You air that serves me with breath to speak!
You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape!
You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!
You paths worn in irregular hollows by the roadsides!
I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear to me.
The light streamed into his motel room. He had left the curtain partially open, allowing the lights of the street to come in.
Bosco had never been a fan of the dark, ever since he had been a kid. The light from the parking lot had served to be his "night light", not sure why he hadn't brought his own. Maybe he thought he would forget it somewhere along the way.
He got up from his bed and made his way into the bathroom and quickly took a shower. As he washed his body, he started to wash away all the hurt that had been deflected towards him and everything that he had experienced since he had gotten out of the hospital a year ago.
After quickly getting dressed, he made his way out of the room and down to the office to pay for his room. He knew that it wouldn't be much, as he had tried to find the cheapest motel that was available. Fortunately for him, there were plenty of rooms for his taking. Guess not a lot of people came to Philadelphia during the middle of January.
It looked to be a nice city, but it wasn't New York, it wasn't home. Making his way down to the Philly PD Headquarters, he wondered if he should consider such a move. It would be drastic that's for sure, away from his ma, away from his friends, and would probably mean to start all over again.
He turned his car around, looking for the nearest entrance onto I-95 South. Either due to the fact that he really didn't care or just didn't pay attention, he somehow made his way down to the Delaware River. Parking his car in a nearby parking lot, he stepped out and breathed in the mid-morning air. There was certain sharpness that greeted him as he stepped out of the car. Standing out at the edge of the river, he looked at the river. There was a ship coming in, piled with something on its decks, coming from some place in the world. The sharpness could be felt on his cheek, his NYPD toque pulled down over his ears and to just at the top of his eyebrows. He knew he was asking for it, wearing a NYPD issue toque in Philadelphia, but he could careless.
Not wanting to stand there too long, he made his way to the relative warmth of his car and turned over the engine and made his way to the nearest entrance. Unfortunately, his stomach wanted to have something inside of it, but he didn't care and made his way to Wilmington.
The drive went by fast to Wilmington, too fast, if you asked him later. He got out at a truck stop just outside of the city, wanting to have his food as cheaply as he possibly could as he wanted to have as much money as possible while on the trip, hoping not to force him to take some work along the way, which he knew that he probably he would have to do. It was that or come home earlier than he wanted to. It was here he examined the many maps he had bought before he had left the city. He didn't want to seem as though he were unprepared.
As he ate his meal, he examined the map book of the United States. He knew that if he stayed on the road for as long as he could today, he would be somewhere in Virginia. With his luck he probably would be in the middle of nowhere, probably with Carlos' in-laws. He knew somewhere he had an address for the place that Holly's parents called home.
When he had mentioned the possibility of going on such a trip to Davis around Christmas, Davis had managed to get the address and phone number of Holly's folks from Carlos. He had then phoned her parents a few days ago, asking if was okay if he could stop by for a night or two. Her mom had been more than willing to take in one of Holly's friends. In fact, she asked if he wanted to stay longer than that, but he managed to tell her that it would only be for a night or two. According to Carlos, they were very different from Holly.
After paying for his meal and gassing up his car, he headed back on the road. Where he was headed, he still did not know when, or if, he would ever be back to this portion of the country. Leaving the northeast behind, he headed down I-95.
You flagg'd walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!
You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined sides! you distant ships!
You rows of house! you window-pierc'd facades! you roofs!
You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!
You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!
It was dark by the time he came Holly's parent's place. He had phoned ahead and let them know he was on his way and that he would be there for night once he had hit Washington, DC, where he had stopped for dinner, however short it was.
As he stared out his front window, he was amazed at the beauty of the US Capitol, all lit up. It truly was an amazing site, something he had never seen before. Faith would have probably enjoyed and forced him to take a photo. Pulling over to the side of road at a safe spot, he grabbed his camera and took a shot. It was one that he would likely to email to his friends back home, showing them what they were missing.
After taking a snapshot, moved back into traffic, continuing on his way to place he hoped to hang his hat for a night or two. He made then correct turn offs and found himself going down some country road. Carlos wasn't joking when he said that Holly some sort country bumpkin who had made her way to the city.
