who do you want next to you when your world falls apart

where sleeping wolves lie

 

It was later after the shots when Greg brought her back to where she was staying, compliments of the bride and she got out feeling quite tipsy when he drove up to the entrance. She waved as she started to head towards the front doors and started walking. 

But then Diandra heard him turn off the car and open the door to get out, so she stopped near the doors and turned to watch him walk up to her, a sudden wind catching in his hair as he reached her. He stood there looking down into her neat, pert little face with those large eyes that never have changed 

“Did you really think I’d have a wife and a brood?”

It was the strangest look in his eyes. Challenging? Daring? Searching…. for

Diandra only stood there and held her breath. She looked back at Greg,

“well, I heard about the scandal —not from ….” and Diandra implied with her head towards the hotel to imply the bride and at the same time Diandra looked away. She took a small step back and dropped her gaze to the ground where they stood 

“Scandal?” he asked and when she didn’t answer and kept her gaze at the ground he pulled her face up by her chin to look at him as he stared blankly back at her with no expression 

“I….” she dropped her gaze, “Natasha ….your cousin—do you see him?”

“Who?” he asked her coldly and he harshly pulled her chin to make her look at him

“Your son.”

She could have predicted his reaction. She knew before she even said the words what he’d do.

He turned around, went to his car and tore off without a word 

 

I miss Port Jefferson and the drive there; all the way from Huntington on 25a. The old tree lined beauty of the north shore on a summer day. And watching the sunset by the port and the ferry as it leaves for Connecticut 

desperate for intelligent life

despite it all, I start to feel the need to 

      gravitate closer to “the (NY) City” but not as in the city  …..Not as in so close to the city you can choke on the fumes. Not as in the city as you constantly deal with annoying tourists that are not from somewhere else outside New York but from the city (New York City) thinking they are playing in the country with the natives. I hate that. Jab you with their elbow to grab that perfect apple you’re reaching for. No it is something more like the proximity of it—like, a train ride away; a day trip ….the other day I found myself missing those irritating broadway show tv ads ….no, it’s culture I miss. I need it. What would be so perfect would be to live by all the kinds of places I like to go to. Museums with my favorite artists, places to see that let my mind wander, the possibility of encountering intelligent life, art, natural beauty, intellectual conversation….and gardens. Lots of gardens ….

….still

 

 

a weird phrase is now stuck in my head repeating; forced into sharing a burden of guilt