"For the more than ten years, you've heard me tell you I love you," he said, looking across the table at his wife. "Why are you acting this way?"
"You're assuming I believe everything you tell me," she answered back, a strange, faraway look in her eyes bringing yesterday's 'The View' into her mind.
"Thank you very much. What's wrong with me?" he asked, incredulously. "I don't believe this. I haven't done anything."
"Nothing's wrong with you; I mean, you look great for your... I just know what they said. I know you've done it or at least, thought about it."
"For your age, you were going to say. We're the same age, for God's sake." He was sick of her attitude. "How I look is all that matters? Nothing about what's in my heart? In my soul? What we've done together? And, who said, what?
"What about Eileen?" she accused.
"What about Eileen? She's my secretary, you know that. What the hell..."
"I'm sorry. I just don't believe you. I just know you did it. Oprah's guest..." She regretted what she had said in the emotion of the moment. Why she did, she didn't know... she just knew it was true.
"I'm sure you get lots of sympathy from your friends about that, you all watching the show together," he said, sullenly. His stomach turned sour; his dinner started to rebel against his chest and he could feel his heart beat so fast he thought he was going to die.
"I don't tell my friends that, I'm telling you." Even she didn't believe it.
"And, why now? Why wait until now? It's been ten years... first, I'm cheating and then, I don't get you off fast enough?"
It had started simply enough. She was hard to buy gifts for. She was impossible to buy gifts for. She didn't like flowers, saying her father always brought them home when he did something wrong.
Jewelry, that was always a closed subject, too, but tonight was supposed to be special. A dinner out, a pair of diamond earrings, things that would be expected, almost, for a tenth wedding anniversary and then, the feigned "I'm not in the mood, tonight, besides, you satisfy me in other ways, just not... besides," she said, "I know."
Even as she said it, she knew it was a mistake. His whole demeanor changed with each added word.
His shoulders slumped, his back bent with the weight of the world defeating him one last time. "What a great liar," he thought, "what a great liar she has been, all these years." Like his ego, his respect for her disappeared.
Why it would be such a surprise to her that he packed that night and left was beyond him. She had crushed him with just ten little words and something sacred finally broke in his heart. He put the shattered pieces of his life into his grandfather's old Army duffel bag along with some clothes and walked down the stairs and out into the cold night.
"I'm not saying stuff to hurt you. Please, come back... you've become too sensitive... God, this is SO embarrassing... we can work something out that will work for both of us. Oprah says..."
She ran behind him, asking him to stop, to come back... begging him to come back... screaming at him to come back.
He kept walking, so totally destroyed... the idea of taking the car never occurred to him even as he stepped off the curb and was nearly hit by a FedEx truck coming down the off-ramp. He barely acknowledged the loud blast of the truck's horn and kept walking until he realized he had no idea where he was.
Ahead, there was a Denny's and then, the freeway. He walked in, by now dragging the duffel behind him, the heavy canvas making a scraping noise on the floor.
"Coffee, please," he said as the disinterested waitress left a menu on the table. Deep within, he knew he had to eat, even if he had no hunger. His dinner had lain untouched. He ordered the Grand Slam and slathered syrup over the pancakes.
He checked his cell phone. It was off. He pushed it 'on,' but it refused to light up. Without any enthusiasm, he paid the bill, went into the men's room, washed his hands and face and tossed the phone into the trashcan. With no way to recharge it, it was useless. Besides, he thought, who was he going to call, anyway? She had been his whole life and that life was dying, quickly, horribly, sadly. Next, she'd be quoting Maury Povich or something...
He shouldered the bag, walked across the parking lot and headed down the street toward the highway. It was either very, very late or very, very early. Either way, he was on his own for the first time since he married her.
To discover the last ten years were a farce was too much. His reverie was broken by the loud call of a truck horn.
"Hey, buddy, you looking for a ride? I saw you at Denny's. Where you going?"
"No where... any where... thanks."
"I'm heading to Indianapolis."
"Works for me, thanks. By the way, my name's Bill."
"Pete. Throw your stuff back there. Good thing there's no traffic."
Not much was said until they headed out of Riverside and up the grade toward Cajon Pass and Barstow.
"So, ever ride across the country in a big-rig?"
"No, actually, never had too much of a chance to do much, at all. Been bustin' my ass for the last ten for nothing, evidently."
Pete was silent, paying attention to the morning traffic that was starting to build. A long line of trucks were crawling up Cajon and they fell into line with the rest of them, each holding a set spacing.
Off to the side, the bright yellow Union Pacific diesels were doing their own long dragging up toward the summit.
"Used to be 66..."
"What?"
"I said, this used to be old 66, that's all." Pete turned up the radio, seeking to bring an end to the uncomfortable silence.
"What did you think ...
I would say at this moment...
When I'm faced with the knowledge ...
That you just don't love me...
Did you think I would curse you...
Or say things to hurt you...
'cause you just don't love me no more"
"I'm sorry, it's just that I've got a lot on my mind."
"It's your wife, isn't it?"
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"Your ring and your look..."
Bill looked down at his ring, and with a mix of anger and sadness twisted it off and threw it out the window onto the hot asphalt. For the first time since dinner, he felt a smile forming on his face.
"What are you hauling?"
"Whoa! He talks! Furniture. Some poor bastard's moving his family from LA to Indy. He lost his job and figured things would be better there. God, I bet it's a bitch of a mistake."
"Well, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. Maybe, sometimes it's just better to throw out the old and look for something new. I don't know. Maybe, it'll work out all right." Bill looked out the window at the passing scenery, amazed at how much was out there that he had never seen.