-1-
It was dark.
I kept it that way
Though nothing could hide the constantly bustling scene that lay outside the window, some 15 stories below. I may have spent hours. . . days watching the streets intersect and flow together. There always seemed to be more people than it could hold. Once again more people places, things I didn’t care to recognize.
I had plenty of time to think, especially when the scotch ran out.
Were those people’s blood on my hands ? Their lives gone. . . so gruesomely because of me.
I wanted to be locked away for what felt like my crimes, but no one would ever believe me and I imagined I would grow tired of being imprisoned.
Best to punish myself
The truth was I was reckless. . . I was careless.
I should have been more careful from the very start, I let my emotions get the better of me.
Anger, guilt, envy even happiness
To hell with all of them
The last snow of that winter began to fall and I was at least fortunate to be inside. It was nearly 3 am in the morning and still there were so many people in the streets, did it ever end?
I turned my attention back to the darkened hotel suite. I searched out for the ash tray in the dark and let the embers fall. It was my last cigarette.
I’d come to the realization that maybe I didn’t deserve a second chance.
I had been so careless with my first love, my wife.
I had caused her pain
But what of it ?
What of my own pain? betrayal—betrayals ?
I touched the cold frosted glass
I was so close to being close to happy, I could rearrange and change every action in my mind to get the ending I wanted. . . I deserved.
We deserved.
My hand began to tremble against the glass
No
Not now
Not ever
I began to silently coach myself. My grip on the glass I didn’t realize I was holding tightened.
My lips shifted as a slow drop of salt water slipped between them, silently followed by another.
---
Let’s run away together
I was hearing voices, so clear they echoed.
I can show you the wonderful places this world has to offer
My eyes opened and I began searching the room for the source
of the voice, in the process I stepped over the fallen pages of the calendar on the wall.
Unlike you I’ve seen beyond this desolate piece of land and even with this second chance you likely never will.
The voice was beginning to get louder, I was close to recognizing it when I slipped over a page of the calendar.
Instead of hitting the floor I woke up in bed.
It was daylight, I had awoken at the best and brightest time of the morning.
It was April.
The suite was entirely to lived in now. I knew exactly what was in every drawer the order each of my shirts and other clothing would be in, I would wake up the same time everyday, I knew I would purchase multiple newspapers to keep myself occupied
I made my way down to the bar, as usual. There were no new
messages for me at the front desk, Emile had been rather busy lately, he had told me he still wasn't over the death of his friends.
I purchased a paper and watched the comings and going of people in the main lobby. The morning was starting to slip away and I could still hear the voice from my dream
“Morning, sir”, the bartender said, as he said to everyone.
The front entrance to the hotel were close to the bar and the doors were loud, every time someone entered or left it was echoed across the room, it seemed very hotel was like that. I suppose they wanted it that way.
I had considered leaving multiple times over the past few months, just going down the block but something always stopped me.
It just seemed suffocating. I felt as if everyone would know I was responsible for the Connecticut couples death and the countless others Lucie enjoyed torturing.
Something felt different that day
“How is it outside”, I asked the bartender
He nearly dropped the glass in his hand, partially because I’d never bothered to speak to him except when necessary. The thought never occurred to me.
“It’s good; actually”, he said stumbling over his words.
I wondered where I would go.
It wasn’t as if I could get lost seeing as I had nowhere to be
-2-
The sun was warm, calming almost. There wasn’t a quite moment to be had people constantly talking a strange murmur seemed to be permanently trapped in the air. I got used to it though, not that it mattered.
As I walked I thought about what a burden life was—had been—is now.
The burden to move forward, make something of oneself and furthermore knowing that each and every one of your action could have a coincidence.
Apart form all of that the truth was it all meant nothing.
One minute you are on on Earth the next your not. Nothing you’ve done while you are “alive” matters after that.
We don’t need to find meaning in every faction of our life for the very reason, yet the majority wasn’t convinced.
So I continued walking
Looking for meaning.
