Title: Tales from an Unknown Corner
Chapters: 03-04 (of 20)
Author: Dai_wakizashi
Universe: Tfauc
Summary:  Journey of a troubyoung man looking for a path and 
people around him, who, at times, give shape to his journey.
Codes: MF, FF, MFF, oral, anal, toys, petting, romance, drama
Status: in progress
Revision: 2.0

Web Sites:
  ASSTR-  http://www.asstr.org/~dai_wakizashi/
  SOL-        http://storiesonline.net/home.php
  EWP-       http://www.ewpub.org/ewpub.html

Discussion Forum:
   http://www.ewpub.org/messageboard/viewforum.php?f=76

*****************************************************************




              TALES FROM AN UNKNOWN CORNER  [Tfauc]



CHAPTER - 3: Angels Watching Over



I don't know how long I sat there... a half hour... an hour. It 
was getting late, and I needed to head home, but I couldn't bring 
myself to leave the table--even after her presence faded away. 
Eventually, I marshaled enough strength to get myself off the 
chair. Towing my suitcase on its rollers, I walked to the main 
hall with the view of the aprons. For some reason I wanted to 
linger in this place. I didn't want to admit it, but I was 
scared; scared that if I stepped out of this building, I would 
lose my soul. Turn into just an empty carcass, wandering 
aimlessly... a mindless creature that would fade away... in time.

Looking out the panoramic windows, I watched the planes taking 
off and landing, but my eyes were not really seeing much. I was 
gazing at the past. Was it my stubborn side that didn't want to 
let it go, or was I not ready to come to terms with... with loss? 
For almost five years, she had been a part of me, however much I 
had tried to forget her... or convince myself that it was over. 
And now, this encounter brought home that I had never let go of 
her... she was, still, very much a part...

I was in a bubble, cut off from my surroundings, enveloped by her 
aurora, the past, and how she felt in my arms a while ago. What's 
more, for a brief period, the emptiness inside me had been filled 
with the warmth of her smile, her laughter, and all the other 
feelings she had evoked in me. Even the sadness I had felt during 
our conversation had been a welcome relief from the constant 
emptiness, or the anger that had been part of me for so long. 
Now, it was back to emptiness. I didn't have the energy or the 
inclination to muster anger, or any other emotion. I felt like a 
ship without any wind behind its sails, cast adrift, lost in the 
middle of the ocean, without a port of call.

This wasn't closure, contrary to any notion I might have or cling 
to.

"Excuse me... Excuse me... Sir?"

I heard a female voice far away, calling out, intruding...

"Sir? Are you all right?"

_Was somebody talking to me?_

Then, I felt a hand touch my arm, followed by an insistent and 
concerned, "Are you all right?"

As I broke out of my haze, I saw a woman in uniform, standing by 
my side. My mind was sluggish, but eventually I recognized the 
airline uniform. When my eyes settled on her face, she looked 
familiar, but I couldn't place where I had seen her or recall a 
name.

"I'm sorry... What did you say?" I asked, struggling to pull 
myself together, and get my bearings.

"Are you all right? Do you need a doctor or something?" she 
asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"I-I... I'm all right... Do I know you?" I blurted.

She hesitated for a moment, giving me a quizzical look, then 
decided to answer. "I was on the flight."

Drawing a blank look from me, she elaborated. "I was one of the 
flight attendants on your flight."

"Ahhh... That's why you looked familiar..."

My mind skipped a gear, and I was puzzled why she would be here, 
when...

"You don't have a flight?" I asked.

"No. My flight was cancelled, so I get to spend the night here."

"Aahh..."

_Your flight is cancelled... Is she..._

The wheels started to turn faster, and I debated whether to ask 
her about that. Before I could come to a decision, she asked, 
"Can we take a seat there?" pointing at the row of seats a few 
meters away from where we were standing.

Without waiting for a response, she gently guided us there.

After we took our seat, I remembered to introduce myself. "I'm 
sorry. Where are my manners... Mitchell Tanner."

"That's OK. You were, pre-occupied... Dana Conor," she replied 
pleasantly.

I was starting to feel a headache come, as if my tiredness wasn't 
enough. I closed my eyes, rubbing them, massaging my temples. 
When I felt the tension leave, I opened my eyes to find her 
watching me.

"I'm sorry... I'm pretty beat up... I guess it shows," I offered 
as a way of explanation.

She just waved it off as if to say 'it's all right,' but kept 
watching me. She waited patiently as I tried to gather a 
semblance of myself. Once I felt a bit more human, I was curious 
about her. A thousand questions rushed in, all at once: what was 
she doing here, why did she think I needed help, where was...

I guess it must have showed on my face, so she said, "I was on my 
way to the exit, when I saw you standing there, and recognized 
you from the flight. You know what happened on the flight... my 
colleague was paying extra attention to you, so it was kind of 
hard not to recognize you."

I nodded. "I guess... Pretty unusual wasn't it?"

"It happens, but not very frequently."

"So what made you..." I prompted, my curiosity getting the better 
of me.

She was reluctant to answer, and I could see she felt 
uncomfortable.

"I understand... We just met, and don't know each other. And I 
think I have an idea how I look at the moment," I said with a 
sigh.

"You... You were like a statue, cut out of stone... I couldn't 
see if you were breathing. I thought, maybe I should call for 
some medical help."

"That bad, eh?"

She nodded, concern written on her face. However, she kept her 
curiosity in check, not wanting to intrude. In a way, it was a 
strange situation. She might know I was a friend of her 
colleague, but she didn't know me.

"You seem to be OK now, are you?" she asked, breaking the 
silence.

"I guess... I was..." I tried to say, but my mind was preoccupied 
by the thoughts of _her_, if she was still here...

"Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked.

"Not at all... I'm sorry, I didn't ask, but I am not holding you 
up, am I? I am sorry if I caused you any concern," I replied, 
while lighting her cigarette.

"It's all right. Don't worry about it," she replied with a short 
wave of her hand dismissing my concern. Then, with a smile she 
added, "We help passengers, and you are in an airport."

I couldn't help but smile. She was good at what she was doing. 
"Thank you. I really appreciate it," I said, lighting a cigarette 
myself.

