standing on the edge of me

"what goes thru your mind?" I exhale. Feeling the blood rush to my head as I let go of that breath.

We're driving south and are almost to the edge of Idaho. The view any way you look is breathtaking. We've stopped at several gas stations for drinks, crackers, and sunflower seeds. Every time he's gotten out he's washed the windshield with the squeegee he keeps in the back of his truck in a black box. He seemed finicky when I first thought of him spraying on the car window cleaner, not Windex something else...but then I noticed by the time we got to our next stop, bugs would be plastered to the window, clouding my view. He would climb out again, buy the drinks, and start scraping bug juice off the glass.


"Is this what it would be like?" He smiles. I can sense he's embaressed for some reason.
"Yeah, me too."

"what are you thinking about?" He takes a sideways glance.
"When are we going to have a fight?" I laugh.

A few miles down the road we find a view point and decide to have our picture taken together in front of it. It seemed simple.
Get out.
Pose.
Click.

As I'm standing there an overwhelming sense of lonliness hits me in the face.
"what's wrong?"
He can sense my storm clouds as easily as if they were visible.
"I-" I can't explain it to him. It would hurt him.
"Talk. We can do that now." He wants so much from me...from this.
Why am I so stubborn right now?

He prods.
"It's just that...I've never done things like this before. I always wanted to." I'm trying to be gentle.
"Great! I was hoping you wouldn't think it's some lame boring thing tourists and old people do." His enthusiasm is forced. I can see he feels the awkwardness.
"But..." He sighs. "You wish it was with him."

We climb into the truck.
"I understand how you feel...but the person I feel that way about is here. What I don't get is...why spoil it for us, when you have the week off?"

I'm feeling guilty.
I hate guilt.

"there is no us." I am feeling angry. Mostly at myself.
"there is...for a week." He's pushing.

"Promise me...promise me that for a week, there will be an us. Promise that you won't be lonely or sad. Promise?" He's looking over at me every chance. I know he wants a smile.

"I'll promise that if...if you promise that when we get back...it won't hurt to say goodbye for good."

He's quiet for the next hundred miles...