My Life with Death

2507 Massachusetts Avenue, Anacostia, Washington, D.C., December 15, 2018

For eleven long days, I sat in a chair in my home office and stared blankly out the window at the neglected garden. In three years, it was the first time I could devote myself solely to my scientific work. But I wasn't fully capable of that either. I couldn't concentrate. I was troubled by questions I could not find simple answers to even more straightforward questions.

5:32 a.m.

It was early in the morning. Very soon. I couldn't even remember the last time I had a good night's sleep. Sleep without waking up, without nightmares, without fear and pain. I didn't even remember much sleep.

I had my work on my desk – several articles for scientific journals and one lecture at a local university. I had to prepare. To go back to crumbs millions of years old.

"Why are you so worried?" he asked with concern. "You can forgive me," he said modestly. You stepped up next to me. He looked at me. I didn't look at him. He caressed my face. I looked up into his chestnut eyes. He stroked my hair.

"Give me proof."

"I did it for your good, for us, our family," kindly. "I want proof. Prove to me your intentions in cooperating with my resignation," I challenged him.

"We agreed on professionalism. We agreed not to let our relationship - marriage and partnership - affect our work."

"That's why I'm not mad at you... I mean," I hesitated. "You said I changed. You said I'm different," she says dejectedly.

"I am sorry. I know you honor the truth. I was only being honest with you. We have to be honest with ourselves. Do you want to tell me something?" he asked.

"I. I...," I stammered. "I don't know what to say," I replied.

"How about... I forgive you," he suggested. I touched his face. Very gently, as if timidly.

At first, I pretended that I wasn't mad at Kent anymore and that somewhere deep down, I forgave him. "It's not that easy. You were right. I'm different, and that's why" I stopped talking.

I was utterly silent. I wondered what my next step would be, the next decision that would affect the rest of my short life. But I made up my mind and decided to take this crazy step. It denied my whole personality. It was the most spontaneous step of my life. I stood across from him, looked him straight in the eye, and said, "And that's why I must leave now. Drive away," I announced.

I walked past him. He grabbed my arm.

"What?" in shock. "Sorry, but I have to," he says dejectedly.

I knew I was hurting him, our whole family, and myself. I couldn't imagine life without Kent. I felt so safe and loved with him, but somewhere deep down. I thought that I was doing the right thing. I don't know if it was my mind or my heart.

I've always preferred rational and logical thinking over emotions, but now, I'm still determining the events that have transpired.

"Let me go," I ordered him and tried to pull away.

He let me go immediately.

I pulled out my travel bag from one of the closets. I was already packed. I traveled a lot and only had a little time to prepare, so I had the essentials already packed in advance.

What about Chrisy?" he asked me.

"I'll take her with me," I replied.

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

I grabbed Kent's hand with mine. I stroked the back of his hand with my right thumb. "You have to trust me," honestly. "I love you, but..."

"But?" he wondered. "Sounds like you're not so sure about that anymore," he said.

I sat back down at the table and opened my laptop. I looked for a ticket portal on the Internet. I thought about where I could fly to. I had thousands of alternatives and hundreds of places to disappear to, but one place - one city - seemed to shine, lit up like a Christmas tree in the middle of the desert southwest on the American map. Kent was still standing there. Across from me and just watching.

I bought the plane tickets and went past him to the bedroom. I threw a few things in the bag for Christine.

He came to me. He entered the room like a ghost. He touched my shoulders gently and hard at the same time. I loved his touch. I was drenched in sweat. I was satisfied by his presence and the warmth of his touch on my skin. He stroked my hands from the shoulders to the tips of my fingers. He caressed my back, my hips, and thighs. It was strange not to feel the weight of the metal and gunpowder from the gun.

Moreover, when he still had her with him. I was touching this fantastic and, simultaneously, beautiful tool of Kent's. "Oh," I sighed.

I breathed deeply. The pulse quickened. I turned around. I was touching his chest and neck with my hands. I loved his neck. He was so smooth. I kissed him on the lips. I kissed him. I dropped my bag of things on the ground. I slowly lay down on the bed. So does he. I kissed him and caressed him all over. I held on to his strong arms. He was touching my hair. He wrapped individual strands around his fingers. I took off his shirt. We lay there together in an embrace in the heat of the kisses. He was kissing my neck. He turned me on. He excited me just by his presence and his touches and kisses.

"No," quietly. "No."

He didn't hear me, or he didn't want to. He didn't want to stop. And I didn't want it to stop either because I felt like the whole world stopped, as time itself stopped. And as if this moment lasted forever. At first, I defended myself. I didn't want to do it. I felt it would be like giving a drug to a cured person, but ultimately, I realized I had nothing to lose.

And anyway, I've already lost my most significant drug - my job - so I decided to settle or reconcile our relationship with a method that will suit both of us.

But immediately afterward, I felt horrible. I felt like I had abused him for my satisfaction, not to solidify our relationship, but because I had decided to leave anyway. I left him alone in our bed, dressed quickly, and left home.

8:16 a.m.

Christine and I got into the hailed taxi. Through the awakening city, we reached Dulles International Airport very quickly. The journey through the crowded and chaotic airport terminals was relatively calm, even this early morning. Our flight was scheduled for 9:15 a.m. After nine o'clock, we boarded the plane and landed in Las Vegas around noon. We also got into a taxi and drove to the once-desert suburbs, already covered with artificial turf for years.