Next Exit

Next Exit
By: Evan Boyd






Four A.M. is a time of day usually seen from the “still awake” as opposed to the “rise and shine” end of my schedule. This day was special, however. An early wake up, followed by a 5-6 hour drive would bring me face to face with a woman I have been in love with for over a year.


We met online in a chat room for diabetics. Neither of us was looking for romance nor love. She was in the chat room to find others who were diabetic to ask questions, to learn more about her condition. Leann was a relative newcomer to diabetes. I, on the other hand, was seeking the wisdom of long term sufferers. The room had a mix of regular participants. Some were medical professionals, a few were proponents of alternative treatments, but all were diabetics or had loved ones who had the disease. Friendships of sorts arose easily between the members. When you deal with something daily, it is comforting to talk with those who share your experiences, your fears, your frustrations.

If you visit any chat room, regardless of the stated topic, you will find those only interested in “cybering.” Why anyone would think a room for diabetics was a good place to seek computer-assisted self gratification is beyond me, but nevertheless, it was common. I had private chats with participants that would veer from the subject toward topics wholly unrelated to diabetes. Having been separated for a couple of years, I was wary of relationships, however superficial. On my online “profile,” under the topic “Marital status,” my comment was “Been there, done that. Not again. Not looking.” When the direction of a private chat became too personal for my comfort, I would steer the conversation back to diabetes, or anything else.

I can’t say why things with Leann were different. I had private chats with her on several occasions. They were innocent. Comparing notes on insulin dosages, or asking about each others children. I truly enjoyed chatting with her, however mundane the subject. She had a sense of humor that brightened the conversations. She is intelligent and it showed.

During one online session in the chat room, I thought I detected something odd about her mood. Her answers were short and business like. I sent her an “instant message” or IM to ask if she was OK. Her response was that her husband had suffered a heart attack. When I asked how he was doing, she simply responded “Fine.” I let it drop at that point, figuring she probably did not want to go into details with some stranger from the internet. The next few conversations were also curious to me. I would ask how her husband was, and would receive a similar one word response. Leann was in a good mood though, or at least so it seemed, so long as the subject was not her husband.

Our private chats continued for a few weeks, during which we found ourselves talking longer and longer. The chats were innocent, just day to day stuff, yet I was bothered by her seeming indifference to her husband who had recently suffered a heart attack. Finally, curiosity overcame me and I asked her out right about what was going on. She was hesitant for a few moments, but then the dam burst. Leann told me how she had walked into the hospital room right after the heart attack to over hear the doctor asking Ken, her husband, if he had “told her yet.” “Told me what?” she asked.

Ken admitted to having an affair over the past few months. The details he shared were more than she could bear. Having been cheated on before, I could understand the shock and pain she felt, the wordless bleakness that slips into your heart like a suffocating fog. To have the world you know ripped from you, to have your trust thrown aside for the sake of selfish pleasure, cannot be appreciated until you have experienced it. Nineteen years of what she felt was a happy, stable marriage were now at least partially a lie. How much of a lie can never be known, because once the trust is broken, you find it difficult to believe that anything was as it appeared. Had he cheated on her before? How long had he said he loved her while he made love to another woman?

“ I am so sorry” was all I could say. You can’t say it will be all right. I have been married three times. All three of my marriages ended at least in part due to infidelity by my then spouse. Perhaps I am lacking in lovemaking skills. Could forgetting to lower the toilet seat be that bad? Maybe I didn’t provide to the standards they felt they deserved. Whatever the reason, I was at least comforted that I took my vows seriously. I had never cheated, and not from lack of opportunity or temptation. I may not be the perfect mate, but I am honest to a fault. If a woman is attractive, I will not say otherwise to salve the ego of the one I am with. If a woman asks my opinion on one dress or another, I give it honestly. I believe that I possess enough tact to be honest without being offensive. Whatever my failings in my marriages, cheating was not among them.

Leann was not a pretender. The age of AOL has created an age of masks that anyone with a computer can take part in. Some sit and contemplate whom they want to be, rather than who they are. Leann is not one of those. Neither am I. We talked about real issues. We could admit our weaknesses without a desire to pretend we were more than we truly were. After my experiences, I was more than a little cynical about others’ self descriptions. Many of the people I have talked with online are so busy trying to impress others, that the opportunity to truly get to know them was lost. Asking Leann a question got either a truthful answer or an evasion that was sufficient to let me now she was not comfortable answering, and this was rare.

Once she told me the story of Ken’s tryst, I suppose I became a confidant of sorts. We became true friends, able to discuss most anything from then on. It was soon apparent that Leann’s marriage was over. Ken had moved into the basement apartment of their home. She still performed her duties around the house, the cooking and cleaning, but she did these things to keep a sense of stability for her children.

Leann is blessed with two wonderful children. Joshua, her teenage son, is an honor student, a leader in his local 4H society, and an accomplished athlete. Her daughter, Melissa, is a wonder unto herself. Mildly autistic, she has had some problems with communication and developing social skills. She is at once, talkative, yet subdued, mischievous yet innocent, private yet the center of attention. She has her own set of rules of how her life should be and can be easily upset by things which disturb these ideals.

I admired Leann’s dedication to her kids. I have three children myself. My eldest lives in Arizona with his mother, and my two youngest spend their time equally between my home and their mother’s.

Keeping things on an even keel is difficult in a divorce. Young children, I believe, are more adaptable than teens. My children were spared most of the ugliness more by their youth than by any conscious efforts by myself and my ex. Leann has done an incredible job of keeping the problems of the marriage from derailing the children’s lives.

Perhaps it was a moment of need. Maybe a moment of rebellion. Whatever the reason, she presented me with a question that should have surprised me as we chatted late one night. So far from the normal topics of our talks, she asked me “What is your sexual fantasy?” Maybe I should have been stunned. Thinking back, I am surprised that I was not rendered speechless. The fantasy foremost in my mind was Leann. I honestly don’t believe I had thought of her in any aspect other than as a friend until that moment, yet I was able to instantly describe a private moment; she and I alone in an incense scented, candle lit bathroom, she, soaking in a tub filled with fragrant bubbles, I at the side of the claw-footed tub, feeding her strawberries.

That was the moment of epiphany. The fireworks, the bells, all exploding and ringing at once. I found myself typing the description of my fantasy as if my fingers were possessed. Words filled the IM screen. I, the nay-sayer to love, had fallen. For days afterward, I could not bring myself to say the words “I love you,” but Leann could and did. In spite of what was undeniable, I fought the words. After having the meaning of love twisted, I refused to say it, lest it become just words.

Love comes in many flavors, many degrees. You can love someone, without being in love. I was in love. The emotions that filled my mind and soul were warring with each other. The joy I felt at knowing Leann was attacked by the guilt I felt for taking advantage of a vulnerable moment in her life. The peace I felt from hearing her say she loved me was wounded by the thought that I was doing her more harm than good. But eventually to not tell her I loved her was equal to convincing myself that the sky was green and the grass blue. I could no more avoid the truth of my feelings than I could avoid breath.

We began talking on the phone, usually late at night, when her household was quiet and in bed for the night. As we are both the same age, and we found many of our likes in common. Talking to her was easy and natural. She would tell me about her day, or would relate some funny story from her past. I would tell stories of my travels or just what my boys had been up to that day. We asked each other questions of the sort that are usually saved for pillow talk. I had never seen her face, yet I felt as if she had always been a part of me. We had never kissed, but I knew the sweet scent of her breath, the softness of her lips.

We exchanged pictures online. I don’t think either of us were surprised with what we saw. It was as if we had known each other a lifetime.

Leann loved me. I knew this without question, but she had fears about our relationship. The biggest fear was the love of her son. A close friend of hers had recently divorced and become involved with another man. Her friend also had a son close in age to Joshua. He was traumatized by the divorce, and when the new man in his mother’s life showed up, he blamed her for destroying their family. Leann was deeply afraid that her son would blame the dissolution of the marriage on her and me. She would not ever destroy Joshua’s trust in his dad by telling him the truth about his affair. I had to admire this. So unselfish as to maintain an illusion of normalcy, while wanting to be as far from her philandering husband as possible. She still got up at 5:30 to cook his breakfast. She attended church and dinners in his company, but the marriage they had known was dead and buried.

Joshua is no fool. He could tell that things were no longer the same between his parents. He often defended his mother when Ken would raise his voice to her. Joshua had grown up seeing that his father showed Leann no respect. He saw simple things like Ken not bothering to get a cold drink for anyone but himself when they stopped at a convenience store. He saw him ignore Leann’s requests to stop for food or a candy bar when her blood sugar became low. Sad as it is to say, he knew his father to be an ass. But despite this, Leann would not further poison Jason’s perception of his father, or risk losing a single ounce of her son’s affection.

Leann makes no secret to Ken that the relationship they once had is over, but she does not tell him about me for fear that he would use this against her with Joshua. A couple of years form now, when Joshua graduates high school, Leann will divorce. Melissa will still be young enough to adapt to the changes. It will not come as a surprise to Joshua by this time, and with him on his own, she will be free to pursue her own life with me.

Which brings us to the hour of four A.M. . I have suggested that we meet on many occasions, but fear and circumstance had prevented this so far. The fear I speak of is understandable because Leann loves me, but she has never been with me. Her few friends that know of my existence, warn her of internet psychos who lure women to horrible fates. It had taken a year, but finally a date was set to meet. Our relationship thus far had been so good that we shared a fear of not being able to live up to our own expectations.

I awoke to my roommate telling me that I needed to get an alarm clock that would actually wake me. He said this in good humor, as he knew my plans for the day. I made a cup of tea and retreated to the back porch for a cigarette. I had done my packing the night before, but still ran over the list of necessities in my mind; toothbrush, music CD, insulin and syringes.... I was certain that I would forget something, only to realize it as I drew close to our rendevous.

Leann lives nearly 300 miles from me. In years past, I would have thought nothing of jumping into my truck and driving north a few hours. But now things are a bit more complicated. My health is a consideration as I am on dialysis. The few dollars for gas was even a consideration due to the fact that I am on disability and have a very limited income. Not making the trip this time, however, was not an option.

A quick trip to the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth and inventory my toiletries for the tenth time, and at last I was prepared to walk out the door. A fast pat of my pockets assured me that I had my keys before pulling the door shut and thereby locking it.

Although it was early January, the air was relatively warm. The air was also very humid. The air is always humid in Georgia. A light mist floated, like the mirages of ghosts, just above the street. I backed out and headed for the local highway.

There is a large Air Force base that forms the eastern edge of my town. The four lane black-top highway runs north parallel to the base fence for a few miles. Once out of town and beyond the early morning base traffic, which is considerable, I reached for the book on tape I had checked out for entertainment on my trip. Fog rolled off the truck fenders in small, hypnotic vortices. Had I not been so excited, I might have been lulled to sleep by the swirling fog and the low, mellow voice of the tape’s narrator.

Leann and I had often discussed and hypothesized what our first meeting would be like. Every scenario was different from the last. Rarely, we joked about what might go wrong; no chemistry, one of us chickens out, maybe some family or medical crisis. Most involved a bit of awkwardness followed by very heated passion. We had made it this far with no crisis. I had not chickened out and I could not bring myself to believe that she might have. As to no chemistry; I just didn’t fear that. I loved her before I ever saw her face. We could talk to each other for hours. We connected on so many levels yet there was enough difference to keep things interesting. Who wants to date themself anyway?

I remember thinking as the on ramp to the freeway loomed ahead, that I should not be so calm right now. Yes, I was excited, but not the least bit fearful, as one might be before a blind-date. I felt no pressure, no fear, no nagging doubts, just an electricity that ran through me each time I thought of making love to her.

About fifty miles from home, I decided to get some breakfast and coffee. Taking the next exit, I pulled into a McDonald’s. Knowing that the Atlanta early morning traffic awaited me, I stayed just long enough to get my food. Back in the truck, I took a moment to check my blood sugar, take my insulin, and arrange my stuff for easy, one hand access.

The sky was brightening as I headed up the ramp to the freeway. The fog, which had been down- right heavy in some places, was now gone. Eighteen wheelers, loaded with everything from wood-chips to yachts raced north as I eased into their midst. I paced myself with them and set the cruise control at seventy-nine.

I popped the first of my book on tape into the cassette player. I listened closely to the words of the narrator. Actually I was listening to the words of the author, Dean Koontz. Wanting to be a writer myself someday, I have found myself studying what I read and listen to more closely. If I have to become comfortable jamming four or five metaphors or endless adjectives into my descriptions, I may never make it as a big time writer, yet Koontz could do it and make it sound natural. The book on tape consisted of both sides of ten audio tapes. I recall thinking that the same story, told by me, might fill one. Shakespeare once said “brevity is the soul of wit”, but I believe it was Stephen King who said “brevity doesn’t pay”. I have to wonder which author is better known nowadays.

The traffic grew heavier as I approached the suburbs of Atlanta. Suddenly, it stopped altogether. Coming around a curve, I saw brake lights preceded by a three-wide column of vehicles stretching to the visible horizon. Great I thought, Not even to the city limits yet and down to a dead stop. I am a patient person, however, and survived the delay by listening to the tapes. I believe I listened to at least both sides of one tape before the traffic had progressed one mile.
I saw a single state patrol car on the median at the point where the bottleneck finally opened up. No ambulances loading children or nuns from the fiery wreckage of their bus, no herds of sheep crossing the freeway. Just a lone trooper. Amazing. I would probably be an hour late because this cop decided to pick a visible area to drain his coffee thermos.

Once actually in Atlanta, the queue of vehicles flowed smoothly. The road was packed with but not jammed by cars. Most of the trucks had left the road in favor of I-285, the perimeter by-pass. Although the traffic as a whole moved smoothly, I still had to be alert for the Kamikaze idiots that thought the movie “The Fast and the Furious” was a training film.

Atlanta is a modern, progressive city. As in most modern, progressive cities, it’s profile visible from the highway is not it’s best side. The skyline is impressive if you can glimpse it beyond the on ramps and traffic signs. A friend once noted to me that Atlanta is a beautiful city at two A.M..The magnificently lit skyscrapers appear gilded against the night sky. At seven A.M., on the highway however, the city is a multicolored, agitated, serpent consisting of metal and noise.

Recently, due to my health, I have visited Atlanta on many occasions. Most visit’s were to the Emory University’s Crawford-Long hospital. It was with a feeling of something akin to relief that I passed the exit.

My health is limiting factor in my ability to travel. I am currently on hemodialysis due to twenty four years of diabetes and high blood pressure. My schedule is dictated by the fact that I attend treatments 3 times per week. Each session is four hours in length, plus the waiting time for a chair to come open, and the time needed to be attached to and taken off the machine. This puts a bit of a crimp in short term travel plans. Longer trips are really not at issue because I can make arrangements to dialyze at whatever location my destination may be. This will change soon. I will be undergoing surgery to prepare for peritoneal dialysis in the next few weeks. This will allow me to administer my own dialysis at home or even on the road.

I don’t dwell on my health issues. There is not much point in that. I am healthy enough to enjoy my life and that is all I could truly ask for. Leann knows my condition and accepts it without reservation. This is another of the many reasons that I love her. She knows as much or maybe even more about me than anyone else alive. I am constantly amazed that even though she knows my failings and shortcomings, she would still love me. I am not rich, nor famous or even comfortable for that matter. I live from disability check to disability check for now. But I do have dreams of a better future and Leann resides in all of those dreams.

Leann is very talented in painting and craft type work I am more the concept type. I can come up with great ideas, but have no clue how to make them practical. Leann can break the most daunting task into a system that makes it look like child’s play. Neither of us have any aversion to hard work. Together, I imagine that we will begin our own Mom and Pop craft business. Perhaps my writing will someday help to pay the bills, but I do that because I enjoy it, not because I ever expect my words to be of value to anyone other than myself and those I love.

After several near collisions and a few uttered expletives, I found myself escaping the metropolitan area of Atlanta. The traffic was far thinner now and I was able to set the cruise control at a reasonable seventy-four miles per hour.

The rolling hills that announce the approach to southern Appalachia rose before me. Oaks and firs replaced the ever-present yellow pines of central Georgia. The sky, bright and clear, so close, but not quite capturing the blue of Maxfield Parrish’s paintings. The air was unseasonably warm. I rolled down the window and enjoyed the fresh air for a while.

Looking at the clock on my dash board, I subtracted an hour from the time displayed, as Leann lived in the central time zone. It was already habit for me to think in two time zones. Whenever she would ask me the time, I would automatically make the adjustment before speaking. It was now nine A.M. . That translated to eight, her time. We had planned to meet around ten, by her watch, so I was doing well in spite of the delays in Atlanta.

Signs declaring Chattanooga’s proximity came frequently. I would be in Tennessee in less than an hour. The plan was for me to stop and gas up around Chattanooga and call Leann’s cell phone.
This was the plan on the assumption that she would have already booked the motel room. It was still a bit early, so I decided to get a little way past the city limits before I stopped.

Southeastern Tennessee is loaded with billboards proclaiming the largest, cheapest, loudest most colorful selection of fireworks this side of China. Being a red-blooded American male, I was tantalized by the possibilities. I chose a vendor based on the size and garishness of the sign and exited the highway. The place had a huge parking lot, surrounding a large shopping mall sized building. Not one vehicle was present when I pulled to the pumps. I had to go to the doors to verify that anyone was here at all. I asked the lone man within if there was a pay phone nearby. “There is a bait store over the other side of the highway” he drawled “they may still have one.”
“Thanks” I replied as I returned to my truck to pump the gas.

