Ancient headstones, plastic flowers of remembrance, and small mausoleums holding families of importance.We continue to walk slowly, hands intertwined,...me squeezing gently and tenderly touching fingertips. Your thumb traces the inside of my wrist.The air is quite chilly now this darkening evening. Our breath is beginning to make small billowy ghosts in the air. We come upon the rows of mausoleums, each one more overgrown and crumbling than the last.Your fingers tap the inside of palm and my body. I was pissed before, but I was more than pissed now, and I was hurting. My wife! She was my wife! I loved her. I couldn't believe she held me in such contempt. I had always been good to her. I thought back over the past year. Had there been any sign that something was going on? If there had, I hadn't seen it. I still didn't.The sex had been regular if not spectacular. The bills were paid. The children were our pride and joy. Both of our families were supportive and always in evidence. What was. Mom will never return she been dead for 12 years now, when I was eight and Liz was five. Dad I hope the son of a bitch never comes back, but he usually stops in one a twice a year at random intervals. He stays a couple hours and leaves, just checking to see if we’re dead yet so can sell the house.”At the pain that flashed in his eyes with the mention of his mother she felt sorry she had brought it up, he obviously love her deeply. What shocked her was the venom in his when he spoke of his. Meals were offered and it was cooked per order. The cooks in the kitchen and the waiters in the dining room were all long time employees of the C&O railroad ... positions on the ferries were posh posts and much sought after.The trip back across the Lake was spent discussing bicycles with a Biking Club from Boston. They were on the return leg of a Boston to San Francisco cross country adventure. The legs on those guys ... and girls.We, on this trip anyway, were the youngest 'children' on board.
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