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So we continued up the two-lane asphalt headed for our
land. I had always thought of it as our place. If
she only knew, it would surly scare the hell out of
her. I was starting to wish I had at least broken
soil on the place. Then I could show her that I was
serious about my dreams and it would be easier for her
to visualize my dream. But this was always intended
to be her dream as well. So now it was time to find
out if she shared my love of the place.

Turning off the two-way, I pulled onto the dirt road
that surrounded the lake. We drove past a few cabins
and caught random glimpses of the water. Turning to
me she said, almost breathlessly, "Chris, did you buy
a fucking cabin up here?"

"An imaginary one," I said, quite honestly.

"Does the bank take 'imaginary' payments?"

"No," I said, honestly again. "I just wish the place
was as real as my payments."

"Is it just land?" she asked.

"Yeah, but it's nice land. I have to imagine a cabin
on it."

"It must be a nice place," she ribbed.

"It sure is! Sometimes I come up here and the place
is five stories high. I take the elevator up to my
suite in the loft, strip off my clothes, and ride the
waterslide down to the indoor pool. The way my butler
laughs at this I am thinking he might be queer. One
of those 'too giddy' laughs that gets all awkward."

I drove past the public, small beach, and past the row
of identical cabins that appeared to be made by the
same manufacturer, and up to the fork in the road that
led to our place. The land was not on the main lake.
Instead it was butted up to a smaller piece of water.
The lake was hardly visible from the leading edge of
the property. Too many damn pine trees in the way! I
pulled into my make shift driveway and killed the
engine. Without daring a look at her to see if she
approved, I opened my door and climbed out.

She got out herself and was walking around the front
of the truck when she said, "I thought it was on the
lake."

"There is a smaller lake behind the trees," I said.
"The mansion hides the view."

"Really?" she said, absently. She was headed towards
the hill slope and seemed to be in a dream of sorts.
I followed her, trying to breath, while I searched her
for signs of approval.

We walked through the thicket of trees and down to the
waters edge. I had put in a small floating dock and a
12-foot rowboat that I used for occasional fishing
jaunts. She walked out onto the dock and looked at my
small boat. Then her eyes moved back to the lake.
She stood there motionless for two years. When she
turned around she had tears in her eyes. Small and
feint, but tears nonetheless.

"It's perfect!" she exclaimed. "And I love your
yacht! It reminds me of our beer stealing boat."

She remembered. It seemed so recent to me, but I
thought I must be alone in that. It seemed like last
week. For a moment I wondered if she even remembered
puking.

"God I was drunk," she said. "Do you remember me
puking off the side of the boat?"

"Yeah, that was a good call puking in the water. I
didn't bring a change of clothes."

"I miss those days. Well, not the puking part, but
all the fun we had," she added, to my delight.

"We could go to the store up the road and get some
beer," I said. "Come back here, go out on the water,
and drink until you heave."

"I said I didn't miss the puking part," she said.
"But I miss fishing with you."

Cindy never was much of a fisherperson. I liked that
she added the fishing with you part. I have always
loved fishing. But when I was with her it never
mattered as much. It was the only time I could enjoy
not catching fish. I didn't even seem to try as hard
when I was with her.

I thought about how nice it would have been if I had
brought a couple fishing rods. Then I thought better
of it. This was the first time I had saw her, outside
of my dreams, since I was 18. I wanted to be with her
in a place where maybe, just maybe, I could hold her
hand. That would be too awkward on the boat. Like
putting my hand on her knee in the truck. I needed
another plan.

"So you want to build a cabin on the hill to overlook
the lake?" she asked. "I will definitely come back
for that. We could sit on the balcony and watch the
water!" she said excitedly. "Oh, Chris, this would be
so awesome. Now just cut down some of these fucking
pine trees. I can't see the lake for the forest."

She had a far away look in her eyes. For a moment she
looked like I felt. I could see her visualizing us
together watching the water. She was sharing in my
dream! She was here, on our property, standing next
to me and dreaming my dreams! I wanted to just drop
to one knee and ask her to marry me. Right then.
Right now. My breathing was getting short and my
heart was pounding. I felt my usual urge to make a
stupid joke to relieve the tension. I brushed it away.
This moment was too good to squander.

"Cindy," I said, turning towards her. Damn, I wanted
to pour myself out to her. I almost did, but fought
the urge with heroic strength. "You are welcome here,
anytime." I wanted to throw a joke in and fought that
too. "I miss you." I was fighting the urge to tell
her I loved her. "My home is always welcome to your
kind." Dammit, there was the joke I was trying to
avoid. It was either that or pour my heart out. "I
was thinking of you when I bought the place." The
truth was beginning to flow. I had to reel that in
too. "That sort of makes it your place also." God,
why couldn't I stop? "Cindy, I love you." Oh no!
Did I just say that? Time to play it off as a casual
friendship remark. "I have always loved you. I have
missed you every day." Damn, the brakes were out!
This must be how a trucker feels going down a 7% grade
with no brakes. "I didn't just buy this place for me.
I bought it for you also. Everything I have is
yours." Oh damn. I could see her face showing the
uneasiness of it all. I already regretted everything
I said. It was too late to play it off. This was
going to end in the final rejection. The rejection
fear of her that I had as a kid was coming true. That
fear realized after years of regret. In a moment I
resolved myself to accepting that.

All of this time spent regretting never telling her
how I felt was ending. Rejection was going to feel
better then not knowing. Even if I lost her
friendship, at least, maybe, I could finally move on.
The burden was lifting off of me as the words came
out. The calm I felt from feeling the weight lift
allowed me to continue. "Cindy," I said. In a voice
so calm I didn't recognize it. "I was a dip shit in
high school. I never told you how I felt because I
was scarred. I'm scarred now. The biggest thing I am
afraid of is that you won't be my friend anymore.
Above all else I cherish your friendship. I always
have. But I love you." Damn it felt good to say
that. Even if I was alone in that feeling, it was
good to get it out.

"You are in everything I do. I take you with me
everywhere I go. You were here the day I bought this
place. You know," I said, turning back towards the
hill and pointing at it, "when I finish my wrap-around
patio, I am going to put out a chair for you. Every
night when I sit out there you will be with me. If
you can't make it in person, you will still be there.
Even if you run off because I'm obviously nuts, and I
wouldn't blame you a bit, I will still hold you in my
heart." Now the fear and apprehension was coming back
stronger than ever. Too late to do anything but
finish..."My whole life is about you today. I don't
want to freak you out, but my heart is pouring out and
I can't stop it! When we were young I thought so
highly of you. I knew I wasn't good enough for you
and was afraid to say how I felt because I thought it
might scare you away."

"Now you think you're good enough for me and you won't
scare me away?" she asked with a genuine tone of
caring.

A faint smile from her gave me the strength and
confidence to push on..."Well, now that the years have
gone by, and you being all old and shit," I just
couldn't help myself. "I am a better person then I
was back in the day. I have not only come to see how
great and unique you are; I deserve you. If I had
gotten together with you when I was young, I would
have fucked that up. Now that I am old and wise, I
won't make the mistakes I was going to make. I'm
sorry to be dumping all of this on you. Just forget I
said anything."

It was out there. I couldn't take it back. I felt
relieved and sick to my stomach at the same time. I
wish I could have said that better. A different time
or place would have been a good start. Not here,
standing in the brush on my un-built property. Not me
babbling like a fool. The old and shit comment wasn't
necessary. But it was out. If she said, "Take me
home," I could live with that better then I could with
the longing. If nothing else, her visit today took
off a huge load I had been carrying. I set down the
armload of bricks, and it felt good.

"I'm sorry," I said. It was all I could muster.

"Well, you should be," she said.

My heart sank. Maybe I was better off with the
bricks, I thought.

"So you love me and it took almost twenty years for
you to realize it and tell me?"

"No, I realized it a long time ago. It took so long
to tell you because you were gone. And me being a
chicken shit and all didn't hasten the process. I was
afraid to find you. And you were married. That was
your fault."

"So I should have suspended my life, waited for you to
come to this realization, tracked you down, and
coerced a confession of your love from you?"

"That would have been nice," I said in a low voice.
"If it wasn't too much trouble."

"Now here we are next to the lake on your hillbilly
property all these years later, and you are confessing
your love and hoping I'm gonna get all misty on ya?"

I was sensing a ruse now. Cindy could never be as
hard as she was sounding. While her words might have
destroyed the hopes of a lesser man, I knew her. This
was on the verge of turning around. I was in the
company of a friend. Even if she intended to be
cruel, it would be done with love. I was still going
to have her as a friend when this was over.

"You are a stupid man, Chris Blizzard. You piss me
off. If you keep doing stupid shit, I will have no
choice but to leave you."

"What?" I said, trying to keep up with the direction
of the conversation.

"Huh?" she said, cocking her head to one side and
mimicking me. "Damn, you piss me off!" This was not
the ruse I hoped for. "I can understand and except
your ignorance. I did that a long time ago, but no
more secrets or stupid questions. You are old now
and, no doubt, loosing much of that thing you call a
mind, but I need to know every single thing that is
going on between those hearing devices that you call
ears. Scrap that. Bad idea. I just need you to tell
me that you love and worship me every day."

My heart was beating again. I still couldn't register
all of it, but it sounded like she was seeing our
future together. She was going in an offbeat,
me-like, direction. "Chris, the reason I came to see
you today is to know if we have a future together. I
can't seem to get my life on track and that is your
fault. I love you, dumb ass. There, I've said it.
Now get me a glass of water, bitch."

We both laughed. The best laugh ever. My relief was
mixed with overwhelming joy.
This was unreal. All of my pain from the years of
longing and nights alone lifted with those three
words. I love you, she had said. I could already see
it... now get me a glass of water bitch, was going to be
our private follow up to that. Good morning, honey. I
love you. Now get me a glass of water, bitch. That
one was going to go miles.

It was all so unreal. It couldn't have been better if
I was imagining it. I was wound up and excited beyond
words, yet I was with a friend. Above all else, she
was my friend. I moved back next to her. I realized
I had pulled away a few steps in defensive preparation
of her rejection. Now I stood in front of her. I
really didn't know what to do. Should I hug her?
Should I hold her hands? Heck, should I kiss her? I
realized that my fantasies had never gotten this far.
For a guy to not dream about touching his fantasy girl
had to be one for the books. But I hadn't. I just
stood there wondering what to do next. She must have
sensed this. After all, I'm not a tough person to
read.

"So what do we do now?" she asked.

I swallowed harder then I expected. "I'm thinking a
hug would be good about now," I said. That is what we
did. She lifted her arms to my shoulders and I walked
into them. I slipped my hands around her back and
pulled her to me. When we came together, both of our
faces turned slightly towards each other. I chickened
out at the last moment. It was too soon for a kiss.
So I kissed her hair. Not the most erotic moment,
maybe, but it was still perfect. I held her tight.
Then I felt her hold me tighter. Not to be outdone, I
held her even tighter still.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "It feels like your
heart is about to explode!"

My heart was pounding very hard against my chest. I
hadn't realized it until she mentioned it. It was
beating so strongly, she could feel it against her
chest. "No," I said. I thought of a dozen smart-ass
things I could add to that. Nothing seemed right.
No, was all I could manage.

She laughed and said, "So this is when you die, right?
That's great. Would you be so kind as to go lay in
the back of the truck first? I don't want to have to
drag your ass up the hill. And don't make me break
out the tow strap."

We laughed still holding arms. My heart was slowing
down a bit. It wasn't slapping against my chest,
anyway. My nervousness was gone. This felt right.

"Any place you want to go?" she asked.

I didn't have a clue. My fantasies never brought me
this far either. That must have been the defeatist in
me. But a man should have a plan. My mind was
racing and I began talking without knowing what I was
about to say. "We go up the hill there," I began, "We
get in the truck...."

"You don't know, do you?"

"Not a clue. But I tell you this: Right now, I am
just happy to be your bitch," I said.

"So let me make sure I got this right. We go up the
hill, get in the truck, and you're happy to be my
bitch. Is that your plan?"

"That's the rough outline, yeah," I said softly while
starring up the hill.

She slipped her wonderful arm around my back and I
put mine around her shoulder. We walked up the hill
like that and got in the truck.

CHAPTER THREE

"So what is the plan?" she asked.

"To be honest, things never got this far in my dreams.
You were supposed to apologize for not sharing my
feelings, give me an awkward hug, and tell me that
someone special was waiting for me. Then I was going
to drive you back to my place, walk you to your car,
shake your hand, and say goodbye. I had a very simple
plan right up until you said you loved me too.
Thanks, asshole. Now I gotta start thinking."

"You really thought that?" she asked. "You expected
me to reject you? You have never once, shown the
slightest interest in me outside of friends. I never
thought you wanted more than that, and now I am at
this point in life where I would give anything to have
someone around like you. Hell, not like you. You!
And you are sure that I am going to reject you? Damn,
you are a stupid man."

I just sat behind the wheel with my hands across my
lap. My mind was gone. I know not where. "You're
right, I know. All of these years I spent wishing you
were here. I dream about you almost every night. I
dream about what I would do if I just had a chance to
tell you how I feel. But it always ends the same.
That's the way it was back in the day. Cindy, I loved
you. But risking loosing your friendship didn't seem
worth trying anything with you. You see, I never want
to loose you as a friend."

So what's changed?" she asked.

"I grew up," I said. "Not taking a chance was the
riskiest thing I could have done." I breathed in deep
and let it out long and slow. "And I lost. In my
life, I am a master of going through the motions.
That is all I seem to do these days. You are
everywhere I look. Everything I am."

"Follow me, bitch," she said as she opened her door
and stepped out. I got out and walked in her
direction. She was headed to my favorite tree; an old
Oak that was from a time out of mind. I figure it had
been planted in the 1700's. The trunk must have been
six foot in diameter. She reached behind her back and
I instinctively took her hand. She turned and backed
up to the tree and took my other hand. "Chris, you
are the funniest, happiest guy I have ever known. If
what you say is true, stop worrying. I'm here now. I
love you and I'm not going anywhere. This is our
time."

She pulled me close. I put my hands on her hips. The
smile that came to me felt free and uncontrollable. I
pulled her in close and we kissed. I felt her tongue
touch my mouth. I chanced a look with one eye and saw
a small tear form in hers. She was shaking. Just a
murmur, but between that and the tear, joy was
overfilling my heart. All of my fears of rejection
lifted. I pulled her tighter and kissed her more
deeply. She responded by clutching me tighter and
moving her tongue deeper into my mouth. I instantly
forgot all other kisses.

We pulled back from it and I saw not just a tear in
her eye; she was completely crying. I felt guilty
for smiling. Well, not that guilty; I kept doing it.


"Now, can you be happy?" she asked.

"Yeah, Cindy, the cloud is finally gone...thanks to
you," I said, still wearing my fool's grin.

"Now can we get back in the truck so you can show me
how happy you are to be my bitch?"

So this was how life without rejection felt? I could
dig it. We walked with our arms around each other
until I could open her door. She climbed in her seat
and I leaned in and kissed her again. This time I put
my hand on her leg without goosing her knee. I pulled
back, closed her door, and skipped with exaggerated
strides around the front of the truck. It felt good
to be silly.

I opened my door and got in. She slid up next to me.
I put my arm around her shoulder and we kissed again.
This time it lasted. It lasted about five minutes.
Wow, I was making out with her! I still didn't have
the courage to grab her breasts, but I felt I could.
After all of this time, I still didn't want to make it
a sexual conquest. This was so much more than that.
We moved into a hug and I began kissing her neck. I
was very hard now. My left hand started moving from
her hip up the front of her shirt. She grabbed my arm
and pulled back. She kissed the fingers of my
wandering hand and smiled at me.

"I think it's time we got moving," she said.

"Yes, dear. You always know best," I said. I started
the truck and grabbed the shifter. Before I could
pull it down to reverse, she grabbed my arm. She
looked at me and smiled a loving smile.

"One day, we will have a cabin here and we can stay,"
she said.

This comment put me in orbit! I wanted to tell her
that was all part of my dream. I wanted to marry her
and build this cabin for her. I dreamed of us sharing
all of this. All of my years of longing had led to
this. I fought the urge. If I started spilling my
guts now, two things would happen: One, I wouldn't be
able to stop. Two, I would scare her off. If she
knew how obsessed I was with her, she would freak.
Getting used to not being rejected was a far cry from
pouring my hapless soul on her. I couldn't tell her
every breath I took was for her. No, that would push
her away.

"You pick the design, hun," I said. "Whatever you
want, you get, Precious." I tried to sound sarcastic,
but I think it came off more sincere.

"Who's my bitch?" she quipped.

I was her bitch. I was her bitch with pride. My
heart raced past my head. The words were out before I
knew what was coming. "If we get married, will I
still be your bitch?"

I couldn't pull the words back. I didn't even want
to. The way I had thrown the bitch word in to my
half-assed proposal, I felt I could play it off, no
matter what her response.

"Show me a ring. Then we talk."

"What if I told you that I not only have your ring,
but I bought it seven years ago?" I asked.

"Well, I would say that you bought a ring for a slut
that turned you down. You paid too much and haven't
been able to sell it."

She looked stone faced at me. Of course, what she
said made sense. All things being taken at face value
it was not just a logical conclusion, it was the only
conclusion. I foresaw this in my defeatist fantasies
and was ready for it.

"What if I had your name engraved on it?"

"Then I would say the slut had the same name. Come
on, just drive and save the bullshit."

I turned off the ignition. I couldn't leave it there.
"The same last name?" I asked, feeling the moment
slipping away.

"Then I would ask you why you put my last name on it."


"Maybe I pictured your suspicion when I bought it," I
retorted.

This stopped her in her tracks. I could see her mind
going over this. Then reality set back into her face
and she grimaced. No doubt she thought I was trying
to play her for a fool. After the moments we just
shared that would have been cruel. Funny is funny,
but this was not.

"Just drive, bitch," she said exasperated. I couldn't
leave it there. Not only would that have been a mood
killer, Cindy deserved better. Her ring deserved
better.

"Cindy, I bought you a ring seven years ago; an
engagement ring. I had your name engraved on it. I
even brought it with me today. I just don't want to
scare you off."

She could tell by my even tone and lack of any comment
remotely funny, that I was serious. I could see her
take an extraordinary leap of faith and believe me.

"Seven years ago?"

"Yep," I said. A friend of mine, in the jewelry biz,
came across a stone that was perfect for you, so I
bought it and had it set in a ring."

I stopped at that point. I wanted to tell her
everything and felt I could. There weren't many other
bombs in my arsenal to drop at this point anyway.
That little voice in my head told me to shut up and
let her absorb things.

"So," she said, followed by a long pause, "You've held
this ring for seven years waiting for me?"

"It sounds crazy, I know," I said. "But if you could
have been inside my head...my heart...you would have seen
how practical it was. Oh, I may seem psychotic now,
but at the time"...I trailed off..." at the time I was
perfectly sane."

Yeah, she must be freaking out by now. I thought it
seemed prudent to do a little psycho-damage control.
"Cindy, I have always loved you. Buying that ring
called to me. Even if you never wear it, I couldn't
stop myself." This is not what I had in mind for
psycho-damage control. "It's your ring. Take it and
marry someone else if you want. The ring belongs to
you." No, this was bad psycho-damage control.

