Direct Contact
By David Layman
Published by David Layman
Copyright 2011 David Layman
Smashwords Edition
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Table of Contents
Chapter 8: Elianne's Disclosures
Chapter 16: The Journey Begins
Chapter 18: Van Lai
BERNE, SWITZERLAND
Chapter 1: Elianne's Letter
I walked through the train station in Rome, Italy, awaiting the departure of my train to Berne, Switzerland. I came to the station early; I did not want to miss this train ride for anything. I secured a berth because it was an overnighter to Geneva, a short lay-over there and then a short train ride to Berne.
I had stowed my baggage with one of the conductors and bought myself a double espresso. I actually felt nervous, rather giddy actually as I began my journey to see Le, Elianne, Chem and Chan. I could not adequately express how much I longed to be with them once again.
I walked outside to a beautiful day. I found a table where I could sit and attempt to gather myself. After all, my days here in Rome had offered me great solace. I’d spent nearly the last four years alone, doing my best to gather myself up and become some kind of rational, productive human being after the war. Now, I would find out if I had found any kind of cure for myself. Who could know, maybe I would never be capable of overcoming or escaping my demons and all those souls that seemed to have come to haunt me over and over after the war. I doubted Satan would give me up so easily; after all I had thwarted him too many times during my tours of duty in Vietnam. I felt he was never too far off, no, it was that evil, demonic spirit that haunted me; no matter how much I tried to dissuade it from invading my conscience.
I went to Vietnam full of patriotism and knowing I was fighting for freedom, freedom of all oppressed people. That was what we all knew back there in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania. My antecedents and others had sacrificed and I decided why should I break tradition? I didn’t know at the time what lay ahead of me, the repercussions and my life-long battle with a spirit far more sinister than I had ever envisioned. That spirit that evil, dark, demonic spirit would not let me rest no matter how I tried to shut it out!
I gazed around and I thought of my years I’d spent here after Paris. And, I reminisced on my past; thinking back to the last years since I’d finally received my discharge from the Army.
I’d returned to Pennsylvania after my separation with the military and recalled how I knew that I had made a big mistake attempting to return home. I felt so out-of-place there, so uncomfortable, so alien after my three tours of Vietnam.
I had to get out of Pennsylvania; I had to travel and go places where no one knew me or knew of my past. I hated all the adulation and attention I received since I had arrived home from Vietnam. I despised the label, ‘WAR HERO’! I knew most of the rest of the country despised me as well. That war was extremely unpopular with the American people, I knew that. But, in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, things were different. My small hometown still seemed to revere their returning veterans. There might have been some dissenters and critics who would have liked to have screamed that I was a murderer, a baby killer, a demon but they held those thoughts to themselves. Our town was filled with war veterans and the coal mining mentality ensured that no hippies would have any kind of say; and those coal miners backed it up if need be by both the implied and real threat of brute force!
It made me both physically and mentally sick to hear people say that I was a war hero. Increasingly, I found humans to be both contemptible and overbearing. I despised that they thought of me as carrying on some great tradition, like my father and some of my other family members and others who lived in Beaver Falls. Great War heroes, they killed lots of humans to keep everyone safe, to preserve freedom. Maybe that was the case during their time, during World War Two, but my killing those Vietnamese peasants, did that constitute the same? Would those poor peasants and illiterate soldiers ever threaten Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania?
I found I would hide away, not wanting to venture out anywhere or to talk to anyone, except off into the Pennsylvania mountains, to camp out in the woods, just by myself, reading and hiking, and really attempting to trick myself, like I had never been to war. I am sure it was my way of dealing with all the hideous aspects of war and my mastery of it, and then my total denial. It was just my own way of masquerading, of hiding, letting absolutely no one else in to pry about my past.
I’d stay out in the woods for days, hiking all over the mountains. At some point, I knew I had to return to civilization, to Beaver Falls. I didn’t desire to, but I felt I needed to return. Finally, after about eighteen months, I knew I had to get out of there. If I didn’t, another war might just get started close by and it would not be against any Vietnamese.
Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, a quiet little place, where nothing of significance ever happened. It was no longer home to me. There was nothing there I desired or cared about. My family and friends lived there, but I felt a strange detachment, quite a distinct awkwardness towards them. They even looked different to me now, as if I simply couldn’t recognize them any longer. It was a very difficult problem for me. How could I not seem to recognize my family, my parents and my sister, Janet? I felt as if Beaver Falls was my own personal Vietnam quagmire now!
I finally eased up from the table and walked slowly along towards the boarding area, thinking back and remembering when I was back there in Pennsylvania; I frowned, and I grimaced at the thought of my having to tell my family I was leaving. It was heartbreaking for everyone, and for many of our neighbors in Beaver Falls. When I broke the news to my family, they were stunned, to say the least. Mom and my sister Janet cried, and dad, well, I remembered his hurt, tortured tone. “This is your home, son. Everyone wants you to stay here. You were separated from us for so long. What happened to you, Denton? Why must you leave? Do you see how distraught your mother and sister are?”
I tried to explain, a very feeble attempt on my part. But, they could never understand my feelings now. I needed space, distance, I knew a long separation. For some reason, Beaver Falls, the little sleepy town in the mountains of Pennsylvania just held nothing but pain for me now; I knew I didn’t belong there any longer. I felt as if I was suffocating, drowning in a sea of misery. I would have done anything not to hurt my family and friends; anything except risking my sanity which was being tested continuously, throughout the day and even much worse at night. If I fell into a deep depression and total frustration with virtually no hope, it would serve no purpose other than possibly ending my life.
I felt I wasn’t quite ready to succumb to those ugly, vicious demons and admit that the devil had finally claimed victory over my soul. I jousted too many times with those dark, diabolical forces to give in just yet. I also had a kind of eerie feeling within me, usually hidden, yet at times, for instance, when I would awaken on one of my overextended camping forays off in the mountains, then it would surface. Yes, that eerie sensation that spoke to me. There seemed to be some little sparkle left in me, deep inside that would offer me at least some slight hope to continue on.
I tried to grasp it; at that point I seriously grasped at anything to help me with my demons and with what I felt to be a kind of intravenous drip of insanity that I couldn’t shut off, slowly, ever-so slowly dripping its poison into my brain; yes, invading my brain. I’d ponder, I’d wait, to no avail, but that little bright sparkle, well, let’s just say I felt it was something to do with my past, that eventually something, anything would surface to prove to me that there was truly something out there worth living for.
I walked along slowly and sipped my espresso and gazed out one of the large windows onto the horizon. I sighed deeply, and I recalled mother asking me, as she dabbed her eyes and did her best to control the quivering in her voice, “Where will you go? What will you do? We missed you so much and feared for your safety every minute before. When you came back to us, I felt such immense relief and joy. Now this?”
I tried and tried to shake the memories but it would not leave me. I wondered how I could forget about all the horrors of Vietnam, but I did my best. Yet to my surprise, it was more difficult to contend with my family’s grieving; I could not shake that torment.
I bit my lip as I recalled how my sister told me she hated me for doing this to her and mom and dad. She told me she would never speak to me again.
For me, I knew that was the bitter end. I had to get out of there quickly. When I tried to hug and kiss Janet before I departed, she stood there, unmoved, implacable, no emotion, her invective so cutting as she barely moved, staring, like a stone statue. Then, I heard her mumble, hissing, and the hatred oozing out from her, “I wish they’d killed you over there. You don’t love us; you have no feelings for us. You are despicable! Go away and do not ever come back here.”
Janet pulled away from me. I tried to hold her but she would not look at me. She said, loudly, “Don’t! Let go of me. I hope you go kill yourself. Get out of my sight!”
She jerked away and ran off. That was all I could take; I quickly hugged dad and mom and made my way to the airport, a first class ticket to Paris. I did not look back, it was time to go!
I sipped my espresso and watched some kids playing just outside the train station. They threw some little coins their parents gave them into a fountain. They squealed and shrieked when there was even the smallest splash. Occasionally, they would run after a flock of pigeons that had landed, the birds quickly fluttering away. I watched as the birds rose in flight and I knew I had made the right decision when I left Beaver Falls.
Occasionally, I would call but it was no use. I would hear mom crying and the inevitable hurt in their voices. Mom could not finish a sentence before she would choke up, sobbing and pleading for me to come home. If Janet answered, she simply hung up the phone.
I still had some time before departure so I walked outside the train station and sat down by the fountain. I could feel the gentle mist that escaped the fountain on my face and neck. It helped to cool me on this rather warm, humid morning. I recalled how I would always stand out in the rain when I was in Vietnam. I would hold my face up to the rain, hold it there for some time and allow it to wash away all of the misery, the faces of those I seemed to delight in killing. I delighted in it, well, more I thought because I’d lost touch with reality. That is exactly what happens to a human when one masters the art of war.
It was really very simple; no matter what it was you did! If you studied and learned and made a concerted effort to understand what it was that confronted you, you should become fairly adept at it. In my case, I spent long hours reading about war, learning about the Vietnamese culture and studying them up close and personal. I had a personal vendetta to settle with them after they killed Mackintosh. Fortunately, for me, I carried my lady luck with me as well and none of my adversaries ever caught me short or triggered a lucky shot from their weapon. In the end, I did what I had to do to outthink them. I made it out of there after two and a half years, suffering only from immersion foot. Lady luck had shown down on me and I suffered not a physical scratch or a cut; I mastered the art of war and at the same time I became even less than an animal, a vicious, evil spirit, not worthy of being allowed to live another moment.
I sat there and watched as the kids played, ran about and shrieked out loudly. I exhaled and wanted to believe that my life was starting over, in a sense. I was going to Berne, Switzerland to see my four Vietnamese girls and I just could not wait to see them once again. I contemplated over and over; was this my little sparkle, that little spark that I felt, that little something that had kept me afloat all this time?
I fidgeted, my mind raced and I once again pulled out the letter Elianne had sent to me. I had read it innumerable times. I felt the paper, attempting to envision her as she wrote to me. It made that sparkle grow and turn into more than a dim, low kind of light off in the distance, shrouded by the mist and the fog, there, yet actually untouchable. Why did I ever feel it? Why was it there? What did it mean?
I moved over a bit so that the fine mist from the fountain did not touch my letter. I would have died for my letter. When I first received it, I was afraid to read it. I held it and put it right under my pillow overnight. I slept fitfully that night, I recalled, afraid of its contents; a letter, written to me by Elianne Than? It put me into a total tailspin and I felt a sudden detachment from reality not knowing what to expect!
Before the dawn of the previous day I sat and thought back to the events that had landed me here at the train station. I remembered thinking that I had just about enough of life. Why was life so cruel? I knew Elianne would say that they were all fine but that it would be better to just let things go; that the past was just that, over and done with and that it was simply time to move on. I felt I was afraid that that would be what the letter would tell me.
I remembered walking down to the local restaurant, Vittorio’s, for my espresso very early the day before. I sat out on the patio and watched as the people filed by me, most off to their work place. I sat there for quite some time and as the traffic of people thinned that morning, Vittorio, the proprietor of the restaurant, came out with his espresso and sat down at my table. He did that from time-to-time, just to chat about the insignificant turns of the day, nothing important.
He sipped his espresso and adjusted his glasses. He made that certain sound, “Ahh,” he emitted each time after he sipped his espresso; then, his standard, “Good morning!”
Well, for some reason, I simply could not contain myself. I began to laugh, to relieve the stress and detachment I felt; and I did try to harness it, the laughing, I really tried, but I turned into a total fool, laughing uncontrollably. I suppose Vittorio got it, my frustration to cope, because he began to laugh as well. Shortly, we were like a couple of buffoons, laughing hysterically. His young service girl inside, Anna Marie peeked out, craning her neck, then she carefully stepped out on the patio in time and stared, then, with a look of concern she asked, in Italian, “Are you men okay?”
That finished us! I could barely sit up and Vittorio stood up and yelled out, very loudly, “We love you, Anna Marie!”
Anna Marie smiled widely but she still possessed that appearance of unsteadiness as she attempted to understand what was going on. I nodded and tried my best to catch my breath. It was maddeningly refreshing, something I had not experienced in a long-long time, maybe an eternity.
Vittorio sat back down and Anna Marie nodded and giggled, then, slowly, as if she knew something strange was in the air, said, “Okay, well, I’ll be right inside cleaning up if you need me!”
Vittorio glanced at me and mumbled under his thick, dark mustached upper lip, after we had harnessed our silliness, “My friend, what is on your mind?”
I dabbed at the corners of my lips and nodded at the letter that sat in front of me on the table. I shook my head slowly from side-to-side. “My dear friend, this letter could finish me. I suppose I could just throw it away, get over it once-and-for-all, but is it better to not know of the outcome, just to walk away?”
Vittorio nodded slowly, again, “Ah, from a certain woman, yes, I understand your dilemma. Well, there are a number of options, young man. But, in the end, you will read it, I am sure of that. You will submit, my friend.”
Then, he leaned over the table and grinned widely, “Do you know why?”
I stammered, not answering, simply staring off and he said, “Your ego won’t allow you to walk away, Denton. The females, they know they have us, they have us, they know we are caught in our own dilemma with no escape. The Almighty made us the real weakling, not the ladies, my friend. Oh sure, you and I, both big, strong warriors, we both went to war, to fight , to exhibit to all that we were, so virile, so strong and above all, very courageous. Ah,” As he threw his hand off dismissively.
He continued, “If we are so big and strong why are we sitting here having any kind of a debate about this, this woman who haunts you? Can you explain it? Well, it is our weakness, our egos that in the end bring us down!”
I made no comment. “Denton, why should we allow ourselves to worry about these things?” Vittorio asked me. “We survived all the brutality and hardships of war, did we not? So, make it easy on yourself.”
I leaned across the table and said, in a conspiratorial tone, “I’ve not felt fear like I feel now in quite some time. This cursed letter, you see, it makes me afraid because I have no way to plan for it.”
Vittorio sighed heavily and called out for Anna Marie as he finished the last of his espresso. “My dear, two more please,” as Vittorio held his cup up.
I watched as Anna Marie nodded and returned inside. I grimaced, and asked, “What if I can’t submit?”
Vittorio kicked his chair back a bit, “Then young man, you are a fool.”
Vittorio reached across the table for the envelope and asked, “May I?”
I nodded my assent. Vittorio took the envelope and said, “Young and impetuous, still at odds with yourself, I see. If you’ll allow me maybe I can assist you. Allow an old man to broker your conscience; I think it will be a benefit to you.”
I decided to allow Vittorio to read the letter to me. Otherwise, I might never come to a decision.
After reading the letter, he began, in his broken English, “Well, very interesting,” and when he finished, I sat there still feeling most tentative.
Vittorio closed the letter and looked a bit confused. “Well, young man, it would appear that you are welcome by your friends. I think I understand a bit more now; this is your past and I do understand.”
