FEAST OF MEN

by Ayn Dillard

  “Okay, I will.”

  Maggie adds, “Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Talk to you later.”

  Getting off the phone, I feel slapped fast into reality. Boyd sheepishly inquires. “Are you okay? What did she say?”

  “Maggie said the only reason, I like this place is because we’re together and in love.”

  “Well okay, yes that’s probably true.”

  “My friend’s just worried about me. She knows all I’ve been through in my life. She loves me and doesn’t want to see me get hurt again. She also knows that I don’t sleep around or get involved with married men.”

  “I understand, Natalie. Your friends love you and I love you, too. So, we all agree. We don’t want you to get involved with a married man.”

  We ride in silence for a while and my tummy really begins to cramp. “I need to get to a restroom fast.”

  Boyd pulls into the first place, he can find. I feel exhausted and as if my period has started. In the ladies’ room, I take time to assess. My period has begun full blown, I feel hormonal and am becoming very tired and weary. The excitement and stress of the day—love emotions and hormone emotions—are catching up with me. I am looking forward to this menopause thing being over because I have such cramping and discomfort. And this whole deal with Boyd is happening too fast. I feel both emotionally and physically dizzy. I need to slow this thing down. I take care of myself then walk to the front of the truck stop.

  Boyd turns and smiles. “Are you okay, darlin’?”

  “Sure, I am just tired.” Even though all this is so crazy, when I look into Boyd’s eyes, I feel happy and content. Geez, this is all too bizarre.

  Walking back to the car, I confess. “Just as I suspected, my period has started and I have the cramps.”

  He opens the car door, “Why don’t you move the seat back and take a nap, I won’t mind. You’re looking a bit tired. Or you can lay your head in my lap, if you want?”

  “You know, I have a pimple on my nose, my hair’s filthy. Just started my period and I feel bloated, and gross, but I am so happy just being here with you.”

  He looks at my nose, “I can’t see your pimple and you look great. Why don’t you sleep for a little while? It’ll help you feel better.”

  “Okay, I will. I’ll put the seat back and rest for a bit. My head would be squashed like a melon if I put it in your lap.” Thinking, I don’t want to lie in the lap of temptation. It’d be even more stupid than all, this is already.

  He laughs as he reclines the seat back for me, “Here you will be more comfortable.”

  I recline on my side of the seat—take my shoes off then stretch my legs out in Boyd’s direction. With one hand he rubs my feet and calves as he drives. And I close my eyes and chill out. It’s dark outside and the rain’s beating on the roof of the car. I’ve lost all track of time and it feels as if I’ve been in this car forever. I don’t want this trip to ever end. I mumble, “Can’t believe our meeting today.”

  “Yes, it all fell together like it was meant to be. Like we pilots say when things happen perfectly. It’s all coming together like God damn fucking magic!”

  “Yes, magic.” I agree, as I repeat under my breath, ‘magic’.

  He comments, “A movie just popped into my head, I haven’t thought about in a longtime titled ‘Two for the Road’. It follows a couple through their life by the cars they drive.”

  “Yes, I know that movie.” As I think, okay this is getting even weirder because I loved that movie. It’s as if we connect with the same things from our past then I respond with surprise, “Really, you know that one?”

  He answers, “Yes, it starred Audrey Hepburn, right?”

  “Right—Audrey Hepburn and Albert Finney.

  He comments, “In many ways, you remind me of Audrey Hepburn.”

  I have had other people tell me this and my birthday’s the same day as hers, only twenty years or more after. I’m probably a bit like her because we share the same birthday.”

  He smiles, “Well, see, that’s it. You look a little like her, it’s the way that you carry yourself, the lines of your body, the confident lovely way that you move and your beautiful, beautiful brown eyes. But I don’t believe in astrology, voodoo stuff.”

  “Really, well I think, maybe there’s something to it and I have taken astrology classes.”

  “No, blah—no way.”

  Okay—am really not believing this, he says “blah” like I sometimes do. It’s all too eerie—almost as if I’m looking into my own eyes when I look at him, to see a piece of myself more clearly, but why is he married? Damn. Then I comment, “That was a great movie.”

