by Gus Leodas
I found the strength to press the pedal.
The mustang drove away without extending grief and anger to the accelerator to negotiate the turn and winding road.
Laura watched the Mustang go and wiped her eyes dry with a hand swipe smudging the eye makeup then she reached into the purse for the compact.
She raised the lid exposing the two switches.
With stuttering hesitation, she pushed one of the switches up.
Tears blurred her vision again as her finger primed to push the other switch down. Laura wiped her wet eyes again then repositioned her finger on the switch knowing she must push the switch before the Mustang drove out of range.
Laura tried to stop the quake in her lips and the tremor in her fingers as she reached for the force and the decision to push her finger.
The car drove deeper into greenery.
“Goodbye, Adam. I do love you.”
The car drove farther away, the sound of its engine waning.
A thin dust cloud from the dirt and gravel road trailed behind.
Laura was in trauma returning the tears that surrendered her body to crying. Crying brought the decision. She heaved a deep breath and descended from her moment of madness and pressure on the switch eased as she withdrew her anger and finger.
She closed the compact and tossed it far into the pond, distressed she could think of maiming or killing the man she loved.
The splash, like a tidal wave, cleansed her priorities, her decision, and trauma.
She stared at the Mustang as the trees hid more and more until disappearing into the forest. She remained in place with the rejection residue then wondered if she would ever see me again.
Her hopes wilted as a dead body.
I was thankful the body wasn’t mine.
“What a woman says to her ardent lover should be
written in wind and running water.”
Catullus 87C – 54BC
The drive back to New York City seemed endless with my mind no longer being part of this world, causing a wrong turn before reaching the thruway. My body felt encased, suspended in limbo. I had self-destructed overwhelmed by principle that avalanched any sense of humor. With the world undergoing terrorism, I rejected all humor about terror. I was terrorized, although well intentioned. I didn’t give a damn about Laura’s well intentioned prank. I have always believed that in some humor there is reality. Poisoning Senator Bender was reality.
How could I believe otherwise in that kangaroo court?
I did the right thing. I fled. I continued fleeing after I garaged Laura’s car, until I shuttled to Washington and reached home.
Again, I thought – Did Laura reach a point of no return? Did she cross over the line that her cause was priority, accepting violence?
I had cut my life-sustaining cord ending my love with the only woman I could ever love as deeply again. No one can ever replace or duplicate the depth of my love for Laura. I had unraveled two souls that should have been one. Her love weakening me ended. I needed to live by my principles. I justified my position.
Someday, I will love who I marry knowing that I could never again love the way I loved Laura. I hope I’m wrong, and that that well isn’t poisoned.
I didn’t call Laura the next week and she didn’t call me. Had she, I would have ignored the answering machine. At work, I refused to answer my phone directly fearing Laura may call there. I remained firm by immersing in work and reading mystery and suspense novels to erase her. I worked harder at work to keep her away. Evenings, a Tom Hanks and a Denzel Washington movie helped. I also rented two DVD’s starring Bruce Willis and John Travolta. At night, I resorted to a sleeping pill to help me escape. I also set my home phone to ring busy.
Attempting to escape highlighted the problem.
Trying to avoid thinking of Laura, I felt as a salmon struggling to go upstream against the stream’s strong current. The salmon struggled but made slow headway. I knew I would also if I fought Laura’s current and her possession of my thoughts.
Winning was never more depressing.
A heavy weight remained on my shoulders. The sun no longer shone in my world, as I stood firm in my conviction to erase her.
She was like blowing out a gag birthday candle that kept relighting.
The first workweek was punishment.
I endured with difficulty functioning as if I had severed a limb and a piece of my brain with a perennial black cloud over everything I did. Sleep was the only peace, the only escape.
Laura lived in me defying me to evict her.
The first week turned out to be a major hurdle. I gained confidence that the second week would be better, and the week after that more improved. I had to reach far and plan for a solution. I accepted that it would take at least a month before I could function a full day without thoughts of Laura. I needed to win, to move on accepting the loss, or live in self-pity.
I needed my dignity to fight her.
I needed to stand solid with my pride.
I could continue for pages telling you how misery smothered me, but I won’t depress you. Besides, nobody wants to hear a whiner. Further, you witnessed my similar gyrations the last time I left Laura. Why subject you again? Considerate of you, I’ll ‘cut to the chase’.
Eight days after I left the Catskills, on Sunday morning, someone impatiently banged on my door as if the place was on fire. I looked terrible and unshaven, unenthused to answer. There must be a building emergency, or the FBI regarding Judy. When I opened the door and before the shock left my face, Laura said, pointing a finger at my face,
“I allowed you seven days to call me. This is the eighth day. You’re stubborn and a fool. You had me worried.”