I smiled and watched as Anna Marie brought out the espressos. She sat Vittorio’s down, then mine. I kept staring, all smiles and I said, “My dear, isn’t it a wonderful day. I think you are beautiful.”
Anna Marie blushed and offered a slight giggle, and then she said, “Thank you, sir!”
Vittorio eyed me and asked, “So, I assume you will take them up on their offer?”
I nodded slightly, then I held up my hand, “Sir, what do you advise?”
Vittorio shrugged, “I would think you to be very foolish to refuse. It is extremely rare to have friends who appear to have such a desire to see you. I am sure there are extenuating circumstances from that war. But, you must move forward and be the man they expect you to be!”
I felt troubled, “What man is that, can you tell me?”
Vittorio wiggled his index finger at me, “I am sure you will rise to the task. Oh, I know, I know you were a hero to them; whatever you did made them look at you in awe. But, this is not back then any more. They will make adjustments but they still have a very strong bond with you. Remember, they have grown and are older and more mature now.”
I nodded slowly and shrugged, and Vittorio stood up and said, “I think you will miss this place. But, I think I will not see you again. I wish you good luck.”
Vittorio adjusted his glasses and picked up his cup, then as he turned to go, he turned back to me, “Let go of the past, Denton. Things will work out; do not apply so much pressure to yourself. If you are ever back this way, stop in and I will make you my Seafood Linguini. Ciao!”I said, “Ciao,” took the letter and finished my espresso. I sat the cup down and decided to go to Switzerland.
Chapter 2: The Decision
I sat there at the fountain and smiled a little, recalling my friend, Vittorio. I would miss him a lot. I still felt hesitant but the letter, it seemed like my lifeline, it reinvigorated me, and it offered me my only link to any semblance of normalcy. I felt alive; I felt I had recaptured my wanderlust now. My little spark that held on to me was growing inside of me. I was traveling to Berne, Switzerland and I would make my permanent residence there.
Oh, I would not become this imposing Alpha male to my four lovely Vietnamese girls. No, I would find a small, quiet room with a Swiss family and I would write, and I would study French, and hike in the mountains, I thought. I knew many there spoke the language.
I would be unobtrusive, but just being within a close proximity to them, not too close to Le, Elianne, Chem, and Chan, would suffice for me. They were the only humans I felt I could relate to; possibly because of all of the trauma we had experienced together.
I re-read the letter, very slowly, very carefully, as I did quite a few times the day before. I read a sentence and I would stop and allow myself time to mull it over, to digest it and to attempt to decipher just exactly what Elianne meant. I wished the others had written to me, but it was only Elianne who did. Still, I held no animosity, only love and the desire to be even a very small part of their lives once again.
Love, I had rarely thought of that word for quite some time. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel something for my family. No, instead, it was more that that word, love, for some unknown reason, well, it seemed when that word arose in my mind, and I attached it to my family, well my disconnect button was activated. I knew it had to be some kind of neuroses I had developed and I just simply couldn’t overcome.
It was my doing; it was my mind, so twisted and convoluted that made me think the way I thought. I didn’t consider my vicious acts of war specifically as the cause, no, instead I blamed the inherent nature of war, all the death, the destruction and how humans could be so barbaric to one another, that was what skewered my brain, made everything always seem a bit off-color for me.
I read the first few lines of the letter from Elianne. I stared at the words for a moment. I read, lipping the words that I had memorized from the very first, “We would love a visit, can you come?”
Did she really mean it? I wondered if she was only being polite. Did the girls really want me to come? I hadn’t seen them in quite some time, they were much younger then. They were very impressionable, now older, they might rather I really didn’t show up at their door. If I got a kind of negative reaction, would I then return to Rome?
A young child, a little girl suddenly bumped into my leg. I jerked, she startled me! She was a young, beautiful dark-haired little girl. She paid me no mind, she gathered herself quickly and off she went.
I smirked to myself thinking how times had so changed for me. I could sit here, so relaxed and lost in my own thoughts and not be the least bit concerned about anyone attempting to extinguish my life. Since leaving Vietnam, I had not ever had those feelings I used to feel when we were out on patrol; the early-warning detection system my brain had devised that saved me and my men many times over. I shook my head, in a way, uncomprehending about my life. Why me?
I returned to my previous thoughts about what I would do if the girls deemed me as unsuitable at this time in their lives. They were older and my mysticism, my supposed aura of those days in their country had certainly passed. I recalled how Elianne had said the two younger girls thought of me as their guardian angel. What would they think of me now?
No, I thought, I thought not, I would stay for some time, I would not return to Rome. I felt I needed a change, a fresh start! I would stay for a little while, at least to see if they grew more accustomed to me. Not that I expected anything from them. But, I suppose I had secretly hoped they would not find me as rather stuffy, rigid or how one thinks of one who seemed so much larger than life before, now, not so much. It could be quite a letdown for both of us.
I read the part about Le. “Le is busy, she writes every day. She has completed several books.” On and on, I read and I recalled some of our most intimate moments, our closeness, and our love, at least I thought of it that way. Not her, I knew that now; and, I felt nothing much for her at this point in time. I understood how we came together and that it would not have happened, ever, had she not been following the orders from her superiors. Did she despise me for being forced to act the whore? Would she actually re-coil at the sight of me? Possibly, she would. And, what if I arrived to meet a man in her life?