  “Yeah, except the man treated his wife awful in part of it by having affairs.”

  “Oh yeah, right, I didn’t remember that part. The couple stayed together, so the movie ended happily. What kind of car do you drive?”

  He answers, “I have a truck.”

  “Oh no, don’t tell me. You’re, one of those Park Cities, Highland Park people, like several of my friends, who have a Mercedes or a Lexus, then also have a truck big enough to evacuate the whole city.”

  He answers, “Well, yeah my wife has a Mercedes. I have both a truck and a Suburban.”

  “I hate trucks.” I almost said ‘blah’ I hate trucks. Also, he said ‘wife’. Reality is—this man has a wife. And his wife has a car making the fact he’s married even more real.

  “You hate trucks, huh?”

  I answer, “Hate them because I hate to drive behind one—impossible to see around. They’re everywhere now and seem to be getting bigger and bigger. If you’re in one, it’s okay because then you’re on an equal playing field or can see above everyone else, but they irritate me still. Nothing personal, I just hate trucks.”

  He states, “Well, I’ve been looking at Corvettes because I want to get a Corvette after this divorce is over. Do you hate Corvettes?”

  “Well kind of. Why is it pilots like Corvettes? A guy that I dated in college was a pilot and drove a Corvette.” As I think to myself, a Corvette, huh, pilots always like corvettes—guess because they’re streamline or something? I continue. “I’m more a Jaguar, Mercedes or Ferrari girl. I love cars, always have. I used to have a silver Mercedes like the one they drove at the end of the movie, ‘Two for the Road’. Are you sure you’re not going through middle-aged-crazy, getting a divorce and wanting a Corvette—sounds as if you are?”

  “Nope, I don’t believe so. Went middle aged crazy a few years back, now I just want to have some fun.”

  “How else do you want to have some fun?”

  “I also want a Harley. Would you ride on my Harley with me or do you hate them, too?”

  “Sure, as long as I have a helmet.” This guy isn’t going through middle age crazy—not much. He only wants a Corvette and a Harley. I recall riding with Richard on his Harley and it wasn’t much fun.

  “Natalie, we’ve turned what could have been a terrible day into something wonderful—an absolute adventure. How many people could’ve done this? How many people on that airplane could’ve met each other then decided to do what we did and have the time of their life doing it?”

  I respond, “I don’t know, probably, no one. You do realize that I jumped out of an airplane into your arms? It was a pretty long jump, too.

  “That was fun for you, wasn’t it? The jump was about five or six feet.”

  I answer, “Yes, it was. Do you think anyone on the plane realized what was going on?”

  He responds, “I don’t know. I know the pilots saw us. They could tell I was crazy about you. Passengers were probably wondering why that pilot sitting there, wasn’t flying the plane. Until they realized, he must’ve been in some terrible accident because his head is attached to his body incorrectly.” Laughs, “I was staring back at you so much my head was constantly turned around. It must’ve looked like to the other passengers that my head was attached to my body backwards.”

  I burst out laug
hing, “Yes, you certainly were turned around a lot. I wondered what you were looking at.”

  “You, Natalie, only you, I was dead set on getting your attention. Then you smiled at me. God, when you smiled at me, it made me so happy. I was going to fly back last night but didn’t. Then I meet you this morning and this fabulous day happens. I was so hoping, we’d be diverted and was praying every time the pilot came on that he’d say ‘diverted’ and then he did.”

  I exclaim, “It’s truly like all of this was meant to happen. We were meant to meet each other. The only reason, I was in LA was because a friend sent me a ticket.”

  “So, what’s the story on this friend?”

  “Just a friend, we met in Dallas a couple of months ago then he asked if he could call me. We spent months on the phone talking and then he invited me to visit him in Manhattan Beach. He’s an interesting man, but no connection and certainly no magic.”

  Boyd exclaims, “And we have magic!”

  I add, “Yes, we have magic, but I still can’t believe that I jumped out of an airplane into your arms.”

