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                    {ASSM} The Journey
          [Stasya T. Canine and Esu Migabe] (no-sex)
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Please note and understand the content codes for this story. The
characters portrayed in this story are just that, characters in our
story. Any similarities to real people are purely coincidental and
unintentional. 
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The Journey

Breakfast

He woke, as usual, alone.  Funny that.  How long had it been? Seemed
like only yesterday when he thought he'd never be alone.  Then, she'd
betrayed him.  Gone. Where was she?  Not in bed, smiling, cheerfully
welcoming him to a new day, that was for certain.

He looked out the window and sighed.  He didn't have much hope left
these days but, still...

He glanced over at the night stand.  Damn teeth.  Their smile mocked
him. He didn't feel like smiling.  Even the weather mocked him.  Days
were always bright.  Should have been dark.  Dark, gloomy, filled
with the thunder and flash of his rage.

He sighed again, grabbed his cane and tottered over to where his
clothes were neatly laid out for him.  Funny, that.  Just like she
used to set them out during happier times.  Maybe she was in the
kitchen, not totally gone from his life as he’d thought.

The daydreams of past happiness made him eager to find out if he was
dreaming her betrayal.  He dressed hurriedly but carefully.  She
wouldn't like it if he didn't look his best when he went out.

When he got to the kitchen he froze with dismay.  The woman sitting
at the table, smiling a welcome, *looked* like her at first glance. 
But he knew better.

His shoulders slumped.

				---

She looked up at him, frowned, and then quickly smiled.  'He looks
so sad', she thought to herself.  'I thought, from his footsteps that
he'd...'

She sighed to herself.  Not today.  Maybe not ever.  'I hope he
doesn't watch my eyes.  I'd never forgive myself if he felt he'd hurt
me.'

With an abrupt shock, she remembered her manners.  She made a small
gesture, which she knew he probably wouldn't notice, and indicated
the other side of the table.  "Your breakfast is ready."

It took a while for him to realize she'd spoken.  'What did she
say?'  Panic seized him.  His stomach knotted.  Then he noticed the
slight tilt of her head. 'Thank God I haven't forgotten how to read
body language! She's indicating the food!  Must be what she
meant, it’s for me.'

He mumbled his thanks while he settled himself.

At least she didn't prattle at him while he ate.  'What am I going
to do? Can't stay here.  No work to go to, either.'  He sighed and
frowned to himself.  'The park?  Yes, the park.  Maybe she was there,
waiting for him. She used to do that.'  Or at least he *thought*
she'd used to. Seemed like yesterday but sometimes his mind, not just
his legs, betrayed him.

He sighed to himself.  Nothing for it, then.  Best to go there and
see for himself.  He pushed away from the table, mumbling his thanks
for the food. Courtesy forced out another sentence.  "I'm going out."

The effort of forcing his legs to work properly distracted him so he
never noticed her tired, frustrated smile.

By the time he’d gently closed the door and was slowly walking away, he'd forgotten her.

				---

She smiled to herself as she walked to the bus stop, it was a
pleasant morning - the sun shone brightly and a gentle breeze blew
along the street. She nodded to the postman's cheery greeting as he
cycled past.  It was a wonderful day and she was going to town to do
some shopping. Her room had been freshly decorated and she wanted to get the finishing touches -new curtains and maybe some matching cushions.

As she neared the stop, she noticed a familiar figure waiting for
the bus as well.  She stood by him, "Nice day isn't it?" she said. 
The old man grunted a reply. 'Obviously wants to keep himself to
himself this morning, maybe he'll be more cheerful soon' she thought
as the bus pulled into the stop. She boarded behind the old
man and heard him give his destination 'the park'.  She paid her fare
to the driver before sitting down next to the old man.

The old man sighed!  He realized that all the other seats were
occupied. However, did that really mean that she had to sit next to
him? He didn't want company - he wanted to be alone.  'No such luck'
he thought to himself. Tutting, he shifted across the seat to give
her more room.

She smiled cheerfully before thanking him.

The old man groaned - he hadn't wanted to give her the seat in the
first place and now she was smiling and talking to him.  'Damnation
just leave me in peace.'  He grunted back to her, hoping that she
would take the hint but to no avail, she carried on chatting.

"Where are you going today, are you going to the park again, it's
nice at this time of year isn't it?"

"If you like that sort of thing," the man sourly replied.

She smiled at him - realizing that he was a sad old man but she did
feel sorry for him, she would hate to be that miserable when she got
to his age. She wondered if he would ever become the cheery person
that he once was and hoped it didn't run in his genes.

