Page 119 of Grown-Up Second Chance

But then they started doing things.

And my eyes popped wide open.

How did they get into those positions? And did it really fit … um …

I covered my eyes with my fingers, then opened them and peered through.

Apparently, it did.

That night I had erotic dreams. I must have tried to get into some of the positions I’d seen because muscles I didn’t remember I had were aching when I woke up.

~ ~ ~

I’d been on the road an hour the next day when the skies opened up, cutting visibility on the interstate and increasing the terror of driving. Every time a semi went by, I was blind for a few moments. I drove the next half hour with my heart in my throat, gratefully exiting the highway and heading north when I reached the small town of Lusk.

The rain didn’t stop, but its pace slowed, and I felt more comfortable navigating. The going was slower than I’d anticipated, because I drove more cautiously. Maybe I was a little old lady after all.

The scenery, if there was any, was lost to me. All I could concentrate on was the road in front of me: wet black tar, faded yellow line, slap of the wipers as they smacked down to the bottom of the windshield. Another hour went by before I turned east into South Dakota and began to climb the hills.

In spite of the miserable driving, I couldn’t turn off my mind. The anticipation of seeing Joe grew with each passing mile. The whole situation was complicated, but one thing stood out: I’d always felt a closeness with Joe I’d never felt with anyone else. Maybe he was right about first loves. The bonds we formed as teens, our shared experiences, would connect us for the rest of our lives.

How we kept that connection alive was going to be the thing that mattered. We could go back to being old friends who’d lost touch, get a more active friendship, or move on to something more. It was the shape of that something more we needed to determine.

But I’d committed to a year-long trip with my sisters, and I was determined to complete it. It was the chance of a lifetime. There was so much of this country I’d never seen, and I wanted a sampling.

What if Joe tagged along with us?

I dismissed that thought as soon as it arose. Having Joe around permanently would upend the delicate balance we’d achieved. For the first time since we were kids, none of us had significant others. As far as I knew, Liz never had been involved with anyone for long.

Spending the next year with me on the road and Joe back in Ennis or wherever didn’t bode well for a renewed relationship with him. Whether or not Joe succumbed to a church lady or some other desperate widow, it was a recipe for growing apart, not coming together.

Maybe it was all an illusion. If it was, why was I making this trip?

Because I was a stubborn old fool who believed in second chances.

I pulled over at the first restaurant of any kind I’d seen in a while. I’d expected a Mexican place, but was surprised to discover it was Asian Indian.

Staring at the menu, I tried to decipher the unfamiliar listings. I’d been to a few Indian restaurants in California, but usually with a group. Someone always took charge of ordering a series of dishes we passed around.

“Can I help you?” a woman about my age asked.

“That would be nice. I didn’t expect to find this kind of restaurant out here in the middle of nowhere.”

The woman laughed. “There are more and more of us. There are many Indian truckers; it’s a good job for us. They are looking for familiar food, so we provide it.”

“How interesting!” I said. “But this seems so far away from anything. Don’t you get lonely?”

“We have brought many cousins, nieces, and nephews with us,” she said. “There are many things truckers need besides food. And with the internet, a few of my family work offsite for big companies, but prefer to live near us. Most of our children and their families are here, too.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Let me help you decide what to eat,” she said.

We chatted about the weather as she helped me choose dishes with names I couldn’t pronounce. The food came out quickly, and I devoted my time to tasting the incredible spices and textures. When I was close to done, the woman came back, and I invited her to sit as there were few other guests in the restaurant.

“Would you mind if I took some pictures before I left?” I asked. I’d already taken a few of the food to send my sisters.

“Not at all,” she replied. “In fact, if they turn out well, I’d love to see them. Perhaps we will be able to use them for our website.”

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