End Of The Century

Leila picked me up at the Best Western in Northampton. It was Friday night, December 25, 1999. She stopped at a gas station to fill up and then we took Crescent to Route 4. Four miles to Easthampton. She was quiet and pensive. Some indeterminate music emanated from the radio and played softly in the background. I looked out the window as the strip mall shop signs flashed by. Store 24. Stop And Shop. Small town New England.
Leila lived in the country, in the valley, and when we got close to her house, she pulled up on the shoulder and asked me to get out and walk the rest of the way. Her babysitter was at the house and Leila was still a married woman, although separated. I walked slowly up the road, hands in my pockets, shoulders hunched into my favorite blue sweater. It was very cold and a bright moon shone down. A car drove by, the babysitter I guessed. Getting close to the houses, I saw the figure of a woman on a porch. It was Leila, smoking a joint. I don't know if it was her intention but this impressed me.
Once in the house,I sat down at the kitchen table while she warmed up some Christmas leftovers. We talked a little while I ate. I could see Mt. Tom in the distance through her window. Around 11, she said she was tired after the long Christmas day of celebrations and gift-exchanging and cooking and tussling with the kids. We went up to her bedroom and I plopped down into a comfortable overstuffed mini sofa next to her bed. She changed into pajamas and slipped under the covers. It was then that for the first time, in the dark, we relaxed and had a nice conversation. After a while she stopped talking and I knew she'd fallen asleep so I took off my shoes and tiptoed off to the guest room.
Next morning, I woke to the sounds of the doorknob turning back and forth. I could hear giggling little girl voices outside the door. Emily and Miranda. Luckily, I'd locked the door from the inside and the girls were foiled. Soon the voices died down and I dozed off. A car might have driven up to the house and driven away.
Some time passed until an authoritative knock woke me. I heard Leila's voice asking if I planned to sleep all day. I explained that I was waiting for her husband to pick up the girls for the weekend and thus off the hook I bounded into the bathroom.
Showered and dressed, we decided to go into Noho to Haymarket Cafe for coffee and bagels. I loved their Cafe Mochas and talked Leila into having one. We took a table and Leila spread out The Boston Globe to the crossword section. The Globe puzzle wasn't nearly as difficult as the New York Times puzzle and I came up with answer after answer and Leila complimented me several times.
After Haymarket, I asked her to drive me to the Best Western for check out since I would be spending the last night with her. While I was settling up at the office I could see her with her little pencil finishing the Globe puzzle in the car.
Then it was back to Easthampton town to meet Leila's good friend Jill. Jill was a woman in her sixties who had fled the craziness of New York City for a sweeter, saner existence in The Pioneer Valley. She owned and worked in a little restaurant called Imagine where Leila occasionally helped out making the soup of the day. Jill fed me a delicious pastry, one of her specialties, and then half-jokingly said I had better treat Leila well or she would have to hurt me. I smiled and said nothing but I was flattered that Leila's friends saw me in that way although it was obvious that she was deeply emotionally entangled in her broken marriage and the past.
After this we drove back to the house to pick up her white Labrador Belle and then headed for Mt. Tom. Once at the top, we parked and embarked on a trail that overlooked the valley. Leila pointed out her house way down in the valley as we walked, a strong icy wind blowing into our faces. After 15 minutes or so, it was obvious that Belle was the only one having a good time so we decided to cut the walk short and head back to the warmth of the car. On the way back Leila stopped to give directions to a man who was lost. It struck me then how shy and girlish she was and completely unaware of how attractive she was to men.
After dropping Belle off at the house, we went back to Noho for lunch. Japanese was the choice. The food was fine and Leila was in a good mood, joshing me about my inability to handle the New England winter and even tweaking my ear once! We walked around the town afterwards and she told me stories about the end of her marriage. Her husband had hurt her deeply, had fallen in love with another woman and seemed happy in his new life. We passed a fashionable clothing store and Leila pointed out their sign and told me that her husband had designed it.
After the walk,we drove back to Easthampton.It was my last night with her and we decided to stay in. There was plenty of food still left over from Christmas for dinner and afterwards we played scrabble. After trouncing me several times Leila got bored and we stopped. On the score sheet I noticed there were scores of old games with her husband. He had won every time.
The following morning we slept in and had breakfast around 10. My train was leaving at noon. I packed up and brought my bags downstairs. Leila was in the bathroom, applying her make-up. I stood in the open doorway and watched her put on her lipstick. She laughed and chattered like a giddy schoolgirl, pausing every now and then to purse her lips for the applicator. I wondered if I had been a salve for her pain for a few hours. I wasn't sure.
On the way to the station, we saw a red-tailed hawk in distress, floundering on the grassy median in the middle of the highway. Leila said she would contact the Audubon Society when she got back. For some reason, this incident brought home a clear realization to me. I would always be looking in at her world from the outside. I had all this love to give but where was it going to go? Her world was closed to me. This was a Truth.
At the platform of the train station we made idle conversation. Then, as the train approached, and it was time for me to go, she took my hand and brought it her mouth and kissed it. A tear trickled down her cheek and she choked back a sob. I felt numb but knew that soon I wouldn't. Something was ending. I was leaving everything that was passionate and romantic and going back to a life of petty distractions and mundane routines. As the train slowly left the station, I looked out the window at the frozen Connecticut River. An old Joni Mitchell song started playing in my head and I wiped the first hot tears from my face.