I suppose it would not matter so much to me now. And, strangely, I held no recriminations towards her. Oh, a kind of touch of eating humble pie, of course. How could she not be so in love with the great white warrior? My ego bruised, but not shattered as I realized that she was much too smart for me.
I read on, as I quickly checked the time. I had a couple of hours yet. I read, “We all miss you. Life is nice here I suppose, but rather dull. How could life be exciting? We were so young then and we experienced a cacophony of excitement, near-death experiences, the highest highs and the very lowest of lows when you stare at the devil knowing he wants you to join the evil spirits.”
That part bothered me. I held the letter, thinking about how I had saved them from the grip of Satan. I foiled the evil one many, many times while at war, and that devil with the haunting spirit plagued me late at night, when all was still. I could almost feel the evil spirit right there, hovering, awaiting the chance to cause me turmoil and a lot of undue angst.
It made me re-coil just slightly because I did not ever want the girls to feel they owed me something. I wanted them to think of my in a rather anonymous way now; like I was this person who they might have just met me there in Berne and took a liking to, for no other reason than they thought of me as likeable, unassuming, in no way threatening, just to enjoy each other’s company. I gazed off wishing they might invite me in for supper, a cup of coffee, nothing more.
Maybe I should not go after all? The past, our past might ruin everything for me. The past, our past, my most precious memories of the girls and Le, why spoil it now by attempting to dredge up a kind of friendship that had dissolved away, just like that hideous war. I should expect nothing from them. They owed me nothing whatsoever. Maybe this rendezvous was going to turn out to be a very serious mistake and send me into a tail spin, feeling inadequate, silly and unreachable. After all, it took me several years to find myself again, even if I wasn’t quite sure about me still. But, I did feel much better than I had in quite some time. Would this trip undue all my gains?
I sipped my espresso and read on, “The cycle of life is idyllic, peaceful now, but why did we live? Why did we survive it all? What is to become of us now? Le and I are both stuck in a feeling of mediocrity. With you we felt vibrant, alive, everything tingling, and I must think it was because of you! Now, we think it is rather painful. We experienced your greatness in such a unique setting and now that chapter is past. What do we do now? Was that all there was, nothing more to excite us, to set us all in a state of heightened awareness? It is all so hard to understand.”
Why did Elianne write all of that? It made me wonder if I should wait a while before going. Yes, she said they all wanted me to come, but maybe that was really not the case. I glanced at my watch and then I noticed there were no more children playing about. Where had they all gone? It was suddenly very quiet, too quiet.
I folded the letter up slowly and returned it to my bag. I sighed and decided I needed time to think about my plan. Maybe I had been too hasty and abrupt in my decision to move to Berne. Maybe my old friend Vittorio had it all wrong.
I stood up and slowly moved back towards the railway station. I could remain here and call Elianne and tell her I was delayed. Yes, I would call her and tell her I would not be coming quite yet. Why risk my stability on something so risky? It had taken me quite some time to clear out those nasty demons, and they still made an occasional visit, but what if this venture sent me into a total tailspin. I didn’t know if I had it in me to make another escape like my running so quickly away from Beaver Falls.
I found a phone in the railway station. I hesitated, and then I dialed the phone number Elianne had included in the letter. I waited, another ring, and I heard her, “Hello?”
I hesitated, not saying anything. I heard her again, “Hello?”
I grimaced, I thought it was Elianne. “Elianne, hello, it is me, Denton.”
Elianne sounded very excited. “Oh, are you here already? That is so great! We are all so anxious and excited to see you. We have fixed up a bed for you right here. We hope you’ll stay just as long as possible. This is so wonderful! I am so excited to see you!”
I felt some relief but I still wasn’t sure about all of this. It could have been that Le was really not for any of this. I decided to ask, “How does Le feel about my coming? If it bothers her, maybe I should~~”
Elianne interrupted, “Oh no, no, she said she is very anxious and very excited, too. You weren’t thinking of postponing were you?”
I gritted my jaw, staring off, and then I said, “Well, Elianne, I think I might wait. I, well, I just thought it might not be such a good idea right now.”
There was silence. I waited, the deafening silence, a very uncomfortable interlude, and I said, grimacing to myself, feeling that dark, unapproachable detachment coming over me, a kind of veil over me, “Elianne, are you still there?”
Elianne didn’t respond. I said, “”Elianne, how are you feeling?”
Elianne waited, and then she responded, as my heart raced and I felt a strangeness growing inside me, “I was very good before, feeling very excited and happy about your arrival. Now, I don’t feel so well. Maybe we should talk later.”
I didn’t answer. Then, after another long, awful, horrible silence, Elianne said, “I planned so many things for us to do. I set my schedule so I could have as much free time as possible for you. Do you not want to see us? We were all most excited to see you!”
I heard her start to cry. I said, “Well, yes, I do appreciate that you thought that much to make all those allowances for me. Thank you.”