"Show it to me," she said. "Let me see the fucking
thing."

"No," I said. "I am not showing you this ring until I
can ask you to marry me."

"Then ask me, chicken shit. This might not be the
place you dreamed of in your insane head, but this is
how it turned out."

She spoke flat and serious. This was not the place I
had pictured in my head. When I did allow myself to
dream of her yes, it was either at a fancy dinner, or
on stage during one of my rock-star dreams. Ladies and
gentlemen, I am going to ask this woman to marry me
and then we are gonna go back to rockin' you!

Asking her while sitting in my truck never crossed my
mind.

"Fine, I'll get the ‘fucking' thing."

I got out of the truck and walked around to the bed
behind her. I picked up the camera bag as she opened
her door. She turned with her legs pointing out the
door and I walked in front of her. I absently laid
the bag on her lap and paused to breath. This was the
moment of truth. This was not going as planned. My
hands began to shake as I fumbled with the zippers.
She grabbed them in hers and looked up at me. "If
this is a joke, I don't see how you are going to make
it funny. I still love you, though, dumb-ass."

It felt like she was giving me an out. Then I
realized she was protecting herself. If this had all
been one of my jokes, it wasn't funny. For me to
reach in and pull out a super-sized candy ring
wouldn't have changed that. Instead I pulled out the
box.

When she saw it, I looked at her face. Easiness came
over her features. It was relief, really. This was
encouraging. I paused with the box in my hand. I
closed my fist over it and she smiled. She must have
seen the beads of sweat forming on my forehead and
said, "Relax. It's there, hun. See?" I think she
said that to herself as well as to me.

My stomach was a ten-pound bag of shit at this point.
It had gone beyond nerves. This was stage freight
mixed with food poisoning, wrapped in embarrassment.
This was definitely not the moment I dreamed of. Part
of me wanted to puke. Part of me wanted to shit my
pants. And all of me wished for some control.

"Either this is real," she said, "or you are one hell
of an actor. This is Academy Award shit here. You
look like you're going to die."

Just hearing her voice helped steady me a bit. "I am
going die if you say no. Or go fuck yourself. Or
whatever term you hillbilly's use to say no thank
you." She let out a short laugh that told me it would
be all right.

I went to one knee. No, this was not going as
planned, but I would get that part right! I looked up
at her and could feel the tears running down my
cheeks.

"What do you want, crybaby?" she asked.

A short laugh, mixed with a sob, escaped me. All of
the tension I had, left me in that moment. "I want
you to marry me," I said. Then I remembered this is
supposed to be a question. "I want to be your bitch,
forever." I added. Damn, still not formed in a
question. Time to rephrase. "I am asking you to let
me be your bitch. Will you let me be your bitch?"

"Ask me the RIGHT way," she said.

"Cindy, will you be my bitch?" I asked. I opened the
box.

This was not the right way, of course, but I couldn't
help myself. Even the uniqueness of the proposal was
right for us.

For ten years she just looked at the ring. Her jaw
dropped and tears filled her eyes.

"You bastard!' She said, at last.

"Is that a yes?" I asked. "I still haven't got the
knack of your hillbilly wordage."

She took the box from my hand and pulled out her ring.
Now she was in a full-on cry. The tears streamed
down her face and one landed on my right hand. She
put the ring on her finger and held it up. I saw the
sun glance off it and a smile came over her.

"Yes." she said. I was half expecting her to say,
yes, I will be your bitch. But instead she left that
part out. The time for joking was not now. "I will
be your wife!"

Those words echoed in my head. Cindy, the love of my
life, just said that. She just said that she would be
my wife! This was unreal. We both got to our feet at
the same time and hugged. I was holding her so tight
that I heard bones crack.

Just then an old truck wheezed past. It was Henry,
who had a small place up the road. He looked at us
like we were crazy. I didn't know if he was surprised
to see me with an actual woman or that we seemed so
ready to get a room next to my truck.

I waved at him, enthusiastically, while still holding
on to her as tight as ever. He waved back cautiously.
He had the strangest look on his face. I don't know
how we must have looked to him, but it was unearthly
for certain. I just smiled at him. The poor old guy
has probably never been this happy. I made a mental
note to tone-down my happiness when I get around to
introducing him to my love. No need to be showy.



CHAPTER FOUR

I had no idea where to go next as we drove down the
road. Nothing had been planned so far and it all
seemed to be working out just swell. No sense in
changing things now.

"Where are we headed now, hubby?" she asked with a
grin.

"Wherever you like, wifey," I said. I was thinking of
making a pit stop at the house. It wasn't a great
plan by any means, but home was at least a comfort
zone. "I was thinking about stopping by the house.
Since I shit my pants during the proposal, I was
thinking about changing my drawers and showering. Not
in that order," I amended.

She slid back close to me and put her hand on my leg.
I put my right arm around her shoulder and we snuggled
close.

"Any tunes in here?" she asked, looking at my factory
radio that I rarely played.

"You know me," I said, "a song for every occasion."

Just like back in the days, I began to sing in my best
James Taylor voice:

I got to hold onto night in June.
I got room for you and me.
I got moonlight up in the trees.
I got 68 degrees.

I got nothing on my mind,
But I've got lovin in my heart,
And I've got something out in the garden
I want to show you...

The song took on a new meaning. I had always thought
of her when I sang it, but now I felt like it was
written for her. It felt good to sing for her again.
It felt right.

We came up to a stop sign. It was one of those
country road four-way ones and with no one coming. I
could have rolled through it. Instead, I stopped and
looked left, then right. When I looked to my right,
we started kissing. And kissing. Her hand went to my
chest and my left went to her hips. We had moved into
the groping stage. This went on for several minutes
until a horn blared from behind us. I looked back and
saw an old woman staring at us from behind the wheel
of her Vega. She raised her hands in a gesture that
asked, what the hell? For just a moment I felt sorry
for her. Not only did she have a shitty car, but also
I was sure it had been years since she was kissed like
that. I gave her an apologetic wave. Before I could
drive off she turned her car to the side and pulled up
next to us.

I rolled down my window, wanting to say I was sorry.
Before I got a chance, she yelled at me. "What the
fuck?" Without waiting for the rest I gassed the
truck. She was still cursing when I cranked up my
window and drove off. I was not about to let our day
of happiness collide with her day of misery.

"I pity the fool!" I said to Cindy in my best Mr. T
voice. She laughed and hugged me. With her head on
my chest and her mouth stealing occasional kisses from
my neck, we drove home. Home had a whole new meaning
now. "We're home, honey," I said in a wise-ass,
nostalgic voice when we pulled in.

"It feels good to be home," she said, in a happy
voice. As we walked in, I realized I hadn't given her
a tour of the place. That didn't seem right, with it
being her place and all, now.

"Let me give you the grand tour," I said. We walked
arm in arm through the kitchen and down the hall to
the small bedroom. The room was a storage spot for
suitcases and junk that needed a place. "This will be
juniors room. He can have his football trophies on
that wall, and bang bitches against that wall."

"You see romance in everything don't you?" she
quipped.

We continued our tour through the hallway bathroom and
down to the master bedroom. "This is called the
Master Bedroom," I said. "In here I wish to be called
‘Master.' You will be called, ‘Bitch.' That way we
can tell each other apart. Questions?"

I was glad to see I had made the bed that morning.
That was unusual for me. For some reason I had went
on a cleaning furry that morning. I picked a good day
to do that!

"Your bed looks so inviting, Master," she said. It
did look inviting too. I had bought a frilly white
comforter a few weeks ago. Between that and the
fluffy pillow covers, it invited you to lie down.
That is exactly what she did. She walked across the
room and sprawled herself down. Damn, she has a nice
ass, I thought. Then I was with her. I snuggled
close and put my arm around her. She moved herself
onto her side and kissed me. I found myself on top of
her. I don't exactly remember every move we made to
get into that position, but it was very natural. We
just seemed to belong that way. Her legs spread and I
was suddenly very hard. We kissed as I grinded my
hips between her legs. I was afraid this would ruin
the absolute romance of the moment, but I couldn't
stop myself. With every push she kissed harder. My
hand wandered back up. She stopped it and rolled out
from under me.

She climbed out of bed and faced me. I lay there on
my back and was about to ask her why, when she said,
"Chris, we are not going to pull our clothes off of
each other like two high school kids." She sounded
firm, but looked soft. She pulled her top over her
head and took off her pants. Now she was standing in
front of me in her very sexy underwear. Her bra was
lace and she was wearing a thong. It was sexy and
intimidating. I couldn't remember if I even had
underwear on. After a few moments of bewilderment,
and amazement, I got out of bed and undressed. That
took me all of about two seconds. Yeah, I had on
underwear. Good job Master. I looked at Cindy who
was taking off her bra. Her tits were perfect! Not
just good for a woman in her thirties or early
forties. They were perfect for any age. The way her
nipples were sticking up almost caused me to orgasm
right then. She took off her thong and slid back into
bed. I stood there hard and feeling embarrassed. She
lay on her back and turned her face to me. My eyes
went from her toes to her breasts. I'm sure her head
was still intact, but I didn't think to check.

She spread her legs and smiled. "Come here, Master.
Give your bitch what she needs."

Those nine beautiful words brought me back. I broke
my frozen pose, swallowed the saliva that had
collected in my throat, and moved on top of her. It
was like living a dream that I never dared dream. We
made love for what seemed like hours, but was probably
five minutes. We both came and I moved off her. We
lay next to each other for a long time after.

"Good night," she said, and rolled on to her side with
her back towards me.

"Hey, I'm the master," I said. "That's my job! I am
supposed to get off and go to sleep." We both
laughed. It was a perfect move from the intensity of
the moment to the casualness of the day.

I got out of bed and said, "fine. I will go wash you
off me." Then remembering my earlier comment about
shitting myself during the proposal, I said, "time I
washed this shit off my ass anyway." No, it wasn't
your average bedroom talk, but it was ours.

I went to the bathroom and turned on the water in the
shower. I stepped in and began to sing. My voice
always seemed to sound better with the acoustics, but
that day I was in rare form. The words and melody
seemed to flow from me and everything took on a new
meaning. I was in love.

I finished my shower and put on fresh clothes.
Normally I wear the same pants for days before I
changed. But today was special. I even put on fresh
underwear and socks. Yeah, nothing was too good for
my bitch. This was love.

I walked back to the bedroom and saw the bed was
empty. Even her clothes were off the floor. I walked
back into the kitchen to find her sitting at the table
and looking at her ring. It didn't look right off her
finger. Worse was the way she was looking at it. Her
gaze was focused on the underside of it. "Cindy
Blizzard?" she said in an accusatory voice. "You did
buy this ring for someone else, didn't you?"

"No," I said, quite truthfully in a flat even tone.
"Let's face it, you make a few presumptions when you
buy an engagement ring. First you assume, or at least
hope, she is going to say ‘yes.' Second, I thought
you would take my name." It was time to set the jokes
aside. My voice was deliberate as if I was giving
testimony. "I did buy that ring for you seven years
ago in hopes of today. I don't know what else to say.
I really hope you will believe me."

I watched her face, looking for a sign that she did
believe me. Then there was a knock at the back door.
There is only one person who comes to my back door, so
I knew who it was.

"That's Eddie," I told her.

I walked to the back and opened the door. Edie was
standing there looking be shoveled.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Eddie was one of my neighbors. Our friendship went
back to the day I first moved in. He drove up and
offered to help me get my couch inside. When I
offered him beer as a ‘thank you' he declined. He was
in weekly AA meetings. He had offered to help
because, in his words, It was the Christian thing to
do. From that day on, there wasn't anything I would no
do for him. He was good people.

He looked like an overgrown boy. He must have been in
his mid-twenties. He was a big man with a kids face.
He stood nearly six and a half feet tall and was
nearly three hundred pounds, with the face of a twelve
year old. I thought that this must drive him nuts,
but when he gets older and still looks young, he will
grow to appreciate his youthful look. It was
certainly a look that he would have to grow into.

"My moms hot water heater is out. I just bought a new
one and need help putting it in. What do you say,
man?"

This was not good timing. Not only was I in the
middle of a dream, but also my dream had just taken on
some doubt as to my intentions. But, like I said,
Eddie was good people. If he needed a hand then I
would help him. And he wouldn't have asked if he
didn't.

"I will be right back, hun", I said, "My neighbor
needs a hand for a bit. Help yourself to the fridge
and make yourself to home. "Hold on, dude." I walked
back inside. I still wasn't used to the new life.
Cindy was still sitting at the table, looking at her
ring. "I'm sorry, hun, but this is something I have
to do. Let me go install this heater and I will be
back in about 45 minutes."

"All right. We will talk when you get back," she
said.

I leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. "Let's get
this done man," I said to Eddie. We walked out the
door and to his old Plymouth wagon.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"Sorry I didn't introduce you, dude. That was Cindy.
We are getting married."

"Well, good luck with that," he said, as he let out a
soft chuckle.