  Boyd laughs. “I bet we’ll be talking about this for years to come, probably, for the rest of our lives.”

  “So, are you the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with?”

  He answers, “I hope so. I certainly hope so.”

  “Only Boyd, you’re married, remember?”

  “Not for long. I was planning on getting out of this marriage long before I met you—just wish I’d met you in April because I met you a little too soon.”

  “I don’t have affairs with married men?”

  “I don’t want you to have an affair with a married man, but I want you to be with me forever.”

  It may be rainy and cold outside, but in this car it’s warm and happy as if we’re encased in a capsule of love and joy.

  Boyd asks, “Since you’re so tired, do you want me to take you to your house first? Then I can get my car and our luggage. You’ll be able to get to sleep quicker that way.”

  “Yes, we could do that. Except, I want my luggage tonight. I’m fine now and can make it okay to the airport. Do you think the plane we were on has made it to Dallas yet?”

  He responds, “Who knows, but probably not.”

  “I am so happy that I didn’t have to sit on that plane for hours.”

  He states, “Yep, I rescued you from the terrible horrible pretzel den.”

  “My hero.”

  “I want to be your hero for always, Natalie.”

  I look out the car window, “Where are we anyway?”

  He answers, “Getting pretty close to the airport.”

  “I don’t want to freak you, but I need to go to the restroom again.”

  He asks, “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I am pretty much okay, just need a restroom again.”

  He states, “Okay, there’s a Dennie’s up ahead. We’ve stopped at every joint between Oklahoma City and Dallas so sure we don’t want to miss this one. Do we?”

  I respond, “Of course, not.”

  Walking out of the ladies’ room, a waitress inquires in a serious tone, “Are you, Natalie?”

  I answer, “Yes, why?” I look around for Boyd, can’t find him and my heart skips a beat. What if he left me here? Then I spot him standing at the front of the restaurant laughing then he says to the waitress. “Go on, say it—tell her.”

  She begins. “That man over there.”

  “Yes?” I respond as I notice Boyd smiling ear to ear.

  The waitress continues, “He asked me to tell you that he loves you even though you have to pee all the time.”

  My eyes meet Boyd’s and we burst out laughing at this ridiculous fun day. As I think, this guy’s as goofy as I am and it’s so fun and great. I walk over to Boyd and he kisses me on the cheek. We sit down on a booth and chat as we repeat the events of our day.

  We’re about to leave when I remember, I have my camera in my purse. “Let’s ask the waitress to snap a photo of us?”

  “Great idea, this is certainly a day to remember.”

  The waitress takes two photos of us with our arms around each other standing in front of the dessert display at Dennie’s. I still have Boyd’s airline jacket around my shoulders.

  At the rental car return at the airport, Boyd suggests. “How about just relaxing awhile, I’m going to get my truck. They won’t retrieve the rental car quickly. It’s a mad house in there.”

  I begin to speak, but catch myself. “I can’t believe what I almost called you.”

  “What? What did you almost call me, darlin’?”

  Embarrassed, “Nothing.”

  “No, darlin’, tell me. What did you almost call me?”

  “I almost said, if anyone bothers me, I’ll tell them my husband will be right back. I can’t believe I’d even refer to you in this way—in my head then almost say it to you and now tell you about it.”

  Boyd sighs heavily. “Someone’s husband, anyway. I want you to tell me everything about you and I’ll be back in a minute—stay warm, sweetheart.”

  “Wait Boyd, you’ll need your coat.”

  “You’re right.” He puts on his coat and pilot’s hat and I watch as he walks off into the darkness. For a fleeting moment, I have a fear he won’t return. That I’ll be left here in the dark in this rental car and this whole day of love will have been a fantasy.

  I take a deep breath and relax because I know that he will return. Geez, was I really in Manhattan Beach this morning? Seems like years ago. I can’t believe that I almost referred to this man as my husband then told him about it. The intimacy I feel with him after ten hours is amazing or is it stupid or perhaps both. It’s a level of comfort that usually comes after years. We sure do have fun together. I laugh in stress, Damn, I can’t believe he’s married. Geez, I’m so tired and I went to the bathroom so many times.