Elianne said, amidst her crying, her voice quivering, “You think of us as before, as children who idolized you. We cared for you so much, we loved you. You saved our lives. We still love you. But, I am not a child any longer. If you do not want to come, I will try to understand. I just need to know what is wrong. I have been waiting to see you for so long. I feel horrible now!”
I heard the announcement, “The train will be leaving for Geneva in fifteen minutes. All passengers must begin boarding now!”
I hesitated, as I heard Elianne gasping more now and I felt this emptiness, a void growing within me. I thought quickly about returning to my bedroom here in Rome. I would have been all alone, no one who cared for me. I knew that the girls did care, and I knew I was making more of this than necessary. And, I think it was fear I actually felt about returning to my landlord’s house. And, I knew Vittorio’s advice was sound; he would shake his head at me and be so disappointed in me, I could feel his stare already. I knew he was right; I was dwelling too much in the past. All the months and months I’d spent by myself, sequestered, enjoying the solitude, but now, maybe there was something else I sought out. It frightened me to the core to think about returning to that room here in Rome! I felt more fear rising within me than I could imagine; I knew I was in for some serious trouble if I did not fix this with Elianne right away!
Then, I heard Elianne say, now crying more, her voice shaking, “Will you write me some time?”
That was all I needed to hear; that finality, that so hurtful tone, the inflection in her voice, actually accusatory, she made it sound like I was the one to blame for all her misery! And, that tone, somehow, I don’t know why but I thought of my sister, Janet. What if I wasn’t invited back? What if the girls simply decided it was better to forget all about me. Then I would be seriously unhappy, I knew, and I knew I did not want to go back to my landlord’s house, never again to my bedroom! I felt there was no going back for me; I had a sudden urge to move!
I exhaled deeply and listened to Elianne’s crying. I knew, yes, I knew it was because of me, not wanting anyone to get in too close to me. And, all this reminded me of my sister, Janet. I grimaced and said, jumping up, “Elianne, I apologize. Forgive me, please! I do want to come, yes, I do. It’s just that I didn’t know.”
Elianne tried to hold her crying for a moment, inhaling, her quivering voice breaking, “If you don’t come, I will be heartbroken! I’ll just die!”
I told her, “I apologize for this. I did not mean to upset you. I have my train ticket right here. Okay, if you still want me to come, then,~~”
She cut in quickly, “More than anything, anything ever. Why would you ever think any differently?”
I told her, “I never meant to upset you. I am so sorry. I am coming, I promise.”
Elianne sniffed, “It will only be if you don’t come that I will be so terribly upset. Are you sure? Please, tell me if you’d rather not. I want to know now. When does your train arrive here? I will wait for you at the train station.”
I looked at the train schedule, “Okay, I arrive in Geneva a four in the morning. I have a short layover there. I arrive in Berne at six thirty tomorrow morning. That is very early for you. I can find my way.”
“If I know you’re coming and you won’t hesitate, I will go to the train station tonight!” Elianne sounded more demonstrative now. She was closing on me, telling me that I would leave her there stranded at the train station awaiting my arrival if I did not show up! She knew full well that I would die before I ever left her or any of the girls stranded like that. I risked my life for them and would certainly do the same once again! I was now out of options.
I heard the announcement, “The train for Geneva will leave in ten minutes. This is the final boarding call.”
I told Elianne, “It is the final boarding call. I have decided to come. Please, I can call you when I arrive. There is no need to go there now.”
Elianne tried to recover; I heard her inhale, “Oh, um,” as she gasped, “now you have restored me. And, so you cannot reverse your decision again, I am going down to the train station now. I will take my writing and a book and a snack and await your arrival. I hope your journey is safe.”
I heard a click. I hung up the phone. I grabbed my bag as I saw the coachman picking up the step and he headed up the stairs into the car. I yelled out, “Wait, I am coming!”
Chapter 3: Janet's Letter
I found my private berth and stowed my things. I sat down, still shaken by my silly antics. As the train pulled away from the station, I sighed and knew that I had nearly blundered. Why did I falter? These were my very closest friends, why would I decide not to visit? Why was I so frightened? Had I been so indecisive and unsure out there in the jungle, I would not have lasted any time at all. It appeared that I had lost that edge. Did I use up all my resources fighting such lethality out there? After so much intensity at war, did I short-circuit my system? I knew my foe was hell-bent on killing me, hence my being totally wired at all times. Did I suffer a kind of flame-out? It was unnerving to me that I could become so indecisive over a simple move, to visit and be closer to those who professed to feel closest to me.
I watched as we pulled away from the station and I felt relief that I was now on my way. Just thinking that I would have had to return to my room, well, and to miss seeing the girls, I would have not forgiven myself. And, I would have been there, tonight, right back there in my room, after dinner, with no one. Was that what I wanted? I had to think this all through.
The train gained speed and I stared out the window. I knew I would miss Rome. I had traveled extensively while I was here. And, I made a concerted effort to see most of Rome’s wonderful history. I’d written a few stories, usually starting one, leaving the story incomplete, and telling myself I would return to finish it. Then, before I knew it I would begin another story, all the while telling myself I should return to the first and offer some kind of finality.
