Chapter 02 - Golden Pinecones
I awoke in a sandy gutter, moments from consumption by the crispness of daylight. Many are my day-afters that begin with the alarm clock of a fleeting wave, retreating away from the temporary bed the shore provides me. Minutes pass by as my body reboots, playing passenger to a barrage of questions I ask myself as I search for the explanation of last night. I can't help but acknowledge the underlying question, written in red, highlighted and screaming in a bold font. Was she real?
Something felt unique about her. I rifle through the pages thrown about in a mess around my memory, unable to pinpoint the reason. I lift my head off of the sand and dust off my dignity. I strain both eyes in search of signage disclosing how far I have to venture to reach the house. Agitation arose alongside another feeling, defeat. The currency of bad decisions I knew well, smuggling more and more into the crowded lifestyle I adopted. A flicker of a warm hue tip toed in my periphery each Friday evening prior to leaving the shore. The lips of which whispered for the delay in departure, for the absence of my evening in the Deep Pines. A rebellion exists inside of me, it only lacks the strategic placement of troops needed to win the war. Yet the night ends with a hesitant morning that follows and the flag is still raised. Excitement rattles the camp, and with the domino drop, my outlook. The battle will be won one day, somehow I know this to be an absolute truth.
If I were so lucky to have been saved by the one they call Lee, I’d undoubtedly have an origami fox on hand as well as some mantra inspiring hand written note, none of which found on this barren shoreline. I am lifetimes away from the dock and begin to think of Caroline’s safe whereabouts.
I summon someone else’s faith that the old steed is safe and sound and begin to stagger myself home, it would take no more than ten minutes to arrive. Plenty of time to continue my argument that I had actually run into Carmine last night, the real Carmine. One detail stings and shouts out as out of place, she was not the one that called me dearheart when we were younger. How did she know of such an endearment, a lost relic tangled in my youth.
I shake the thought, they will soon be replaced with food, water, and a warm bed. I remember to turn on my porch light to alert Cameron of my safe arrival home and prepare to descend into vegetation. I close the door flush with the threshold when within seconds I hear a battle cry beating on my door. It’s Cameron and he’s shouting something fierce. I open the door with haste just as his fist prepares for the second verse of a tribal chant.
CAMERON: Atmos, you had me worried pal. Where the hell have you been?
ATMOS: I suppose it's evening now, but I spent the usual Friday night somewhere lost in the Deep Pines. Honestly I just stumbled back from waking up on the shoreline.
CAMERON: Yeah. I get that, but that was two nights ago. It's Sunday evening Atmos, not Saturday
His eyes screamed worry alongside his words, perhaps I should swap my grogginess for alertness and share his emotion in the matter.
CAMERON: You haven't seen the news yet have you? Friday night something happened out in the Deep Pines. Something bad, something so bad that the police are asking around for anyone who might have been trespassing out past the boundary. I had thought for sure you had been picked up and were being questioned by some collection of private eyes.
ATMOS: What? How is it Sunday, I remember being out in the Deep Pines Friday night, losing all consciousness and waking up on the shoreline just now? I’m not that much of a drunkard to have been out an entire day, something isn’t right. Do you think I have something to do with all of this?
CAMERON: Look I don't know, but has anyone seen you? When you woke up, walking here, any parts that you can remember?
ATMOS: No, I mean I saw Carmine Friday night but honestly it wasn’t her, it was just a hallucination. After waking up I walked home and I ran into no one during my stroll. Can you promise me that you’ll swear I was with you? I know it's asking a lot but please Cam, I don't want to get caught up in whatever this is just because I happened to be there for my own stupid reasons.
Cameron went silent. His hesitation cast a stage light on a forgotten flaw in the plan newly proposed. I had also seen Sev that night, along with a bar full of people that could all peg me to the Deep Pines Friday night.
CAMERON: Fine, yeah, I’ll say you were with me. We need an iron clad story though Atmos. Go shower, get your head on properly and come over, we’ll brainstorm a story to stick to.
ATMOS: Cam. I appreciate it. I saw Sev on Friday as well, along with eight or so patrons that were at the bar. We’ll have to tie that into the story somehow.
He shook his head in confusion as I held my disappointment and waved a temporary goodbye from my door. This was going to be complicated. He was right, I need to freshen up, body and brain.