The streets and turns I took were so ingrained in my mind that I honestly couldn’t get lost if I wanted. However after a hour's time I began to feel tired.
I stopped and lifted my eyes to an empty storefront more specifically to the words etched on the store front window.
RUNAWAY
I could almost hear the voice from my nightmare-dream.
There were a few other words on the storefront as well but I was already through the door.
There was a woman sitting behind a desk, she looked up twice before she realized I was standing there. There were several posters on the walls, most of them were falling down
“Hi, welcome to Runaway Travel LTD”, the woman said. . . her expression brightened.
She offered me a chair and went to make coffee and returned quickly.
“So”, she said, “Where can I set up your dream vacation ? Miami, Costa Rica and Tahiti are popular this time of year.”
Vacation, somehow that hadn’t seemed like the right word.
“It’s okay if you don’t know”, she said placing a well worn and very detailed globe on her desk, “Just pick a place.”
She spun the globe and waited impatiently for it to stop, she became more excited the slower it started to spin.
The dust started to settle on the table and I reached out with one finger and stopped the globe from spinning, my hand landed on the South Pacific Ocean but that didn’t matter.
“What did you choose”, she was ecstatic
I thought about it for a second and turned the globe so it started to spin again. I never took my eyes away from it.
“Why do I have to choose one”
She smiled and started typing.
I watched the globe as it continued to spin and suddenly the world did not seem as different as I thought
---
The HMS Matisse was a large and at first glance unwelcoming ship. nothing about the cargo ships ominous appearance made it all welcoming. Containers were being loaded, the crew was at work there did not seem to be room for anything or anyone else.
Either way I would put thousands of miles and a 160 day voyage between me and my past.
Earlier that day I had checked out of the hotel with two suitcases one with clothes the other was lined with cash. I’d had one last drink in the hotel bar and decided to leave early and head to a used bookstore the concierge had told me about.
It was a large two story building and when one entered a
bell went off, a person was then greeted with a sign that read.
For whom the bell tolls
it tolls for thee
I remember finding
it clever but heavily understated
I would have plenty of time to read and therefore was not overly concerned with
which books to purchase. Most of them may have come from the philosophy section
a few just seemed interesting.
The young clerk was half-asleep behind the register and
began mechanically ringing me up on an antique register, he was frustrated and
started over every few minutes.
'Bookmark ?", He said pointing to a box filled with odd flat paper items
that could easily be used for bookmarks.
I didn’t really think i would need one but I sensed I was making him nervous as
he started ringing me up again. I choose the one laying on top and after turning
it over I gazed upon a familiar image, it was the image of the skull and knight
I had seen in the library in New haven. There was a name inscribed on the
front, as if it had been signed by someone named 'Robert Essex'
Suddenly looking at the card the context
made sense to me, it was a tarot card.
Death to be exact.
"Do you know who signed thins ?", I asked him
He looked at the card and bent over his desk for a moment.
"Looks like he is some sort of occultist or something. . . we get alot of
weird stuff like that. . . 149.45", he consulted the register.
I paid in cash and he began to pack up the books and then stopped. He reached
over behind him and pulled something from one of the window displays.
“I think this is one of his books”, he said, "I'll throw it in for half off"
Finding Nirvana by Robert Essex
It was a small and looked to be a harmless book so I asked
him to add it in.
"Sure is a lot of books, are you going on a trip or something ?", he
asked looking over the receipt
"As a matter of fact I am."
"Where to ?"
"To be honest. . . a little bit of everywhere"
“you should comeback and visit us when you get back”
“Thank You, but I don’t plan on coming back”
---
It was approaching dusk when I and 15 other passengers boarded the ship
And there I found myself standing on the unsteady deck of the HMS Matisse The other passengers stood around orbiting and chatting with each other. Some appeared nervous and to a few this was exactly how they intended their life to be. Others were preoccupied with watching the planes come in an out of a nearby airport
The ship had its own crew, comprised mostly of young French men. They appeared somewhat sullen and rough but were surprisingly amiable towards having guest on their ship.
