It was going to be a long drive. This was all I knew. West. Far west. To somewhere in jersey where drunk was the equivalent of a masters in psychology.
It was going to be a long drive. That's all I knew. So I took a xanax before he arrived to pick me up.
We didn't talk on the way. He turned the cd up full volume. I tapped my foot. Bopped my head. Stared at the trees lining Route 70 as they converged to a point on the horizon. No matter how far we drove that point just kept moving away from us.
Perspective. You can't trust it at all. It tells us everything eventually comes together, though it never really does.
By the time the xanax kicked in we were there. One of the there's anyway. And we drove some more. Going nowhere now. Just wandering and laughing. Like we'd always been there. And it hadn't been a long drive at all.
A little while later, we were drinking beers at a woodsy bar. He was talking to some drunk guys while I listened. There was the quiet drunk guy. I liked him. And there was the talkative one. With the old denim jacket on. He kept saying, over and over, I wouldn't take my wife to a place like this. Not here. Not this place. Wouldn't take my wife here.
He turned to me and said I guess I shouldn't have brought you here.
Bur I'm not your wife was my sardonic retort. I don't think he got it. Or if he did, he was stoic about it.
When we left the bar we stopped back at the woods we'd visited prior. The pine barrens. A labyrinth of skinny trees and dirty sand.
I stared at the tops of the pines as we fucked atop the dirty sand. As guilty as we were buzzed. It was then that it felt wrong for the first time.
On the drive home we held hands and I made a pillow for my head upon his shoulder. It was going to be a long drive.
Sunday
2/19/2006 10:10:00 PM
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