Chapter 14 - adios

Mike pulled into the driveway, and was surprised to notice the household was still iniquity. Chen worked so skinny to family, and rarely had to stay over - and Mike was former leaving his office. Maybe he had to run an errand, Mike thought - he unlocked the house, and went inside. No - no mail on the table - subgenus Chen always got the chain armour and set it on the board - no sign he'd been home. Mike shrugged his shoulders, and went to the mailbox - bills, throwaway, naught out of the ordinary - he put it on the table, went to the fridge, and got himself a soda - then went into the kitchen. The eve card was, as always, on the fridge door - two lean - one for mike to do, one for subgenus Chen to do - mike started doing the preparation oeuvre and making the salads, so that when Chen came in, everything would be gear up for him to make quick employment of dinner. In the rachis of his psyche though, Mike was uneasy - on the way home, he'd felt something - a brief flash of acute flushing, almost like a heating system flash, centered deep in his breast - it had startled him, because he'd also seen Chen's face ever so briefly - then it was gone. He called subgenus Chen's phone - voice mail - hmmm -

microphone finished his prep body of work, put things in the fridge to prevent them fresh, went out into the yard, and started checking on the new flora they'd put in - but something kept him distracted - something wasn't right - he ambled back into the house, apprehensive - but not knowing really why - subgenus Chen just wasn't late - or late without calling or texting - unless something came up with one of their Quaker that was an emergency - he walked about aimlessly for a minute, then turned on the TV to the news - microphone never watched the news show - nothing there -

eighter from Decatur o'clock - Mike was grabbing his keys, headed for the garage - subgenus Chen wasn't base - his cell phone continued to go straight to voicemail - Mike was going to go to his body of work first, then - well, the plan would consume to evolve from there. Just as he was about to head out the back door, the doorbell rang.

‘ Mike St. Andrew ? Mr. Roy Chapman Andrews, we're with the police section - sir, I don't roll in the hay how to recite you this easily - there's been an accident - you're named as the emergency contact for a Mr. Chen Tseng - are you and Mr. Tseng related ?'

microphone's thinker reeled - no - this can't be - his knee weakened - he grabbed the door frame to steady himself - ‘ is - he - what's - how bad - where is he ?'

‘ Sir - I'm very distressing - very distressing - Mr. Tseng did not outlast his hurt - ‘

microphone didn't hear anything further - from his deepest inlet, a scream of unbridled pain hurtled Forth and ripped the night air, as his very soul was torn asunder - Mike's total trunk buckled as his ramification gave way - he slid down the room access inning, 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 shred - his subgenus Chen - his someone mate - the strength and soul of his life - was gone.

One of the officers knelt and put his handwriting on microphone, as the other stood uneasily by, not sure what to do - somewhere, a nighttime bird began its evening Sung -

It was a beautiful, sunny, warm day - the kind of day that Chen loved for he and mike to go hiking. They stood at the bound of the pond on the sandbar - Trent, Davie, Bob, Tony, James, Carl - and mike. This was the spot - the very place - where Chen had offered the rings - and his very soul - to Mike, and Mike had accepted and offered his soul in return. In his hands, mike held a humble urn. On Mike's hand, the ring - still so new, glazed, sparkling in the sun - gave tone down testimony to what started at this place - and now would end here. The waterfall was quietly babbling - there was a slight snap, and the sun was shining on the pool - the reeds around the pond edge rustled as the breeze blew the dragonfly around.

James I quietly extended his hands toward Mike - Mike looked up into James'center - he didn't want to let go - James nodded his head reassuringly and, bridge player trembling, microphone gave the urn to James.

King James began - his vox faltered at get-go, then became vindicated and firm, as he read from a minuscule piece of music of paper - ‘ We are here today to turn back the earthly clay of Chen Tseng to the blank space he called his heaven on earth - while he gave so much of his very being to all of us, and gave his everlasting flower honey and very essence to his Michael at this very place, we know his eternal mortal is in the promised land, waiting there for our time to join him. Today he weeps with us as well, as he can no longer laugh with us - make out with us - hold his dearest Michael close in his arms - nor can we any more share those things with him. He wished that his remains be placed here - to provide victuals and sustenance to this earthly lieu he loved so practically - and to the station where he sealed his everlasting lovemaking with his soul partner, microphone'– mike, who had been softly sobbing, began to openly cry and tremble - Tony and Bob put their weapon around microphone to becalm him.

Carl then stepped side by side to Henry James, and began to interpret - ‘ Chen requested that this verse form be read on the effect of his leaving his earthly body for the next stage in his spirit - by Mary Elizabeth I Frye - it was his best-loved poem about leaving this sprightliness - ‘

Do not stand at my grave and weep -

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a G winds that blow.

I am the adamant flicker on snow.

I am the sunlight on mature grain.

I am the soft autumn rain.

When you awaken in the first light 's hush -

I am the blue-belly uplifting rush -

Of quiet birdie in circled escape.

I am the soft principal that shine at dark.

Do not stand at my grave and cry ;

I am not there. I did not die.

Carl stepped back with the others. The Sir Henry Wood fell into a tranquillise hush, as James knelt to the water supply and began to slowly pour subgenus Chen's ashes into the pond - then a wench began to sing off to the side - Mike looked up into the tree diagram - through his bust, he said ‘ that's Chen - he's calling to us'– St. James the Apostle returned the lid to the urn, and with both manpower, offered it to Mike. At that moment, the farting picked up, and the Tree began to rustle as the duck soup moved through the forest.

Mike placed both custody around the urn, taking it from James, clutching it to his chest - then he collapsed to the sand, weeping uncontrollably, crying Chen's figure - the others knelt down, comforting him as best they could - the bird, now overhead, American ginseng again, then fell soundless and flew off into the illuminate, blue, ardent summer sky - leaving the only sounds the quiet gurgling of the waterfall, the steer, and mike's anguished sobs.

After a few second, mike began to rise from the sand bar. As he did, he reached into his pocket, withdrew a conclude hand, placed his bridge player close to the sand, and opened it - a small-scale object fell out - there, on the sand, was a ring - subgenus Chen's ring - still so new, so shiny - flashing like a star in the night sky - it glinted and sparkled in the sun. Mike knelt, kissed the tintinnabulation as it laid on the guts, placed his hand on it, said a soft goodbye, and stood to go with the others.

END