There was also an attendant, Ms. Donovan. She was a middle aged woman who attended to the extra needs of the crew and passengers. Her permanent expression was a smile as she gave a tour of the vessel and introduced the captain.
The captain a rather ordinary looking man who spoke fluent French and accented English.
The final stop on the tour were the cabins down below. She personally escorted each couple or individual to their rooms. I didn’t hear her say my name and instead felt her hand on mine.
I’d flinched, accidentally I suppose. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt another human hand on mine.
“Sorry, dear”, she said
I was indifferent towards her apology and remained quiet. The room itself only had a single bed a dull living room set and a small dirty window.
“it’s not much”, Ms. Donovan said, “But you won’t be spending much time down here anyway”
She smiled again and shut the door as she left.
-3-
It was sunset when the ship lurched and seemed to come alive. It happened so swiftly that if I hadn’t witnessed it from the deck I would have never thought that we were actually moving.
Behind me cheers went off as the bar opened for the first night and every night after that.
The ship cut through the water so slowly it seemed the glittering city was getting smaller and for a
second or perhaps longer I felt a tinge of sadness.
I gripped the railing along the deck, staring deeply into the darkness of the water beneath me. I imagined the water was cold and for several minutes I entertained the idea of falling in. Letting the water consume into the mindnubming unknown that was death.
The truth was I was running away.
I didn’t really have anything to live for
My jacket felt as if it were constricting me so I took it off, my eyes never leaving the dark depths below. I took a minuscule step forward when I felt someone pull me back.
There was a flash of anger but it quickly subsided
. .alright ?”, a male voice said
I turned to see a man in his 60’s, another passenger, that I
remembered from earlier. He wasn’t alone he was traveling with is wife. I could
see her watching him with a wine glass clutched in her hands. Clearly upset that he had intervened
“I’m fine. Thank you”, I said, though I wasn’t sure what I was thanking him for.
Later that night as I was lying in bed I realized what had drawn me to the couple. They were nice and charming people and I was envious of them.
---
The first morning I awoke to nothing but brilliant blue waves was overwhelming, the entire world never appeared so large and small at the same time.
There was a map on the back of the captain’s door, outlying the long journey the Matisee would be taking. My concentration had been fixed on day 24, the ship would be porting in Fiumicino, located in the beautiful province of Rome.
In lieu I started reading a book about the history of Rome on the deck. All along the deck other passengers had separated off, some reading others starting at blank pages and holding pens. Others just seemed to be at peace.
Mr. and Mrs. Carter were the couple I had a run in with the other day. I had spoken with them briefly that morning and during the afternoon they sat together on the deck putting together a scrapbook of their family. I’d never known anyone with such a large family and found them to be somewhat interesting.
They were both retired writers and watching them seemed to heal something in me.
“what’s your family like?”, Mrs. Carter asked while writing captions on her photos
“They died of tuberculosis. . . I never had a chance to meet them”, she appeared concerned, misunderstanding my answer.
I kept quite after that and vowed to spend more time listening than speaking.
It had been five days when the ship ported in Barcelona for three days. It was actually a relief to see land after so many days. The sun was its highest when I stepped onto the dock, there were beaches teaming with life and people.
I located a phone in one of the port’s office and dialed Emile’s number, I didn’t think he would pick up and I was unsure why I tried to call him
“Hello ?”, He picked up on the first ring
“Emile, I-“
“Where are you calling me from ?”, he asked
“Spain, I’ll send you money for the charges. . . I just wanted to know how things are.”
“Nothing’s changed”, he spoke carefully, “Are you sure you want to gothrough with this. . . the lying.”
“What do you think would happen if I didn’t ? You have seen what Lucie is capable of.”
“I understand”, he said. I believe he was still mourning and explaining the lost of his friends and didn't seem to be one for conversation.
“I’ll speak to you later”
“Wait—when will you be back in the states.”
“August, I believe”, that was when the Matisse would make it's second call in New York.
