Chapter 12 - The PO #2
He turned his head to Grace. She was looking out her window.
“Music is my life. I can’t give it up, but I want you too.
I’m lonely — not the kind of lonely a one-night stand can fix.
Or a two-week affair. I want a relationship .
. . and I want it with you. I miss you when we’re not together.
I want to hear your voice, what you have to say.
When I think about the future, I want you there.
” Grace didn’t look at him. He went on anyway.
“This is different from any relationship I’ve been in because you’ve got a life of your own, independent of me.
I know it won’t be easy, but I think it’s worth trying, for both of us.
” He paused, and when Grace still didn’t turn away from the window, Robby turned his face away and stared at the ceiling.
“I’m glad I did all this — I needed to — but I did it now because of you.
I told you in that note I didn’t feel right asking you to risk what you’re working so hard to get, for someone who doesn’t know what or who he wants.
I’m clearer on that now. Does it make any difference to you?
” He turned toward her, waiting. Nothing. “Grace? Say something.”
She looked over at him but hesitated. She needed to get this right.
“It feels good . . . that you cared enough to do all that now.” She took a deep breath.
“I’ve missed you. I tried not to, but I did.
And that scares me. I’m scared I’ll lose myself, and there’ll be nothing there the next time my life falls apart.
And if you and I start seeing each other again, I think there’s a good chance my life will fall apart in the future.
I wasn’t counting on a relationship at this point, much less with someone like you. ”
“You’re assuming a relationship with me won’t work, aren’t you?
Even though I know the importance of you not losing yourself?
Even though, I know if you think that’s happening, we’re done.
” He put his head back and stared at the ceiling again.
Then he lowered it and looked at Grace. “What if we see each other in small doses, take it slow, so you have a better chance of holding on to yourself? Of gauging how you’re feeling? ”
Her hand went to her hair. She looked over slowly. “If we do that, we’d have to stick to it. I know from our time before, that’s harder than it sounds.”
“I agree, but isn’t that evidence we have strong feelings for each other and should try?”
Grace tilted her head, thinking. “But how’re we going to make it work with the lockdown? Have you been driving a lot?”
“A fair amount, and I haven’t been stopped. I’m willing to risk it . . . Look, I can’t know your feelings, but mine are different from what they usually are at this point. I don’t want to waste this.”
“We could try weekends.”
“Tomorrow is a weekend.”
“Yes.”
Robby reached over and took her hand, then he put his head back again and closed his eyes.
She heard him sigh. She would’ve thought he’d gone to sleep, except he kept rubbing her hand with his thumb.
She leaned her head against the window. It was so peaceful, just their breathing and the rain falling steadily on the roof of the truck.
*******
The rain had slacked off when Grace and Robby parked in front of the Lakeside, but Robby still came around to Grace’s door with his umbrella. He put his arm around her waist and held her close, so they were both under it. “You know they’re watching our every move. They like us together.”
“I know.”
“Long time, no see,” Charlie said standing up.
Everyone elbow bumped, but social distances were not observed — there was no untangling these pods — too many connections.
And no masks because everyone was hungry.
Conversation was light, food was not. Margie had cooked her mac ‘n’ cheese to go alongside salads topped with Charlie’s blue cheese dressing, all beside fresh pan-fried walleye, followed by a choice of lemon meringue or cherry pie.
Everyone was groaning by the end, but happy.
Robby said he needed to go before he couldn’t stay awake to drive.
Grace walked him to the truck. The rain had all but stopped, but more was on the way.
Robby leaned against his door, pulling Grace close.
He rested his chin on top of her head and stared across at the lake.
“I feel like I’ve aged ten years in the last few months between the final weeks of the tour and you. ”
“Another not-your-best-line,” Grace said into his damp shirt.
He laughed. “You’re a life-changing event.” He eased her off his chest and leaned down and kissed her until she pushed him. He looked down at her. “Do you want me to book a cabin, because I will, if that’ll help. I could spend time away from you. I don’t want to sleep there, though.”
“No, that’s not necessary. But go now, before this gets too sad.”
He kissed her again until she pushed his shoulder. He pulled back and smiled down at her. “You are the only girl who’s done that to me since high school . . . and here I am . . . tells you something.”