After filling up, I checked out the selection of cold soda in the store’s refrigerated case before paying for my gas. Leann had been telling me about a particular diet soda she was fond of and I was anxious to try it. This store did not carry it. Browsing the assortment of available fireworks for a few minutes, I decided to wait until my return trip to purchase anything. Carrying explosives in my vehicle for any longer than is necessary seemed unreasonable to me, besides, I now needed to make another stop to call Leann. I also wanted to clean up and change my clothes before arriving at my destination. I remembered seeing a sign for a rest area not too distant, so off I went.

The excitement was building in me now. After all this time, I was closer to her. I was driving a route she was very familiar with. I imagined the stories she could tell about every small town I passed. I could hear her laugh as she told me of some high school adventure that brought her here or there. This place was home to her for all her life. Now in hours, minutes really, I would be with her.

The rest area was one of the nicer variety. A sign pointed the way for passenger vehicles to the left. I pulled into a spot between the restrooms and vending area. My first order of business was to use the phone. The pay phones in nicer rest areas are usually intact and working. This one wasn’t. In fact, the phone was missing altogether. I just shook my head and headed for the men’s room, hoping that no one had stolen it.

The restroom was clean and well lit. In short order, I was slightly less scruffy and a touch more presentable. I even doused myself with the cologne Leann had given me for Christmas. Still thirsty, I decided to get a soda from the vending machine. This machine not only had no Diet Sun-Drop, the brand I had been seeking, it was empty of every choice. Oh well, I still had to stop again to use a phone, so maybe I would have better luck down the road.

One exit later, I found an intact, working payphone. I dug my calling card and Leann’s cell number from my wallet. She sounded a bit frantic as she answered. Apparently she had experienced a few delays in her morning. When I told her I was about thirty minutes away, I believe she nearly panicked. We decided to just meet at the motel, and I would call from the lobby in an hour and a half I told her I loved her and would be seeing her soon.

There was one of the ubiquitous fireworks shops here, so I thought I would check out their soda selection, however, in keeping with my luck so far, this store did not sell soda. There was a machine out front which was, of course, devoid of any diet options. Resigning my self to my thirsty fate, I got back in the truck and headed to the town of our rendevous.

The exit was even closer than I had thought. I pulled off the ramp and made a right, away from the direction of the motel. I was still too early and Leann may not even be there yet. I had planned on presenting her with a single red rose, but had wanted to wait until I was closer to her to purchase one. Flowers and road trips don’t usually mix. Fortunately, A Wal-Mart was located nearby.

I realize that buying roses at Wal-Mart seems kind of tacky, but they really do have a good selection at most times. Many months earlier I had told Leann that I would give here flowers every day. Since then, she has received a lot of flowers via e-mails. I would search Google for images of roses or tulips or some other flower to brighten her day. Did she get flowers every day? Well, no, she didn’t. Not because she didn’t deserve them, but instead because I would forget. Yes, it’s true, I can be forgetful. I try to not be forgetful, but I sometimes don’t remember to remind myself.

In one of my e-mails, I had included a photo of some red and white striped roses. I can’t recall the name of the variety, but they were very striking. Their coloration made me think they should smell of peppermint. I was delighted to see a bunch that looked very much like those in Wal-Mart’s floral section. I had intended just a single red rose, but no singles were available so I bought the striped roses.

I still had more time to kill, so I checked out the vending machines in the entryway of the store. Lo and behold, a soda machine with Diet Sun-Drop! I fished in my pockets for change and withdrew about five bucks worth. Amazing how change accumulates on a road trip. After inserting the required seventy-five cents and dropping nearly two- fifty, I pressed the appropriate button and... nothing happened.


Just as I was weighing the consequences of assaulting the machine, I heard a series of dull thuds announcing the release of my soda. A soda machine with a sadistic streak, I wondered?.

Back at the truck, the time appointed was fast approaching. I climbed in and headed to the motel. I imagined knocking on the room door. Leann would answer wearing a low cut neglige’. She would step towards me but I would stop her for a moment when I presented the roses. She would look at the roses, then with tears in her eyes, she would step into my arms and we would kiss.

It took only three or four minutes to arrive at the motel. I spotted her car right away. I looked around the outside of the lobby for a payphone, and seeing none, figured that I would call her from inside.

The sun was bright and the lobby dark, so it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. I spotted a phone on the wall opposite the desk and started towards it. “You’re too early” a familiar and very feminine voice said. I had not seen Leann standing at the motel desk. I was embarrassed at having walked past her and shocked to be seeing her already. My latest imagined first meeting was not to be.