Joie, Alegría, Gioia, Joy
Originally uploaded by lorenzodom

Enchanted Evening(2007)

Remembering late December's winter evening, your face in the stained glass window, cardamom tea and prayer rugs, the black dog with almond eyes, route 9 under the night sky, Greenfield and Federal Street, homebrewed beer, wooden floors and socialist sentiment, making our plans in The House of Love, clock strikes 12, Cinderellas frantically try on their glass slippers, as Friday's princes become pumpkins soon to roll awkwardly down Saturday's streets....

Mashpee

Catherine Wadsworth had given me the use of her Maspee cottage on The Cape for a few days one summer.Basha and I decided we would leave Northampton at ten pm and try to get there by two am. 158 miles east. Sleep in Mashpee, then head for Provincetown, where Basha had meetings with potential buyers for his rugs and knick-knacks.. His friend Lalya had agreed to put us up for the night. The challenge was to stay awake behind the wheel, on a Friday, end of the week. After a big meal at India House!
We were both sleepy at the beginning until Basha introduced "manic depression" into the conversation. His wife had suggested that perhaps he was during one of their fights. We debated this and it kept us awake for much of the trip.
We reached Mashpee at four in the morning after getting lost and driving up and down some back roads. We could hear the ocean and smell the salt and knew we were close. Then we couldn't find the cottage and Basha parked near the beach and went to sleep. I kept looking, walking round and round, and finally found it and the key was under the doormat as Catherine had said.(Later Catherine told me that one of the locals was watching us with binoculars from her cottage, in her pajamas, convinced we had come to rob them). I woke Basha and we went into the cottage and slept for a few hours.
When I woke up, Basha had already showered and flooded the bathroom. I soaked it up with towels and left a note for Catherine. And it was off to Provincetown, 60 miles up the Cape.

the heart of saturday night
Originally uploaded by JKonig

Another Saturday Night

Just another Saturday..folding clean laundry..The Acoustic Cafe on the radio
playing softly..this campus is so quiet tonight..."they're throwing roses at your feet, but they're the thorny ones" sings the
singer..I feel like lighting a candle..what does Saturday night have in store, if I
decide to dress up and go out?..what would I miss if I curled up with a good
book?..put the books away and come out and play, whispers Saturday night, all
painted fingernails and perfume..OK, can you give me till the stroke of midnight,
Saturday night?..and keep all your promise and magic for me?..yes, I may try you
again even though you have disappointed me too many times...springing eternal
on a Saturday night...

bus tail
Originally uploaded by egg.

Romance

When I was working a dead-end retail job in Noho, I met a girl who went to Smith. Her name was Pascal and she was lonely and a little depressed. She was from Montreal. I liked her. We had a volatile relationship but sometimes it was perfect.We would meet at the bus stop outside the Academy Of Music at Pulaski Park and take the bus to Amherst where she lived in a house with three other girls.
Sitting in the back of the bus, next to the window that only closed halfway, the cool autumn wind would blow in, while Pascal would tell corny jokes, trying to hide her crooked tooth with her hand as she laughed at her own punch-lines.Love! Street lamps illuminated the fallen leaves that swirled all around the flying bus, as I leaned close to hear. Later, at her house door, she would kiss me, scent of perfume, and slight taste of nicotine. One of those nights, walking back to the bus stop, tripping in a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors and emotion in which I could make out nothing, I heard a sweet voice whisper, "You are a romantic!"

