelt beside her and put his hand on her
shoulder.

"Dianna?  Are you okay?"

"Tired," she mumbled.  "Bed just felt too soft."  Her eyes fluttered
and closed again.

He tucked the end of the comforter around her and stood.  If she
felt more comfortable on the floor, maybe it was time to replace
their old mattress.  He glanced at the bed, and decided that over the
weekend, they would go shopping for a new mattress.

He went back downstairs, and hurriedly wrote out a note for Mattie,
asking her to check on her mother and give him a call at the office.
He glanced at his watch, and, cursing under his breath, trotted out
to his car.  He was going to be late.



*****



The meeting was not going well.  As a further irritant, Matt's
secretary knocked at the door, and opened it, sticking her head in
the room just long enough to call him to his office telephone.

"I think it's important," she said, by way of apology.

Matt shot her a look, excused himself from the conference room, and
strode into his private office and grabbed the phone, punching at the
blinking light.

"Yes?" he growled.

"Daddy?"  It was Mattie.  Matt immediately felt badly about being so
gruff.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Daddy, you need to come home right away," she said.  Her voice was
trembling, and Matt could hear that she was on the verge of tears.

"What is it, honey?  Is your mom all right?"

"I... I had to call the hospital, Daddy.  Please come home.  Mommy's
really sick."  Mathilda started crying.

"Hold on, baby girl, I'm on my way," he said.  He threw the phone
down and practically ran out of the office.  His secretary was
standing by her desk, watching him.  She knew something was wrong,
very wrong, for Matt to be acting that way.  She walked back to the
conference room to let the other people know that the meeting would
have to be continued at another time.

All the way home, Matt's mind was churning as he berated himself for
being a poor excuse for a husband.

"She was obviously sick, and I just left her alone," he mumbled,
beating himself up over and over.  Never mind that she would have
sent him on his way anyway, had she suspected that he might have
wanted to stay with her.

He wheeled into the driveway and sprinted from the car to the front
door.  It flew open before he could reach for the handle, and
Mathilda came running out, dragging Matthew with her.  She grabbed
his arm.

"Hospital!" she shouted, and she pulled him back to his car.  They
burned rubber on their way down the quiet street.

They got to the hospital, and checked in at the emergency room
reception desk.  A nurse came out to take Matt back to Dianna's
bedside.  He handed Mathilda his cell phone.

"Here," he said.  "Call Emily and let her know what's happening."
With that, he followed the nurse back into the mysteries of the
medical center.

He was too late.  Two doctors were pulling the curtains around the
bed.  Matt just got a glimpse of Dianna's feet, still in her bunny
rabbit slippers, on the end of the hospital bed before the white
curtain fluttered closed.  The doctors glanced at each other, and
then both approached Matt, still with the nurse by his side.

"Mr. Newton?"  It was the doctor on the right who took the lead.

Matt nodded mutely.

"We're sorry, Mr. Newton," said the doctor.  "There was nothing to
be done."

"Wh... What?"  Matt's brain was completely numb.

The other doctor spoke.  "It was a massive stroke," he said.  "She
never had a chance."

Matt couldn't seem to comprehend what they were saying.  "But she's
going to be all right, isn't she?"

The doctors glanced at each other, and then they both slowly shook
their heads.

"She's gone," said the first doctor.

Matt's legs got rubbery, and he would have fallen if the nurse, a
linebacker of a woman, hadn't grabbed him and held him up.

"Let's find someplace for you to sit down," she suggested.  She
firmly led Matt over to a nearby empty wheelchair, and Matt slumped
into it, his brain swirling.

'Oh, Lord, what am I going to tell the girls?' he thought wildly.
'And Dianna's parents.  They're going to be crushed to hear this.'

And then, at such a terrible time, Matt's private darkness began to
descend around him.



*****



Mathilda was inconsolable.  She had been crying for a week, it
seemed.  Even now, she was crying herself to sleep again, and nothing
Matt could do or say seemed to help.  Mattie blamed herself for her
mother's death, if only because she was the one who was home at the
time.  Nothing Matt said to her seemed to console her, and even her
older sister, her sometimes-adversary but always-best-friend,
couldn't convince her otherwise.

Of course, Matt was being visited by his own personal demons, so he
was unsure how much help he was actually being.

Each night was blurring into the same routine.  Cigarettes and
Skyline City Ale, until Matt could stumble into a dreamless sleep.
Each night, he conjured up the same thought as he sat, drank, smoked:
Forever was supposed to last longer than this.

At last, sometimes as the pink of dawn etched across the eastern
sky, Matt would finally be able to pass into a gray and
expressionless place within himself, and he would find his bed, or
the couch, or even, sometimes, the floor beside the bed, where his
one true love had lain, and he would manage to fall into a state
resembling sleep.  Passages of "La Traviata" accompanied him as he
drifted down, down into his restless slumber: