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I made sure she could get some assistance from a friend before returning to my bike. After I cooled her down, cracked some jokes, and put in some work to her car, I joked, "Hey, I would feel terrible if your car broke down again and I wasn't here to help you out again. I think for your own safety I should get your number." I employed humor, wit and compassion in this. Frazzled or not, she said, "No, I have someone getting me, thanks." Determined I sprang forward again. "You've had a rough day. Let me buy you a drink tonight and help you relax." (Again in a friendly and attentive way) She said, "Sorry, my boyfriend is giving me a ride." "Fair enough. Best of luck to ya," was all I could muster at that point. I started the rest of the trek back to camp and got about a mile before I saw her car cruise past me. She had gotten it working and seemed to be running efficiently. A minute later I reached the summit of another hill and saw her car parked along the. Threading through the course hair. Tunneling into her. He spoke. She came. It could have been the sudden eruption of sound above her heart beating away in her head. Or the anguish of his voice. Deep down she knew what it was. It was the words. The words he spoke. He wasn’t even touching her. It was simply the words coming from deep within him. ‘You’re my dream, Em. Every night I dream of you. Your skin. Your hair. Wet from the shower. Beads of water running down to pool at your feet. Just once. Just once I wish I could be a drop of water. To feel your skin. To warm you. Cleanse you. Surround you. Just once to know you so well. You’re killing me, Em. Every night I die not having you. Every night someone else does. I can’t live this way. I don’t have the strength to leave you. Damn you, Em.’ He was gone. Slipping away in the night. Leaving her so full and yet emptier than ever before. He was gone without laying a hand on her. Leaving her breathless and raw. There was only the darkness.
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