Voices from a Virgin Islands Perspective.

There are many reasons for creating stories, stories that speak of desires or sometimes express  joy and sometimes pain.  This page will give you the stories of people represented by characters who are strangers in a foreign land.  These stories maybe comical, romantic or tragic but they all stem from a need or better yet a longing...

The American Love

The truth is: women never ever really no what they want. In America, this truth becomes more complex¾ money gets involved. I remember holding a woman close on a moonlit beach, this was void of superficial intent. The touch, the symbiotic way in which we met eyes was innocent. The Caribbean gave life to love. My friend ended my wishful thinking.

John was late. It did not matter, it is the end. The key chain inscribed with the words J.R.M. signifies that he is about to converge upon an encounter that will bring heartbreak as well as finality. This was a regular work day¾ but the routine miller lite bottle did not sit on the kitchen table. He would not have to wipe the residue from the moist bottle off the table. In this moment, it seemed like a joy forever lost. The beer’s absence solidified the end.

The trips, John remembered the plane rides and men in blue suits and black ties. Blue was the corporate color. At 6’3” with jagged cheeks bones and broad powerful shoulders, the 26 year-old John was a specimen of a millennium- man. As a broker for Dean Witter, he had reached at the pinnacle of his profession. The business meetings in places like Tokyo and Milan had taken their toll. He promised his wife he would stay at home more often, work less, and get to know her. This unfamiliarity would prove destructive.

After placing his briefcase on the kitchen counter. John approached the staircase. The spiral staircase ascending two floors up to the master bedroom would be the most pivotal ascent in his lifetime. Today was to be a day of revelation. John began to ascend, step by step. Creek…creek…creek, his brown Clark wingtips echoed against each wooden step. He reached the top of the staircase and peered down the hall. The blue carpeting outlined his path towards finality. John passed the open baby room, it was innocent of deceit. He walked pass the open bathroom, it was void of scandal. John approached the bedroom door, it was locked.

His mind could not control what his hands wanted to do, and yet his arms were unmoving. The courage of disbelief revived his nimble arms. John reached in his pocket and disheveled the key from the coins that jingled. Suddenly his arms went nimble, fear had set in. The questions in his mind rambled on. “Should I just walk away?” “Is this the day that I find out?” He could not help himself, his arms revived. He unlocked the door and there it was.

The scene was a realization of all his speculations. Her body lay half-dressed, her companion in bed was familiar to John. Her lover was Jim Meyers, John’s colleague of four years. They had traveled together on the same business trips with the same mission: increase company shares. Now they shared the same woman. John’s wife turned and half-heartedly said to him, “I told you I needed more attention.”

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