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Sand in the wind (II)

             Sitting by the phone in the living room, he dialled the doctor's number with a steady hand. He was used to waking up early in the morning, he thought. He was sure the doctor would be awake at that time. “Hello?”. “Doctor, it's Dave”. “Dave.. how are you? How is Sara today? Is something wrong?

             Dave kept quiet for a second. He thought of the sand dispersing in the wind. “Sara had a bad night, she threw up”, he said.
             “Oh... that doesn't sound good, Dave. Tell her to take the pills I gave her the last time. It will calm her down, at least. I will come over a little later and...”.
             “Everything is already fine, doctor. You won't have to come again”.
             “Well, I don't know... I'm sure that you prefer to be by yourselves right now, but even so... well, okay, don't worry. But promise me that you'll call me immediately if something goes wrong, ok?”.
             “I will, doctor”.
             “Good. By the way, I didn't tell you this the other day... because I thought the timing wasn't really all that good. Do you remember, during one of my first visits to Sara, how she had joked about being the most vain woman in the world? She had said that she would remain beautiful until her grave? Perhaps it's inappropriate of me to tell you this now - I hope you don't take offence, but you... I sometimes feel that she can't get through to you. I actually don't think she was joking. I mean, I think she really may want to be remembered like that. If I could give you some advice... talk to her about that. Ask her about how she wants to be remembered by, what dress she would like to be wear, and so forth. Sara deserves all her wishes to be fulfilled - even after she has passed on. She is fully aware of how soon and fast she may die - you don't need to beat about the bush with her.... Will you talk to her?”.
             “Thank you, doctor”. Dave put down the phone.
            
             Now, almost two hours after he had noticed that Sara was no longer alive, as he was standing there on the cliff, the only thought that was crossing his mind was that of his wife's brain, fading into obscurity. Standing there, he felt completely isolated from the rest of the world by a whirl of wind and water. A bridge had been crossed: Sara was dead. Now was already later. The inevitable future had arrived. All the papers, funerals and dresses - now unnecessary, redundant.
   
             That night, Dave slept restlessly. Every time he woke up, he went upstairs to their bedroom. He took Sara's hand and kept vigil over her for a while. And back to the couch again.. in a desperate attempt of getting some rest. Time after time, all night long. It was almost midday by the time he finally woke up. After having a cup of coffee for breakfast, he got dressed and went down to the cellar to find a shovel. He tied it around his back with a piece of rope. Then he went upstairs to the bedroom, wrapped Sara's body in a blanket, and left home carrying her in his arms.
   
             It was cold outside, with that characteristic smell of winter. Dave took a deep breath, tried to console himself, and walked into the woods. The forest consisted of a dense clump of trees, bushes and many weeds, spread over about twenty kilometres between the city and the coast. At that time of day, everything was shrouded by a heavy grey fog, which helped Dave to forget what he was doing.
   
             He wandered around in the forest until all the muscles in his body were aching. Sara had lost most of her weight before losing her life, so that walking while carrying her body was not strenuous. When he eventually came to a stop, he gently lowered the load on to a clearing covered by leaves.
   
             Satisfied that it was imposible to retrace his steps again, he rested for a moment, then took another deep breath and started to dig. The ground was very wet and the digging was easy. And soon enough, the hole was just the right depth. He then gently lowered Sara's body into the makeshift grave. And then, still on his knees and staring at the body deep under the ground, for a second he thought about unwrapping the banket  to see his wife's face again for one last time. But he didn't. He took the shovel and started to fill up the hole again. And after that, he covered everything with heaps of leaves so that no-one - nobody - would ever be able to find Sara's grave again.