I thought back to my travels, to Venice, to Florence, to Northern Italy, to Austria. I made it to Greece, the Greek Isles were spectacular. I traveled to Morocco and to Algiers. I felt I made the most of my time here.
Now, I knew I was leaving and I would not return. My time here was over. I thought back to my conversation with Elianne. I certainly did not ever expect such an emotional response. It made me feel somewhat strange that someone, anyone wanted to see me that much. And, if things didn’t go well, if Le seemed put off or unhappy once I arrived, I would gather my things and go; I’d settle away from them, maybe in a small village outside Berne; simple enough.
I watched out the window as we picked up speed, leaving Rome behind. I pulled one of the bottles of wine from my bag. It was my landlord’s own brand, his vintage and I had shared many glasses with him and his family while I roomed there at his boarding house. I found a glass and poured, then sipping from the glass.
I doubted I would ever drink wine again without thinking back on my landlord and his family. I thought we had become somewhat close. I dined with them several times a week when I was not abroad. They were always interested in my detailed accounts of my journeys. I never did divulge a word about my tours of Vietnam. That I hid away, locked tightly away in my own safe, never telling anyone the combination. I knew that if I did divulge it, our relationship would change, become altered, they would then peer at me differently.
I sipped my wine and kicked off my shoes. I sat back on the small sofa, adjusting one of the pillows behind my head. I cracked the window and lay back, sipping my wine. I was going somewhere now, where? Did it matter? It had never mattered before, my travels, I just set out and let the wind catch my sails and I would dock at some port or other. I always seemed to find trusting, good people who advised me where to stay, where to eat, where to stay away from. They seemed to take an active interest in me and by the time I left, it seemed someone would offer, “We hope you’ll come back. We enjoy visitors. You seem like a nice young man.”
I’d leave and make a note to return at some point in the future, but I never did. Now, my journey to Switzerland, well, this was quite different. Since I’d left Beaver Falls, I’d sought the freedom of time, no constraints, nothing like that. I drowned out the memory of Beaver Falls. Whenever I called back there, it was always the same. I felt as if I were a horrible villain. So, I would occasionally send a card, something, a note, to tell them I was fine, that I hoped they were all fine.
I listened to the sound of the train, the rhythmic sound of the wheels running along the tracks. I had sipped most of the glass of wine and as usual, I felt sleepy. It always made me smile that I could not drink any quantity of alcohol. After a glass or so, I felt sleepy and usually I would excuse myself from my landlord and his family and I would snooze, sometimes for several hours.
After some time, I slowly awoke from my deep sleep. My head ached, my eyes hurt and my position on the couch below my sleeping berth did nothing to make my neck feel other than stiff! I lay there and stretched out slowly, the train continuing to rumble along.
I pulled myself up to sit and I was thoroughly parched. I sat there and decided I had to go find something to eat. I had no idea when they served a meal. I glanced at my watch. I swung my feet off to the side and stood up.
I felt my head throbbing, and I breathed in. I put my shoes on and straightened myself. I opened the door and headed down to the dining car.
I walked in and one steward was sweeping up and cleaning. He turned and nodded towards me. I asked, in my broken Italian if there was anything to eat? He held up his hand as I motioned to my mouth for food. I knew after my butchering of the Italian language, probably what he heard he could not decipher.
He walked off and I slid into a seat. I gazed out the window, my head still pounding. I sat there and I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder. It was one of the conductors. I made his Italian out as best I could; he asked me if I was the man who stayed in berth fifteen. I nodded and he handed me a letter. Now, he switched to English. He had a much better command of it than my Italian, “An older gentleman caught me just before we pulled away. He said you were on the train and would I see that you received the letter. I checked the manifest. I came earlier and tapped on your door but I heard nothing.”
I stared at the letter. I thanked him. He smiled and walked off. I peered at the letter. I quickly identified it. I felt a jolt, yes, it was my sister’s handwriting, I knew. I felt an immediate charge run through me. This surely had to be bad. She was going to inform me that either dad or mother was very ill or dying, that I had only myself to blame and she hoped I would eat poison and die an agonizing death.
I hesitated and then, the steward came with a sandwich, a small bag of nuts and a bottle of water. I asked about payment and he quickly shook his head. I thanked him and returned to my cabin.
I pulled up the window even more and the cool night air rushed in. We were now climbing up into the mountains, the air much cooler here. I felt growing apprehension and I gritted my jaw; why did I have to be interrupted just as I was beginning this journey! I had enough to think about!
I took several drinks of the water and tore open the bag of nuts. I ate a few and sat down on the couch. I set the letter on a small table in front of me.
There was no use in waiting, I had to read Janet’s letter. It would ruin my trip, I was certain. I thought, “I could simply say I never received it, if anyone ever asked. She just had to catch me now when I was seeking some refuge, a clean break and a new start for me. Why did I have to have anyone haunting me and pestering me? And her, she said she’d never speak to me again. Why now? All I wanted was to see the girls and find a nice, quiet place somewhere to settle, in an unobtrusive manner, not intrusive or overbearing for them.