I was starting to feel more comfortable in her presence, and that 
was surprising considering we didn't know each other. Somehow, 
she had managed to create a relaxing atmosphere, and I was 
debating seriously how I could ask the questions I had in my 
mind... of a complete stranger.

"Umm... She has..." she said.

When I looked at her, she continued. "She left an hour ago on her 
flight. I was assigned to another flight, which was cancelled 
later."

"I see."

_Well, she's gone! What were you going to do if she was still 
around? Go after her?_

Could I have? Would I? I didn't know... She was gone, and the 
only thing I felt was desolation... a sense of being lost. 
Completely lost. I just wanted her by my side. For the first time 
in many years, I felt a desperate need for her presence--the 
likes of which I had rarely felt before. And that scared me. I 
had always been independent.

"Mitchell?"

"Hmm..."

"Mitchell?" she called out gently, trying to get my attention.

I tried to fight off the desperation, still lost in the 
troublesome maze of my mind, chasing endless thoughts and 
questions. I felt her hand on my arm.

When I looked at her, she asked, "You want to talk about it? 
About what's troubling you? Maybe it would help."

"I... I'm terribly sorry... I didn't want to be such a burden. 
I'm OK... You've been a tremendous help," I replied, the words 
coming out with a mechanical monotony, while trying to shake my 
mind clear of thoughts of her.

"Nonsense. I didn't do anything, and you are no trouble at all," 
she responded.

I felt embarrassed, and guilty of keeping her from doing whatever 
she was going to do. I took a long drag from my cigarette, trying 
to gather my wits.

She kept her gaze on me. She seemed to be mulling something in 
her mind. Coming to a decision, she said, "You two have a 
history, don't you?"

At that, the air whooshed out of me like a deflating balloon, and 
I slumped in my seat.

"I guessed as much..." she said, patting my arm to comfort me.

"How? Is it that obvious?" I asked after I caught my breath.

She took a long pause, considering her answer carefully.

"Is it that difficult a question?" I prompted.

"No, it's not. But... it's more complicated than that. I don't 
want to be the cause of further pain... to either of you... Maybe 
I shouldn't have opened my mouth," she replied, clearly disturbed 
at something.

_Either of--_

_What happened? Is something wrong with her?_

"Why? What's wrong? Was she OK? Did she say something?" My 
questions came out in a rush, the urgency unmistakable.

"She was quiet... lost in thought. I don't know her very well, 
but we have worked together on many flights. She's always been 
bubbly... But today, she disappeared for a while... I am guessing 
she visited the rest room. When she returned her makeup was 
refreshed, but her eyes were red. What happened between you two?"

"It's... it's a long story... "

_She was smiling when she left... Why did she cry? I didn't want 
to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt her. She knew that, didn't 
she?_

"I'm not going anywhere... do you have plans?" she said, taking 
me by surprise.

"Why would you do something like that? You hardly know me..." I 
found myself saying. I realized it wasn't a very polite thing to 
do, and I was abashed by my lack of self-control. I was at my 
wit's end, but that was no excuse to be tactless.

Before I could apologize, she gently patted my arm, trying to 
reassure me, and said, "Mitchell. I understand your concerns... 
Let's say I have a soft spot for... for lovers... I may not know 
her very well and you not at all, but... I watched you two on the 
airplane. I saw her when she came into the crew lounge. And, I 
saw you standing here... I think you need to talk, and I'm 
willing to listen. Where's the harm in that?"

That earned her a look of gratitude, because at that moment I was 
feeling like a drowning man, completely helpless.

"Thank you. You are very kind." Checking my watch, I found it was 
getting close to dinnertime. "It's almost dinnertime. Would you 
join me for dinner... here or in town? I don't know what your 
plans were, but if I have to take you up on your offer, I must 
insist. That's the least I can do."

"Dinner would be fine. In fact, the hotel I'm staying has a good 
restaurant, so we can share a taxi downtown and have dinner 
there. I don't have any plans, so don't concern yourself about 
that," she said. Giving me a gentle and sympathetic look, she ran 
her hand on my arm, and added, "I would really like to hear 
this... Mitch."

Now that the immediate course of action was decided, my mind 
switched its attention to details. I had people expecting me, and 
I was already late. I didn't know if I wanted to face them, 
tonight. I had to cover any eventuality, keeping my options open. 
Working on a practical problem was better than being 
directionless, feeling lost and helpless. It helped take my mind 
off the feelings that were plaguing me.

"Thank you. Ummm... I need to make a call. Some people are 
expecting me. They might get worried. If you excuse me for a 
moment, I'll be right back."

I was considering taking a room at her hotel to spend the night, 
and face the family next day, with a fresh face rather than the 
way I looked. I wasn't planning to sleep with Dana--come on, 
we've just met--and I wasn't over my encounter to jump into bed 
with a woman.

I went to the public telephones, and made a call to my sis. She 
wasn't at home, so I tried my parents. Mom answered at the third 
ring, and as soon as she recognized my voice, I was under a 
barrage of questions. Once I calmed her, I told her I ran into an 
old friend and we lost track of time trying to catch up, that's 
why I was late. Then I added that I might be held up until late 
at night or perhaps tomorrow, so they shouldn't wait on me. She 
wasn't happy, but she didn't make an issue of it. That done, I 
went back to Dana, and collecting our belongings, we headed out 
to the taxi stand.



* * * * *



In the taxi, Dana gave the directions to the hotel, and half an 
hour later, we were at its doorstep. At the reception desk, I 
felt a bit awkward. I was trying to figure out a way to get a 
room discretely, so that I wouldn't give Dana the wrong idea, but 
she noticed my unease, and pulled me aside.

"Mitchell, is something wrong? Are you having second thoughts?" 
she asked.

"It's nothing."

"Come on Mitch. Something's bothering you. What is it?"

"Ummm... I was thinking of getting a room... I wanted to take a 
quick shower, and get a good night's sleep before facing people 
tomorrow. I wanted to look fresh when I met them. I didn't want 
to give you the wrong idea. I just realized, I didn't even stop 
to consider whether you'd like to be seen with me in public... 
considering the way I must look at the moment," I replied, 
feeling very self-conscious.

