The Stranger – Part 7

I practically jump into my car, giggling as I go. I pull out of the parking lot and I’m not sure where I’m going, but I think some fresh mountain air would do me good. I head north, ignoring the now incessantly vibrating cell phone, fight the morning traffic, and take I-95, driving straight up to Canada, or as close to it as I can get. I lower the window and enjoy the warm summer air brushing against my face. The face that looks back at me from behind the dark glasses in the rearview mirror smiles in agreement.

Leaving the Bronx on I-95 is always a wonderful and predictably pleasant visual experience. One moment you are in the city seeing houses and buildings, and the next you’re in the mountains. The mountains are glorious to look at this time of the year. They are rich in their greenery, decorated by many tall trees that will greet you with hands made of leaves. There is also the fresh scent of nature, often hidden beneath the smell of bodies and car exhaust when you live in the city. And their summits seem to touch the sky, separating the clouds as they reach for heaven. I make sure to maintain the speed limit, not wanting any trouble along my way.

The face behind the glasses in the rearview mirror is also being vigilant of any highway patrol cars. I pass several rest stations and places to eat, but I don’t stop. I’m surprised that I’m not hungry, considering I didn’t have breakfast and it is getting close to lunchtime. I guess I’m too excited to be hungry. I arrive at a lookout point located off I-95, on the scenic route, someplace close to Connecticut. The view beckons my interest and I stop to enjoy it. The scenery looks magnificent on this beautiful summer day. I’m away from the main road, sheltered behind a tortuous path decorated with wild grass, shrubbery and rocks.

My phone has finally stopped buzzing and I notice there are several messages on my voicemail. I ignore them, step out of my car and walk towards the edge of the cliff, beyond the posted “Do not go beyond this point” sign. I don’t bother to close the car door. Standing on this precipice, I loosen some pebbles and rocks with my feet, kick them and watch as they respond to gravity’s call. They bounce off the side of the cliff, and then roll along the grassy part of an unmarked trail, stopping someplace beyond my sight. I can hear my heart beating inside my chest; it is a slow, calm, soothing rhythm.