I first saw her in near silhouette. Backlit by the lights from the desk, she stepped towards me and we kissed. No hesitation at kissing each other for the first time. It was a warm, comforting kiss. The kiss of lovers that have known each others lips before. I wrapped my arms around her. I believe I said something to the effect of “I can’t believe it”. I stepped back slightly to look into the eyes I had been dreaming of for so long. Leann was saying something about my arriving too early, but I was lost in her eyes. They are a beautiful hazel with almost equal measures of green and brown. Her hair was slightly mussed and it looked very sexy. It is a deep red that a designer might choose to frame and contrast those eyes. She stood about six inches shorter than I, and had to look up to gaze at my face. Her smile was a welcoming one. Her red lips, perfectly lined and very luscious.

Leann gave me her car keys so I could bring some things from the back seat up to the room. As I returned, arms laden to the lobby, the clerk was informing her that our room was at the far end of the building. We left the lobby and decided to walk to the room. I turned out to be quite a hike, but we survived.

The doors to the rooms were accessed from the interior of the building. An exterior door required the use of our key card to gain entry. Leann tried a couple times, but could not get the lock to disengage. I made a poor joke about blonde roots showing. My roots were showing as well it seemed, because the door wouldn’t open for me either. Leann took the card and tried once more. A tiny green light and a click denoted her success. She held the door as I entered, baggage in hand. “I know I am supposed to carry you over the threshold, but...” I said, gesturing with my chin toward the luggage. “You’re excused...this time” she chided me, smiling.

The door to the room presented her with far less trouble. We stepped in, dropped the luggage and I took her in my arms. “Hey baby” I whispered. “Hey baby” she replied, nearly breathlessly. We kissed for what could have been minutes. Deeply, with more passion than any second kiss I have ever had. After we kissed I held her head against my shoulder for a moment. One of us suggested we bring the rest of our stuff up. Regardless of who said it, we agreed and returned to the parking lot to move our vehicles and retrieve the rest of our gear.

Leann was grabbing a final, lone bag from her backseat as I came up behind her. “I’ll take that while you take care of these” I said, handing her the roses. It wasn’t exactly as I had imagined, but close enough. She seemed to be stifling tears as she said “I knew you would bring me roses.” Holding back the tears was a challenge she wasn’t taking lightly. I had teased her during one of our late night conversations, saying that she wasn’t allowed to cry while we were together.

We took what we had back to the room and shut the door. We held hands as we took a brief tour of the suite. A small sitting room with a tiny kitchenette made it somewhat more homey and convenient. The king sized bed drew approving grins from us both. Although I wanted nothing more at that moment than to make love to Leann, I recommended we have a bite to eat first. ”Diabetics need to keep their blood sugar up” I reminded her.

Leann had brought enough supplies to feed us for a week if we were frugal. I chose fresh turkey and cranberry sauce as the makings for sandwiches. That combination, with a touch of mayo on white bread, is an addiction of mine which I introduced Leann to. (Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it and don’t blame me if you become addicted once you do.) I made our sandwiches as she put things away, lit candles and generally added the atmosphere for our little nest.

I had told her before hand that I would want to take a shower after I arrived. Despite having cleaned up on the road, I still felt sort of grungy after half a day behind the wheel. After gathering my toiletries, I headed for the bath. The water was hot, and since I wasn’t paying the electric bill, I enjoyed it fully.

A touch-up with the razor and a quick brush of my teeth completed my toilet. I wanted to run into the bedroom, but I had to restrain myself. As much as I wanted Leann, I also wanted her to be comfortable, not rushed. I had no intention of having sex with her. I planned to make love to her. I have nothing against sex for the sake of sex, it can be very enjoyable, but it is a sorry replacement for being in love with your partner. I wanted her to know beyond doubt that I loved her. I wanted to please her as never before.

A towel was all I wore as I stepped into the bedroom. Leann was wearing the neglige of my earlier imagining. She was reclined on the bed, the candlelight reflected in her eyes. I sat on the edge of the bed and just gazed at her for a few moments. Her eyes, her perfume, the candlelight all conspired against my ability to reason. I reached out to caress her cheek with the back of my hand. I leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. Her lips are full and soft, very kissable. I wound my fingers into the hair at the back of her neck and pulled her face closer as I lay down next to her. We kissed forever. The room faded from existence. The blue of the sky turned indigo. The stars ceased to be.