"Good"
It was then that both Emile and I realized we did not have anything else to speak to each other about and quickly hung up.
I must have gone to the botanical garden after that because that is what I did in every city. Barcelona’s was the most spectacular and I remember it vividly. There weren’t many plants but the landscaping was unique. Their was a long pier that stretched from one end of the garden to the other
It creaked with each step and seemed unsteady
Once again I started envisioning myself falling into the water, like some ill fated death wish. One off the pier I took in some of the flowers. They were all beautiful some I had even seen in books. The city itself was old and vibrant.
I wish I could have say it lifted the sadness i still felt then and again but that would take some time.
-4-
The generator failed in the middle of the Mediterranean.
Only two days outside of Rome
Night had already fallen it was pitch black inside the cabin. Mrs. Donovan had come by to make sure everyone was settled though most were asleep.
I Iit a series of candles in the room, till the stack of dusty books I was working my way through was illuminated. I was partially through the history of Rome and as I removed the book another smaller one caught my eye.
Finding Nirvana
I hadn’t read the book but from inference in others it was a fringe books of sorts, Essex was an occultist and deemed illogical on his views of the afterlife.
I thought about the word
Nirvana
Heaven, real heaven. Maybe I had gotten lost along the way
The first few pages were predictable and simple. However The way the author wrote about the aftetlife (apart from his civilty) intrigued me for more reason than one.
Take, dear readers, the mirror. The false world created in the looking glass is at best similar to our own. Consider the afterlife in the same respect. A reflection of the gathered knowledge of entire generations in one interlocked place. Each man comes into the afterlife with value as opposed to having to seek it out. In this first life we must prepare to provide for our role in the afterlife
His words rung true, to true
The book had first been published over 20 years ago and the more I read the more I was convinced that this man new something about the Truth. He wrote of the beseeching terrors of leaving what he called the afterlife he wrote about poltergeist, ghost and other terrors what he called Trial By Fire.
Perhaps he could help me to help Lucie
I turned a few more pages before a few words caught my eyes.
Dear reader the time has come for me to explain myself in terms of the title of the book I have written for pages on the afterlife but what of Nirvana. It’s simple. . . it doesn’t exist. Once we enter the afterlife we can starve, stab dehydrate for the fun of it but you will be stuck in the afterlife true purgatory forever.
If true heaven is out there you have to find it.
I spent the better part of the night reading true to his word not once did he use the term Nirvana not once did he use the word death, it was always afterlife.
One by one the candles in t he order I lit them began to blow out. There was a sharp chill in the air, so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t realized I was on the floor and as I stood I came face to face with Lucie.
I remembered her being smaller and perhaps younger when we last we met.
“what have you been up to ?”, she asked.
She reached out to touch me, he touch was so cold it burned. I think it even hurt her, not that she would admit it.More importantly tough she had touched me it made her all to real.
“I should ask the same of you.”, I said
“It’s not my fault they all deserve it.”
I wanted to tell her not to hurt anyone aboard the ship but that would have just provoked her.
“What did these people do, Lucie”
“It’s what they were going to do. Love always ends sour, I was trying to help. I'd hate for them to have to find their love to be lies in a years time. No it's just easier to end it now.", she turned away, I certainly hope you enjoy traveling.”
“Why is that”
“I just find. .. it suits you.”, she stopped, “do you hear that.. . more reckless lovers who need correcting.”
"Lucie you have to stop this"
"Why ? Haven't I fixed us ? Aren't we both better off without her ? Better off without Roger. Or perhaps we should make our arraignment more permanent ?"
"No Lucie, I made a promise to you"
Her painfully cold lips touched mine briefly, I somehow stopped myself from recoiling as the heat began to fill the room and smooth hum of the generator filled the air.
---
I arrived in Rome with nearly half the energy I expected. Lucie’s chilling late night visit was still fresh in my mind for the weeks that followed.