I started in on my sandwich. It was rather dry, the meat a mystery, but I’d eaten much worse. Besides, I was famished and it was a long way to breakfast. I eyed what might have but have been some little bit of mold on the bread but I shrugged and said, “Screw it!”
I felt a little angry the longer I sat there. I decided I would simply ignore whatever she had to say. If dad or mom were sick, dying, I would write a letter of condolence but I simply could not rush across the sea now. Besides, for the most part I was sure I was persona non grata around Beaver Falls anyhow. No matter how I was perceived, my decision was final; it would have to do.
I ate some more nuts and ripped the edge off the letter. I inhaled and began to read, sighing deeply,
“Denton, I decided to write to you just to say a few things. I have decided to move in with a friend, Delilah, whom I met at the university. We will be living in Slippery Rock while we both finish our degrees. As you might have grasped by her name, she is black. We are both lesbians and we are in love. We will be moving on after school, away from Pennsylvania.
If that isn’t all shocking enough, I have more news for you! I have decided to ask for your forgiveness for being so ugly and harsh towards you. I did detest you so, but I have had to endure some fairly harsh realities here lately myself. My judgment of you when you left was due to my inability to accept your rejection of us, your family. Dad and mom have never gotten over it, but now I have. I think I understand more about your decision now.
So, Delilah told her parents about me and they told her that she was not ever welcome back into their home. Her mom physically beat her about and her dad began to scream out bible verses. She grabbed a few things from the house and said she would never see them again.
I haven’t told dad and mom about us yet. I am not in any rush, either. That may finish them. So, at some point in time if you feel like having a couple of visitors, we might just take you up on it. We feel we must seek residence outside this country because we’ve grown so tired of the overt racism and vile prejudice we have received. Delilah is ready. We each have one more semester this summer at school, then we are planning a trip to Europe.
If this letter finds you in a disagreeable state, I will certainly understand. I was rude and inconsiderate to you. I hope you’ll at least write back to me. Love, Janet.”
I sat there in a total state of shock. I re-read the letter, a phone number after her name. I jumped up and hollered out, punching the air. I wrestled for a few moments as I unlocked the window and pulled the window part-way down. I breathed in the cool mountain air and muted my yell, then I narrowed my eyes, feeling giddy and full of it all, as I hissed through pursed lips, “Yes, what do you think of that, Mr. Devil, take that you mutant, you gargoyle from deep in the dark jungles of the wolf lair. You thought you’d drag me about, kicking and screaming, allowing the wolves to slowly devour me, did you? Well, take that! You could not possess Janet, my sister! As I knew she would, she disavowed you. You did not succeed in continuing the chasm between us; no, instead she is back, back from the abyss there with you, and sorry but she is on my side, she has abandoned you! I have won again!”
I took particular delight in such bantering with the dark spirit, always lurking about, ready to do me injustice and harm. At times, I thought I might give in and succumb, but I held on by my fingernails, right there at the edge of the thousand foot drop, clinging, just barely, with very, very little to hang on for. Many times I wondered why I didn’t just let go, why I didn’t allow myself my ultimate release. I felt death to be rather mystical for me, a surreal and peaceful experience. How could it be any more agonizing than this life? I felt I had to find peace and solitude, yes, tranquility in the next life, so why hang on?
I breathed in the cool mountain air and smiled, and I gloated again, “I have the letter right here from Janet, you bitter, resentful, vile beast! I have the letter from Elianne, and that is for real. Why don’t you go on and find someone who is a bit less formidable to haunt. You should have finished me when you had the chance, evil spirit! Go ahead, go sulk and pout; Denton Wunderlin is at the top of his game. Tell your other evil-doers the same, miscreant! I beat you once again!”
I opened Janet’s letter again and said, “Oh yes! Janet, you crazy thing, you and, and,” as I quickly caught her name in the letter, “You and Delilah are coming for a visit? Wow!”
I immediately turned and grabbed a pen and paper out of my bag. I began to write, the words flowing out to her.
“Janet,
It was so good to hear from you. Yes, yes, yes, to your visiting. I am traveling at the moment. I think I will find residence in Switzerland, possibly Berne or Geneva. And, I forgive you, of course. Your letter was wonderful; it has greatly renewed my spirit. And, I am sure you and Delilah will do just fine. Do not allow anyone to stand in the way of your dreams, Janet. If you let them, they will.
I will call you soon.
Love,
Denton.”
I pulled out an envelope and addressed it to Janet. I sealed it and put it in my bag, telling myself to mail it as soon as I arrived in Geneva.
I lay back and slowly a grin came over my face. I thought, how ironic things were, how I left and found some modicum of solace and peace here and now Janet was going to do the same. It would be so harsh for dad and mom but Janet had chosen her life, just as I did and we simply had to move on; there was no going back.
I felt a real rush of adrenaline. My sister wanted to make up! And, she was coming here, at least for a visit. Things were moving very fast all of a sudden and I decided that I would have to just bear down and go with whatever came my way. I felt as though I had to find it in myself to now move forward; to make my break and disallow Satan to continue haunting me.