'I know he hasn't always been like this,' she thought as she
continued to chat to him.

The old man sighed.  He didn't want to talk to her, all he wanted to
do was sit quietly and contemplate the day ahead, but what could he
do to stop her inane chatter?  He wondered if he went to sleep would
that shut her up? 'No' he thought to himself 'she's so busy chatting
she wouldn't even notice.'  Sighing, he realized that he was just
going to have to put up with her.

The bus moved swiftly along the road, stopping at times to let
passengers off and on, before reaching the stop before the Park.  She
wondered if he would remember where he was going this time, or even
if he would recognize his stop.  Sure enough, when his stop came, the
old man just sat in his seat. Smiling to herself, she tapped him on
his arm, "your stop - the Park".

The old man gazed at her briefly before struggling to his feet and
grunting loudly, made his way slowly off the bus.

The Park

The old man stood there, temporarily blinded by the light.  'Is this
the right stop?  That woman on the bus?  Girl, wasn't she?   She said
she'd seen me get off here, before.  Before?  I don't remember her
being a regular on my bus.  It was my bus, wasn't it?'

His eyes slowly recovered and he looked at the sign.  'A picture of
kids playing.  That way to my park.'  He snorted, not softly--and
passers by glanced at him.  'They don't understand.  A park is a
place to relax, not go fadding about, like all these kids want to do
these days.  Why did I want to come here, anyway?'  He carefully set
his cane and with slow, tottering steps, slowly walked the short
distance to his park.

'Kids.  Fadding kids.  It's all they do now.  Clothes that advertise
more clothes.  Blatant sex in the ads, to hint that without *their*
shoes, socks, shorts...  hell, even vaginal lubricant, you couldn't
*really* be successful.'  Someone jostled him and he almost fell.  He
glared at the rapidly retreating back.  'Not even an apology.  Didn't
notice me, didn't care.  Just another faceless old man.'

A movement across the street caught his attention briefly.  Her. She
was waving at him.  She even smiled when their eyes met.  He turned
away. 'Thinks I'm hers.  Just a brief conversation on the bus.
Couldn't get away. Was a time when I wouldn't have hesitated to
change seats or stand up to escape.  No more.  Too much trouble to
force myself out of the seat. Ignore her.'

He thought about cursing his body, his age, whatever had happened to
take his life away from him.  He decided he didn't have the energy.
Better to use what little he had to finish walking to his park. 
Maybe his bench was available.  Probably was.  Too much shade, to
close to those annoying ducks--and the fadding kids that pranced all
over the lawn, giggling mindlessly at each other.

'Fadding', he thought suddenly.  'Used to be a joke, something
people with no sense of self-worth did.  When did it become
respectable?'  He straightened himself slightly.  'Time was, *I*
never fadded.  I knew who I was.  I am, 'his shoulders sagged, 'an
old man, now.  Who's going to pay attention to a tottering old man,
these days?  Got to be quick. New. Got to be flashy before people can
respect it.'  He coughed, noisily cleared his throat and spat in the
gutter.  "Fadding."  His tone made it obvious he was using it as a
curse.

Step by slow, carefully placed, painful, hesitant step, he continued
to make his way to his park.

He cursed inaudibly.  'The grass is wet.  Got to go the long way.'
He sighed and moved on.  There it was.  His bench.  Just like he
remembered it--and...  He cursed again.  She was in it.  She looked
up from the child she was talking to, waved at him, said something to
the kid and got up. 'She's left me my bench.  Damn woman.  About time
she showed some sense. Got no use for her.  No use for any of them
since...'  He chopped the thoughts off.  He knew where they'd lead. 
He didn't like to cry. Men don't cry.  God knows he'd earned the
right, if any man had...  But, he was a man.

He settled on his bench, grateful for the random twist of fate that
had spared him the mindless prattle of a woman.


The Dog

She got off the bus a stop later, still thinking about the old man.
Something about him today worried her - he seemed even more forgetful
than normal, less cheerful than he usually was!  She decided to walk
back to the park to make sure he was all right.  It did not take her
long and she was soon opposite the park gates.  She watched the old
man as he shuffled along and waved to him when he paused.  She saw
him look at her and smiled back at him, suddenly noticing his
defensive stance. 'Oops, I had better be on my way,' she decided and
walked back towards the town.