Nadine at Window
Originally uploaded by MyLastSigh

A Dance Remembered

From Date Subject

Leila Feb.9 2000 I'm Still Here
Leila Jan.27, 2000 (None)
Leila Jan.21 2000 Brrrrrrrrr....
Leila Jan 13 2000 Stuff
Leila Jan 13 2000 FW:Christmas
Leila Jan 13 2000 It's Winter!
Leila Jan 7 2000 Here Comes The Sun..
Leila Jan 6 2000 Life
Leila Jan 3 2000 A New Year
Leila Dec.31 1999 End Of An Era
Leila Dec.30 1999 ????
Leila Dec.30 1999 Re: Change In The Weather
Leila Dec.30 1999 3:30 AM And Confused
Leila Dec. 30 1999 Angels And Insects
Leila Dec.25 1999 Re:Saturday
Leila Dec.22 1999 Christmas In The Valley
Leila Dec.22 1999 Re:Devotion
Leila Dec.22 1999 You Gotta Have Faith
Leila Dec. 21 1999 Re:Christmas Weekend
Leila Dec. 22 1999 Re: A Season In The Life
Leila Dec.21 1999 My Thoughts
Leila Dec.20 1999 Down In The Valley
Leila Dec.20 1999 Helloooo!
Leila Dec. 18 1999 Here And There
Leila Dec.17 1999 Re: A Bright Day
Leila Dec. 17 1999 The Color Of Christmas

Midnight Mile

Stroke of midnight..Leila, Basha and I are on the snow covered running track at Smith..the air is clean and cold..I show them Paradise Pond and the boathouse..I tell Basha about the ceremonies at the mental hospital, with Bach's Magnificat playing from speakers all over the empty building..I look at his eyes and see him imagining it..Leila's black cape flaps in the wind and she is wearing a Russian hat that makes her look like Lara from Dr.Zhivago..Basha challenges me to a race around the snowy track..I'm too full of good will to be aggressive..I point out the Holyoke Range as we round the tennis courts ..memory of lying with Jasmine on the green slope of the lacrosse field, both of us in jogging shorts, perspiring after a run..the world was a perfect blue that summer day as we lay there watching a small plane lazily make its way across the Massachusetts sky..

Tonight, I'm alone in these wastelands, looking out my window at snowy streets.....a perfect silence inside, and outside, traffic sounds like ocean waves...the town is tucked into itself following the snowfall....near by, the big river is flowing cold and fast.... ghosts are dancing and singing in the abandoned hospital, where winter winds blow through empty rooms. . .somewhere, a young girl is staring intently at a computer screen, her fingers tapping keys..her mother has fallen asleep on the couch with the TV on, her face tired and worn....

Opening

from the train window
Originally uploaded by crowdive

Hartford..lights reflecting off the black water..my face pressed against the
train window..Springfield in two hours...the cold train station..bounding
down the stairs with my red suitcase..airport van to the rescue, 20 dollars
to Northampton...New England night sky , signs whooshing by, Chicopee,
Holyoke, Easthampton, Northampton...in the lobby of the motel next to the
bowling alley..room 157..combing my hair, the face in the mirror, my pulse
quickening...phoning you..waiting in the motel lobby..the clock strikes
9.00..and I can feel you..coming..to me..

Winter Afternoon

Waitress
Originally uploaded by florriebassingbourn

at Paul &Elizabeth..

I order shrimp tempura and a raspberry fizzle..Jasmine my server is thin
with short black hair and dark circles under her eyes..she leaves and I
resume staring out the window..two boys are struggling to get their sled up
the hill..I can see the traffic on Main Street negotiating the snowy
road..sudden sense of loneliness and doubt..ah, these wastelands!..Jasmine
arrives with my salad and soup...she has long, tapered fingers and a silver
bracelet around her right wrist..a scent of patchouli as she bends over the
table and I wonder what her earlobe tastes like..

Solstice

Vesper
Originally uploaded by doctorhectic

The Tunnelbar...

My friend The Tunnel Bar Saturday night again..how many evenings have I
spent here?..I should name the chairs, I know all the bartenders by
name.."It'll e nd in tears but not for years" someone is singing, as I sit
in a sunken leather chair, Jasmine next to me drinking a Cosmopolitan, every
now and then discreetly slipping a finger into my mouth, her shoeless foot
rubbing inside my pants leg..Heaven!..I order another round as Jasmine leans
over, whispers in my ear,"Take ecstasy with me tonight!"..

Florence

Christmas Lights
Originally uploaded by rbglasson

December 25..

It was already dark when I arrived in Florence. The Luminary Lights had been turned on in the town triangle, and a few people had gathered there under a cold winter moon, huddling around a small fire. Leila had told me her ex would be there with his new family but I didn't see him in the crowd. I joined the people around the fire and warmed my hands. Little sparks popped and snapped as more wood and branches were thrown in. The clip-clop sounds of horses hooves preceded a wagon that pulled up to the triangle, emptying out laughing children, as a line of solemn little faces waited their turn. Someone passed me a flask and I took a swig of what must have been brandy and passed it on. A few miles away, in Easthampton, Leila was probably getting dinner ready for the girls. It was the 25th. day of December, Christmas for all of us.