I always believed that love was a matter of degrees. You could fall in love or learn to love and it could be a simple or a very deep emotion. The lucky had better degrees fo love with their chosen mate. Soul mates was not a term I gave any credence too. But I was so wrong. It doesn’t suffice to say “you just know” about falling in love. I have been in love, but their always existed just little doubts and uncertainties that keep me from “just knowing”. But the phrase does apply to finding a soul mate. Leann is truly my soul mate . Any thought of my future includes Leann. I can’t imagine a life that did not include her. She is present in my every thought and plan. To those who have never found their soul-mate, I say this; nothing can prepare you for the experience. A kiss from your soul-mate is a mingling of spirit and body, as completing as the right chill on a great wine. This kiss left me speechless.

We made love for hours. There were moments of teeth gritting intensity mingled with instances of laughter, awkward times and times when I felt as if my ability to breathe would be ripped from me if I looked away from her eyes. Had the room caught on fire, I doubt we would have noticed. Her body was so soft and warm against me, filling the vacuums of my dreams and imaginings. It was not the artless intercourse of two virgins in a cramped backseat. We had our moments of clumsiness, but we laughed and got through them. Many late night discussions had allowed us to learn each others likes and desires. This was a fulfillment of hundreds of nights of desirous dreams; the dream where your lips finally do meet.

Diabetic men often have difficulty sexually. Those with kidney failure as well are often completely impotent. I am happy to say that this is not yet the case for me. Upon hearing that I was planning a trip to visit my girlfriend, my physician had written me a prescription for Viagra. Although Leann and I were prepared to us it, the little blue pill was unnecessary. The one result I do have from my condition is a minor blessing. I am somewhat desensitized, so it takes a lot of stimulation before I climax. It still feels good, and lovemaking can last for hours. Leann certainly wasn’t complaining.

We collapsed on the bed, and kissed for a while. I then had to reach for the ultimate cliche; a cigarette. Leann is an ex-smoker, but she indicated she wanted one as well. I gave her the cigarette I had lit and lit a second. We talked a little as we sat on the bed, I cross-legged, Indian style and she reclining.

After taking a few minutes to clean up and dress, we settled on the couch in the sitting room. Leann looked a little pale and I asked her if she felt OK. She said she was alright, but her face was warm to the touch. I offered to get her some ibuprofen from a convenience store, but she insisted that she was fine. Eventually she decided to lay down and get a short nap. I lay with her til she fell asleep, then returned to the sitting room to watch TV. I made a cup of tea and relaxed before the tube for a while. I have no idea what I watched. My mind was too busy reliving the last few hours as well as being worried about her health.

Occasionally, I suffer from the “what ifs”. What if I was really causing the break up of her marriage? Would she have perhaps forgiven Ken, had I not been in the picture? I have learned enough of him to know that he and I would never hang out at the bar or eat hot dogs at a ball game together. But was that justification? He was enough of a man to win her heart at one time. I knew Leann wrestled with her own demons. But hers were not about what if. Hers were more about was she wrong for doing this now rather than waiting. She did not question that her marriage was conclusively over, but rather was it wrong to be with me before the papers were signed. In the end, we both know it was unavoidable. We love each other and will spend the rest of our days together. But you always have to put up a front of propriety. If we really knew the hearts of those around us, knew those little secrets that eat at the conscience like termites devouring the framework of a house, we would be shocked. Stunned that the cashier at the grocery store had gotten drunk last week and slept with a man who’s name she hadn’t known. Appalled to think that Grandpa had paid money to women to watch them as he relieved himself in hotel rooms. We would be mortified if we knew that our doctor liked pain killers and under age girls. Some secrets are not as dark, but just as carefully hidden. We cannot live fully exposed.

In the scheme of things, Leann and I had a fairly routine secret. We would keep it to preserve the feelings of those we loved. We would keep the secret to keep from explaining a love that was beyond words.

I woke Leann half an hour before she had planned to leave. She was still very warm to the touch and pale. She dressed and reapplied her make-up. I worried about her driving, feeling as she did, but she assured me she would be fine. We discussed the possibility that she may be to ill in the morning to return, but parted with the feeling that we would see each other then. I held her hand as we walked to her car. Standing by the door, she promised she would call that night and let me know she was alright. We kissed again and she drove off.

Back in the room, I paced the floors for a while. I was physically tired but to much adrenalin still flowed through me to allow me to relax. I decided to take a drive to find a Jack in the Box restaurant. I had been craving a Bacon-Ultimate Cheeseburger since Leann had mentioned the chain was located throughout Tennessee. Georgia has none. Unfortunately, this town, or at least this area of town had none as well. Opting for a stroll through Wal-Mart, I purchased a couple of six packs of Diet Sun Drop for after my return to Georgia. I wandered the aisles for a while, then headed back to the motel.