As she walked along, a young tearful boy came running up. "Can you
help me please? … It's my dog … He ran off in the park …
I can't find him." The boy was obviously very upset and she felt sorry for him.  She smiled at him and said, "Of course I'll help you - come on, let's go and look."  'Oh well,' she sighed to herself,' I have all day to get my curtains'.  She handed him a tissue to dry his eyes before entering the park by the rear entrance and sitting down on the nearest bench.

"Now where were you, when you lost your dog?" she asked the boy.

"Over there," he replied, pointing over to the play area, which backed on to a wood.

"Perhaps he is hiding from you in those trees."

She looked over and saw the old man approaching, and waved to him as
she rose from the bench.

"Come on, let's go and look for him."

They walked over to the wood, the young boy holding her hand.  They
searched through the trees calling for the dog but to no avail.

"Maybe your dog is frightened, he may be hiding somewhere," she said
to the young boy.

She started to search the bushes and undergrowth; the young boy
followed her lead.

A sudden rustle and snapping of twigs alerted them as the dog came
bounding up to the young boy, wagging its tail wildly and jumping up
all over him.

She smiled at the two reunited pals, as the young boy thanked her
and then went on her way, nodding at the old man as she passed the
bench on which he sat.

The old man stared after her wondering!

'Who is she?  Why does she smile at me?  Do I know her?  Her face
looks familiar.'  His eyes blurred as thoughts of his recently
departed wife came to his mind. 'Damn these mood swings. Have to look
after myself now. No-one else to do it.'

Resolutely he pushed the thoughts of the woman away and tried to
relax.

The dog and boy romped gleefully on the grass in front of him.  He
used to have a dog.  Had many in his life.  Or did he?  Yes.  He knew
he'd had one when he was a boy.  Later?  He wasn't certain about
that.  His wife, now... She'd liked animals.  Cats, mostly, but she'd
been nice to dogs, too.  A puppy.  Sure, she'd brought home that
puppy, just for him.  He tried to remember more.

No use.  It had been too many years ago.  His past was too blurry.
It angered him.  Made him frustrated.

The boy settled on the bench next to him and the dog settled in
front of them, panting heavily.  "Do you know her?  She helped me
find my dog. She said you liked dogs.  She likes you, I could tell.  
Sam likes you. See? He's smiling at you."

Distracted, he looked at the boy, then the dog.  Sure enough the dog
was watching him.  His tongue was hanging out and he had a smile on
his face. He leaned forward carefully.  "Like me, does he?"  He held
out his hand.

"Had a dog when I was a boy.  My wife gave me a puppy once, too.
Long time ago, young man.  A long time ago."

Lost in his search for his memories he never noticed when the boy
and dog left.

The Return

She carried on walking -- determined to reach the shops and buy her
Curtains. 'Had enough interruptions for one day,' she thought. 'He's
certainly missing his wife, but don't we all.' Memories swam through
her mind as she smiled to herself, 'Life must move on though - shame
that he isn't able to do so.' She wondered if he ever would.

After wandering through the town, shop after shop, she finally
decided on the curtains she wanted.  'Umm, they are just right, the
colour is a perfect match,' she thought as she compared the swatches. 
She paid for them and decided to have a coffee in the café nearby
before making her way home.

Sitting at the table sipping her coffee, her mind wandered thinking
about the events of the day. That young boy, so worried about his
dog, glad I was able to help him. More importantly though, Dad. I
wonder if he is becoming senile or is he still confused about losing
mum. I try to help him but it just seems never ending - one step
forward and then two back. Don't know what else I can do, though.

The old man continued to search through his memories - daughter.
There was a daughter once as well. He wondered, had he seen her
lately? What did she look like now? She cared, but where was she now?
He vaguely remembered seeing her at times.

The old man, having spent the day in the park, went home.

He waited for the bus, boarding it when it arrived. He looked around
at the empty seats and noticed her, sitting a few rows down. He sat
down next to her and smiled.

"Hello," he said politely as she returned his smile.

"Nice to see you again," she replied.

She sat quietly, tired after her hectic day.

He smiled, realising he would soon be home, alone in his own
pleasant room, eating a splendid meal, before spending the evening in
front of his television.

The bus pulled to a stop. Standing up first, she helped the old man
to his feet.

"Come on, Dad, let's go home and cook your meal."


© Stasya T. Canine
© Esu Migabe January 2005
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Foot Notes
We hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as we have
enjoyed writing it.  As always, feedback is appreciated, since it is
our only payment for our work.

Please address comments to esu_migabe@hotmail.com

This story is copyrighted by the authors and as such may not be
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