[i]☼ ○ ▬
My mother approaches me with terrible news. She’s been
diagnosed with a life threatening disease that has no recovery plan. She will
die. I take notice of her sad fearful eyes. I suggest researching a natural
remedy at home. That seems to be the only hope.
▬ ○ ☼ ○ ▬
A stressful situation in my house. Too many people. My
attention spread thin. Anthony thought it would be clever to remove select
pictures off my bedroom walls. I find a few of them hidden behind the door.
“Why?” I demand. “Why would you go out of your way to do such a thing? This is
ridiculous!”
▬ ○ ☼
It’s 7 a.m. She’s up and about attempting to wake me but I
refuse to budge.
Me: “I need to sleep, Ays. Just a few more hours.”
She allows me to get my rest. Eventually, we get ready and
leave our one-night motel near the ocean and head out for breakfast at Duck
Donuts.
Sitting outside with our half-dozen with mixed flavors. I
sip on Coffee.
Me: “These really are the best donuts...I think I’ve ever
had.”
...
She teaches me how to say, My girl lives in Russia,
in Russian. For both of our entertainment, and of course my education, I recite
it out loud many times, “Моя девушка живет в России.”
...
Back on the road heading south. A thrift shop grabs our
attention. Then, Jockey’s Ridge State Park: a desert wonderland of epic proportions.
We trek our feet across the 30 million tons of hot sand (I keep my socks on for
protection) – pricklies sometimes attaching to my heel – the sun beating down
on our faces – throwing the frisbee – running up and down the sand mountains –
the surrealist imagery is all too good to be true – the breeze shifting the
sand low on the ground – it’s utter beauty – you can imagine yourself walking
on an exotic desert in Africa or something.
Sharing Egg Salad Sandwiches and Raspberry Lemonade.
...
Back on the road, heading south of the Outer Banks...passing
through Mirlo Beach and Rodanthe. These secluded little beach houses on stilts
seem like places you only dream about. After about an hour we arrive at the
Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, the tallest one in North America, 210 feet high,
built in 1870. We pay the $7 to climb all the way to the top. Here we are
getting an ultra panoramic view of the oceanic environment. It’s absolutely
beautiful – a grandiose perspective.
The wind pummels our faces convincing us we could fall over
at any moment. One of the rangers takes notice to Aysena and I; he claims we
look exactly like two friends of his...doppelgangers. Brian seems bewildered by
it. We strike up small talk and share laughter with him.
Me: “Small world I guess. I’m sure a lot of strange things
can happen up here.”
He points out to the Diamond Shoals, a hidden shallow break
along the coast, and explains that’s the reason this lighthouse was built. A
voice cuts in on his CB radio, “Attention, Rangers. Just an FYI: we’re
lowering the flag half mask today in honor of the American ambassador that was
killed yesterday in Libya...”
Me: “Whoa. What was that all about?”
He explains that the U.S. embassy in Libya was hit with
RPG’s.
Me: “Dang...and on 9-11. I can’t believe that.”
...
We retreat to the beaches nearby but the water is too cold
for our tastes. We just dip our feet and explore the shore for pretty
seashells.
Snacking on the leftover Crab, Shrimp, and Veggies from last
night’s dinner.
...
Driving back up north on highway 12. We find an Italian
eatery and enjoy a whole Cheese Pizza. I sip on a Dr. Pepper. The Weather
Channel on TV shows clips of raging tornados and floods. I try to converse
about storms in Yakutia. There’s some confusion during the exchange of certain
words and she closes up, similar to what happened last night at the frozen
yogurt place. I try to understand what went wrong but she won’t talk. It has
something to do with my domineering attitude when I talk. We wait it out and
finish our dinner. After a while I decide to break the mold, “Okay. I’m sorry.
We’re not leaving until you kiss me.” She smiles and accepts the gesture. We
can leave happy now.
It’s a quarter before 8 p.m. and the darkness prevails over
our straight and narrow road, but not without a haunting sunset on the west
side of the bank first.
...
She sleeps soundly while moody Coldplay tracks lull me at
the wheel.
Back in Virginia Beach...at home. Settling in and unpacking.
Showering. Going through photos from the trip together – picking the ones that
are sub-par and deleting them but keeping the gems.
Toasted Peanut Butter Sandwich. Honey Green Tea.
Lying on the bed and getting into a deep discussion about
the possibilities of our relationship taking place in a different setting with
different dynamics, like both speaking a shared language fluently, or if we met
in her country. We both recognize the option that a connection might not have
been made without these unique summer conditions. Oh, these avant-garde
relationships that take place in my life.
Making love.
Sleep 3 a.m.
[i] All photos
by Aysena and me.
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