When she heard that, her eyes widened, then she reached out with 
her hand and brushed my cheek with her fingertips affectionately. 
"You _are_ sweet, you know that? You look like you're ready to 
collapse... I can't imagine what kind of emotional stress you're 
under... and you think about all these things. I really need to 
get to know you," she said with a sympathetic smile.

Thinking over something, she continued. "I have a better idea. 
It's a bit unconventional and I don't want to embarrass you, but 
I want you to think about it. We are going to have dinner, and 
we'll talk and I don't know how long that will take, but we need 
privacy and a comfortable, relaxing place. You may not agree... 
but you need company. I think it would be better if we get a room 
with double beds--or a suite to share--rather than two single 
rooms. You and I both know we will not be doing anything, don't 
we?" At that last, she gave me a comforting smile.

She had a way with words, and a genuine sincerity that put me at 
ease, and make me see her point of view. If I had had this 
proposal from anybody else, I would have refused it offhand, 
unless it was part of a seduction, and I was willing to 
participate. I didn't know why, but in the short period of time 
since we met, she had my trust. I couldn't help but wonder who 
was watching over me, and had placed Dana in my path. Still, I 
was a bit uncomfortable, but before I could state any objections, 
she beat me to it.

"Mitch, really... It's no big deal. I could use the company 
myself, and I would feel better knowing that you are OK. You're 
not imposing at all. What's more, we wouldn't have to rush, and 
would have all the time we need to talk. My next flight is mid-
day tomorrow, so we can stay up late. What do you say?"

"Dana... I don't know what to say... I'm flabbergasted. I'm just 
wondering if this is a dream, or if you're an angel... I won't be 
shot by an angry husband or a boyfriend, will I?"

"No to all your questions," she replied with a laugh. "No, this 
isn't a dream, and no, I'm not an angel, and there are no 
husbands or boyfriends..."

"Umm... OK. It sounds like a plan. Maybe we should get a suite, 
so you will have some privacy. I'm an uneasy sleeper, and don't 
want to deprive you of a decent rest."

"All right. Let's do it," she said. Hooking her arm in mine, she 
steered us back to the concierge.

We asked what was available. In the end, we settled for a small 
suite--two interconnected rooms with a shared bath. The rooms 
were big and pleasant, and the bath had a nice big tub and a 
shower. I asked Dana when she would like to have dinner, and she 
suggested we call for room service, in an hour or so. That gave 
us plenty time to take a shower and clean-up. Dana went first to 
shower, then 20 minutes later, knocked on my door, telling me the 
shower was available.

I picked up my toiletries, and a hotel towel, and entered the 
bath. After brushing my teeth, I stepped into the tub, and pulled 
the shower curtain. Setting the water temperature to colder than 
lukewarm, I stepped under the high-pressure spray. With my hands 
on the tiles, leaning against the wall, I let the water beat on 
my tired body, washing away the grime of travel, and the stress.

I'm not sure what happened next, though. One moment I was 
standing, and the next I was shaking. It wasn't the cold water, 
although it was cold. It was more like after-shocks. I had that 
before, when I had survived my first serious scrape...

_Serious scrape? Really? You don't know how lucky you had been to 
survive... and without a scratch to show for it..._

Couple of years ago, I was driving on the country road to the 
rig-site, in a rush. The roads were bad: loose sand, gravel and 
compacted clay. Parts of the road were still wet and muddy from 
recent rains, and I was driving pretty fast, about 80-90 km/hr, 
because I had driven this road a few times and was familiar with 
it. I was approaching a curve, still on a dry portion and didn't 
slow down. I guess I was preoccupied and wasn't paying attention. 
I just felt the steering wheel getting a bit lighter, and took my 
foot off the gas pedal. The car slowed down, but because I didn't 
brake, it didn't slow down much, and what's more, I felt it was 
losing traction. By then, I was approaching the curve, and I went 
from DEFCON 4 to DEFCON 1. But, the damage had already been done. 
I didn't use the brakes, because the surface was muddy again, and 
I tried to steer the car gently from the middle towards the inner 
part of the curve, hoping the tires would sink in the soft mud 
and perhaps slow down the car a bit.

I distinctly remember the sinking feeling in the pit of my 
stomach, as the car failed to respond, and started to slip 
towards the outer edge. Beyond the edge, it was a pretty steep 
slope of 25-30 meters to a flatter but somewhat rocky surface. 
The whole thing had a surreal quality; time seemed to slow down, 
and I remember thinking, 'so, this is it... no chance to say 
goodbye... in a few seconds it will be over... so stupid... such 
a stupid way to go!'

The next thing I experienced was the slow tumbling and rolling of 
the car over the edge. I had my arms up trying to protect my face 
from the shattering window, and to keep my head safe from hitting 
the roof, and generally trying not to be thrown out of the seat. 
I remember the roof crunching down, and my head hitting it during 
the roll, my body held by the seat belt. I felt disjointed from 
the whole thing, despite the adrenalin rush... not exactly 
scared, but angry at my stupidity. The whole event was over in a 
matter of seconds. I remember feeling helpless, and caught in a 
violent whirlpool, the sound of metal being torn and buckling, 
and wondering when it's going to end, when death is going to 
claim me.

Then, suddenly, everything came to a stop. I was upside down, 
with a bump or two on my head, but still breathing, and still 
alive. I was dazed by the violence of the whole experience. After 
several minutes hanging still, frozen in shock, I did a quick 
check of my joints and extremities; luckily, I wasn't hurt or 
wounded. However, I was pretty much disoriented viewing the world 
upside down. I carefully freed myself from the seat belt, taking 
care not to get hurt. Since the roof was partly collapsed, there 
wasn't much chance of a fall down on my head. After I rolled over 
on my belly, I looked for a way out. The front windshield seemed 
to offer the best opportunity, so I kicked out the remaining 
glass, and carefully crawled out.

Once I was outside, I took careful inventory of myself, taking my 
time. Nothing was broken, and apart from the two painful bumps on 
my head, I had no injuries. That done, I carefully inspected the 
slope, curious to determine the path the car took while rolling 
down. I was surprised to see how it missed several out-cropping 
rocks and intrusions on its way down. If the driver's side had 
hit some of these, I would have serious injuries, and might have 
been killed instantly. Metal had torn, but mostly the rear doors, 
or the back of the roof.

