I’m on board.  Waiting in my seat.  I look out at the harbor, in the hazy evening fuzz, a fog just lifting from sea level.  My eyes are tearing up; that lemon in my tea is so incredibly sour, it gets to me like a Meg Ryan movie after a depressing call from my ex and a bottle of Pinot.  I’m going away and it feels good.  I like the bouy line in the water; reminds me of China and the water lanterns with their tiny flame beacons resting inside paper glass.  Strangely beautiful.

 ‘How many pretty pictures of her do I own?’ I ask myself, as a tall man with a slack jaw and a husky guy keep walking by me, unable to make a decision as to whether they should sit down and let the train start or go find the food car; I hate meandering people with a empty bellies.  They’ll always find food.
 There’s Paris, on the waterfront, with sherry glasses in our hands, then the park, with Max.  Another sore spot; can’t even see my damn dog anymore.  He’s such a friendly mutt, and loved to lick; kinda of didn’t like that about him but I loved playing rough.  He loved to tussle and roll around, play fetch, all the fun stuff man and his best friend are known for doing.  Now, he’s going to be cooped up in some stuffy condo, having to fetch the proverbial slippers of some posh-bank account in the form of a man assuredly more attractive than me.  Poor Max.
 The moving vessel lurches forward, then halts, then progresses on, gliding the steel tracks as if it were fitted with ice skates moving on a frozen pond.  I looked out my window one more time and took in the breathtaking sight, feeling it was less of what I wanted and more of what I had dreamed about.  But not all dreams can come true.  Damn you, Bessie.  I think I even loved you more than Max.

“He’s coming, don’t worry, just give me a little time.  Of course, he’ll have the money, is it really that big of a deal, okay, stupid question,” …
I hate pandering.  I look over at Sheng, who is proudly wearing his new Raptors jersey I adorned him with. Bribes, I don’t mind, but pandering is a different story.
“Okay, now translate that, please.”  Sheng smiled innocently and began speaking very quickly in language so indecipherable to me, I decided to not even pay attention, but to begin buttering the slightly overfried piece of toast in front of me.  It was a little crunchy and blackened than I liked it, but who was I to complain if the room was on the concierge?  Sheng knew a guy that owed him a favor, that kind of thing.  He hung up the phone and nodded to me in a reassuring way, even if I didn’t think his goofy smile was reassuring in any way at all.  I motioned for him to get out, because a shower was calling out to me.  I let him out, with a handful of tiny sausages in his hand, then locked myself in the underwhelming bathroom.  As the beads of water came cascading down my face, I thought of Ben and how stupid he was for going back after her.  Maybe he was going after the dog, no, that was what he would want people to think.  I knew they were wasted on each other because they were nothing alike.  But, Bessie and me, we would have made a pair.  I try to pretend I didn’t just have the thought of going after the girl who smashed my brothers heart into tiny fragments, but I knew if I had the chance, I would do it.  I always have those very un-proud moments, things that come to light when I’m in the shower.  Things you would never admit to anyone else in the world, but facts that you deem true and keep silent.  Like the fact that I would completely bang the hell out of my brothers ex, probably even when they were still together.  God, I’m an asshole.
 I shut off the water just as it started to get cold and wrap a dry towel around my waist.  I exit back into my room and start looking for my favorite shirt, this thin collared shirt that isn’t too rough, or too short.  Black Beauty, I call her, but maybe black is too hot to wear.  Not under the bed, so I turn around to check the other side of the room and then I notice it.  The front door is slightly ajar. Someone was just in here.  I immediately dart over to the black safe in my room( that I had to rent for 30 bucks) and start spinning the wheel to hit the short sequence of numbers that will crack the thing wide open.  It only takes me four seconds (I had been practicing) and then another second to flip the door over to it’s completely open stage.  And it’s gone.  The money I was promising the man on the phone that I really had the whole time I was lying to him was gone.  And only one guy knew how to get to it.  Sheng.  Dad told me he was a loyal friend; loyal, my ass.  I throw on a pair of briefs and some shorts and remember to take my room key and dart from the scene of the crime out into the bright, busy streets of Beijing.  I turn out onto the first street I come to, which leads to a wide open square.  I’d be able to spot him a mile away from this place.  Shit.  Not today.

This is so royally fucked up and prejudice of me, but they all look the same.  The Raptors jersey!

Hours later…
 I finally arrive back at the hotel room, without money or Sheng.  I need to leave a letter for Ben and call Dad.  We’ve been completely swindled.  Damn it, should have gotten the mini bar instead of the safe; the money is gone anyways.

