As he pushed the clutch shifting into fourth, the low drone of the engine steadily hummed and he made his way down the highway. His mind wandered back and forth between his work day and the years he worked diligently, living beneath his means and saving for a life he dreamed of. It was an easy way to kill the time between leaving the city and reaching home and often something he did, so as to not forget just how good he finally had it.
His children had spread about, his girls staying behind to finish school, while his son moved to be closer to him across the United States and held down a job just across the boarding state of Virginia. The depths of pride he held for the man and women they had grown into beamed from him with every thought of them. It was a blessing he was so very grateful for.
It was beginning to get dark. Only quick flashes of light peppered through the tall trees lining the dirt road he turned onto with the sun beginning to set. The sky was changing with brushes of light pinks and oranges streaking behind the clouds. He let his mind finally drift to what was waiting up the drive. It would be a slow evening spent with a woman who'd remained a constant in his life, even during the time she wasn't in it. The lingering impact her spirit left behind kept a smoldering ember lit when disappointment and let down after let down had dowsed a fire in his soul he always thought would rage.
There were nights he shared his bed with women who might as well have been strangers, willing his body to take comfort in the caresses from the woman of the moment. It was never the skin his body ached to be against and he never gave away any piece of his soul he kept tucked away tight but it got him through the loneliness he faced after his marriage imploded. After those encounters he always thought about Emily. He wondered where she was, if she was doing well. If he should even try to find her, but he knew it was an empty endeavor. So much happened and with years passing by, there was no real hope anything good could come of such a foolish action. He'd prayed she healed from the hurt she endured and didn't want to be further cause of any more.
Day in and day out he concentrated on what he could control, which in the beginning did not feel like much. His wife, someone he imagined he'd hold the rest of his life had changed her mind. Relationships were not perfect. In the beginning it felt euphoric, something he'd put so much heart into. As time wore on the grind of daily life interjected itself between them, driving their connection so far apart they couldn't see their way back to one another. Quitting was not what he wanted, not typical a word he would even entertained in his vocabulary. Once he was in something, he was in it for the long haul. Eventually the new wore off and he found out that kind of love was not reciprocated. The words ringing in his ears "I don't care for you like that anymore," kept repeating as he turned to walk away.
In the days following days, he found there was a void where he'd put his trust and no one would dare be let in again to fill it only to disappoint him. His broken heart felt as though it could never heal, he knew it never would with each let down he'd been through. The drinking began to take hold, night after night drowning out memories of so many failures. Failures he began to convince himself he was made of. It was a cycle of abuse he put his mind and body through under the guise it was helping him cope.
One evening he came across a message sitting in an inbox of his device he rarely checked. His palms became damp; his heartbeat quickened as he opened it and clicked the photo above the text. A radiance around this woman's face pierced into him, forcing his cheeks to rise and lips to curl as he took the photo in. She looked both different yet the same. He did decide to respond, briefly just a quick exchange of pleasantries. Never did he imagine she'd be close again, or reaching out. Why was she reaching out anyway, he pondered? It really didn't matter, there was electricity running from his fingertips to the glass of his phone as he typed each word before hitting the arrow to send.
Lights glowed from a large bay window in the dining room of the house. It was tucked just inside the wraparound porch and really something to see when snow fell and his family was altogether like last Christmas. Another piece of heaven he'd been gifted since his life had seemed to come back together. Before he turned his truck off, he looked up to see her swinging the screen door open, barefoot on his porch. She was waiting patiently with a glass of wine in each hand.
I could see the day weighing on him in each step he took toward me. Once he exited the truck, I sat down the wine glasses. It was my earnest desire to comfort and relax this man after a long day of care he was sure to have shown to strangers in need. It was all a part of his job, his calling in life. Once he reached the porch she stood up on her toes to be able to wrap herself around his shoulders. She took him in deeply. The feel of his arms gently encircling her, he smelled of ozone and the remainder of his shower from the night before. It was all I dreamed of for years, holding on to a man, this man, who held right back on to me. I pulled back to look up at him, smiling. I found his lips with mine to finish our embrace before reaching to hand him a glass of wine.
"How was your day?" I asked.
"No MI's or codes, just some angina and a dog bite. You know the normal overdose or drunkard calls." He sighed.
It went without saying that she did know and could understand. She knew exactly how demanding his days could be, and it was a relief to have someone who could sense it, who could see it. She knew exactly what needed to be said or even when no words were needed. She picked up her glass and as they entered the home, he could smell she'd been cooking when his stomach audibly rumbled. Hearing it she laughed and he shrugged. He headed to shower and change and she told him it'd be ready when got back.
A fiddle filled the air of the kitchen as my music played, also a constant in the home. A deep love of red dirt from Texas had settled in my soul and followed me to the East coast. I was finishing up a loaf of fresh yeast bread in the oven when he returned. And like so many times in my past dreams, he turned me to face him. Just like that late night with the west Texas wind blowing around us, outside his pick up, his hand reached for mine and took it with complete confidence. I closed my eyes remembering because it was my favorite part, him raising my arm slightly out, elbows held up and his lead taking me from one foot to the other in a steady swaying motion.