I knew he was blown away. My bitch topic when we are
talking is the female race. I rarely have dates and
when I do I seem to come back bitching about them.
Now I had the perfect woman in my home and suddenly I
was getting married. I thought this would start a
flurry of talk between us. It didn't. Apparently he
was too worried about his mom's hot water heater to
think about my dick. I was hurt, but I understood.

We got to his mom's house and walked around back. A
large cardboard box sat next to his utility room. He
had it delivered since he only had a station wagon and
no one to help him. He took out a box cutter and slit
it open. We peeled back the cardboard to see a shiny
new heater. Then we went into the laundry room and
disconnected the old one. From there it was all
muscle, cursing, and knuckle scraping. Two hours
later the task was done. We celebrated with a cigar
and a cup of coffee. In all that time he never even
mentioned Cindy.

"I should get back to the little woman," I said.

Still, there were no comments from him. I thought for
sure this would reopen the subject and get him asking
questions. Who is she? Where did you find her? Are
you really getting married? Is this the Cindy you are
always talking about? Nothing from him except, "Well,
let's get you back to the love shack. Thanks for your
help, man."

I was worried about Eddie. For him to be so
disconnected scared me. I hope he hadn't started
drinking again. Time would tell on that one.

He drove me home, thanked me again, and drove off. I
walked up to the door, ready to go back into my ring
explanation. I even considered having her speak to
the guy I bought the ring from so he could verify my
story. As it turned out, there was no need for that.

Cindy was sitting on the sofa crying. Even before I
asked her what was wrong, my eyes went to her left
hand. The ring was there. Whatever was wrong it
didn't cause her to take off the ring. So it was
fixable.

In her lap was the reason she was crying. It was one
of my Cindy Journals. Fear went through me. Now my
mind began to search for the most embarrassing thing I
had written in the books. All that came was that I had
bared my soul to her in there. If she knew how
obsessed with her I was, it might scare the hell out
of her. No wonder she was crying. She was had a
lunatic on her hands!

"I remember offering you the fridge before I left. I
don't remember giving you a reading assignment," I
said. I regretted saying that as soon as the words
left me; too late to take them back. I fell quiet and
sullen. I stood in front of her with my hands clasp
in front of me and waited for her reaction. What came
from her was not only a surprise; it was a real mind
blower.

"Chris," she sobbed, "I found your journals. I wasn't
snooping, it was by mistake that I even picked them
up." She looked at me through a face full of tears.
"I can't believe you wrote me all these years." I
could see her tears falling to the pages and I briefly
worried about the damage they would cause. Then I
realized how much I loved her tears and quickly
brushed the thought away. "Your heart is in these
pages. I can't believe you wrote me every day! How
come you never told me how much you loved me?"

"I was scarred," I admitted, honestly. "I was scarred
when I was young and I'm scarred now that I am old.
Just a chicken shit, really." Lying to her never
crossed my mind. There might have been ways to say
that in a noble way, but finding those words just
seemed pointless. The truth was less trouble and more
accurate.

"You have been keeping this journal for seven years,"
she mused aloud.

"Since the day I bought your ring," I said.

"Yeah, that was page one," she said. "I cried when I
read that and have cried ever since. I'm sorry I ever
doubted you bought the ring for me," she said
apologetically.

"That's all right. I wouldn't have believed me,
either." I said. "No one buys a ring before they hold
a persons hand. It makes no sense."

"Yeah, you covered that on page five," she laughed.
"Admitting that you are psychotic is the first step in
recovery." She closed the journal and set it on the
couch. She got to her feet and stood in front of me.
Then she put her arms around my neck and pulled me in
to kiss her. Her tears ran down to our mouths and I
could taste the salt. This was the sweetest moment in
my life, but God forgive me, I was getting hard again.
It was all I could do to hold my wandering hand
still. Then she pulled back and took my hand. She
led me back to the bedroom. From behind her I pulled
her shirt over her head. Then I undid her bra. She
turned back to me and unzipped my pants. Soon we were
making love. It was even better than the first time;
lasted longer too. We made love until her tears were
gone.

We lay in each other's arms for the next hour. We
didn't talk much. For us, that was unusual. Yet it
felt very right somehow. We had reached the point
where we had set down the joking. After we put aside
everything else, the world included, we just had each
other. And that was perfect. After all the years of
joking and teasing each other, we were lovers. We
were also best friends. So this is what love was
really like? About time it got here!

"I'm hungry," she said, "Cook something for me, bitch.
Please."

The joking was back. That was good. It worked for
us.

"Biscuits and gravy?" I asked. "I know it's the wrong
time of day, but I make the best batch in the whole
wide world. It's my signature dish." I took one of
her breasts in my hand and she smiled at me.

"OK, but no more lovin' till you feed me," she said.

I thought of continuing the banter and decided against
it. Instead I rolled back onto her and started
kissing her neck. Before long we were making love
again. It was a very long session this time. It was
incredible. Perfect really. When we were done I
rolled off of her and began snoring. She put her lags
and hands against my back and shoved me out of bed. I
landed on the floor hard.

I got up and walked over to the closet. I took out my
pajama bottoms and slid them on. I was naked in front
of Cindy. The thought of how lucky I was leaped into
my head. I looked over at her to see if she was
looking. She smiled at me. Cindy actually smiled at
me standing in front of her naked. This was a dream.

"So much for the small penis theory," she said. "I
always figured that was the root of your problems.
Now I see it must be something else. I'm scared."

"Don't make me get all homicidal on your ass. I
haven't had time to insure you, yet. Yet."

I pulled on a t-shirt and went into the kitchen. She
soon appeared behind me and sat at the table. She was
wearing one of my t-shirts. It looked good on her. I
took out the breakfast skillet and tossed in a pound
of bacon. While that was frying I cleaned up our
breakfast mess.

"My butler has terminal cancer," I said. "He is so
fired! He might as well die. He's not working here
anymore."

"You make biscuits and gravy with bacon?"

"That is my secret starter ingredient. I add the
sausage when the bacon gets crispy. Hey, let me worry
about being the bitch and you...well, you do whatever it
is you do. OK?"

"Well, normally I sit on my ass and criticize people
who are working."

"I detected a trace of professionalism in your tone.
I humbly await your next critique."

This was how our second meal together went. The
biscuits and gravy turned out perfect. We ate,
talked, and laughed.

"If this is what life is going to like with you," I
said, swallowing down a lump in my throat and easily
putting all joking aside, "then I am in for a life of
pure happiness."

"This feels so right, Chris," she said. "But how are
we going to handle the rough times, I wonder."