Ding-dong!  Ding-dong!
“okay, maybe this is the pizza, give me the money.  Now, Tom.  Now, and that means, right now.”
He is being a butt head, holding the wrinkled twenty behind his back, forcing me to bend over and reach for it, which in turn gives him an excuse to grab me and hold me like I was his blushing bride, but I’m not.  I’m not anyones.
“I have to get the… door, come on.” He hands me the bill, flashing a cute smile that he tries to melt me with, but I’m stone, pure solid granite and I don’t give him the satisfaction of one in return.  I skip to the door, sliding on the hallway rug, nearly tripping over Max, then swing open the wide, single paned door to see… two girls, uniforms.  They are all smiles, cute ones, with freckles on their little pale cheeks and adorable braids, hanging from under their green berets like a potted plant from a hook on the front porch.
“Would you like to support Girl Scouts of America?” they say simultaneously, like they’ve practice it.  But, then innocent little girl giggles ensue, and now I know they aren’t rehearsing for their ball busting sales careers.  Thank goodness.
“Sure, how much are they?” I say, in the most adult peculiar voice I can muster.
“Only $4.00 a box.  We have six vareties:  Windmill, Chocolate Peanut Butter, Mint…’
“Oh, I’ll take two Chocolate Peanut Butter, how about that?”
“Thank you, maim.  Have a nice day.”
They dole out the boxes of sugar and chocolate and I can feel my face breaking out.  Now, I need more money for the pizza.  Tom is sitting on the couch and I crouch behind the wall in the hallway and stare at him.  Not because I’m smitten, just because I am unsure of another man being in my living room.  Maybe just a different man than Ben.  Tom is nice, and he likes me, but he’s going the same route as Ben, always wanting to protect me, or do things for me when I don’t need them.  The sex is…good, with Tom, but different.  You would think they all feel the same but they don’t.  But, Tom is good to me, he kisses me after wards and lays in bed, but he doesn’t lay like Ben did.  He lays…different.  Unfamiliar.  Strange, even. Max comes gingerly walking up to me and I hold his head in my arms and pet his soft, finely brushed fur.  He misses Ben, I can see it in his eyes.  He’s confused.  So am I.  He’s gone though and that’s that. I stand up and bring Max into the living room and hold out my hand to Tom, the universal sign that a woman needs money.  He gets a smile on his face; he likes being able to come to my rescue.  He gives me another bill from his wallet and I exchange the currency with the newly procured cookies to him.  And then, Ding-dong!  Ding-dong!

“Finally, I’m getting hungry,” I see Max trot towards Tom who reaches out to pet him, but he goes the other way.  I push down the door handle again, this time already smelling the wondrous aroma that will be steaming from out of the two pizza boxes waiting behind the door, but that is not at all what it is.  It’s a man that has no reason to be at my door step.
“Chelsea Bob?  What are you doing here, at my house?” His face had wrinkles in it, like a flannel shirt, and his face hid all signs of emotions, but he was a fair man with a gentle tone and a few wisps of hair left on top of his head.  He was Ben’s father.
“Bessie, don’t do this to Benny.  He cares for you something awful.  He had to leave for me; he’s doing me a favor and I need him to be focused on the task at hand, and not how he’s going to concoct some crazy ass stunt to get you back.  Can you give him a call?”
“I have a guest, Chelsea Bob.  It’s not just him going halfway across the world on our anniversary, it was last year’s anniversary when he had to bail stupid Jimmy out of jail.  Then, it was my birthday the year before that when he brought Max home for me, then we got kicked out of the apartment complex for not notifying we had a pet.  He tries too hard and he doesn’t try hard enough all at once.”
 “So, you going to shack up with someone else to clear your head.  After 3 weeks.  3 weeks, hell you can’t be over him like that?”
 “He’s been gone longer than that, probably 3 months and I’m not any younger.  He’s been here, in this house too long, for me not to try and put someone in his place.  You need to go; I got pizza coming.”
 “I love pizza.  I’ll stay.  We’ll call him together.  He’s miserable without you, Bessie and you know it.”
 “I have company.  I already told you that.”
 “Well, I’ll kick his ass out!  Max!  Come here, boy,” and of course, he does.  A scent and a voice he recognizes besides my own.  Chelsea Bob always took Max out on long walks through the river country out past the highway.  He loves it there.  So did Ben.
 “Bessie, I know about the kid.”
 “Arghhhh!” I slammed the door on that son of a bitch.  Damn it, Ben.  You’re a million miles away and you’re making me cry.  They were warm and plentiful, streaming down my face like rain through a gutter pipe.  Ding-dong!  Ding-dong!  Tom came up to me, reciting puppy dog questions he’d heard so many times before and I screamed again, uncontrollably and without thinking.
 “Get the hell away from here!” I screamed and threw open the door in a furious rage to see a pimple faced kid wearing a Domino’s hat and shirt, holding out a red bag in front of me.
 “It’ll be…, um, fourteen dollars, please.”

TO BE CONTINUED...
- Jessie