_Lucky?_

_More like charmed!_

I don't remember how long I stood there, looking at the slope up 
and down in stunned silence. I know that I had taken a few steps 
away from the car and lit a cigarette, trying to comprehend what 
and how it happened, running the whole incident in my mind in 
slow motion replay. After a while, I started to walk to find a 
way to the road, and look for help. Several hours later, I was on 
the rig-site, being checked by the medic. Later, they had me sent 
to the hospital for X-rays, fearing concussion, etc. but they 
didn't find anything and I was given a clean bill of health.

Two days later, I was back at the rig-site, sipping my coffee and 
chatting with the guys about the preparations for an upcoming 
operation, when I had the shakes. It started slowly, and caught 
me with surprise. I didn't understand what was happening, and 
just managed to put my cup on the table, before the shakes 
intensified. One of the guys rushed out for the medic, and 
another pulled me to one of the benches, trying to calm me down. 
It just took maybe a minute or so, then it was over. Medic said I 
was having after-shocks. That was the shakes... and not the last 
time. I had several other scrapes since then, and every time they 
were followed by a delayed reaction...

So, here I was, standing under the running water in the tub, when 
the shakes hit me. I was caught unawares, because there wasn't 
any possible reason for this to happen. I hadn't had a life-
threatening experience. As the shakes intensified, I almost 
collapsed. Before I slipped and fell down, I dropped down to my 
knees with a thud, and kneeling, I grabbed the edge of the tub to 
steady myself. Next thing I know, I was sitting in the tub, 
cowering, and shaking... and... crying. Crying like a baby for 
Christ's sake... After a while, I raised my face up to the spray 
to stop crying, but I couldn't, although I was calming down, 
albeit very slowly.

"Mitch... Mitch, are you OK?"

Dana was calling from the outside of the bath, but I was unable 
to respond. She knocked on the door a few times, and when she 
didn't hear me respond, she knocked harder.

_Jeeez... Get a hold of yourself. You don't wanna be caught like 
this, do you?_

"Mitchell, is everything all right there?" Her voice was high 
pitched, worried.

_Shit! Come on... control yourself and respond..._

I heard the door open a fraction and she called out again, 
"Mitchell, are you OK?"

"Yeah!"

Luckily the running water was making a lot of noise, so she might 
think I hadn't heard her.

"Are you all right? I thought..."

"Almost slipped," I managed to get out, trying to control my 
crying.

"Uhh... OK... Sorry... Be careful," she said, then closed the 
door.

_Pheeeww! That was close..._

If she had walked in on me, I didn't know what I would have done. 
The scare she gave me, and the possibility of embarrassment 
helped me to gain a semblance of control. I sat there a few more 
minutes, letting out the tears that needed to come out. When I 
calmed down, I stood up, turned on the hot water tap more, and 
started to wash myself. By the time I was washing the suds away, 
I was functioning at some level of normalcy, and my mind was busy 
trying to figure out why it happened. While I was toweling 
myself, I remembered my trip to the rest rooms at the airport, 
and how I had fought my urge to cry. I had been successful then, 
but in reality, it was bottled up inside me. With all the other 
things that happened later, the realization of my loss and the 
associated emptiness, it had finally caught up with me in the 
shower. A part of me was disgusted with my weakness, but I was 
feeling much better than an hour ago, as if a heavy burden had 
been lifted off my shoulders.

_Maybe what they say is true. Crying cleanses the soul..._

When I looked at myself on the mirror, I was surprised to see 
that I looked much better than a couple of hours ago. My eyes 
were slightly red, and a bit sunken, but I didn't look like death 
warmed over. What's more, I wasn't feeling as tired or desolate 
as before.

Back in my room, I put on a clean pair of jeans and a shirt, and 
a comfortable pair of moccasins. Usually I go with socks or bare 
feet, wanting to feel the floor or ground. I never liked heels in 
shoes. Even my cowboy boots, which normally came with heels of 
more than an inch, didn't have much in the way of heels--about a 
quarter of an inch. I was feeling pretty good, and wanted to 
bring myself up a bit more.

I wanted to be ready for the dinner, Dana's company, and our 
eventual talk. I didn't want to break down as I had in the 
shower. I sat on the thick-carpeted floor, legs crossed in a 
comfortable manner--not exactly the Lotus position--resting my 
hands palm down on my legs. I went through slow breathing 
exercises, relaxing my muscles, and letting my mind wander. I 
didn't try to chase thoughts or hook onto a particular one. I 
just let them come and go. In about fifteen minutes, I was 
feeling rejuvenated, and ready to face the world again.



* * * * *







CHAPTER - 4: Opening Vaults



I knocked on the door interconnecting our rooms.

"It's not locked, come on in," I heard her call out.

When I walked in, she was putting her uniform in the closet. 
Finished with that, she turned and picked up the clothes on her 
bed to place them in the drawers. She glanced at me and faltered; 
almost dropping the bundle she had in her arms. She put them back 
on the bed, and took a few steps closer to give me a critical 
look, making me queasy.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

She ignored my question, and instead asked, "Are you using 
drugs?" with a serious tone.

_Huh! Drugs? Where the hell did that come from?_

"Drugs?" I was confused, and that was saying little.

Her eyes were critically examining me, but especially my eyes.

"You... You are looking good. Compared to a while ago, you're 
looking better than good. I just thought you had taken 
something," she responded in an apologetic manner.

I didn't have a response to that. I didn't think I was looking as 
good as she made me out to be.

"You mean I don't look like death warmed over?" I tried to joke. 
"A shower can do wonders."

"Yeah... something like that," she said with soft laugh. "Are you 
sure it was just a shower? You have to tell me your trick, 
whatever it is. I could certainly use it."

"You don't need any tricks. You're looking great," I replied.

She _was_ looking great, dressed in tight jeans and a form-
hugging sweater that accentuated her shapely body. She had her 
long blonde hair loose on her shoulders, making her look younger 
than her years--I estimated her to be around early 30s, but she 
didn't look a day over 25.

"A woman can always use help when it comes to looks, and I'm 
dying to know how you managed what you did."