"There won't be any rough times," I said. "When you
become more trouble then you are worth, I will
increase your life insurance and put you out of my
misery. Don't go getting all-weird though. I am not
one of those sick bastards that is gonna kill you
slow. No, I will shoot you in the face with a shotgun
and kill ya quick. You see I love you. I don't want
you to suffer. Most of all, I don't me to suffer. I
know you don't want that either. So I will do it for
the both of us. A hunting accident"

On that note we hugged.

"Thank you for loving me enough to shoot me in the
face with a shotgun and killing me quick. I don't
want to be a burden."

"If you really mean that, and I think you do, then
write a suicide note to the insurance company and do
it yourself. OK, hun? Kiss, kiss."

The joking couldn't stay away long. But that was a
good sign. When someone shares your sense of humor
and gets your jokes, it is a good thing. In the past,
I have known women that as soon as you called them a
fat, lazy, sack of shit...they got offended. Don't call
me that asshole! I'm leaving.

Oh, good comeback!

My days of loneliness and searching seemed finally
over. Just the thought of that, made goose bumps form
on my arms and the hair on my neck tingle. I ran my
hands through my hair and down my neck. I breathed
deep and let out a goofy foot shuffle. Being this
happy was going to take some getting used to.

After I washed the dishes we went for a walk. I
couldn't remember the last time I had just walked. We
held hands and sang songs from back in the day. We
laughed and cuddled. I spent most of the time with my
arm around her shoulders.

We were almost back to the house when the Cring's
pulled up. They were a couple that had a place up the
street from me. I had promised to help them fix a
section of their fence and hoped they wouldn't bring
it up. That was another thing I didn't have time for
right now. I also didn't want to come off as a
promise breaker to Cindy. The Cring's and I knew each
other in passing, mainly, but I had given them a ride
one night when they ran out of gas and we were on
good, jovial terms. Mrs. Cring's was driving and they
saw us walking together arm in arm. They pulled up
along side of us and looked out the drivers window
smiling.

"Hi you two crazy kids." I said. "You just come out
to do some necking?"

"You are so funny," Elsie said. "Who've you got with
you?"

"This is Cindy," I said, with my arm still draped over
her shoulder. "We just got engaged today!"

"Well, congratulations on that! We were starting to
think there was something wrong with you."

They let out a loud cackle, waved and drove away.

"Promise me you will never let me get that old," Cindy
pleaded.

"Trust me," I said, "The moment you even get a little
wrinkly...POW!" I held up my imaginary shotgun and
recoiled.

"Hey! One or two little wrinkles I could live with,"
she said.

"I'm sure you could," I said and pattered her on the
shoulder. "But it's not about you is it?"

We walked back to the house arm in arm. We must have
been gone for two hours. The place still smelled like
gravy when we walked in. I opened a window in the
kitchen to help air the place out.

"Honey, I'm tired," she said. "If it's all the same
to you, I am going to bed."

"Get those clothes off and I will be right in."

"You animal!" she said, without any real objection in
her voice.

Yeah, I was the marathon man today. We made love,
again, and fell asleep in each other's arms. I woke
slightly a couple of times and hugged her close. She
was very soft and made no objections to my cuddling.



CHAPTER FIVE



The next morning I woke with my back to her. Then sun
was shining in my face and I was cold and uncovered.

"Damn blanket hog," I said and rolled over. I reached
to her while remembering our perfect day. All I found
was my body pillow. I knew it was just after sunrise
by the position of the sun. She was so perfect for
me. I had always been an early riser. We shared the
same sense of humor and the same sleep pattern. This
was perfect.

"Hey, I'm lonely, dammit!" I yelled. I decided she
must be in the bathroom.

No response. She is probably thinking of a smart-ass
response, I figured. I got out of bed and put my
jammy bottoms back on. I walked into the living room
hoping for the smell of coffee. Nothing. I looked at
the bathroom door, expecting to see it closed with the
light showing under the door. The door was open and
the bathroom was dark. I went into the kitchen and
things began to unhinge.

Cindy's biscuits and gravy plate still sat there,
untouched. I hadn't done the dishes last night before
bed, but I remember her cleaning her plate with her
fork and one bite of biscuit. There had been
leftovers so maybe she had made herself a morning
plate. But there was no coffee brewing and that was
even odder. Surely, if she was going to get up early
and have a man's meal for breakfast, she could at
least make coffee. And her food looked cold. Why
didn't she microwave it? The scene made no sense to
my tired brain.

"Cindy?" I managed to no one in a weak voice.
"Pookey, where are you?" I walked into the living
room and passed the couch. I glanced at it to see if
she was there. I saw the journals lying open; the
pages still streaked with her tears. I thought she
had put them back on the shelf. I specifically
remember her closing one. Perhaps she had gotten them
out this morning to reminisce. I walked to the back
bedroom without much hope. I peeked in. No Cindy
there, either.

Now worry was setting in. I opened the back door and
called her name into the morning. No response. I
went to the bedroom to put on my pants. If I had to
go look for her, which I was, I would need pants and
shoes. I walked in the room and grabbed my pants off
the floor and hurried them on. During my haste, I
looked at her side of the bed. It didn't even look
slept on. Then my heart stopped, cold. The box with
her ring was lying open with her ring inside. Things
went from being confusing to utter chaos in that
moment.

Had she decided to bail on me? To bail on us? Did
she change her mind while I was sleeping, and leave?
No goodbye? Just left the ring in its box like some
Dear John note, and split? Even if she did change her
mind, this was not like her. Did someone abduct her
while I was sleeping and left the ring to throw me
off? I was loosing my mind, now. She was obviously
gone. But why did she make her side of the bed? Then
my mind returned to the kitchen and her uneaten
biscuits and gravy. Why did she make a plate before
she left? My mind grappled desperately for a logical
answer. Obviously there was one, I just couldn't put
my mind around it.

I finished putting my pants and shoes on and walked
back into the living room. I walked out the front
door to see if her car was still there. No car. She
was gone. Maybe she went to town to get me a morning
gift of sorts. She was a very romantic person. That
didn't explain why she left the ring. I guess it was
a Dear John.

My shoulders slumped and I walked back inside. I sat
at the kitchen table across from her plate of food.
The gravy looked as if it had been there all night.
It looked old. Had it been there all night? At least
that was something logical. It explained the look of
the gravy, anyway.

Maybe Cindy was never here, my mind joked. Yeah,
maybe I imagined the whole thing. That would explain
why everything went so perfect. Musing this idea
stopped me cold. I ran back into the living room to
look for something that would verify her having been
here. I just needed something to prove that it was
real. I scanned the room feeling panicky. I saw the
journals. They were still streaked in Cindy's tears.
There was my proof!

