Soul Mates (23 page)

Tyler leaned in for a kiss, but was interrupted. “Wait, dummy; there’s something else in there,” Lilith teased.

Ty looked and saw two tickets to a Yankees vs. Red Sox game at Fenway Park. Tyler was over the moon. A getaway to Boston and a chance to watch the Yankees trounce their archrivals on their home turf.

Elated, Tyler began hugging and kissing his wife once again, until one thing led to another.

Chapter 3

“Fascinating story so far, is it not? ISN’T IT!?!? Ahh, I
thought
you might see it my way. You all are learning very quickly and that’s fantastic; it truly is. Well, now, we’re going to skip through all of the hubbub, fluff, dumbshit-bullshit, flip-flap, patty-whack, fuck your mother with a dog’s bone, and find our lovely couple in Beantown-that’s Boston to the layperson, or the profoundly stupid-where things
really
become good and fucked! To me, those are the most interesting parts though, interesting to all of you as well, I suspect, otherwise you probably wouldn’t even have found yourselves here with me. Am I right? Of course I am. So, strap in ladies and germs! This portion of our tale is about to hurt!”

Chapter 4

Flight 696, from McCarran International Airport-Las Vegas  to Boston Logan Airport, landed at 2:42pm on a beautiful summer day; the type of summer day that would inspire the most virtuosic of artists. Beams of luminous brilliance shined through the windows of Logan Airport, illuminating a bright passageway for Tyler and Lilith to follow on their way to the baggage claim carousel. Unfortunately, the signs directing travelers to different points throughout the airport were not as illuminating and left plenty to be desired after they were changed during the most recent renovation. Why not ask a local business man, or someone who looks like they may be familiar with the airport to direct them?

“Excuse me, sir? Do you know where t
h–
”

“Leave me the fack alone, jirk-aff,” the sweaty and staggering Bostonian drunk barked at Tyler.

Tyler stood there perplexed by the man’s reaction to a simple request, well, half of a request really; he didn’t have time to get his entire question out. He had no choice but to burst out laughing, and loud enough for the seemingly mentally disturbed New Englander to look back over his shoulder annoyed to see
what the fack was so fackin’ funny or what all the fackin’ hubbub was aboat
. Tyler had to laugh; he needed to save his malevolence for the baseball game in a few days; and not just the typical quips and jeers towards an opposing team either…
malevolence
; whether he was justified or not. Be patient, we’re getting there.

The laughter also came because of the juxtaposition of the picture perfect day yielded the sanctified exquisiteness of the sunlit terminal, and the reaction of the first clammy psychopath they decided to engage in Boston. It was too comical to overlook.

“Must be a Red Sox fan,” Lilith suggested.

This made Tyler roar louder with merriment; loud enough so that reunited couples, hurried business men, vacationers, and airport employees took a quick peek to see what the commotion was about. A
very
quick peek mind you, lest they increase their chances of having a confrontation with the cackling loon (for all they knew), tremendously.

Tyler finally got a hold of himself. “You know, come to think of it, I think that’s the first joke I’ve ever heard you tell,” as his ear to ear smile waned a little. It did not go as far as breaching a frown, no, this was more akin to an appearance of confounded pondering. Clearly, he was quickly flipping through his hard-drive of Tyler/Lilith memories, eleven years’ worth, trying to come up with the last thing she said in jest. He came up empty. He could not figure out why, and suddenly a murky haze settled over his mind’s eye and consternation drowned his thoughts. 

Lilith’s knowing brow lifted ever so slightly. She quickly leaned into him and gave him a semi-passionate kiss (not awkward for public consumption) on his lips and Tyler’s mind cleared. Gone was the anxiety threatening to beat his heart out of his chest, as well as the thoughts of how abnormal it was for a person who you spent most of your time with, never to have shared a joke with you, or at least if they had, it was so far in the past that you could not recall a single time. And that implies it has been years, if at all.

“Let’s go get our bags, Ty,”

“Yeah,” he rubbed his temple and his right eye, “alright, let’s go.”

*   *   *

The blissful couple spent the next couple of days exploring Boston. The Yankees/Red Sox game, which was the main attraction of the trip, was not until their third day in Boston.

In the meantime, they occupied the next 48 hours by beginning at Tremont Street and exploring the Freedom Trail. They had heard so much about the many attractions on the Trail and decided that it would be worth their time.

Their first stop was Boston Common, where Tyler recalled his history classes with Jim Colabza at the helm; they had discussed how Boston Common was the site where great celebrations commemorating the repealing of the Stamp Act and the end of the Revolutionary War were held. Tyler began to wonder what his old teacher was up to these days. Coincidentally, at that exact moment, Jim Colabza was also thinking about his former student.

Lilith’s interests in Boston Common were aimed in slightly different directions than her husband’s. She was fascinated with the darker history of the Common. The Common, also a site for Puritanical castigations and torture, yielded a whipping post and stock. Although “The Great Elm,” a tree from which murderers, pirates, witches and other outlaws swung from by their necks was no longer standing, there was a placard of demarcation which made the intangible tangible once again.