The streets were narrow and filled with people who did not seem at all to be in a rush. I didn’t actually know where I was going with only a map. Although it was foolish to think , I could almost feel as if I were closer to her. I began to believe that I could have quite possible walked the same streets. With that thought I started to let myself enjoy the surroundings.
Everything about the city was beautiful, I began to see why she loved it so much.
I think she wanted to take me there, promised to show me the wonderful things the world had to offer. . .
The reality of the situation was no one’s fault but my own. My lack of judgment inability to control even the most basic of emotions and misplaced rage.
The thought darkened my day and I stole into the closest wine bar for a drink. It was still early in the afternoon so I ordered a red wine and gazed into for a while. The glass was rather large and the restaurant name “Via Girbraldi” was etched into the side in gold.
The restaurants walls were covered with gold frames of what I assumed what the Girbaldi family. The frames were all handmade and the man behind the counter explained he was making one for his grandson’s picture, though he would gladly sell it.
I took him up on the offer
It really was a lovely city, I considered settling there.
What would I do though
I didn’t really have any skills
Yes, money wouldn’t be an issue if I invested but that became. . . tiresome. There would also be social scenes, trite conversations and questions always questions.
No, this is why I didn’t settle
I didn’t have a reason too.
-6-
The Matisee traveled to the far east following the stop in Italy. Passengers for the most part were asked to stay aboard. Before approaching second call in New York there was a quick stop in Savannah, Georgia.
It was apart of the sates but may as well been another country to me. Following my brief stay in New Haven I had not been outside of the state of New York.
I decided to stay on the deck as others went in search of the “southern hospitality” that I wasn’t familiar with. I was still immersed in Essex's books there were plenty of notes in the margins but it all added up to nothing.
I was concentrating on the 4 day journey it would take to get to New York and I began to wonder what Emile and I would speak about.
The sun was higher in the sky as the day progressed and I began to sweat more than I ever had, The sun suddenly seemed torturous so late in the summer. I stowed away downstairs in my room were there was an air conditioner running on low yet even in the cool air I was begging to dehydrate and nothing seemed to alleviate it.
For the first time in a while I began to feel weak, I had fallen asleep for the rest of the day. No one seemed to miss me or notice until Mrs. Donovan knocked cheerfully on my door.
I didn’t answer, it wasn't that I hadn’t wanted to I just couldn’t. After another hour she opened the door. I don’t remember what she said or the actions that followed because I had just realized my sudden illness was similar to the cold dark winter that had passed.
I felt as if I were bleeding out in the middle of the woods again.
Mrs. Donovan had gone to call the medic, whom usually looked after the crew. She was gone before I could refuse.
The medic was a retired doctor, he moved quickly and swiftly
for a man of his age.I did not like having him near me the illness whatever it was weakened me so quickly.
“I should take you to a hospital”, was his final diagnosis but I would have none of it.
“You can’t”, he probably thought I was delusional , “I just need to make a phone call.”
He must have given me a phone, because all I remember is staring at the numbers trying to recall Emile’s phone number and nothing was coming to me. The phone silently slipped from my grasp and the world around me became dark again.
Against my own insistence they had taken me to a hospital in a small town outside of Savannah. I began to fear I had come down with consumption, either way I could not be in a hospital.
So many questions, so many lies I was beginning to lose track.
There was an IV in my arm, it connected to a heart monitor and the insistent beeping was distracting. It seemed to be getting louder the more I tried to think of what to do next. I remember wishing I could have stayed there and letting my burdens wash over me.
I had awoken in the middle of the night with my suitcases underneath the hospital bed, I decided I would be leaving in the morning against medical advice, hoping I could hold myself together long enough to make it. . . somewhere. I was constantly exhausted everything about me felt heavy.
I often wondered what Emile thought when I didn’t show in New York the day I was supposed to arrive. When we talked later her never spoke of it.
The suitcases were heavy now and I ended up throwing most of the books out, except Essex's , before getting into a cab. There was clatter on the pavement that sounded nothing like a book.