_I didn't do anything... I just broke down and cried like a 
baby!_

The thought made me cringe and I searched for a probable 
explanation. However, before I could give her a reply, she moved 
in closer and looked up in my eyes. Caressing my cheek, she said, 
"It's all right, Mitch."

_Does she know--_

_Of course, you fool! Women always know things like that._

With that thought, I tensed up.

"Don't be embarrassed. You needed to get it out of your system. 
It's as good as any other way... and sometimes, much better. From 
the looks of it, it did a world of good," she said, trying to put 
me at ease and succeeding. She was a remarkable person. 
Especially, how she managed to appease my unease with her sweet 
talk and soothing manners.

"Shall we order?" she asked, changing the subject.

After we made our choices, I placed the order with room service. 
I prepared a gin and tonic for her, while taking a beer for 
myself. We talked about neutral subjects, trying to get to know 
each other, until the dinner arrived.

During dinner, we continued our talk, and I learned that she had 
been a flight attendant for 12 years. She had a brief, 2-year 
marriage--no kids--ending in an amicable divorce. Now, she was 
seeing a colleague in the office at the airport back in her 
hometown. She moved the subject to me; what I did for work, and 
other general things. I glossed over most of the details--they 
were pretty boring--and gave her a general outline. However, she 
was well aware of the problems in that region, and she had a 
fairly good idea of the dangers involved. That was to be 
expected. Hardly a day passed without an incident being reported 
in the papers or on the TV. Although she probed, she was very 
careful, understanding my reluctance to talk about it except in 
general terms, but I had a growing suspicion that she had learned 
more than I gave her credit for.

After dinner, she kicked off her shoes, and putting up the 
pillows, she got comfortable on her bed. I pulled a comfortable 
looking armchair next to the bed, and settled in. We were both 
feeling mellow with the food, and we continued with a nice red 
wine, enjoying the moment. At first, I was reluctant to drink 
more alcohol. But the wine was good, and I wasn't feeling sleepy 
or tired, strange as that might be.

She was really good company, and I couldn't help but wonder why 
she didn't have a man in her life--yes, she was dating somebody, 
but she gave me the impression that it wasn't yet in a serious 
stage. I was also curious why she had this interest in me. I 
wasn't satisfied with her 'soft spot for lovers' explanation. She 
was not only beautiful but a very kind and generous person, and 
very interesting.

"What's on your mind?" she broke through my wandering mind.

"You said that you have a soft spot for lovers, but the more I 
get to know you, the more I'm..."

"Confused? Curious?"

I nodded.

"That's really a question for another time, and is related to 
her. We can visit that later. However, I need to know something. 
How well do you know her, or do you think you know her?" she 
asked.

_What's she getting at?_

I pondered that question, going over several possibilities. After 
a while, I sensed what she was getting at... the men in her life.

"I figure she has... perhaps, a _reputation_?" I replied, 
choosing my words carefully.

She gave me a long look, trying to get a measure of me, and to 
make sure we were working from the same page. Satisfied with what 
she had seen, she asked, "_That_... doesn't bother you?"

_Does it? Did it?_

_I don't think so... No, I'm not jealous of her other men. If we 
were committed to each other, it would have been different._

_I'm bothered by her frequently indiscriminate and casual 
attitude towards her relations. I'm more concerned for her well 
being and about her general unhappiness._

"It does, but not in the sense you think. I'm not jealous of her 
men. I'm more concerned about her unhappiness."

"And you still love her?"

"I do," I replied. Thinking over about my feelings, I clarified 
my response. "Umm... I know, I still carry something inside me... 
for her... but, I've changed... and she's changed, too... I 
think..."

She nodded, and took a few minutes trying to digest what I said, 
and make some sense of it. I could see she had come up with a 
question, but was hesitant to ask, and I wondered what she had 
stumbled on.

"It's OK! Ask away. If I can't answer or don't want to answer, 
we'll skip it," I said to put her at ease.

"Mitchell, this is a very personal question," she said. "And if 
you can answer, then you have to be truthful... and that might be 
very difficult." The warning in her tone was unmistakable.

_I think I know what's coming... Did we ever..._

"I think I have a fairly good idea. You're wondering if my 
feelings are a result of..." I paused trying to find the right 
expression, and finished with, "an unconsummated relationship?"

She gave a tight smile and nodded.

"No, that's not it. We di--" I caught myself, rephrasing what I 
was going to say. "We'd been intimate... a few times."

She didn't respond, instead she waited patiently, letting me 
decide if I wanted to continue and elaborate.

_God, this is embarrassing. This is private stuff. I don't talk 
about it. Especially when it's related to her._

I started hesitantly, clearly ill at ease to talk about such a 
personal thing.

"We enjoyed it. She... she was happy. It's difficult to explain 
these things... I've been with a few girls before her... casual 
stuff. I know I'm not very experienced, not something special in 
bed. But, I think what we experienced was... more than sex. Don't 
ask me how I know. She was more experienced than me... it was 
unmistakable. I came to learn that she enjoyed sex--nothing wrong 
with that. I'm not scared of a woman who knows how to take her 
pleasure--I'm not talking about orgasms... women can fake that 
and fool a man easily. I am not going to claim I can't be 
fooled... what I'm talking about is the afterwards... what I had 
seen... what I felt... what we felt... and it wasn't just after-
sex glow or something. She was another person... It was as if 
there was only the two of us... no barriers... and for a day or 
two she would be much more... loving... closer, caring, happy, 
content..." I said, searching for the right words, and having 
difficulty expressing myself.

I took a deep breath, trying to clear the images that were 
trickling into my mind. "Am I making any sense?" I asked.

"I know this has been difficult for you, but I appreciate your 
candor. Not every man is willing to admit... Well... you know 
what I mean," she replied gently.

Giving an apologetic smile, she continued, "This is not really 
pertinent, but I'm curious... Do you have casual sex?"

"I'm not sure I understand the question... I've already said I 
had."

"Let me rephrase that. Do you just go to bed with a complete 
stranger, or do you first get to know them... at least to a 
certain degree... where you have some kind of connection?"

That question surprised me, and I thought about my answer.

"Mitchell..."

"Mmmm?"

"Mitchell, you don't have to answer that question. You already 
have."

"Huh?"