The steam from the shower eased the worry in my mind. An unlucky collection of moments tangled my desperation into some cast plot that I should not even be an extra in. I had to include in my alibi my stop at Sev’s, there were too many patrons that could unravel my lie. It didn’t help my case that memory loss accompanied the tale of my nightly affairs. I needed more to go off of. Suddenly the caressing streams of water began to lose their comfort to an urge to look up any news related to the night. Information had to be scattered across the web, allowing some connection, even if faint, to tie together the absent dots twirling around in my mind.
Droplets of water continued to fall towards the tile floor as I booted up my house computer. A newer model in the arms race that was technology, it sat about 2 feet tall and after a cycle of the dial up booting sequence, would be connected to others as privileged as me to have such equipment. Much haste accompanied my search of multiple avenues for a shred of knowledge. Thirty minutes into the endeavor acquired intrigue. The local astronomy club posted photographs of their gathering Friday night, noting cautiously that they met at the border of the Deep Pines, but did not enter. Their third image held value for me, it captured the same cliff side I remember heading to before Carmine appeared, with an out of place red glowing dot in the landscape. The club’s use of amateur photography was most likely responsible for the discrediting of the dot I knew to be much more.
Why was dearheart there?
As my throat tightened, I decided to share the news with Cameron. A fresh batch of clothes accompanied my quick walk over to his flat only to find him packing his briefcase.
CAMERON: They called me in. On a Sunday. This can’t be good. Look I know we were supposed to have a game plan tonight but I need to get ahead of this. Whatever, this is.
ATMOS: Yeah of course, good luck Cameron. We’ll touch base tomorrow.
CAMERON: Take care Atmos.
ATMOS: You too. And hey, I’m sorry.
He smirked.
CAMERON: I knew one day that girl would get you into trouble.
Cameron hopped on his road bike and departed off into the fog towards the train station. The trains typically don’t run this late at night but I suspect an exception was being made. I re-entered my empty abode and decided upon slumber. Perhaps tomorrow I will awake in a real bed. A faint dream beckoned my ear and within seconds slumber overtook me.
My alarm clock barked six thirty out into the morning air. Stay the course I told myself, today was going to be an ordinary Monday working an ordinary job. I daydreamed once more of the differences in Carmine’s demeanor during my morning commute and arrived at my desk seconds before my phone abruptly rang.
PAIGE: Atmos, this is Paige, Mr Blackwing’s secretary. You are being requested immediately in the conference room.
I glanced over at the empty desk in front of me. No sight of Sails yet, perhaps this meeting would include his absence. I strolled down the windowless hallway and opened the door to the conference room.
I could hear loud banter as I approached the frosted glass door of my next scene. The turning of the handle that announced a new guest crackled waves of silence upon the room. I quickly counted twelve sets of eager eyes fixated on me. If I were to have known I’d be on a stage, I would have worn a nicer shirt. The first to speak was Sails, clearly his first stop this morning had been here, urgency neglected his desk.
SAILS: Atmos, we have been eagerly awaiting your guidance. I’m sure by now you are aware that Friday evening there was an incident in the Deep Pines.
My mind raced to find out how I or an architecture firm had any relation to whatever went down at the Deep Pines.
SAILS: I hope you don’t mind, I told the board about your frequent outings out there. Rest assured no one is in trouble here, our goal is simply remediation. But Atmos, this is a moment to propel your career. For us to discuss this matter any further I need you to sign off on your confidentiality.
A vanilla folder was passed over to me. My sweaty palm opened the mystery, revealing in big letters ‘Non Disclosure Agreement’ written on the top of the page.
ATMOS: I know how to keep a secret Sails.
My response dripping with disappointment that he freely shared my personal life with the firm. The ink still lay wet on the page when Sails continued his dissertation.
SAILS: I’m glad we are on the same page. What I am about to tell you goes far beyond that document. Atmos you are going to learn about a secret of this town. Have you ever heard of Conifer Cove?
My eyes reflected the blankness of my thoughts from the prompt.
ATMOS: I have not.
A slight smile creased his face, I confirmed his well kept secret.
