A Second Chance

The food arrived. We both ate like we hadn't had a meal in weeks. Within ten minutes we had cleaned our plates. We stacked the dishes and pushed them aside.

"We have to make some plans," Shug said.

"Why?" I wanted to know. "What kind of plans?"

"I've got to get to St. Louis, Caroline. You've got to go home to your son."

"I don't want to make plans," I said, feeling suddenly dejected. "Plans are real world. I don't want to be in the real world right now. I want to be with you."

Shug smiled. "You wouldn't believe how glad it makes me to hear you say that."

"Then stop trying to be so reasonable," I sulked.

"Caroline," he put his hands out to me. I placed mine in his. "Sweetheart, I have to be back in Atlanta on the twenty-seventh. That's a week from tomorrow."

"I know that," I said.

"That means I'm going to have to leave St. Louis on Friday, at the latest."

"Friday? That's three whole days! It doesn't take three days to get from St. Louis to Atlanta."

"It does when you're hitchhiking," he smiled at me.

"But, you're not hitchhiking anymore, Shug," I protested. "You're with me."

"That's true," he acknowledged, "but, you're going on from St. Louis to…" he stopped. "You haven't told me where you live," he said. "Where do you live?"

"Tulsa," I said.

"Tulsa, Oklahoma?" Shug sounded amazed.

"Yeah. People live in Tulsa, you know."

"Sure, but, you said St. Louis isn't far out of the way. St. Louis is a long way out of the way if you're going to Tulsa!"

"You're being reasonable again," I told him.

Shug pulled his hands away from mine and planted them on the edge of the table.

"Don't you think one of us should occasionally touch reality?"

"I don't want to be in touch with reality, right now, Shug. I want to drive through the countryside, stop at every cheesy motel we come across, fuck our brains out for the next week, and then take you back to Atlanta on the twenty-seventh."

Shug looked stunned. "I guess that's a plan of sorts," he said. "When did you come up with that idea?"

"Just now," I admitted. "I mean, it just now clarified. I've been thinking about it for a couple of hours."

"We've only been awake for a couple of hours," he reminded me.

I took a deep breath and looked down at the table, tracing figure eight patterns on the top. "When I woke up this morning in your arms, I thought, this is where I want to be. This is where I want to stay. I was so warm and so comfortable with you. I felt safe, and protected, and…well, I just knew, that's all."

Shug looked like somebody had just told him his dog died. I thought he was going to cry.

"What?" I asked, softly. "You have trouble dealing with honesty? I've just told you the deepest, most private thoughts and feelings. You can't handle that?"

"It's not that," he answered. "I am so…touched. So honored. I feel like you've just given me the most wonderful gift imaginable. Like, you've shared your soul with me. I'm….I'm so very honored."

"Oh, God," I moaned, knowing that agony was only an instant away. I took a deep breath. "Go ahead," I said. "Let the other shoe drop."

"What?" Shug now looked confused.

"You're honored? People only say that when there's an awful something coming up. People say that just before the 'but'. You know, 'But, I don't feel the same way about you.'"

Shug's look of confusion disappeared. He stared at me. Then he turned toward the window. I steeled myself for the bad news. Then he started to laugh. He reached across the table and took my hands in his once more.

"You are the most wonderful, amazing creature I have ever met," Shug said, grinning so broadly I thought his face would split open. "There is no other shoe, my love," he said. "I am truly honored that you shared you're most intimate thoughts with me. I know how vulnerable it makes you feel. That you trust me that much in the short amount of time we've had together is…is…amazing! You are completely wonderful."

A warm, golden glow settled around me. I couldn't help but smile back at this marvelous young man. This had been a test of fire. I shared my inner self with him, trusted him, and he proved worthy. I was so relieved, I felt the need to break the tension that had built up around us.

"And a pretty good fuck, too, huh?" I whispered wickedly, leaning forward so only he could hear.

"All of that," he grinned. He leaned across the table toward me. I met him half-way. It was a terrific little soft kiss that lasted two seconds longer than it should have.

We settled up the bill at the cash register and walked toward the car. Shug held the door for me, then climbed in behind the wheel. As he backed out of the parking lot and pointed the car down the road he asked, "Destination?"

"Then next cheesy motel you can find, lover. I can't wait to feel you back inside me."

Shug drove up that road for two hours before he stopped. I was furious with him.

Each time we'd pass a Shady Rest or other little family owned motel, I'd ask him, "How about here?"

Shug would look at it, grimace and say something like, "They probably haven't changed the sheets in years," or "I'll bet there's mold in the bathrooms," or some such other lame excuse. The farther we went, the angrier I got.