After they left Boston Common, Tyler suggested they check out Park Street Church in their travels, having seen it in so many films and television shows during his upbringing, but was promptly shot down by Lilith, who stated plainly that “churches were fucking boring,” said with just a subtle hint of that signature smirk that, by now, you must surely know her for.   

They compromised and decided to stop at the Old Corner Bookstore instead. When they arrived and Tyler inquired of the store owner as to where he could find some Stephen King books, Tyler and Lilith were enlightened as to how, not two years earlier, there was a Mexican restaurant where they were now standing. The power of suggestion almost fooled them into thinking that they could still smell the Ghost of Mexican Food’s Past to the point where Tyler’s stomach began to howl at him.

What began as property owned by Anne Hutchinson three centuries ago had been converted into a Mexican restaurant.

Nothing more needs to be said about that; surely that statement invokes the proper sentiment in you. While a modern bookstore is not
exactly
complete and appropriate redemption for this historical landmark, it is more apropos to what the site
used
to be rather than the bastardization of a historic landmark that a Mexican restaurant would represent. Having said that, the
chimichangas
were reported to be very good…just not good enough to keep the doors open.

Tyler was intrigued by the story, while Lilith looked as if she was watching paint dry. After the proprietor spun his tale, he directed them to his Stephen King section. Yes, he had his own section; and this was where Tyler quickly picked up a first edition of the newest and ninth installment of King’s Dark Tower series. Toilet time just increased for Sai Swanson three-fold.

During their travels, they hit a couple of restaurants, as well as the Old South Meeting House, the Old State House, and the site of the Boston Massacre. On the following day they finished up their version of the Freedom Trail tour by visiting Paul Revere’s home, the Bunker Hill monument, the USS Constitution, and Copp’s Hill Burying Ground, which brought Lilith back to life a bit. It was clear that she was in Boston solely for the Yankees/Red Sox game. This was not to say that the game was not what Tyler was looking forward to most of all as well, but for Lilith, it seemed as if it was the apotheosis of something grandiose; the culmination of a life spent working towards something.

Chapter 5

It was game day and first pitch commenced at 1:05 EST.

Tyler and Lilith made their way down Lansdowne Street towards Yawkey Way to enter what Tyler considered the lion’s den. Tyler grew up a Yankee fan his entire life, so, naturally, going to a game at Fenway park was equivalent to being behind enemy lines. A soldier must prepare for battle and not go to war on an empty stomach however, and nothing is as enticing as the fragrant aroma of soft hot pretzels baking over a bed of white hot coals inside of a shopping cart. New Yorkers, transplanted or otherwise will understand that. I am neither, but I digress…

As Tyler and Lilith made their way through the primordial tunnels of the old ballpark, Ty looked over to his wife and saw a smile plastered on her face, nearly ear to ear, and it was not due to the pretzel. She did not want one.
“Nevermind the reason,”
Tyler thought to himself. He was just happy to see that she was in a good mood. Lilith could be quite moody, however charming, but he was able to barrel past all of the mood swings and/or smile-free days. It has been said before, but there was just something about Lilith.

That was great though: a smile on her face in anticipation of watching the Red
Sucks
, as he would refer to them with his buddies, get their clocks cleaned by the Bronx Bombers. They found their seats on the left field line in the outfield, three rows from the front. A fantastic vantage point. They soaked in their surroundings for about ten minutes, observing a fair share of Yankee fans polluting the Boston faithful around them, and then, a voice boomed over the public address system and requested everyone rise for the Star Spangled Banner. After the popular pop singe
r–
the name of whom I have neglected to recal
l–
left the field to moderately polite applause, the Red Sox took the field and the game began, and the countdown to Tyler Swanson’s calamitous, no,
epochal
event, was almost over.

*   *   *

It was the top of the sixth inning when Brett Gardner, the Yankee captain, came to the plate and belted a frozen rope line drive which wrapped itself around Pesky Pole in short right field (
very
short right field), bounced off of the hands of an uncoordinated Red Sox fan and disappeared into the crowd for a two-run homerun putting the Yankees on top, six to one.

“Fack!” an angry Bostonian exploded two rows behind them. “Check that cheatin’ fack fuh steroids! The guy’s faw foot three and he’s knawckin’ homeruns left and right fuh the last faw yeeiz! The fack!?”

“Aww, save it, ya blow-hard! Pesky poll is like 100 feet from home plate! And you guys have the balls to bitch about the short porch in Yankee Stadium? Give me a break, pal! Maybe if you guys had a decent pitcher you wouldn’t have to worry about lefties pulling balls over the fence!”

“Ahh, yaw muthiz ass!”

Before the situation became exacerbated any further, as it tends to happen in the crowds of a sold-out Yankees/Red Sox gam
e–
in Boston,
or
the Bronx, I will be fai
r–
a couple of good Samaritan fans defused the ugly situation. One of them inadvertently came close to reigniting the fire when one of the good Samaritan’s wives added, “Yeah! Jeez, keep it down. There are kids here!” to which the Boston fan remarked that “no one gave a shit about her kids but her and her husband.”