SAILS: Conifer Cove is a community here in Forest City. One that consists only of the absolute elite. It is located four miles off of the shoreline on a small six acre piece of land. It has its own ferry and most importantly has only one design firm appointed to its development. Since its conception nine years ago, we have designed a total of eighty works of art there that select community members call home. For all intents and purposes, we are the curators of Conifer Cove, it is our masterpiece for Forest City. Executives of our firm live there, past mayors have lived there, and our CEO Sam Blackwing calls this utopia home. It does not appear on any map and is only known to those who need to know about its existence. It is not my intention to brief you on the history of Conifer Cove or whatever happened out there in the Deep Pines, that is for the police to uncover. You are being brought on as the architectural and structural relief for Conifer Cove as an expert of the Deep Pines. Unfortunately most of us only know stories of the area, what has been written about in case studies, but you. You Atmos have lived it. If you decide to, we are to leave for Conifer Cove following this meeting to assess the damage that overcame the community Friday night and come up with an immediate solution. If you have any questions, please wait until our ferry ride as time has become a critical metric in our relief efforts.
Flattery did not fall up on me with the fresh sash of compliments in the air. I had to imagine that they would tell me as few details as allowed in order to gain my perspective. I’m sure Sails left out the high proof companion of my journeys out to the Deep Pines. He would surely gain higher marks for a sober expert, stumble free of sloppy foot prints.
A majority of the staff entrusted in this meeting began to stand, conveying the departure of Sails and I. I remained quiet during the elevator ride down to the lobby, clutching my leather binder as the only friend left in the matter. Sails and I hopped into a black company sedan and headed to the alleged secret ferry landing. I would do my best not to disclose such information to Cameron, or Sev, or even Carmine. Carmine, she was cynical and beautiful but she shared the spotlight with the rest of them.
Our company car approached a dull signless three story building on the very edge of the shoreline. Nothing but tall evergreen trees existed to its right. The question answered on how to hide a ferry in plain sight. No words had been uttered between Sails and I, my feeling of betrayal emitting off my body like an odor of disapproval. We passed through a small security check point where our company badges proved useful when the silence finally shattered.
SAILS: Look. I’m sure you’re not happy with me. I understand I chose my career over our friendship. I usually do. But if we can’t make it past this small hiccup, then maybe we weren’t really friends to begin with. Maybe we existed in each other’s lives for comradery, and I’m okay with that. Now though, either you quit the firm, or come to terms with the fact that we will be working together on this for quite some time.
I lacked the consideration afforded by Sails that our bones held friendship. His existence had been welcomed, but our labeling differed. The definition of such a casual collection of letters produced weight for me. They filled page after page of artisan paper, ending the size of a novel. I did not consider him a comrade in the trenches beside me, fighting through the daily battles towards the next birthday. These brothers in arms that appear from the fog are easily recognizable. Their sleeves may not include the proper adornment of well stitched symbols but their hands resemble a statue within its permanence. Always held out and open, it appears during moments when the perspiration is wiped off of your face and you realize the hole that you are in. Often rare, this ladder holds vitality, a trait I did not find in Sails.
A ferry boat appeared over the horizon. Cast in cedar, it looked over 40 feet long. Even at a distance a luxurious tone could be felt. The vessel reached our dock, hidden from view by the building behind us. I stepped on first, affording me one instance of dominance in the situation. The lake was choppy this morning, rocking the hull back and forth gradually as the silence between us grew. Sails gave some sort of signal to eavesdropping eyes and just like that we were off into the water.
As we rode the ferry together, I held back my strong desire to story tell. Perhaps towards the closing of last year, an unwelcome detail began to enter the stage. I had no one to share my new formed Deep Pines discoveries with. Fragments of wisdom for an area most don’t have a single memory with. An itch that sporadically appeared over parts of my thoughts with time. Although excitement might find its way into such a conversation, I knew truly that I have always been drawn to the art of story telling. To pull each puppet string at the correct moment hoping to convey a seductive tale. I do enjoy watching others retell a harrowing tale, but I know I prefer mine. My story is my favorite story.
The ferry’s speed began to slow as it threaded itself through a small cluster of submerged trees hidden from view. I fixated over the horizon, finally to notice the discovery of Conifer Cove. Like a flower blooming after the last sash of winter, small golden lights could be seen glowing in the distance. A white brick archway appeared overhead, the symbol of a pine cone etched within the center of its keystone. Three men in suede peacoats greeted our arrival on a dark cedar stained dock, roping our ferry to a nearby pole.