Seeing me completely lost, she gave me a sympathetic smile, and 
tried to explain. "From what you had already told me, and your 
reaction to my question, I know that you're not really casual 
about sex. You pick your partner and establish a connection. If 
there's no connection of some sort, you don't sleep with them. 
Isn't that right?"

"I-I... I guess... unless I'm intoxicated at the time."

She nodded her understanding, then followed up with another 
question. "And your partner's pleasure comes first?"

I nodded.

"If nobody has told you before, I'll tell you now. You have the 
right attitude... the attitude that women look for in men--and 
find infrequently. You care about your partner, even if you're 
not in love with the person. You try to make it nice for your 
partner. Now, if that person is somebody you are in love with... 
well, I don't have to state the obvious..."

"Thank you... but..."

"Mitch, don't try to sell yourself short. You may be young, and 
lacking some experience, but you care about your partners. As 
long as you make sure they're happy, you don't have anything to 
worry about. Experience comes with time, and opportunity. You may 
not have had too many opportunities, but you're way ahead of 
other players. Trust me. I was married and I've known some men." 
She gave me a look that said she would not accept any objections 
on her verdict, and I tried to accept it as humbly as possible.

"So, we know something... You really loved her, and still do. 
Now, I can answer your question... I know her. I'm sorry if I 
misled you when I said I don't know her very well. But in a way, 
that's true. I didn't say I don't know her at all. We aren't 
close or intimate friends, but we've been together on many 
flights, and it's a small world among the flight crews. So, I got 
to know her quite a bit. You are unlike any of her... friends," 
she said.

"You don't have to be diplomatic on my account. I saw it before."

She gave me a sympathetic smile, and continued. "She is pretty 
lively, which is normal. Especially on long hauls with overnight 
stays or longer. The crews get to enjoy the places and they like 
to party. That's what draws the young girls to the profession. 
Seeing different, exotic places, and meeting people, perhaps a 
potential husband or something. Once they get in, they realize 
it's also hard work, and some quit. Some stick around enjoying 
the work and the opportunities. She enjoys the work, but enjoys 
the partying as well. Nothing excessive, otherwise your work 
starts to suffer. And yes, she has a reputation. Not as an easy 
girl, but she goes through relationships pretty quickly. 
Sometimes it's a regular passenger on one of the routes, 
sometimes a pilot or somebody else from the crew."

"I guessed as much."

"Mitch, what I'm getting at is, you don't fit the pattern."

"What do you mean?"

"You are different from her other guys. Some of them were only 
interested in bedding a girl, any girl. You know the kind of men 
who are interested in _flight attendants_, and what they are 
really interested in. She knew their reputation, but she took 
them up." She gave me a pointed look, to get her meaning across.

"Then, there were the semi-serious and serious relations. A few 
wanted to marry her, but some dropped her when they didn't like 
what they had seen. Sometimes she broke it off," she said. 
Collecting her thoughts she continued. "She was never concerned 
about any of her relations. She was angry with a few, but they 
were assholes. From what I've seen and heard she never gave a 
second thought to any of the guys. She moved on. She doesn't fit 
any pattern I had seen before. She's not shopping for a husband. 
Some girls who go through frequent relations are really shopping, 
but... she's not."

"I know a bit about that... I think... She wanted attention and 
to be loved. She couldn't handle being alone. If somebody showed 
a bit of attention, she would be there. She said as much once, 
that her biggest fear was being alone. She was also a bit of a 
wild girl. Heart of the party... and people flocked. Somehow, I 
always thought that it was an act, perhaps to grab attention. I'm 
not sure, but I think she was hurt early on... before I met her. 
I know she went through some guys before me, and there were 
others when we were breaking up. In the end I was just another 
one on her list," I told her.

"What else did you do? You two must have had something going?"

"Well, at first we were wary. At least, I was. Compared to how 
quickly she became friendly with new people, she was very 
reserved when we first met. We were introduced by a mutual friend 
and, that first moment, I fell in love with her. Sounds corny, 
doesn't it?"

"Why do you say that?"

"I don't know. It's... It was something I never felt before. It 
wasn't because she was beautiful. No. I just felt drawn to her. 
Later, I would come to realize there was... umm... this is 
difficult to explain, and I don't know how to put it... but I 
felt a bond... sort of like an invisible cord. She had an 
influence on me. She didn't even have to touch me to exert that 
influence. It was something deep in my belly. Whenever she was 
near me, I felt like I was being pulled into a maelstrom, 
spinning, losing control... Does this make any sense?"

She nodded.

"Anyways... I tried to keep myself under control and fight that 
feeling. I don't like to lose control. We started to see each 
other, mostly within a group of friends, and over a matter of 
days we were talking, opening up to each other. This was before I 
started my senior year. I wasn't experienced enough to see some 
things. I didn't see she wasn't innocent, if you know what I 
mean. Part of my mind was busy trying to figure out how to finish 
school, the military service, and find a good job so I could 
settle down. I knew I wanted to marry her. That was another 
reason I held myself off from getting intimate with her. I didn't 
want us to be caught in a... situation," I said, with an 
embarrassed grin.

"It's understandable, Mitch. Your intentions were honorable," she 
assured me, then nodded at me to continue.

"There was also a vulnerable side to her. She tried to keep it 
hidden, but as we talked more I could see glimpses of it. 
Sometimes she would hint at things, and immediately move onto 
something else, never allowing me to dig deeper. There was some 
thing in her eyes; they were... misty... with... dark clouds... 
most of the time. From the first moment I noticed that, and 
later, it felt like... like there was an eternal sorrow, 
somewhere deep inside her. I know that sounds a bit melodramatic, 
or cliché, but that's what her eyes evoked in me... I didn't 
realize it at the time, but she had some deep wounds. I was just 
not experienced enough to read the signs. I did whatever I could 
to help, from what I could see, but... Anyways, we started to go 
out together, but still usually in a group with friends. After a 
while, we got pretty close. She started the intimacy; first a bit 
of flirting, and then the touching, kissing, and teasing. When we 
danced, it was really something. She was subtle, but very 
intimate. Necking followed. Then we had these long walks in the 
evening along the shore. We would talk, and make out. I could see 
she was no scared virgin. When she invited me into her bed... 
Well, then I knew it."

"You said before, she was another person after... you were 
intimate..."