But how do I know they are her tears? Maybe I sat and
cried those tears myself. My mind briefly considered
the DNA testing of it all. I have been watching too
much CSI, I thought. Surely, there must be some proof
that she was here. One thing I could point to that
would set my mind at ease. But just like her uneaten
plate of food, there was nothing that my mind couldn't
have created. Even her towel she had used in her
shower could have been mine. Dear God, I thought, Give
me one single thing that will prove I haven't lost my
mind! I thought about my camera and realized I hadn't
taken a single picture! Then I remembered the Crings.
I relaxed and let out a long exasperated sigh. I had
to smile now at my brief wrestle with insanity.

I grabbed my car keys, feeling stupid. I imagined my
conversation with the Cring's. If I didn't handle this
right, the word would travel, quickly, that I had lost
my mind. Chris even came to our house to ask us if we
could verify that the woman we had saw him with was
real, I heard Mrs. Cring's say. Then I had a worse
vision. We saw Chris walking with his arm around
nothing. He even introduced us to his imaginary
friend. We thought he was kidding until he came to
our house the next morning and asked if she was real.

Then I remembered the odd way they had both laughed.
They looked amused and befuddled at the same time. My
mind went back over the scene. If I had been walking
with my arm around mid air that would explain why they
smiled and seemed to look so strangely at us. It
would also explain the odd laugh they let out. What
was I going to do now? Go to their house and ask if I
had my arm around someone last night? Hey, Mrs. Cring,
when you and your husband saw me last night, did I
have my arm around a beautiful woman or an imaginary
friend? Oh, you didn't see me last night? I must
have imagined that also. Well, thanks for your time.
I'm going to see a very good psychiatrist now. Don't
worry, I'm sure after an aggressive treatment program
I will be fine. Now don't tell anyone about my
apparent insanity, ok? I want people to keep thinking
I'm fine. Thanks, hun. Love ya!

Yeah, I couldn't see that conversation ending well.
No, that was not the right approach to take. Then I
remembered my promise to fix a section of their wooden
fence that had fallen during last years stormy season.
I would be showing up out of the blue, but I could
pass that off as some unexpected free time that had
come along and I was just driving by and noticed their
fence section was still down. Then, when they asked
me where the girl I was with last night, I would tell
them she was home sleeping. Then I could use my
cordless screwdriver to reattach their section of
fence, come home and wait for Cindy. I really should
have gotten Cindy's phone number, I thought. And if
they don't mention seeing me, then I will figure I
imagined that too. If they remember me walking with
my arm around air and introducing them to my imaginary
fiancé, then I will just laugh, like they did, and
pretend I was joking with them. That was the plan.

I grabbed my 18-volt cordless driver, a pocket full of
drywall screws and jumped in the truck. It was not
like me to start my day without coffee, but I couldn't
help it. I was wrestling with the idea that I might
have lost my mind, and sitting down waiting for a pot
of coffee to finish brewing would drive me more
insane. I missed Cindy and I needed answers.

Five minutes later I was parked in front of their
house. The light was on in the kitchen and their
curtain was partially open. I could see Frank sitting
at the table and Elsie was pouring him coffee. I
grabbed my drill and got out. I walked up to their
door and took a moment to gather my strength and
knocked. I stood back and held my hands in front of
me with my yellow drill clearly visible. Elsie
answered the door.

She smiled at me and her eyes opened wide. "Well,"
she said, "If it isn't the groom-to-be! And how are
you this morning? Did you come to fix our fence?"

My heart gladdened. She did remember Cindy. It was
real! Unless she was still playing along with my
imaginary friend routine, I corrected myself.

"Yes, I am here to fix your fence section," I said. I
didn't need to go through my just passing by with my
drill lie after all. Elsie was making this easy.

"Let me go get Frank," she said. "He will be happy
you are here. Would you like some coffee?"

This was turning out better than I thought. "Yes,
ma'am, I would love some," I said. "I will just walk
to the fence and get started."

I walked to the section of downed fence and let myself
in their yard. This was going better then expected.
I picked up the downed section and adjusted it between
the two wooden support posts. I grabbed a long
drywall screw from my shirt pocket and loaded it into
my drill bit. I had just started driving it home when
Frank walked onto the patio.

"Hey, my good man," he called. "I sure am glad to see
you. I thought I was going to fix that damn thing
myself."

"I'm sure in about ten more years you would have,
too," I said. "Well, if that decomposition thing
you'll have going at the time hasn't set in too bad,"
I jibbed.

"Coffee?" he asked, tilting a cup in my direction.
"Elsie makes a damn good brew."

"Don't mind if I do," I said. The screw I had put in
was the first of at least six, but it was enough to
hold the section up for now. I walked over to where
he sat on the wooden deck and took it from his old and
grizzled hand. It was hot and good. That woman did
make a fine cup of coffee.

"So where's your friend from last night?" he asked.
My heart filled with hope. Then he gave me a wink and
my heart sank.

"She's in my pants," I said. It was the only
noncommittal response I could think of.

He laughed at that. "Damn, man, you had us worried
last night. You looked so damn sincere we almost
thought you believed she was right there in your arms.
If we didn't know you, it would have scared the shit
out of us!"

I stopped drinking coffee mid-sip. His words were a
punch to the stomach. I felt the air go out of my
lungs. I remembered, for an instant, a time in high
school when a twelfth grader punched me in the stomach
so hard I puked. This was worse. I thought I would
throw up right then. I put my coffee down and readied
myself to do just that. I could feel my face going
white. This was like going from feeling the flu
coming on to an all out puking, dying, feeling, in one
sickening instant.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "You look like shit!
What's wrong?"

I can't remember what I said. I was not there
anymore. Before I had gone to see them, I had only
danced with the idea it had all been imagined. Now it
was a reality. My head screamed and my guts spun. I
picked up my driver and walked back to the section of
fence and took out another screw from my pocket,
fumbled it into the driver bit, and drove it home. I
could feel the tears forcing their way out. I kept my
back to Frank to hide my face. I wanted to be
somewhere else at that moment. Anywhere else would do
nicely, thank you. I could feel my nose filling with
snot. I was ready to break into a full bawl. I took
a deep breath and continued sending screws home. I
had plenty in, but the process was keeping Frank from
looking at me while I got myself under control. Of
course, that wasn't working. Finally, I let out a
cough to hide my sniffle. It didn't work as I had
hoped.