  With the wind roaring outside and feeling warm and cozy in the car, I almost fall asleep. I need to go to the restroom again, but decide to wait until Boyd returns. In ten minutes, Boyd pulls up in his big brown truck.

  “Darlin’, no one bothered you, did they?”

  “No, I was fine—almost fell asleep.”

  “Hop in the truck and close the door. I’ll get the stuff out of the back of the car.”

  “Did you have trouble finding our luggage?”

  “No, our bags were sitting right beside each other just as they should’ve been and where they belong.”

  “You are not going to believe this, but I need to go to the restroom again before we head out.”

  “Sure, I can believe it. I wouldn’t believe it, if you didn’t.” He chuckles as he drives his truck to the front of the rental car building.

  I run in to fast find the ladies’ room, before I wet my pants. It’s a mad house. People are milling everywhere with a kind of disaster excitement in the air. Finally, finding the ladies’ room, I hurry into a stall, not even bothering to shut the door. Looking up, I’m startled to notice a woman standing at the sink, washing out several coffee pots. “Geez, I thought I was alone. Sorry, but I don’t even care anymore. This has been one wild day.”

  She’s replies. “Just tell me about it. I can’t wait for this day to be over—there were about a million people in here today, all needing a rental car and fast.”

  I run back to where I entered to find the doors won’t open. I helplessly look out at Boyd watching me. I feel like a fool. I have go through these doors to get out, but how? Why won’t these stupid doors open? I walk back and forth on the automatic padding trying to activate the door response. Still, they won’t open. Then I realize that perhaps, I’m trying to go out the entrance. Looking through a ton of people, I notice doors on the other side and think maybe the exit’s there. I run over as I ponder, I sure hope, I won’t have to run clear around the outside of this building to get back to Boyd. I am way too tired for this right now. As I run up to the doors on the other side, Boyd is standing on the activation pad i
n front of them and they open automatically.

  Chuckling with a big smile on his face, “Well, I rescue you once again my Princess. I wonder how many times, I’ll end up rescuing you in our lifetime together?”

  I laugh in embarrassment, “Who knows? Probably lots, the way this seems to be going.” As I reflect, I’ve never felt rescued before and being rescued feels wonderful. Thank you, God for this feeling and this man.

  “Well, I l hope that I can always be your rescuer.”

  I share my restroom adventure with him, he laughs hysterically.

  “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? You didn’t even bother to close the door? The scary part is why was she washing out coffee pots in the ladies’ room? I mean, how do they make their coffee in that place?”

  Our usual laughter fills his truck as the fun of our journey continues to unfold. No matter how ridiculous things are, we’ve the ability to derive pleasure even joy from it all.

  I continue, “How would I know how they make their coffee? I am just telling you what occurred. I’m so frigging tired and then when those doors wouldn’t open.”

  “You looked so perplexed. Like I know, I’m not dumb here, so why aren’t these doors opening?”

  We circle around the airport to come out of the parking area and as we do we pass by the Delta planes.

  “That’s our plane, baby. The one right there, that’s the one we met on.”

  “Really, that one—right there?”

  “Yep, that’s the one, the 727 and it hasn’t been here much longer than we have.”

  I exclaim, “I am so thankful that I didn’t have to sit on an airplane all day because I’d have gone bonkers or rather more bonkers.”

  “Yep, you’d have been eating pretzels all that time and bouncing off the plane walls and I rescued you.”

  “Yes, you did and I am so glad you did. This has been such a fun day!”

  At the tollbooth as we exit, Boyd shouts out to the attendant in his wacky sense of humor. “Everyone take the rest of the night off and tell them I said it was okay!”

  I chime in with him, “Was this a great day at the airport or what?”

  Boyd turns to me in laughter and with a big smile, “Can’t believe you did that. God, you’re fun.” Laughing along with us, the teller waves us on. Finally, we’re on the way to my house.