English: The new terminal 1 building check-in ...

English: The new terminal 1 building check-in hall at Toronto Pearson International Airport in July 2007. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Terminal 3 Building after the EPE opened in 20...

Terminal 3 Building after the EPE opened in 2006 (March 2008) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

From the Toronto airport we go straight to a hotel and shower and sleep.  In a few hours Dana is on the phone giving orders and somebody brings her cash and clothes and she hums to herself as she hangs them in the closet.  It’s really nice to have money when your ass is in a sling.

The next morning I wake with resentment at the growing awareness that I have to do something today and cannot spend the day in bed.  I explore my sensations and groan at my aching back.  Dana is primping in front of a dresser mirror.

Hey, I say to her.

She turns around and says, Hey, sweetie.  Sleep good?

Yes, I say, yawning and stretching.

Dana has put on heavy trolling makeup.

You look stunning, Cupcake, I say.

Thank you, dear.

I’m going to drag you over here and lick that makeup off, I say.

You will not!  She says with emphasis.  I’ve been two hours putting it on.

She gets up and kisses me at arm’s length.  Smell of Chloe and soapy taste of lipstick.

What RU so got up for, Dana?  Got a hot date?

Funny, funny, she says.  When you get back we’re going out and doing something.  It’s been months.  And you are going to wear those clothes I got you.

Those clothes look gay, Dana.

Do not!

Do I have a choice?

No, Erik, you don’t.

I leave early to go to the embassy to get our visas.  I try to get Dana to go with me but she wants to stay at the hotel.  Turns out she knows somebody in immigration who will give me the visas without her even having to show up.  Since there’s no hurry and i’m in the mood I take a bus.  On the way I brood about the future and am so preoccupied I don’t know till i’m halfway there that I left our passports back at the hotel.

So I have to get off the bus and cross the street and wait for a bus going the other way.  I wait and wait until I get aggravated enough to get a cab.  A few minutes later I am back in the hotel and ride the elevator up one floor.  When I have the key card in hand ready to open the door I pause.

I can sense something is wrong but I don’t know what else to do but open the door and go inside.

I see them a second before they see me.  Dana is lying naked across the bed on her back while a black haired girl has her face buried in my wife’s groin.  Simultaneously they look up at me as I stand there.  Dana says, Hey, Erik, it’s not really as bad as …{giggle}…what you think.

The girl with her is beautiful.  Where does Dana find these stunning women?

The girl recovers faster than Dana.  She smiles a competition smile and walks over to me and gently puts a hand on my forearm.

Hey, uh…Erik?  She says.  My name’s Tracy…why don’t…why don’t you come over here with us?  There’s plenty of room…

And like the passive fool I’ve become I let myself be led over to where Dana is smiling seductively at me.  And I hate myself for wanting to be a part of what they’re doing.  I have walked in on scenes like this so many times I had become callous to them until Dana finally stopped.  And I thought she’d stayed stopped.  Now I feel like an utter fool.  I feel betrayed and hurt the way I did the first time this happened, long ago.  I sit on the edge of the king size bed and cry.

I finally stop crying when Dana puts her tongue in my mouth.  She undresses me skillfully.  As she is pulling my shirt off Tracy is sliding my pants and underwear off me.  Dana shoves me hard onto my back.

And while Dana kisses me Tracy gets on me and together we make some of the sweetest love i have ever made and i actually forget Dana is alive.

I’ve fallen asleep with Dana snuggled next to me.  It’s only early afternoon and I can hear the maids opening and closing doors in the adjacent rooms and running their vacuum cleaners.  Dana looks at me and smiles the sweetest smile.  I have almost gotten away from her when she pulls me back.

You’re not going anywhere, lover, she says and licks my neck.

Dana?  I say softly.

What, sweetie pie?

You love me?

I sure do, Daddy.

Then why am I not enough for you?  Why can you never behave?

Because you’re not a woman, my little sweetheart.  It’s not your fault.  Go back to sleep.

She falls asleep and I get up.

I look at my sleeping wife and wonder if I have any love left for her, any at all.  And I realize I don’t.  Even worse, I have none for myself.  I get dressed and on my way to the bathroom I stop.  On a dresser I see…flowers?  WTF?  Yes.  Two pink roses, one for me and one for Dana and a note in immature handwriting.  A smiley and a  phone number and how much Tracy likes us both and she hopes we can all be friends.  I’m still hazy on what happened except there was a lot of fucking and noise and I was falling asleep as Dana walked Tracy to the door and kissed her goodbye.  How the flowers and note got here IDK but it doesn’t matter.

I go in the bathroom and close the door and turn on the blower for the white noise.  And cry for myself, the cry I wasn’t able to finish.  To survive cancer, and political pogroms and genocide, only to be destroyed by one more of Dana’s indiscretions.

As I close the door and go out to the hall I see there’s a do not disturb sign on our door.  Angrily I remove it and tell a maid outside to go right in.

I am on the second floor, which will not do.  I get on the elevator and ride up to the thirtieth, where there is a wraparound terrace where I can sit unmolested.

The maids have left a dozen or more rooms open and it’s easy to slip by them unnoticed and open a window and go out on the terrace.

There’s an iron wicker chair that I sit in and regard the bright early fall day.  It’s turned cool and breezy and after a moment I go over to the ledge and look out at the city and then down at the parking lot.  Thirty stories straight down.  Out and up a cloudless cerulean sky, demotic street noise of the traffic carried on the wind.  Horns and sirens blocks away.

Overlooking the straight drop is a broad ledge two feet wide.  I climb up and stand on it and look out and down.  Brief flashes of my undistinguished life.  Images of people falling from the towers on 9/11.  Image of Dana’s face as she is coming while Tracy’s face is buried in her groin.  All I have to do is lift one foot up, then another.  It will be so easy.  Just take a bold step out and into tomorrow.

But of course I wont do this.  I am too chickenshit.

I’m still standing on the ledge when I realize a small crowd has gathered in the parking lot, staring up at me and pointing.  I’ve been so preoccupied I don’t even know how long they’ve been there.

Oh, shit.  They think I am a jumper.  I get off the ledge and back on the terrace and wave at them, hoping they’ll lose interest.

But they don’t.  They’re not going away without a show, hopefully a splaaat!

I have to go back inside and get on the elevator and back to our room before anything happens.

Too late.  I see Dana a dozen or so yards away at the far end of the terrace.  She looks at me with her face all screwed up, her visage that of a Tartar.

She walks a few steps in my direction and stops cold.  She snarls, Erik, you crazy son of a bitch, WTFRU doing?  You’re embarrassing me…

And then she does the stupidest thing she could do.  She starts running toward me.

And I react automatically.  I run to the ledge.  I’m faster than she is but she has a much better angle.  Now it’s a race, just me and her.


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