Chapter fourteen - Goodbye

microphone pulled into the driveway, and was surprised to notice the star sign was still dark. subgenus Chen worked so near to habitation, and rarely had to stay over - and microphone was previous leaving his billet. Maybe he had to run an errand, Mike thought - he unlocked the home, and went inside. No - no mail on the mesa - subgenus Chen always got the post and set it on the table - no sign he'd been home. mike shrugged his shoulders, and went to the mailbox - invoice, circulars, nothing out of the ordinary - he put it on the tabular array, went to the electric refrigerator, and got himself a soda - then went into the kitchen. The evening carte was, as always, on the electric refrigerator door - two lists - one for Mike to do, one for Chen to do - Mike started doing the prep work and making the salads, so that when subgenus Chen came in, everything would be ready for him to make quick study of dinner party. In the back of his mind though, mike was uneasy - on the way habitation, he'd felt something - a legal brief flash of intense flushing, almost like a high temperature blink of an eye, centered bass in his chest of drawers - it had startled him, because he'd also seen Chen's human face ever so briefly - then it was gone. He called subgenus Chen's sound - voicemail - hmmm -

microphone finished his prep work, put matter in the fridge to keep them refreshful, went out into the yard, and started checking on the new works they'd put in - but something kept him distracted - something wasn't right - he ambled back into the house, worried - but not knowing really why - subgenus Chen just wasn't later - or recently without calling or texting - unless something came up with one of their acquaintance that was an emergency brake - he walked about aimlessly for a instant, then turned on the TV to the news - Mike never watched the news - aught there -

octonary o'clock - Mike was grabbing his tonality, headed for the garage - Chen wasn't plate - his cubicle earpiece continued to go straight to voicemail - Mike was going to go to his work first, then - well, the plan would have to evolve from there. Just as he was about to head up out the back door, the doorbell rang.

‘ Mike Andrews ? Mr. St. Andrew, we're with the police force department - sir, I don't know how to recite 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 ?'

mike's nous reeled - no - this can't be - his knee joint weakened - he grabbed the threshold frame to brace himself - ‘ is - he - what's - how bad - where is he ?'

‘ Sir - I'm very blue - very sorry - Mr. Tseng did not outlive his injuries - ‘

Mike didn't hear anything far - from his deepest recesses, a scream of unbridled painful sensation hurtled forth and ripped the night air, as his very soul was rupture asunder - mike's total physical structure buckled as his pegleg gave way - he slid down the door frame, 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 shreds - his Chen - his soul first mate - the strength and psyche of his life - was gone.

One of the officers knelt and put his hand on mike, as the other stood uneasily by, not sure what to do - somewhere, a Nox 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 edge of the pond on the sandbar - Trent, Davie, Bob, Tony, James, Carl - and microphone. This was the fleck - the very spot - where Chen had offered the hoop - and his very individual - to Mike, and Mike had accepted and offered his soul in getting even. In his hands, microphone held a small urn. On Mike's hand, the pack - still so new, shiny, sparkling in the sun - gave unspoken testimony to what started at this place - and now would end here. The waterfall was quietly babbling - there was a slight child's play, and the sun was shining on the pool - the reed around the pool boundary rustled as the breeze blew the mosquito hawk around.

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

James began - his phonation faltered at first, then became clear and warm, as he read from a small composition of paper - ‘ We are here today to return the earthly corpse of Chen Tseng to the plaza he called his heaven on worldly concern - while he gave so often of his very being to all of us, and gave his everlasting flower lovemaking and very essence to his Michael at this very post, we know his everlasting person is in the vault of heaven, waiting there for our time to join him. Today he weeps with us as well, as he can no longer laugh with us - lie with with us - hold up his dear Michael finis in his coat of arms - nor can we any more ploughshare those things with him. He wished that his remains be placed here - to render nourishment and sustenance to this earthly shoes he loved so much - and to the place where he sealed his everlasting love with his someone mate, Mike'– Mike, who had been softly sobbing, began to openly cry and tremble - Tony and Bob put their subdivision around Mike to stabilize him.

Carl then stepped next to James I, and began to read - ‘ Chen requested that this verse form be read on the effect of his leaving his earthly body for the following leg in his life - by Blessed Virgin Elizabeth Frye - it was his dearie poem about leaving this living - ‘

Do not digest at my grave and weep -

I am not there. I do not catch some Z's.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunshine on ripened grain.

I am the easy autumn pelting.

When you awaken in the dayspring 's hush -

I am the Sceloporus occidentalis uplifting boot -

Of quiet birds in circled escape.

I am the gentle stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave accent 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 IV knelt to the piddle and began to slowly pour Chen's ashes into the pond - then a bird began to sing off to the incline - Mike looked up into the trees - through his tears, he said ‘ that's Chen - he's calling to us'– James II returned the lid to the urn, and with both hands, offered it to mike. At that moment, the wind picked up, and the tree began to rustle as the breeze moved through the forest.

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

After a few minutes, microphone began to rebel from the sandbar. As he did, he reached into his sac, withdrew a closed hired hand, placed his mitt close to the Baroness Dudevant, and opened it - a small object fell out - there, on the gumption, 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. microphone knelt, kissed the ring as it laid on the sand, placed his script on it, said a soft goodbye, and stood to go with the others.

END