I have this thing I can do with my mind when I’m driving long distances. Fifty thousand miles a year for twenty years as an outside salesman taught me how to turn a four hour drive into forty minutes, and not miss my exit, usually. I turned on the CD player as I turned on to the Interstate and Sarah McGlocklin stuck her warm sweet tongue in my ear, again and again.
I fell in love with her before I even saw her. I fell in love with her heart. When I read her poetry, I did not sleep that night and spent most of the next day trying to compose something for her, but could not. Finally I wrote her a note asking if she had possibly read my verses, and might I have an audience, I so admired her work. A few days later, she replied, yes and yes. I might come on Thursday between 10:00AM and 1:00PM. I was at her door at 10:00. The maid led me to her bedroom, I had heard her health was delicate. Jet black hair contrasted with a much too fair complexion for the small frail lady. In my eyes, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I tried to keep things light and social but everything spilled over. I had hoped I could control myself but I heard me telling this person I knew so well and loved so deeply whom I had met only an hour ago my feelings for her. “Hush Robert, you cannot talk this way”. “You can see my condition, and I’m 12 years your senior, anyway we just met.” “You should go now, but if you promise to speak of this no more, you may call again at the same time next Thursday.”
I entered the house on Wimple street later when I was sure she was ready, ready to say goodbye to the reason for her “condition”. I picked up her feather light body and carried her to Italy. Sunny Italy, where she recovered and flourished and bore our child. How did I love her, I can’t count the ways. Elizabeth died in my arms, the last word she said was “wonderful”.
My exit came up and I stepped off the genetic E-train back from the nineteenth century to the new millenium and the reality of the hand dealt. This time, not Robert but Richard, not Elizabeth but Sarah. This time I’m the one older, a lot older and I’ve been to beat up by the Gods, they have their reasons. I don’t think this is a hand I can win. So I decided to do what any hairy legged boy would, faced with these circumstances. I’m going to buy a bass boat and a Natalie Merchant CD, she looks more like Elizabeth anyway.