What finally suited him was a Comfort Inn about an hour south of Nashville. He rolled my car into the parking area, stopped, and twisted the key. Then he turned to me and grinned.

"Okay," he said. "Here."

"Well, I'm certainly glad we've found somewhere fit to house your royal highness," I fumed at him.

"Why are you so angry?" he asked.

"Two hours, Shug," I bellowed. "We've been driving for two hours. In that time we had to have passed up twenty places we could have stopped."

He stretched his hand across the console to take mine. I jerked it away.

"Don't touch me," I snarled. "I am so pissed off at you."

Shug chuckled. "What are you pissed off about, Caroline?"

"I wanted to stop. You didn't stop," I growled. "You ignored me and my feelings."

"No, I didn't," he said, his hand firmly resting on mine. "I extended the anticipation."

"Not so, buster," I said. "You just pissed me off, that's all."

"Caroline?" He twisted in the seat so he was facing toward me.

"What!"

"Why did you want to stop?" he asked, almost in a whisper.

There was silence in the car. I looked up at him from my sulking rage. He sat there, his face in a crooked grin, his eyes sparkling like a lake in the summer sunshine.

As I thought about it, I couldn't help but laugh. I started to giggle. "To screw," I acknowledged. It seemed so silly.

"Do you still want to?" he asked.

"No. I'm mad at you," I smiled into my lap, trying to hide it from him. I looked out my window so he couldn't see my face. I felt his hand come to rest on my shoulder.

"So, let me see if I've got this straight," he said, a chortle in his voice. "You got mad at me for not stopping so we could screw. And, you're now so mad, you don't want to screw anymore. Is that it?"

I started to laugh. I knew he could feel it, that hand on my shoulder. I turned to face him.

"You're a mean son-of-a-bitch, Jeremy Shugart. You know that?" The two of us were laughing out loud now. "You could have stopped hours ago."

"Caroline, my love," he said, "if we do this trip in fifteen mile increments, stopping every fifteen miles to make love and spend the night, it'll be July by the time we get to St. Louis. And, Christmas before you get home to Tulsa."

"Okay, okay," I conceded, wiping the tears from under my eyes. "You're right, I supposed. It was pretty silly, wasn't it?"

He shrugged. "It's okay, as long as we get over it." He patted my shoulder.

Our chuckling and giggling subsided. I had heard what he said. Suddenly, I had the feeling that I had to know.

"Am I?" I asked him. "Am I what you said?"

"What?" Shug asked in return. "I don't…I don't understand."

"You said 'Caroline, my love.' Am I? Am I your love, or was that just a figure of speech?"

Shug looked uncomfortable. He shifted back in his seat and looked forward through the windshield.

"Caroline," he began.

"Yes?" All of a sudden my gut was in a tight knot.

Shug looked at his watch. "It's been fifteen hours."

"That's all right," I said. "You don't have to answer. I'm sorry I asked."

"You're not," he said. "You're not sorry at all."

"Yes, I am," I nodded. "I shouldn't push."

Shug nodded.

I continued. "It was an endearment. I understand. It was like 'honey', or 'sweetheart', right?"

He looked at me. This smile had none of the impish nature I'd seen before. This one was warm and sincere. "It's so new," he said, softly. "I want to make certain it's not just the novelty, the newness, the excitement."

"You're very mature for your age, Shug," I said. "I'm acting like a teenager, and you're behaving like an adult. I'm learning to respect you for that."

"I had to grow up fast when my Dad died," he said. "I had to become the man in my family at seventeen. There was no one else to do it."

We sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, I screwed up the courage to ask, "When do you think you'll know?"

"About what?"

"About us. Whether or not I am your love."

Shug sat quietly. I could almost hear his mind working. He looked into the mirror and out the back of the car. "I don't know, for certain, when I'll know. But, I'll tell you Thursday."

"Thursday?" I asked him. "Why Thursday?"

"Because it's not Monday or Friday. And, it's not Wednesday, you know, the middle of the week. Because Tuesday would be too early. Thursday is the perfect day," he said.

"You know, there's absolutely no sense to what you're saying," I said, shaking my head.. "It's like that six-minutes thing this morning. But, when you say it, you make it seem completely rational. What about Saturday and Sunday?"

"Oh, well, that's easy," Shug gave a wave of his hand, "Saturday is way too far off. That would be too late. And, Sunday is today. There's no way I'm telling you that I love you today."

Shug froze. As I watched him, his face went dead white. He realized what he'd just said and it shook him.

"It's okay, Sugar," I whispered. "There's no way I'm telling you that I love you today, either."