Ashley comes to her, now, in the nights. Helen knows, logically,
that she must be dreaming. Or experiencing some type of post-
traumatic stress-induced hallucination, perhaps, because that
would be the rational explanation. During the day, during the light,
she tells herself that it's a perfectly explainable phenomenon. At
night, in the dark, she doesn't care to reason.

Look at us, Ashley says. Both frozen in time. Never to grow old.

I would have given up anything to save you, Helen says. You
must know that, Ashley, you must understand.

I know, says Ashley, crawling across Helen's wide bed. Her blonde
hair frames her face, and Helen reaches up, pushes the strands
back behind her daughter's ear.

Ashley's skin is cold, but her mouth against Helen's is warm, alive.
Ashley always was more alive than anyone Helen ever knew. Even
now, even still.

We can't keep doing this, Helen says, pressing kisses along Ashley's
throat, down over her clavicle, sternum, fragile bones, so easily broken,
Helen thinks, counting the ribs with her tongue, one by one as she
makes her way lower.

Why not? says Ashley, sighing as Helen's mouth finds her breasts. So
perfect, Helen thinks, she's so perfect, but she pushes the thought away.

Because it's not right, she says, urgently, trying as hard as she can
to mean it, this time. She sits back, tears burning her eyes. We need
to move on.

Mom, Ashley says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, we've
got forever. She threads her hands through Helen's hair, tangling her
fingers. We've both got forever.

And there's no answer to that, Helen knows. She can't argue because
yes, they have.

Forever.

===

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11/16/09