I stood speechless as she scolded. I stared frozen at the face that had ignited my senses whenever I saw it.
She smiled as if nothing happened, just another commute to Washington on a weekend.
That’s all it took.
My weak foundation cracked like a stone hitting a windshield cracking in a dozen directions across and down like veins out of control.
The unforgivable salmon was happy to end its struggle, swept away by her presence. To paraphrase – If the mountain wouldn’t come to her, she would come to the mountain.
I know I should have been stronger, and several of you may be disappointed at my non-macho weakness, but love is strong, sometimes irrational and Laura is my breath, my sunrise, and sunset – no matter what I say or think.
On the other hand…There is strength in forgiveness…a powerful sentence.
Please do not repel Laura for what she almost did to me, and my believing her contaminated by her cause.
Temporary madness from anger does happen.
I could also describe how terrible and regretful the ‘committee’ – my sorority angels – felt last week, plus Laura’s emotional experience with a future without me, and her joke’s unexpected failure. Then I will be reviewing ground similar to mine, a mirror image. We hurt together, but separate. We all have goals, arrogance, and frailties. Laura’s week was as miserable. She had the courage to confront me. Was she more desperate to be together again…or stronger?
Moving on.
The weekend following I married Laura in that house in the Catskills – with the same guests and reverend – a small and special wedding to continue where they expected me to accept their humor to marry Laura as ‘punishment’. I insisted they all wear the same clothing as if the committee hearing never happened…to start over.
We all had many laughs over the mock committee hearing recalling my reactions to death, senility, and castration. I could take you to the wedding day, but the story about the initial four members of the Achilles Heart ends…for now. The ‘mock’ rehearsal was a reason for all to gather again with me. My gyrations and emotional distress are an aside – a sidebar to the main event. Believe it or not, we had two wedding days (why should Laura do anything normal?). The second, a formal wedding, was two months later and included th
e angels, old and new, and other friends and family – about a hundred and fifty guests at the Plaza Hotel in New York City.
Laura was a priceless work of art in her wedding gown.
I came to tears when I saw her.
And you may not want me describing how Alise belly danced again with me. I danced much better and sexier in my tuxedo.
Jasmine, Asmir, Kim, and Tao had delayed scheduled trips to their countries to attend the formal wedding. What they encountered on returning to their homelands also was unplanned. Those are tales for later – maybe, maybe not. Media may provide clues of their behind the scene activities in their countries.
Shaba remains in New York and dates Erron Horsford her advertising art director. They are destined for marriage. She is the happiest and liveliest person you will ever meet. Oh, and Shaba sleeps under a ceiling mirror in her bedroom.
When federal security forces and New York City detectives questioned Alise, she explained she returned from Argentina and was with the victims for an hour or so after the fund raiser at the Hilton then left for home. She had come alone. Her long-term employment with Ali and government service was in her favor in being a suspect. Unable to connect Alise with probable cause – although protected by diplomatic immunity – she was released. The Syrian Embassy announced she would remain in her post to assist a new ambassador. Speculation was that religious terrorists from Syria, enemies of the Baath Party, might have been involved in the contained explosion that assassinated Ali and Kabani and destroyed the elevator. Within six months, Alise would return to Syria to help initiate hunger and poverty programs, and return periodically.
Pilar and Tomayo live in New York and remain our close friends. They persuaded their uncle to emphasize hunger and poverty programs and to stabilize the government with Senator Quintero.
I relocated to New York to practice law with a firm on Wall Street. Laura and I live in her apartment. Her wish came true – that I pay her rent.
I still have nightmares knowing Laura nearly pushed the second switch. When Laura admitted her temporary madness, an argument ensued regarding her warmonger cause. I won the argument – I think.
She vows to me that her emphasis at the expanded Achilles Heart meetings is strictly on poverty, hunger and UNICEF, like the first meeting. I do believe her…in a guarded way, as our life continues on a fulltime basis. I still have anxiety and doubts expecting the unexpected from Laura’s never ending bin of surprises.
When I kissed Laura for the first time as my wife at the end of the first wedding ceremony, I realized the obvious.
In the end, she had won.
But so had I.
I wake up every morning to the face I love.
And so…I bring to an end this journey of well intentioned angels of humanitarian causes.
No longer this odyssey’s Homer, I’m going back to being myself and minding my own business…and Laura’s.
Whether you agree or disagree with what they did is your business.
What would you have done in their place if you walked in their shoes?
Think about it.
The world isn’t Disneyland.