"She was... When we were with friends, she would flirt and do all 
that stuff on the dance floor. Sometimes she would be slightly 
restrained. But, she always seemed restless, and at times would 
fall back into her party mode and get really wild. Sometimes I 
felt tired, just watching her."

As I continued, the memories started to trickle from the wells of 
past.

"When we had our long walks, she was reluctant to talk about her 
past, like high school and stuff. Sometimes she would be open, 
the next moment she would be reticent, moody. I didn't realize it 
till later, but she had masks she hid behind, and her party mode 
was one of them. In bed, she was passionate... but afterwards... 
that's when she was content, and perhaps really happy. The façade 
or mask would be gone. Her happiness was genuine. She looked at 
peace and happy. And those are the moments I could see her forget 
whatever that was bothering her. And, her eyes would clear, the 
clouds gone... I could also see her fragile side; she didn't try 
to hide it... I don't know how to explain it," I finished with a 
tired sigh.

I took a deep breath, and added, "Perhaps, it doesn't apply, but 
I know how I felt. I felt like I was home, belonging to her, 
right there by her side. Somehow, that's the impression I got 
from her as well, in those moments."

The past was coming awake from its uneasy sleep, the old feelings 
stirring up, reminding me what was, once. I took another deep 
breath, trying to cleanse my mind, my soul, but... I closed my 
eyes, letting my mind wander instead of fighting the images. 
Somehow Dana's presence had a calming effect, giving me strength 
to face the past... what I had left behind.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Dana swirling the wine in her glass, 
giving me time to collect myself. Gathering my thoughts, I said, 
"For a while she would get clingy, if that's the right word. This 
was right after we had been intimate a few times. She would try 
to be with me all the time. We would be watching other couples 
dance, and she would be holding onto my arm... I remember those 
scenes very clearly... When we had our talks, she would cuddle. 
If we had some real privacy, she would sit on my lap, with her 
arm around my neck... things she didn't do before. She would be 
more loving and caring. But in a day or two it would fade away, 
and she would be back to wearing her mask, in the party mode, 
wild."

"What happened... later?"

"I'm not sure. I probed her a few times about her future plans 
and explained what I had to do; finish school, the military 
service, and then a job. She didn't want to talk about it, and 
over a matter of days, she started to push me away. She would be 
warm and loving, the next instant she would be cold and distant. 
We would still talk, or get together for a dance, but it wasn't 
the same. When we were going through that period--we'd been 
intimate twice more--the last times, and her response had not 
changed. We were still close on those two occasions. That really 
confused me. Her body and soul was saying something, and her 
mouth was saying something else."

"When did you break up?"

"Well... During that cooling off period, she was flirting with 
other guys, pushing me away or ignoring me, and then becoming 
loving again. I thought she was trying to make me jealous, so I 
ignored it. Since we weren't committed to each other, I didn't 
see a reason to make it an issue. I would still be there when she 
came for a talk, or for anything else. That's how she got me to 
her bed the last two times. But, I was getting tired of her mood 
changes, and she was getting more blatant, so I tried to talk 
with her. She ignored my attempts. One day I confronted her, told 
her I wanted to marry her, and asked what she wanted from our 
relationship. She replied she wasn't in love with me, but saw me 
as a good friend. I reminded her about our intimate moments, and 
things we used to do, share and enjoy... before things started to 
change. She just shrugged her shoulders, and replied she enjoyed 
our times together. We didn't have a fight, but I didn't want to 
play her game. It was getting pretty painful, and I suggested 
that we stop seeing each other."

The memories started to flood in, as I went back in time, to the 
days when things really took on a turn for the worse.

"We always had a lot of friends, so we would be in a group, but 
ignore each other. She would flirt with some of the guys, but... 
I don't know... I got the impression, she wasn't enjoying herself 
as much as before... I mean, it was as if she was stepping up her 
wildness... her behavior was beyond her party mode act... I don't 
know why, but seeing her like that saddened me more than our 
breakup."

"Do you think she was using the other guys?" she asked.

"I don't know. That's the impression I got. I'm not talking as a 
jilted lover. There was a definite step-up in her wildness, and I 
could sense she wasn't happy. After a while, I didn't stick 
around. Dropped from the group scene. I didn't want to see her 
like that, and... I don't know... I got the feeling she didn't 
want me around... as if somehow I was hurting her or making her 
unhappy just by being there... What I heard from other friends 
kind of makes me think that might be the case. They said she 
wasn't as wild as she used to be, and that coincides with when I 
left the group scene."

The trip down the memory lane had taken its toll, and I felt 
drained, but also restless. I wanted to stretch my legs, move; I 
didn't want to sit. Perhaps, it was a reminder from earlier 
lessons, teachings from a different era of my life.

_Death is in the stillness, life is in the movement!_

That was what Miyamoto Musashi, _Kensei_--the Great Sword Saint--
had written 400 years ago in his treatise; a book I had to study 
as part of my teachings in a martial art I hadn't been able to 
master completely. I didn't want to think about Musashi. But, as 
with all other memories, these memories got recalled, sometimes 
at the most inopportune moments. I stood up and picked the wine 
bottle from the table. After topping up her glass, I filled up 
mine and set the bottle on the floor next to the armchair. I 
realized Dana was watching me carefully, feeling my restlessness. 
Not to alarm her further, I sat down, and went through my shallow 
breathing exercises, while sipping my wine. From the outside, 
nobody would be able to see what I was doing, except perhaps 
another adept. I didn't want to draw undue attention from her. In 
a few minutes I was feeling better. For all appearances we were 
both in a contemplative mood. When I looked at Dana, she took it 
as a signal, starting the conversation again.

"She hasn't changed... it seems. She's still moving from 
relationship to relationship," Dana said.

"I know... well, I'm kinda guessing... It just doesn't make 
sense. It never did. Was she ever happy in these last few years?" 
I asked, curious how she had been the last four years or so.

"I don't know her that intimately, but if I have to take a 
guess... no, she hasn't been. You're right about that."

