Mourning

I paid my respects in public, but any mourning must be done in private. His funeral is not exactly where his wife wants to hear how he once said he’d leave her for me. I don’t know for certain if M. knows, or if H. does, but I suspect no one knew. And M. certainly doesn’t know the extent of it, or how many trade secrets he shared those nights in the hotel. And now it’s just me, and I can’t share it with anyone.

I only slept with him the first time to see if he’d actually go through with it. Sex with him was awful, but we saw each other for a long time. Maybe close to two years? I don’t remember exactly. I just couldn’t bring myself to end it, I really don’t know why. I was never in love with him, but I do feel his loss. I think losing a lover, however long ago, has a special poignancy. Even if you can’t even tell your closest friends.

(For the record, dear reader, in case you didn’t know, the secrecy is due to the fact that I worked for him, as did many of my friends. They would be truly shocked.)