Midnight in the Garden of Good and E.VIL-lage

"The night's heavy rain softened the ground nicely," I whispered, and Edgar DuHaven agreed. Such an ugly evening, its cold wind, lighting and thunder, however, ensured our much needed privacy. As I dug the small hole, Edgar nonetheless kept a stern watch. His eyes, peering through the wall of ivy weaving its way in and out of the locked gate and the 1o foot high metal fence surrounding this small and often overlooked Community Garden located somewhere between Ave. B and C, somewhere hidden away in the East Village...not the greatest of locations, the years of neglect, beer bottles, trash bags and worn soiled mattress had turned this small patch of land into a place for the forgotten, the discarded, a sort of graveyard for the broken...fitting. There's no place like home.

The hole was finished. I placed my coat over the open grave, shielding this soon to be and way over due resting place from anymore water pouring inside. I sat down beside it, my knees pulled up to my chest, teeth chattering staring up to the black rainy sky, spotted with moonlit clouds of fastly moving white and waited. I had no idea if Kristyna would show, and if she did, what would she do? I hadn't spoken to her since that night.

Her secret out now. The young 8 year old girl, frightened, crying softly on the floor was gone now, and before my eyes, she aged - back to the adult woman I thought I knew - she aged, and the woman who walked out the door to my apartment was much older than the one who let herself in the few long hours before. Frail, spent, saddened so she was, I hung up the phone in my hand, knowing all too well the decision to let her go may come back to haunt me. If that day comes, I will deal with the consequences, happy to see her again. Heather Mary thought I was crazy, but when Edgar DuHaven finally came to, he laughed. "Big Surprise," he said, then to Heather Mary, "Was there ever any doubt he would let her go?" Heather Mary shook her head, "No," she replied. It's nice to have friends that know you so well.

I sent Kristyna an email, telling her my plan, telling her how this all needs to stop, to put everything behind us. To bury the past. She didn't write back, but something told me she would come. So I sat, in the rain, drenched, knees to chest, teeth chattering and waited, and as the rain poured, a little after 3 am, Edgar whispered, "Someone is coming." We both stopped breathing and stared through the ivy covered gates. Under the street light, a figure stood, then illuminated by a bolt of lighting, we saw who it was. Hair soaked, drenched from head to toe, standing silently outside the garden was Kristyna, and in her arms, in a small black bag, she held her past.

No one spoke as we stood over the grave, still empty. No one knew what to say or what to do, but it didn't matter, I thought, we were all together...Me, Kristyna, Edgar DuHaven and via Edgar's cellphone, Heather Mary...my little family, bruised, beaten and a little worse for the wear, but still a family and I was so proud. How cool were we, to put aside our petty feelings and opinions and safety concerns, to come together in this moment...a moment of grace.

We stood for an hour, we four. No rush, the sun would wait. To pass the time, Heather Mary propped her phone by the stereo in her room, piping music into the garden and we quietly hummed along. No rush, when ever you're ready. Then finally, after a huge exhale, Kristyna carefully climbed into the hole and gently put down her burden. I reached into my pocket and handed Kristyna the one missing piece and on top of the small black bag the tail was placed. She said a few worlds so quietly, only a dog could hear and climbed out of the hole. I grabbed the shovel and started replacing all the wet dirt and after a few minutes of patting it flat, the burial was done, the burial of this girl's dogs was finally done.

The rain stopped. We all looked up and saw the beginnings of a blue sky. It was going to be a pretty day. Kristyna turned and without a word climbed over the fence and walked away into the morning light. Over the phone, Heather Mary finally spoke, "Is it over?" she said. "Yes," I replied. "Good, could you pick me up a bagel on your way back? I'm starving." We stopped by Kossar's and I bought us all one, Pumpernickel for me, Cinnamon Raisin for Edgar and an Everything for Heather Mary. I love Kossar's bagels.