"I guess I was just one of a pretty long list. Later, I realized 
that she must have been hurt... badly, before she met me. I think 
she was using people, including me. I wasn't experienced enough 
to see that, and now, in hindsight, it's kinda obvious. I loved 
her other side, the loving, caring side, and the vulnerability 
she tried to hide. Perhaps, that was what made me fall in love 
with her... there was this fragile beauty, her vulnerable side, 
like a delicate flower."

I took a sip from my glass, collecting my thoughts. "For a short 
while, I was angry... at her. Angry that she pushed me away, but 
I got over that quickly. Much later--after our break-up--I 
figured out how much she must have been hurt. I didn't know how 
or by whom. That's when I got angry with myself... First, I had 
failed to see her hurt, and second, I hadn't been able to... 
help. Worse, I had given up, quit on her. That anger helped me 
over the years... to survive the emptiness..." I finished with a 
tired sigh.

I let my head rest on the back of the armchair, looking at the 
ceiling for a few seconds, then closed my eyes. Dana was quiet 
for quite some time, going over what I told her.

"Mitch?"

"Mmmm..."

"What happened this afternoon?"

"Huh?"

"What happened this afternoon? You two were together. What did 
you talk about?"

I ran the whole episode in my mind trying to recall every detail, 
before I answered her. I finished telling my little guessing game 
about her relationship with the older pilot and her response, and 
was going to continue with the rest of what happened, when Dana 
interrupted me.

"She said... _what_?"

"She said that 'he loves her and she finds it comforting'."

"Who loves her?"

"One of the pilots she is currently involved with? Somebody quite 
a bit older than her?" I replied.

I was going to get on with my tale, but Dana interrupted me 
again. "Mitch? Do you recall her exact words?"

"Is that important?"

"I'm not sure... humor me, will you?" she said, with a half 
serious, half joking tone.

"Ummm... I asked her if she loved him and told her that I didn't 
need an answer, but she needed to find the answer for herself. 
She ignored me and told me that I was almost right on my guess. 
Then she said: 'This time it's different; he loves me and it is 
comforting'," I replied, recalling the moment with an uncanny 
clarity.

How could I forget? It was the moment that brought the point 
home... that she hadn't changed!

"I remember it clearly, because it was the moment that made it 
clear she hadn't changed, confirming my suspicions. I was almost-
-" I barely caught myself in time.

"You were almost?" Dana insisted.

"It's nothing."

"Mitch, please tell me. This might be important. On this one, 
trust me... please?"

"It saddened me. I felt like crying and I didn't know if I could 
control myself. I didn't want to break into tears in front of 
her. So, I excused myself from the table and went to the rest-
rooms. There, I managed to control myself, and after washing my 
face I came back."

"You did not cry?"

"No. I did not. Is it important whether I cried or not? You 
guessed that I cried a while ago... Well, it caught up with me 
eventually... here in the hotel," I replied, getting upset.

"Mitch, I wasn't trying to embarrass you," Dana said, softly. "I 
was trying to figure out what happened, and both of your 
reactions. You're forgetting something... I told you that when 
she came to the crew lounge she disappeared for a short while, 
then returned with fresh make up and red eyes. I am pretty sure 
she had been crying."

"I'm sorry... It's been a long day..."

"I understand... I really do... I don't know how to ask this, but 
I need to ask something. I don't want you to get upset about it, 
OK?"

After taking a deep breath and letting it out, I nodded.

"Good, Mitch, try to relax. I studied nursing for a year--quit 
before I became a flight attendant--so I know something about 
trauma, extreme stress, and reactions. If the crying that caught 
up with you here was bottled up from that moment at the airport, 
you must have had a very significant emotional stress. How did 
you manage to keep it under control at the time?"

"I don't like to talk about that."

"Why?"

"I am sorry."

"It's a medical curiosity, not a personal one. I remember how you 
looked in the airport, and how you looked after the shower when 
you walked into this room."

"It's... something like meditation... Does that help?"

"I see... Yes, that does answer some questions. Thank you. So... 
what happened next?"

I wasn't aware of what I was doing. Almost on autopilot, I 
recalled the memory of the afternoon, and what we talked about, 
and the final point of our goodbye. While I went through the 
scenes in my mind's eye, I gave her an almost verbatim account. 
When I managed to pull myself from the past and return to the 
present, she didn't say anything. I looked at her, and found her 
taking occasional sips from her wine glass, while giving me 
curious glances.

"Is... is there something wrong?" I asked.

"No, nothing's wrong... It's..." She hesitated for a few seconds, 
before asking, "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"The things you told me... the afternoon, as if watching from a 
distance, and with so much clarity?"

_Ahh! My curse._

"It's... It's part of that meditation thing. I can recall a lot 
if I pay attention. Certain things are easier to remember... like 
hurt, or happiness."

_Especially if I had been in the moment!_

"And you also remember the times with her? The shared moments, 
happiness, hurt?" she asked.

I nodded.

"What a burden," she said softly, her tone sad and sympathetic as 
well.

If I didn't know better I would have agreed with her. But, 
nothing is simple; nothing is black and white. Yes, those 
memories had been a huge burden at times, but they had given me 
relief as well. The happy memories, they were treasures. The 
painful memories, they gave a meaning by contrasting the 
happiness. I have come to realize the duality of its nature. Yin 
and Yang. On the other hand, nobody needed that kind of recall--
including me.

"A rose is not a rose without thorns," I said to give her a 
different perspective.

She nodded her understanding.

"But you're right; nobody needs that kind of recall. I know I 
benefited from that as much as I got hurt. I don't know if I 
could do without the ability. It's very much part of me, and I've 
come to accept it."

"Mitch, how clear is your mind? How tired are you?" she asked, 
suddenly with a businesslike tone.

I perked up at the sudden change in her tone, and the question 
she posed. "I'm feeling all right. A bit drained, but that's all. 
Why?"

"Do you need to have some coffee, or a smoke to make yourself... 
I don't know... calm and alert?"

"I can do with a coffee and a smoke. I'm doing fine. Really."

"OK. Let me open a window while you order some coffee. There's 
something we need to talk about," she replied with a cryptic 
tone. I could sense her excitement at something, but I had no 
idea what it could be.

After I ordered coffee, I went to the bathroom to relieve myself, 
and brushed my teeth. I like red wine, but I don't like the way 
it stains the teeth. That done, I washed my face, feeling 
refreshed.



* * * * *