16

Instead of going home, I turned my car around and drove directly into the city, parking my car by the Charles River and stepping out in the unusually quiet day. I was desperately in need of some soulsearching because the anger I was feeling towards myself was choking the will to live right out of me. Part of me considered jumping into the river for what I did to Jennifer, and ultimately, for what I did to my own happiness, but instead I turned away from the bridge and walked into the heart of the city, wondering what Jennifer was doing and thinking at that moment. I convinced myself she was dug deep within a solitary bunker, her poetry and thoughts keeping her company while I wandered the landscape alone.

I glanced up at the summer sun and let its warmth settle on my undeserving eyes. I had come so close to what I had been searching for my entire life for and here I was wallowing in the realization that I had thrown it all away. My old ways were determined to leave with a fight and I took that last sip from the bottle only to discover it to be a deadly and poisonous concoction. I may have been freed from the rape charges that were wrongly brought against me, but I was still in prison. Having to live without Jennifer was my sentence.

I continued walking as conversations I had once held with Jennifer replayed in my mind. I remembered how she explained her poetry to me and more specifically, the part about watching the details of nature. That afternoon Mother Nature’s cup overflowed and my eyes didn’t have to be specifically tuned to its frequency to see her presence. Due to a rainy spring a few months before, the vegetation was a lush green. The grass, the plants and the trees that

grew tall above me all gave off a collective aura and it seemed plausible that one could pass through this life giving off green electricity and travel into another time and space. Sadly, I knew that if Jennifer was with me in the moment she would feel the same thing. After all it was the same dreamer of a woman that first introduced me to this hidden world below the surface.

She gave me so much in such a short period of time and opened my eyes to places I had visited, but never truly seen, but what did I do for her? Did I enlighten Jennifer to anything? Maybe my encounter with Jill was a saving grace for Jennifer. Could it have been her protective angel that intervened and stopped everything from progressing so that she wouldn’t end up another casualty of my mad world?

It was at that moment that I decided I was going to leave the ‘hood. I didn’t want to make Jennifer uncomfortable having to live beside me day in and day out and I didn’t need to reside on Oak Street in order to make sure Jamal stayed on track. In fact, once I was sure he’d be headed in the right direction, I’d relocate to my log home and miniature mountain in Pennsylvania where I’d try to find peace in the woods and in the silence of my mind. I’d choose never again to return to the world stage and decided I was better fit to play the role of the hermit, locked away from the rest of society.

I continued across Storrow Drive and along the Charles where I watched ducks glide with the water’s current. A large black bird with a long crowbar-shaped neck dove continuously, breaking and entering into fish flesh. At the river’s edge, a robin repeatedly stabbed a worm in broad daylight, and the wind, using tall blades of grass, scribbled its bent signature in the air.

The river led me to the heart of Boston. I passed by Faneuil Hall Marketplace, which was a melting pot of designer labels, including the safari stock, the classic khaki persuasion and the Brooks Brothers and Sisters who strolled along with their hands in their pockets anxious to liberate funds. And of course there were the next generation of Nikes and Pumas in their basketball blazers, the young cattle already name-branded and milked by parent companies.

I passed by a homeless man on the sidewalk with a sign next to him that read, “Why lie? I need a drink.” I handed him a five dollar bill and he said with a penetrating stare, “God bless you.”

I headed away from the crowd and reached the edge of Market Street. Above me there was a row of birds standing on a live wire whose high voltage could not affect them. The tiny birds were preoccupied, indifferent to human sounds, solitary but connected. Their music seemed so out of place amidst the concrete plains. I closed my eyes and consumed a substantial portion of their symphony, each note coming off as perfection. It was like drinking from a watering hole of beauty. The sounds of horns and sirens faded into a living silence, the same silence emanating from a desert dune or a majestic mountain. It was here, all around, in the seemingly dead space of the city.

I opened my eyes. All of the birds had disappeared. Several people were looking at me with curious expressions, and I told myself that they’re in between places, but it was me who was between worlds.

I walked over to an empty bench and sat down. At my feet, a small blade of grass had found its way through the cobblestone. It wavered back and forth in the summer breeze. Nature was flying at half mast.