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He slowly walks back to his car, almost joining his father in whatever afterlife there might or might not be when he steps out into the road in front of a van that looks somewhat like Scooby Doo’s Mystery Machine, if it had been designed by the devil himself. He doesn’t even hear the horn or the obscenities, quite a few of which are surprisingly original and creative although anatomically impossible to perform, that come from the mouth of the washed up stoner behind the wheel. Later he will wonder why Scooby and the gangs mode of transportation always makes him think of bizarre sex acts, but for now he registers nothing but a desire to be home as soon as possible, as if watching his mother slowly waste away to nothing now that she doesn’t have his father to tell her what to do and when to do it is really an improvement in his situation. He finally reaches his car and turns back toward the building. At this point he barely remembers arriving here or anything that was said to him. All. In a comforting way this patio seemed so familiar, as though I had been here before. As I looked more intently around, I was overcome with a strong sense of déjà vu. I had been here before! My mind went into reverse thru my memories until I found what I had locked away. It had been two years since we last saw or spoke to each other. I hadn’t allowed those memories to run freely thru my mind anymore, they had been too painful. Now, sitting here, at the exact same table, they flooded my mind. I can picture him sitting across from me, the broad shoulders that seemed to protect me, yet there was a vulnerability about him that made me want to protect him. I remember how easily our conversation seemed to flow, neither of us had ever been at a loss for words with each other. There had definitely been a cosmic influence that had brought us together. As I brought those memories to the surface again, I remember how romantic that night had been. The soft flickering of the candle, good.
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