*******
“So, a happier ride than our last one? And we have both umbrellas.” They were loaded with supplies, plus food from the Lakeside.
Margie and Charlie had put together two bags, one for Grace and a larger one for Jim because he had Billy.
Billy had come in with Jim several times.
Margie called him “that happy, hungry Viking.”
“Yes, and now I know how important talking is. It took me twenty-eight years and fifteen hundred miles, but now I know.” She looked at Jim. “And whom you’re talking to is also important. Thank you.”
“I’m glad it helped, and I’m happy you’re discovering you need others in your life.
If Nan’s away, and I need to figure something out, I talk to myself — I don’t mind admitting it.
Even hearing things out loud makes them clearer.
Sometimes, you also need to get things out of your mind so they don’t fester, kind of like removing a splinter, so it doesn’t infect your whole body. ”
“That makes sense.” She paused. “We’re going to try weekends. I don’t know how we’ll make that work with the lockdown.”
“You know what they say: Love will find a way.”
Halfway up the Trail, a steady rain set in.
Jim drove straight to the point and helped Grace get her things inside.
She had an interview to write up, proofreading to do for the little paper, and a blog post to outline and get started for the BWCA group.
It was going to be a long night. She didn’t mind.
She made a pot of coffee and a trip outside for wood, which was dry even in this rain because Billy had brought a tarp.
She put a pillow in the seat of her chair and settled in for a late night.
Sure enough, it was after 1 a.m. when she closed her laptop, but she felt good.
She added the last bit of wood to the stove, showered, and went to bed with wet hair.
***********
Robby had to fight to stay awake after leaving the café.
He was still tired from weeks of little sleep, and now he was full of good food and peace.
A steady rain and mist he hoped wouldn’t turn to dense fog made for the perfect picture of a dismal afternoon.
Then, out of nowhere, came flashing blue lights behind him.
Luckily, there was a shoulder along this stretch of 61.
He put on his blinker and pulled over, wondering whether this was the breaking-the-lockdown stop he’d been waiting for or a let’s-hassle-an-Indian one.
“Fuck.” He reached around for his wallet, put the window down, rain coming in, and waited.
The cop was young and white. Not the best combination. “License and registration.”
Robby kept his hands in plain view, still hearing his dad’s words from nearly twenty years ago, opened his wallet, pulled out his license, and handed it to the cop, not looking him in the eyes, always looking straight ahead.
“The registration’s in the glove box. Do you want me to open it?
” He was praying to himself this guy would not tell him to get out of the truck.
Being taller than the police never helped.
He was 6’5”, and this guy looked about 5’9”-5’10” . . . but he had a gun.
The cop was still looking at the license, then at Robby, then back at the license. He didn’t respond to Robby’s question until almost a full minute went by. It had begun to seem like an eternity to Robby. “Open it. Slow.”
Robby reached over slowly and pushed the button, keeping his left hand on the steering wheel where the cop could see it.
The front of the box dropped open to reveal a pair of sunglasses, an open package of black licorice laces, a blue ice scraper, a tire gauge, an owner’s manual, a black remote, and a wrinkled white business envelope with Registration written across it.
“It’s in the envelope. You want me to get it out? ”
“Yeah. Slow.”
Robby pulled the envelope out, opened it over the steering wheel, pulled out the registration, and handed it out the window, looking straight ahead.
The cop turned and walked back to his squad car which still had its blue lights flashing.
He was gone a long time. There were no other cars on the road.
Dense fog had begun rolling in from the lake. No one was around.
Finally, the cop returned. “Why are you on the road? Are you essential personnel or is this an emergency?”
Robby took a deep breath and kept his eyes forward. “Neither one, officer.”
“What’s your reason for breaking the lockdown?”
“I’m not going to lie. I’m too tired to make one up. I went to Grand Marais to meet my girlfriend at the Post Office to talk about getting back together.”
“Sounds essential. Take this sticker and affix it to the lower left corner of the windshield. That should keep you from getting stopped in the future, in case you have more essential business. And . . . hey man, the Gulls rock.”
Robby turned and looked up at the cop as he handed him the sky-blue sticker and his license and registration. “Thanks, officer.”
“Good luck with the girl. Drive safely.”