MAN AT DOCK: You must be the two representatives from the architecture firm, please impose haste in your arrival. Our Captain has been waiting for you.
I discarded my annoyance in the greeting and noted that none of these men recognized Sails, perhaps we were still in the same boat after all. A fourth gentleman made his presence aware, tossing his cigarette on the concrete below him, he wore an even more sophisticated attire than the rest.
WELL DRESSED MAN: It would do you good to be on time.
His narrow mouth slithering out the statement.
SAILS: Our apologies.
Sails knew what I knew, less would be more with these people.
WELL DRESSED MAN: Lets proceed then. Our first inspection will be the community square, by far the most devastated region from Friday night.
I found my intrigue and resemblance of being a possible suspect conjuring an unsolicited response.
ATMOS: What exactly happened here Friday night?
Sails immediately darted his eyes at me, I suppose we could be even at this point. Our tour guide flew around, walked an arm’s reach to me and spit out his disgust.
WELL DRESSED MAN: You are here to provide architectural relief. That of which does not include asking such lucrative questions to me or anyone else of the NightLight staff.
As he stormed off he did not realize his misstep. I now knew that NightLight ran Conifer Cove.
My eyes began absorbing the porous environment around me, filling up with new and unexplained information. Why go to such trouble for an elaborate hideaway? Regardless of their weight, clues illuminated all around me in an effort to define Conifer Cove. I noticed Sails eyes, they were affixed to the fashionable man leading us. His attire was surely unique when compared to the others surrounding him, except for one small detail. He wore a necklace with a gold pine cone loosely around his neck. Although this accessory might blend into his elaborate disguise, all three other men were wearing the same necklace as well, a peculiar detail in fashion.
WELL DRESSED MAN: I would request that we spend no more than seven minutes at our first location. I was told that you two are the best and brightest, I accounted for this attribute when preparing my schedule for the day. I shall correct myself, when I dictated my schedule to my assistant today. Clearly I cannot be bothered with such a mundane task.
ATMOS: What is our first spot?
I conveyed confidence, only finding Sails eyes choosing a new face to fixate on.
WELL DRESSED MAN: I shall warn you that you do not want to come off as two unprepared outsiders. You were both given a briefing of the area, I will not burden myself with explaining your purpose here. I suggest you take thorough notes and learn a valuable lesson on business etiquette regarding preparedness.
As the last word cascaded out of his mouth, Sails was ready for his response. It was control that he was after.
SAILS: Of course, I have read the entire brief. You must excuse the manners of my colleague, he had a recent run in with the Deep Pines and has been a bit…..foggy…following his rescue.
WELL DRESSED MAN: Hmmm. Well no excuse, but the Deep Pines are not to be taken lightly. You must take the proper precautions before requesting its offering. It’s not like everyone can expect that buffoon Lee to show up at a moment’s notice and save them.
After our interaction I had wondered if the well dressed man regretted showing his heart in that moment, even if it were only a microscopic release of a warm curtain. I dwelled on his conveyed interest in the Deep Pines. I would expect him to be well informed on most matters of the outside world, but his face lit up when the gloomy location was briefly discussed.
Sails asked a round of questions proving that he did indeed read the briefing that had been used at my expense. All the while I took pictures, at every angle, of every insignificant feature of the landscape, of the well dressed man and his silence for hire. With each pulse of the flash from my outdated camera, each golden pine cone necklace exploded in a prism of light. I tuned out the dialogue around me and searched my thoughts for their meaning.
As we ventured through two more locations, I began to feel off, a feeling that something had spoiled deep inside of me. I caught Sails' attention, drawing suspicion from the well dressed man that a new detail emerged within our journey. I placed blame on our ferry ride to Conifer Cove, ignoring the bold faced fact that I travel via boat at least once a week. It was only within a split second but the news caused Sails to shift his gaze to the well dressed man, who glanced back with eyes that spoke of understanding. Had they planned for me to get sick?
It would appear that my illness had caused our trip to be cut short. We trotted back to the boat dock entrance when the sharpness came. I could hear the words being spoken in front of me, yet somehow a mist accompanied the weather.
WELL DRESSED MAN: My expectation is a full report transmitted to my office tomorrow morning. I cannot find anything more valuable at the moment in your feeble lives than this report.
I turned my body to face the well dressed man when I noticed a glow in the corner of the frame. A familiar hue that beat with the same distinction as the Dearheart nights prior.