Leann had brought some frozen dinners for me. I placed one in the microwave and got a cold soda. Some movie was just starting so I watched it. Apparently my mind was elsewhere because I could not tell you a single thing about it now.

We had crossed the line that day. We had made absolute our commitments to each other. No wedding ceremony, or exchange of vows could ever be so profound as the love making we had shared. If things hadn’t felt right, if there was any real doubt about us, I think we would have backed out. Every kiss, was a promise, every moan an “I do”.

Leann called just as the movie was ending. The knowledge that she was less than an hour away was torture. I asked how she was feeling and she said she felt a bit better. We kept saying we would keep or conversation short, but we talked for at least an hour. I wanted to hear her breath as we drifted off to sleep together. I wanted to feel the warm, naked curve of her against me. More than anything, I wanted to never again be cut off from her when the phone was cradled.

It was late when we finally said goodnight. I hung up the phone and made a final cup of Earl Grey tea. I turned on the TV across from the bed, but again, I recall nothing of what was on. After drinking my tea, I cut off the light and the TV was soon asleep.

The sound of the door opening awoke me. By the time my eyes could focus, Leann was looking into them. “Good morning, baby” she said. “Sleep well?” Seeing her first thing upon opening my eyes was a dream fulfilled. Such a simple thing really, but I had longed for it. She looked as if she felt much better today.

It was later than we had planned on meeting, so I decided I should shower while she gathered some of our belongings. I washed quickly and made a beeline to the bed where I knew she would be waiting. We made love again while dust motes danced in the stipes of light from the shades to the basso rumble of the passing traffic outside. All that my imagination had to fill in during midnight calls was real now. The feel of her skin, the spark in her eyes, the scent of her.

The phone rang at an inopportune moment. We ignored it. Later it rang again, we ignored it once more, but looking at the clock, decided we had better get going before we were charged for another day. At five minutes before check out, the phone rang again, this time I answered and informed the front desk that we were headed there directly. Leann and I began to cart baggage to our vehicles.

Leann said she wanted to look for anything we may have missed one last time. I suspect her final look at the room was more sentimental than practical. Looking around the room, I found myself close to tears. A year of talking of this day had passed. A year of late night fantasies and anticipation. We feared at one time that we could not live up to our own expectations, but that was definitely not the case. We were leaving with our love consummated. If some of the details weren’t precisely as imagined, it didn’t matter. I knew that no other woman could ever satisfy me as Leann had. I knew that no other man would touch her as I had.

We held hands on the walk to our cars. She had to stop at the desk and check out so I waited for her. She seemed almost to not want to look at me as she returned. She would look at me for just a second hen look back at the ground as she approached. It was as if she could keep from crying by not looking at me. When she did look into my eyes, there were tears hiding below the surface of hers. She had done so well not to cry, and I was thankful, because I did not want to cry myself. We shared a quiet, and tender kiss, got into our vehicles and drove off.

Leann pulled out ahead of me and headed across the over pass. I turned to the right and down the ramp. Her car sunk from my view below the concrete railing of the bridge.

A light drizzle dotted my windshield as I accelerated onto the highway. The drive ahead of me would pass in a fugue state. My thoughts were on Leann while my truck was on auto pilot. I hadn’t caused any major accidents by the time I realized I had planned on purchasing some fireworks. Amazingly, there was a fireworks stand located at the next exit.

The selection of pyrotechnics was pretty good so it took me a while to make my selections. I daydreamed of summer night displays by the ponds at Leann’s farm; the boys begging to light the next one as Melissa ignored them and oohed and aahed at the show. Leann and I would have worn them out earlier in the day and they would soon be ready for bed. We would watch the stars and cuddle in a porch swing as the house slowly quieted for the night.

I am not sure how long I had been staring at this particular box of bottle rockets. If anyone had noticed my trance, they made no indication, but I still felt that awkwardness like when you are caught sleeping in class and asked to go write the answer to the last question on the chalkboard.

I cleared my head and focused on the task at hand. In addition to class “c” explosives, I also needed a cheap ice chest for the motel left overs and soda, ice to fill it, as well as a pack of cigarettes. Taking a few extra minutes in the parking lot, I emptied trash and arranged my stuff, once again for easy, one hand access. I selected the next tape from it’s black clamshell case. Number six of ten. Should be perfect timing for the trip home.



The End