It was the gold frame I had purchased in Rome, it was still empty and I had forgotten all about it. I kept my eyes on the frame as the driver took me too . . . where had I asked him to take me ?
A motel it must have been because that is where I ended up.
-7-
I spent hours writing and rearranging the seven letters that lead to Emile’s number but none of them appeared to be right.
It was the third time in my life I truly thought I was going to die and with not the slightest idea why.
It seemed to be always dark in the purposely windowless room, after all there was not much of a view. I felt as if I were still just barley clinging when I heard the door of the motel creak open.
The wind, I had thought.
It must have been dark outside because cold air began to fill the room. It took all the strength I had to make it over to the door, it was in fact dark and the bright late summer moon let in a ray of silver light.
I had fallen against the door closing, to exhausted to make it back to the bed. My eyes began to adjust to the dark and I noticed something was in the room.
At first I thought it was a pillow lying on the floor, but it became obvious that I was wrong.
Dead wrong.
It was a person
A small person with long dark hair fanned out across the floor, the figure was wearing a patterned dress that seemed very familiar to me. The figure was lying face down in a puddle of shimmering blood.
I swore I was being delusional but I could feel something, as if someone was standing next to me. The blood moved smoothly across the hard wood floor touching the base of my finger.
I backed further against the door, using the handle to stand up
It was a little girl and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she was dead. With a strange burst of energy I began pacing the room keeping clear of whatever was before me. I kept waiting to wake up or for the horrific image before me to disappear.
Still the green and yellow patter on her dress appeared very familiar, everything about that image did.
I had to see her face.
I reached for her delicate shoulder, holding my breathe as I attempted to turn her over.
I never saw her face and nothing made much sense after that. As I had expected I awoke as if from a nightmare but the tip of my finger was still stained from the little girl’s blood. I convinced myself the images was nothing more than a ghost, another terrifying image I would have to live with.
Strangely, my fever broke the next day.
I felt a strange sense of relief and though I didn’t believe much in pre-destination maybe I was never meant to make it back to New York.
I flipped through a few pages of Finding Nirvana it always seemed to be within an arm’s length of me. Essex seemed to know so much about the truths of life and death. Perhaps he could help me save Lucie from herself, perhaps there was someway for her to rest in peace.
At the bottom of my suitcase I found the CD Emile had played for me that cold January night in his apartment. There was a case along with it and with renewed strength I cracked the hard plastic around it letting the paper backing fall out.
There was a list of songs but also a picture of her as well. She was smiling her reflection mirrored in the piano she was leaning against. Her eyes were dark but bright at the same time.
For the first time in months I realized I missed her. The picture fit perfectly in the frame and I considered placing it on the bedside.
It relaxed the strain and burden I had felt---
7172940
I almost drop the frame reaching for the phone and dialed the number. It rang multiple times and no one picked.
I dialed 7 times till there was a click
“Hello ?”
“Emile?”
He let out a breath and there was a silence.
“Where were you?”, he asked
“I was taken ill. I’ve just gotten better after. . .”
I paused not sure why I was telling him the strange events that unfolded last night but I did ,in much of the same detail. He listened carefully and remained silent
“Emile, are you still there ?”
“Yes. . . so um, the girl did you ever see her face ?”
“no, I’ve just told you. I imagine it was Lucie attempting to frighten me of what I don’t know. “
Although I couldn’t see him, he seemed distracted.
“Emile, listen. I won’t be able to make it to New York. I feel as If I’m on to something. There is someone I think can help.”
“I understand”, he said listlessly so I began to question him.
“Is something wrong ? has something happened ?”
“No. . . not all. Just call me when you think you’ve found what you are looking for.”
He finished abruptly and I heard the dial tone. It occurred to me later that the nightmare I had described to him must have bothered him.
I scanned Essex’s biography at the back of the book for the first time, he was a professor at a small university know doubt because of his eccentric views.
Foolishly I began put all my faith into one person I didn’t even know.
It lead to nothing more than a three year dead end.