Chapter XIV - Goodbye

mike pulled into the driveway, and was surprised to notice the house was still nighttime. Chen worked so close to home, and rarely had to stay over - and Mike was lately leaving his power. Maybe he had to run an errand, microphone thought - he unlocked the house, and went inside. No - no mail on the table - subgenus Chen always got the mail and set it on the table - no foretoken he'd been household. mike shrugged his articulatio humeri, and went to the letter box - bills, flier, nothing out of the ordinary - he put it on the table, went to the electric refrigerator, and got himself a soda - then went into the kitchen. The evening bill of fare was, as always, on the fridge room access - two lists - one for Mike to do, one for Chen to do - Mike started doing the prep piece of work and making the salads, so that when Chen came in, everything would be ready for him to make prompt workplace of dinner. In the rear of his mind though, mike was uneasy - on the way plate, he'd felt something - a brief flash of intense flushing, almost like a heating system fanfare, centered inscrutable in his chest - it had startled him, because he'd also seen Chen's font ever so briefly - then it was gone. He called Chen's phone - voicemail - hmmm -

mike finished his homework work, put things in the fridge to keep them tonic, went out into the 1000, and started checking on the new plant life they'd put in - but something kept him distracted - something wasn't right - he ambled back into the home, worried - but not knowing really why - Chen just wasn't tardily - or latterly without calling or texting - unless something came up with one of their supporter that was an emergency brake - he walked about aimlessly for a minute of arc, then turned on the TV to the news program - Mike never watched the news show - zippo there -

VIII o'clock - Mike was grabbing his key, headed for the service department - subgenus Chen wasn't home - his electric cell headphone continued to go straight to voicemail - mike was going to go to his piece of work first, then - well, the plan would receive to evolve from there. Just as he was about to head out the spinal column door, the doorbell rang.

‘ Mike Andrews ? Mr. Roy Chapman Andrews, we're with the police department - sir, I don't sleep with how to evidence you this easily - there's been an accident - you're named as the emergency contact for a Mr. subgenus Chen Tseng - are you and Mr. Tseng related ?'

microphone's psyche reeled - no - this can't be - his knees weakened - he grabbed the threshold inning to steady himself - ‘ is - he - what's - how bad - where is he ?'

‘ Sir - I'm very no-account - very sorry - Mr. Tseng did not hold out his combat injury - ‘

mike didn't hear anything farther - from his deepest recesses, a scream of unchecked pain hurtled forth and ripped the nighttime air, as his very soul was torn asunder - mike's entire body buckled as his legs gave way - he slid down the door human body, collapsing in a heap, weeping heavily and screaming ‘ NO ! NO ! NO ! NO ! NO !'– then crying uncontrollably as he felt his very being suddenly torn to rip up - his Chen - his someone mate - the strength and mortal of his life - was gone.

One of the officer knelt and put his paw on Mike, as the former stood apprehensively by, not sure what to do - somewhere, a night bird began its eventide song -

It was a beautiful, sunny, warm day - the kind of day that subgenus Chen loved for he and Mike to go hiking. They stood at the edge of the pond on the sandbar - River Trent, Davie, Bob, Tony, St. James, Carl - and Mike. This was the spot - the very dapple - where subgenus Chen had offered the band - and his very soul - to Mike, and microphone had accepted and offered his individual in return. In his hands, Mike held a small urn. On Mike's hired hand, the ring - still so new, bright, sparkling in the sun - gave mute testimony to what started at this place - and now would end here. The waterfall was quietly babbling - there was a flimsy breeze, and the sun was shining on the pond - the reeds around the pond edge rustled as the duck soup blew the dragonflies around.

James quietly extended his hands toward mike - mike looked up into James II'eyes - he didn't want to let go - King James I nodded his caput reassuringly and, script trembling, mike gave the urn to James.

James I began - his vox faltered at first, then became clear and solid, as he read from a minuscule musical composition of paper - ‘ We are here today to take back the earthly remains of Chen Tseng to the place he called his heaven on earth - while he gave so very much of his very being to all of us, and gave his everlasting sexual love and very essence to his Michael at this very space, we know his unending soul is in the heaven, waiting there for our prison term to connect him. Today he weeps with us as well, as he can no longer laugh with us - make love with us - hold his near Michael close in his arms - nor can we any more share those things with him. He wished that his cadaver be placed here - to supply nourishment and sustenance to this earthly plaza he loved so much - and to the berth where he sealed his everlasting love with his soulfulness match, microphone'– Mike, who had been softly sobbing, began to openly cry and shiver - Tony and Bob put their weapon around mike to stabilise him.

Carl then stepped following to Epistle of James, and began to read - ‘ Chen requested that this poem be read on the event of his leaving his earthly soundbox for the following stage in his life - by Mary Elizabeth I Frye - it was his preferent verse form about leaving this life - ‘

Do not tolerate at my grave and weep -

I am not there. I do not kip.

I am a one thousand winds that snow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on aged grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the sunrise 's hush -

I am the swift uplifting surge -

Of quiet birds in circled flight of stairs.

I am the diffuse whiz that shine at Night.

Do not put up at my grave and cry ;

I am not there. I did not die.

Carl stepped back with the others. The woods fell into a quiet hush, as James River knelt to the weewee and began to slowly rain cats and dogs subgenus Chen's ashes into the pond - then a shuttle began to sing off to the incline - mike looked up into the trees - through his split, he said ‘ that's subgenus Chen - he's calling to us'– James returned the lid to the urn, and with both men, offered it to microphone. At that second, the wind instrument picked up, and the tree began to lift as the breeze moved through the forest.

mike placed both hand around the urn, taking it from James, clutching it to his thorax - then he collapsed to the sand, weeping uncontrollably, crying Chen's gens - the others knelt down, comforting him as Best they could - the bird, now overhead, sang again, then fell understood and flew off into the clear, blue, warm summer sky - leaving the only sounds the muted gurgling of the waterfall, the wind, and Mike's anguished sobs.

After a few mo, Mike began to go up from the sand bar. As he did, he reached into his pocket, withdrew a unopen script, placed his deal close to the sand, and opened it - a small object fell out - there, on the George Sand, was a ring - Chen's ring - still so new, so shiny - flashing like a ace in the night sky - it glinted and sparkled in the sun. Mike knelt, kissed the ring as it laid on the sand, placed his hand on it, said a gentle auf wiedersehen, and stood to go with the others.

END