Our boat could be seen arriving in front of us, a pretzel of rope within the sailor’s hand ready to be thrown. I lifted my hand instead, palm facing out in the air and connected the constellation of points surrounding this mystery. My mind became clear, reframed with the correct understanding. We were in the Deep Pines. I don’t know how, but this uneasiness accompanying me felt as familiar as breathing.
ATMOS: We will be able to continue the investigation as planned. I apologize for my momentary absence, please take us to the remaining locations.
Again the well dressed man looked directly at Sails, as if talking through the molecules between each set of eyes. Upon a quick glance back, Sails turned his attention to me.
SAILS: Very well Atmos, please let us proceed.
WELL DRESSED MAN: Unprecedented.
The use of a compliment by the well dressed man seemed too calculated to forget.
The next two locations followed the same series of events as the ones prior. Sails talked as I documented, the best and brightest at their finest. One last spot stood between us and a desired departure from this place.
No words were spoken, only the gesture of hands to continue forward through an open field that bled into the forest extending as far as the eye could see in front of us. We had walked beyond the limits of the residential district, down a maintenance path to the scene of various wooden boxes built like empty apiaries. Once we reached the edge of the forest with the field, it seemed to provide us with our last stop. I had not brought a flashlight, as there had not been a briefing shared with me, but Sails did and within seconds flipped a mechanical switch tied to a light pole to illuminate the path in front of us.
WELL DRESSED MAN: Steer clear of the woods, our efforts are still ongoing. Now I want you both to fully understand how delicate and sensitive this particular area is to the community of Conifer Cove. You are being entrusted with an area that is held dear to the community. Do not for a moment think that we will take any discussion of this wooded prairie outside of the confines of this community lightly. I will personally guarantee your full prosecution and have you labeled as an outcast of Forest City. You are not to ask any questions regarding this location, only to provide a solution on how to re-stabilize the erosion that has seemed to be strongly impacted during the events of last weekend.
The well dressed man’s monologue felt best summarized with a giant question mark. Streaks of sweat skied down my body, I no longer wanted to be a part of whatever this was.
It was odd being around other people while under the influence of the Deep Pines, I did not want to place thought on how Sails was holding up or some alternative lifestyle that he secretly practiced, mimicking mine in many ways. Hesitation was short lived as we descended down the dark trail in front of us, a cone of light cast for the scenery to come. We reached an area where two different paths presented themselves to us.
WELL DRESSED MAN: You will turn right. Only right. Left will forever be off limits to you.
The flashlight turned right with us and exposed a loss of land, sheared ground missing from the area as if taken back to the water that was somehow undoubtedly below us.
WELL DRESSED MAN: The rehabilitation of this location is of the utmost importance. We are unable to travel on, as the area has all collapsed. It is imperative to the well being of our community that this path is restored. Please document all that you need and be on your way.
Sails grew silent, no questions echoed in these unknown rocks. I took enough pictures to fill a photo album and felt woozy as I turned back towards the entrance. A whisper grazed my ear.
UNKNOWN: Lovely seeing you again darling.
My body spun around with intensity as I caught what appeared to be blonde hair disappearing past the treeline inaccessible in front of us. I ran to the edge of the cliff face and drew the attention of the entire room. Every one of the henchmen brought with the well dressed man, clenched their necklace and tensed up. The well dressed man proved more elegant, but also held the golden pine cone within his hand at this very moment. I neglected to notice that within my moment of haste, I had knocked over a kerosene can of oil that laid on a nearby work bench. The accident caused a splash of unwanted liquid to spill upon Sail’s dress shirt.
My desire to no longer be on stage issued my retreat away from the makeshift stone wall. My hallucinations must be to blame, clearly this path oozed with the scent of the Deep Pines.
ATMOS: Sails……I have all I need to prepare a…..full report. I am ready to depart when you are.
My response warranted a nod, and with it we journeyed the long way back to the boat dock.
WELL DRESSED MAN: Gentlemen, do not keep me waiting. I will be speaking with you regarding your report tomorrow morning. I would make haste in your departure, the storm tonight will be noticeable. Be on your way.
