Three
“So we just leave the keys on the counter?” I said, hefting my bag up onto my shoulder and looking at Maggie who was staring down into the instructions that Mallory had left for us.
“That’s what it says,” Maggie replied. “We can lock the door from the inside and just shut it and go.”
“Cool,” I said, tossing the condo keys to the counter.
“Are you sure you don’t want to try to race home?” asked Maggie flatly, giving me a pained yet empathetic look.
“It’s okay,” I said evenly. “Let’s just continue on and try to have fun.”
“Okay,” she said, letting a smile creep over her face.
We shut the door behind us and on Salt Lake City. Although we both agreed we’d love to continue on west, there was no way we were going to be able to fit it in with the time we had off from work. Thus began our drive back east. We took I-80 up into Wyoming and then jutted up to I-90. I complained that I wanted to see Yellowstone and Maggie did, too, but that would have to be reserved for another trip. We knew we’d probably want to hang out there for a week and we just didn’t have the time.
The beginning of our drive was sad for me. It was difficult for me to reconcile the death of my grandmother with what she meant to me and my family. I loved her, certainly, but she was this weird entity that was holding me back. I could definitely see that now. This trip had opened my eyes, as had the burgeoning love and intimacy I felt with Maggie. So on the one hand I was distraught at my grandmother’s passing. On the other, I felt much more liberated because of it. It was a weird dichotomy.
The scenery through Wyoming and then up into South Dakota was wild. The mountains tapered off and the terrain descended into flat grassland. And once we reached this beautiful prairie, we saw an insane number of antelope. I couldn’t believe it. They were everywhere, on both sides of the road, just doing their thing. In defense of the antelope, there were very few cars driving on the road in this mostly desolate area. So desolate, in fact, at one point I saw a sign that read, “no gas station for 100 miles.” That’s how you know you’re in the middle of nowhere.
But this drive gave Maggie and I an even greater opportunity to talk.
“Well, you know I was out in college,” said Maggie. “It was never a big thing for me, I guess, and I count myself lucky for that. I come from a pretty artsy-fartsy family and it was never a question whether I could tell my parents on not. I mean, my aunt is a lesbian.”
“When did you know?”
“When did I know?” said Maggie, looking over to me from the driver’s side and smiling. “Immediately. Like, as soon as I started having sexual thoughts. I don’t know. Maybe 12 or 13.”
“You never felt like you were interested in guys?” I asked. “Not in high school or anything?”
“I definitely questioned it,” said Maggie. “I thought about it. Because, you know, most of my friends were into guys. But I grew up in Oak Park, just outside of Chicago, and it’s a pretty friendly place for us.”
The way Maggie said “us” really made me feel included. It made me feel connected. It made me feel like I belonged.
“My grandmother was just pretty religious,” I said. “And the way she sometimes talked about the gays, well, it made me feel shameful.”
“Are your parents like that, too?”
“Not entirely,” I said. “They’re better than her. But I think it could be a little odd for them. I know they’d accept me. They love me unconditionally. They supported me through the whole separation and divorce. They just want me to be happy.”
“It’s sad,” said Maggie. “But I’m optimistic. I know that I didn’t have it nearly as hard as lesbian women did before me and I think the generation younger than us is going to have an even better time. I’m hopeful.”
“Me too,” I said with a smile.
“Gotta be,” affirmed Maggie. We sat in comfortable silence for a moment as we drove down a long, straight road, prairie to either side. “So,” said Maggie, breaking the silence. “Did you feel an attraction to women when you were younger, too?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I did. I didn’t know what to make of it, though, so I just stuffed it down.”
“Was your hometown an accepting and tolerant place?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe not. I knew exactly one guy and one girl who were out. And they were kind of considered freaks, you know?”
“Oh, I know,” said Maggie.
“I guess I just felt a lot of pressure to fit in. Fit in with the world around me, fit in with my family,” I mused. “I ended up ignoring my feelings because they didn’t fit the mold I was given.”
“But it came back out in college,” said Maggie happily with a sneaky grin. I laughed at her.
“Right,” I said. “Lorna.”
“Lorna,” repeated Maggie in a dreamy and mocking sigh. She brought her hand up and fluffed out her own hair.
“Maybe my life would be entirely different if I had asked her out,” I said.
“Could be,” agreed Maggie. “But then again, maybe you wouldn’t be here with me now.” I looked to her, she looked to me, and we both smiled.
“That would suck,” I said.
“Suck really bad,” she said. “Things happen for a reason, I think.”