He for sure hadn't ever visited such a place that was so quiet, other than the cabin that Sully had been detoxed at. But this was a little better; at least the road was paved. Turning into a driveway, he could see the faint lights coming from the house. Somebody was up. Suddenly he was overcome by a sense of dread, almost as though he wasn't welcomed here. But he knew that he was more than welcomed.
He turned off the car and made his way out into the cool night air. Even though it was only about 8:30, it was pitch black. He had no sense of actually how far he was from the highway, but he knew that if he could get a few free nights of accommodation, it would certainly help the pocketbook in the long run. Even the food that was going to be provided would probably be good on the pocketbook.
Standing outside on the porch, he couldn't help but notice how similar it was to his mom's place back in Queen's.
The door opened and Mr. Benjamin ushered him inside. It was homey and welcoming, sort of what his mom's place felt. It was different, that's for sure, but it felt like home. As he sat down to the amazing spread that Mrs. Benjamin had prepared. He defiantly could see some of Holly in her mom.
"So what happened to you?" Obviously Mr. Benjamin was curious about his bandage
"What?"
"Your bandage. What happened?" He asked again as he put some of the food in his mouth.
"I got shot."
"Oh, what happened? Holly said there were some masked men who came and shot up the hospital one day while she was there."
"That's pretty much what happened, ma'am."
"Don't call me ma'am; makes me feel old."
The scrapping of plates could only be heard for a few moments.
"So where are you from, Mr. Boscorelli? That is your name, right?"
"Queens; please call me Bosco."
"Queens, that's in New York, right?"
Bosco stuffed some more of his food into his mouth. "Yep, born and bred."
"Any siblings?"
"A brother."
"And what does he do? I suppose he's a cop, too, right?"
Bosco put down his fork and knife and laid them in his plate. "Uh, no. He was a drug dealer; was killed about a year and half ago."
"Oh; must have been painful."
Memories of seeing his brother's torso lying on the street came rushing back. "Yeah, especially for my mother." He was quiet for a moment.
Mrs. Benjamin spoke up. "You must have had a long day. I'll take you to your room."
After she had shown him his room, he immediately fell asleep; allowing dreams to overtake his body. Never had sleep felt so good.
You doors and ascending steps! you arches!
You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings!
From all that has touch'd you I believe you have imparted to yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me,
From the living and the dead you have peopled your impassive surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me.
After eating his breakfast, he made his way back to I-95 and turned his car south and never strayed far from the highway for the next few days. Eventually he had made his way into the surf and sand that was Southern Florida.
The first morning he woke up in Southern Florida, he found the sun streaming into his motel room. It was hurting his eyes, but it was the first good sleep he had had in a few days, at least since when he had stopped in at Holly's parents' place a few days back.
Even though the bed was somewhat firm, firmer than his bed at his own place, it certainly was better than sleeping in his car for the few hours that he was able to do so each night that he spent as he made his way from Virginia to the beaches of Miami.
After taking a quick shower and getting changed, he went onto the small balcony that overlooked the street. The motel wasn't far from the beach and the beach could be seen not far from where he had chosen to hang his hat. He could see the numerous people heading down towards the beach along the sidewalks. They were in various states of dress.
Feeling a little hungry, he headed down to the lobby, where the hotel offered a continental breakfast. At least he wouldn't have to pay for one meal. He had already been offered to be a night watchman by owners of the motel and was considering taking it, at least for a couple of weeks.
It would give him some money to put into his bank account at home, not that he needed the money, but it would certainly make his trip a little more comfortable if he had a little extra.
As he stuffed in the piece of fruit into his mouth, he knew he should do it. It wouldn't be much: just looking for creepy individuals who appeared to be just hanging around the hotel. It would only be for a few hours each day, but with some great benefits, one of them being a reduction on the cost of his room.
For whatever reason, he had brought his chequebook along. He supposed it was a matter of security more than anything, but he knew that once he gave a voided cheque to couple that ran the small motel he would have some money in his bank account.
After giving his word to the owners and a voided cheque, he made his way to the beach to sit among the crowds that were starting to make their presence known. Tonight would be his first shift at a new job. Maybe it would take his mind off of things or maybe it wouldn't; he could only anticipate what adventures lay ahead of him.