I boarded the ferry and took in the fresh air around me, somehow purer than the rock path we had just embarked through. As the water rippled with our velocity, my mind felt clear. I know without a doubt that we had just been in the Deep Pines, perhaps an area of higher concentration than I had been used to. That is why I was chosen for this task. I glared at Sails with a cast of deception, he knows much more than he is telling.
Sails excused himself and went to the bathroom to freshen up his newly stained shirt. I knew within this moment that I would downgrade our friendship, but I felt the potential reward outweighed such disposition. I would barge in on him, hopefully finding out more regarding what he was actually doing, who he was talking to, the possibilities of the moment sailed away like a kite. I waited roughly one minute for him to be alone within the bathroom and broke in with brute force, passing the opening of the door frame. Sails stood before me, shirtless with a glimmer around his neck. It would seem that he also had a golden pine cone necklace.
SAILS: Get out of here Atmos! Are you actually kidding me right now!
The moment and the visual proved to be all the information I needed to retreat back to the land where our friendship still existed. I would not say anything, nor would I share my collection of thoughts, but I had work to do. For now I just needed to get home, away from this newly discovered spy.
SAILS: I don’t know what you are up to, but I am close to reporting you for barging in on me like that. What do you have to say for yourself?
ATMOS: I was about to puke Sails, I’m seasick. What would you expect me to do?
SAILS: And you what, suddenly lost your will to spew once you saw me?
ATMOS: Stomachs are funny like that aren’t they?
SAILS: Don’t think that I still am not going to report you. I need you working tonight on this report. Prove to me that you are sorry and I’ll consider dropping this.
ATMOS: Loud and clear Sails.
After our arrival back to the shoreline, I grabbed a briefcase containing the key cards to remote access our server from our car and conveyed my expressed decision in the matter.
ATMOS: I understand that you want me working tonight, I will work away. You have my word. But I am working at home, not at the office. If you have any questions you know how to reach me.
It wasn’t as if Sails gave any positive reinforcement on my decision, he simply rolled his eyes and left. Our friendship might be salvageable, but it was teetering on the edge of a dangerous cliff. Sails followed orders and walked back into the car to be taken to the office for the night. I began walking home, but altered my course as soon as the familiar tail lights were no longer visible. I yearned for the ear of a familiar friend.
The journey to Sev’s Starling was short, but stressful. I glanced over my shoulder each and every time the second hand ran a lap around my watch. I would wear trouble like a warm jacket if my whereabouts were known. I began to notice the falling droplets of water all around me signaling that the Well Dressed Man knew his dose in weather.
The large pine trees around me slowly opened to reveal a lightless marque, typically shining bright for weary travelers. It would appear that Sev’s was closed. My footsteps came to a halt as I reached the front door, peering in for any signs of life. A sudden slap accompanied the glass inches from my eyes, immediately followed with an apology. Through the glass I heard his voice.
SEV: Atmos. You scared me. Please let me get the lock for me, come in.
An audible click filled the air, followed by the opening of Sev’s door.
SEV: Damn incident last weekend has me closed for the time being, ordered by the police. But worry not, I am still serving drinks for two. You and me.
A smile scorched his face, sharing a drink was his livelihood. I compiled the narrative of what had happened to me during the last 48 hours and through many details and questions began to tell Sev what had happened.
SEV: Makes sense. Makes perfect sense.
His bizarre reaction accompanied with his departure from the bar stools we inhabited, walking behind the bar to mix another drink for both of us. He had just finished pouring the gin when his eyes darted at me.
SEV: Atmos, I must tell you something. I must. Give you something.
He ruffled through the cash register until he picked up a wrinkled piece of paper, half submerged within a tattered envelope.
SEV: Atmos. She. Carmine. Came here a few weeks back. I didn’t see her, I swear I would have told you if I did. But she left this letter addressed to me. Left it right on the doorstop of the bar. I have been waiting for the right time to give it to you, but after hearing your tale, the thought of keeping such information. Well, just take it.
His hands reluctantly handed the relic over, my brain immediately telling my eyes to slow down as it prepared to read its mystery.
Dear Sev,
Please know that I miss our times together, my heart aches for much in these days of late. I am writing to you now because of Atmos. I am worried about him. Night after night I catch him traveling out to the spots we once knew, alone and inebriated. He needs help Sev, you must help our deer friend. He doesn’t know the times I’ve carried him back to his canoe and brought him back to shore. I cannot come back, I know it sounds cowardly but I am not finished yet.”