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  Site Home » Recreation & Entertainment » Story Narration
   
 

An Affair in Beijing [Chapter Fourteen: New York City Bound]

   
Author: Dennis Siluk

Chapter Fourteen
Stockbridge, Massachusetts
[The Red Line Inn]

Her face, once in Stockbridge, Massachusetts turned a little bleak, a little bland than what it had been before, perhaps even a little stern.

It was a long ride to Stockbridge, all the way up towards Canada; it was a green and beautiful ride, and I almost got lost, but we did find the turnoff to Massachusetts, than to Stockbridge, and know we were in her little town-let, colonial treasure, as she felt it was, and it was all she said it was I can confirm, or would turn out to be. We went directly to her apartment, through the deep snow, and up the side of the stairs of the duplex she lived in, she led me like a child wanting to show a friend a great secret; she held a gleam in her face now, in her smile, her smile, under those doll bluish-green eyes (mood shifting was developing). Her skin had darkened a bit, she had gone to the gym for tanning, and we'd be go there tomorrow to do some swimming (which I have always enjoyed), and then the following day to Nantucket, about 750-miles down the state to Cape Cod, and then a 45-minute ride to the island.

For the moment, she showed me around her apartment, room by room, showing me, and telling me, in each room how well it was desecrated, how long it took to do it, and how much money she saved in the process. She was proud of her achievement, why not I thought, she's virtually blind, and how many folks with her condition could even walk into an airport alone and find themselves at the very spot she would meet her lover: I mean, she must had done some planning.

The day was young yet, and I was hungry, it was perhaps 5:30 PM, and we'd go for lunch at the Red Line Inn, tomorrow; for the mean time, she had made a simple dish of some good tasting rice and chicken for me, by candle, light, and some good coffee. She had some wine, but I preferred a coke instead. And there we sat and enjoyed the evening.

I had traveled all my life, and this was a new place for me, New England that is, and its haunting spirit, one I'd detect throughout the five days I'd be here; it was calming, and soul stirring, vibrations filled my blood stream, good vibrations; in a way that give my core, the inner part of my soul a humming calmness. One that seemed to have echoes of God's nature inside of it; on the surface, was a lot of pure old American history at every corner you turned.

[Morning the next day] We avoided breakfast, and she took me for early lunch, brunch, where I had steak and eggs at 'The Red Lion Inn'" where she worked. She paid for the meal, it was I found out, half price for her, which was good, and then she walked me around the Inn, introducing me to her friends. I even received a green 'Red Line Inn,' t-shirt; everyone there was very kind to me, very polite. All around and beyond the rim of the city was colossal trees, a city and a woods covered with white, enormous pines, little shops, and a few old structures, landmarks she had told me about, famous from American Revolutionary times.

We had been alone last night, slept together, but I was so weak and tired, I didn't make love to her, and she didn't insist I should. To be honest, I didn't think I could perform in bed as I had just a few months ago in Beijing because of this illness I was progressively cursed with, not quite knowing what it was for sure, but it was slowly eating up my vitality. I think this first time, she took it as simply being tired, not personal, or medial. After this trip, I would become quite ill, and things would get worse, before they got better again (in which I'd go to the Amazon in 2001, and get some mediation from a native seer, use it for six months, and be regenerated for a few more years beyond this); before it got worse again; an ongoing dilemma it would turn out to be.

(Several times she had asked humbly"but directly her haunting issues to my attention, for me to listen to her ongoing franticness on her son, and ex husband's behavior. She was pathetical (wacky) about her son being hurt at any give moment of the day or night; made phone calls, and made the nights and days quite disruptive because of this. Hours of listening and trying to calm her down on the issue of safety, trying to make her comfortable was so trying it made me fatigued to the point I lost all my energy to have sex. Nothing would pacify her, and it ran ramped in my mind: how would Nantucket be. She drove her car, was not suppose to driver with only side vision, but she did, had a few accidents she said, asked me to drive it. Feverishly, this was brought to a point it was suffocating, and I asked her if she could try to control this, bring it to a minimum, she said she'd try, I only hoped I'd survive this trip; but I knew now it would never last.)

Author Bio:

Dennis Siluk

Writing is more than a hobby for me. It's a passion, one of the ways I capture and celebrate life.

You can search for this article using: digital storytelling, online story reading, digital story telling, the art of storytelling
 
 
 

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