“Yeah?” I said. “You believe in that sort of thing?”
“Definitely,” said Maggie. “I believe the universe conspires to give you what you need, when you need it. That’s the idea of karma.”
“I thought karma was you do something shitty,” I said, considering it. “And then something equally as shitty happens to you.”
“Nope,” she said. “Common misconception. It’s not entirely cause and effect. That’s just how we’ve sort of appropriated it.”
“So what is it then?”
“Like I said,” said Maggie. “When you need to see or experience something, whether good or bad, that’s when the universe shows it to you. But it also, you know, is supposed to crossover from your past lives and all that so, um, I guess it’s not a perfect explanation,” she said winking.
“Ha,” I said. “So take it with a grain of salt.”
“That’s up to you.”
“Okay,” I said. “So now that we’ve got that all established… how is it that I’m meant to only be able to come to these conclusions now?”
“I don’t know!” beamed Maggie, shrugging, laughing. “I just think things come at the right time. Maybe if you’d hooked up with that Lorna chick, you would have had your heart broken and then went back to men anyway.”
“Maybe.”
“Anything’s a possibility,” she said. “I’m only saying… I’m pretty happy how this is unfolding right now. Can you agree with that?”
“I can agree,” I said, flashing a glance over at her.
“Then we are in agreement!” confirmed Maggie, thrusting her finger into the air.
“Hands on the wheel, Mags.”
“Right-o,” she said, following my command. “I think you fit in now, doll,” Maggie said after a moment. “I think you fit in nicely.”
“I’m feeling that too,” I smiled. “This is… it feels nice on me, you know?”
“Running from yourself is never the answer,” she said. “You’re only going to find pain down that road.”
“I see that now.”
“You’re a sweetheart, Dana,” said Maggie, a silly grin across her lips. I could tell she was smitten with me and that made me feel incredible. “I had no idea that this road trip would change my life so much. I thought you were just my friend. A pretty good looking friend, but… you know, just a friend.” Sweet smile.
I sighed happily and just basked in the affirmation. It was good to feel wanted.
“I’m digging it, too,” I said.
Our next stop was Black Hills National Forest in South Dakota. Once the great plains ended, we traversed into the wonderful and lush lands of this scenic national treasure. Mo
untainous, opulent in its imposing wonder. Although the Black Hills had much to see, Mount Rushmore being one of the greatest stops, Maggie and I were beat from a long day of driving and wanted to find a suitable campsite.
We pulled into a heavily wooded area with a small parking lot. No other cars were around. Maggie eased the car into a far spot, put it in park, and shut the engine down. She just about melted into her seat after that, relaxing back into the leather, releasing an exasperated sigh.
“Dude, I am so tired,” she said. “All this driving.”
“We still have to pitch the tent,” I said. “And figure out food.”
“Figure out food?” she asked with a laugh. “Are you going to go hunt us an elk or something?”
“Yeah,” I said teasingly. “Didn’t you want elk burgers for dinner?”
“Well, we can’t start a camp fire in this forest,” she said, scrunching her nose up at me. “So good luck cooking it.”
“I’m glad we picked up the extra large tub of hummus then,” I grinned.
Maggie stuck her tongue out at me and unbuckled her seatbelt.
The tent Maggie had brought on the trip was quite fancy and easy to set up. In fact, in my time as a camper — which was, admittedly, very short — I’d never had such an easy time setting up a tent. We had walked a ways out from where we’d parked the car, deeper into the forest so that we couldn’t really be seen from the main road, and to get a little bit of privacy.
We’d also brought a cooler out with us. Nothing huge, just a little red thing with enough food for the night and a six pack of beer. As Maggie had indicated creating a camp fire was off limits, but she had picked up a pretty nice lantern before the trip that would give us a good amount of light once the sun set.
As the afternoon transitioned into dusk, the temperature cooled down a lot. More than I’d expected for the middle of summer, actually. But we were, again, in the mountains at an elevation of near 5000 feet. I was glad to have brought a light jacket along.
With Maggie’s lantern hanging from a nearby tree, the two of us sat on a couple of logs with a spread of veggies and cheese between us, building little sandwiches with woven wheat crackers, slurping happily from our beer cans. I have to admit that I was a bit trepidatious about camping. I’d done it before, sure, but not really in adulthood and I think I’d grown a little too soft as I waltzed into my 30s.
“This is a good beer,” I said, looking at the can. “I rarely ever drink beer.”
“Yeah,” said Maggie, following my lead and looking at the can as well. “It’s something local I guess.”
“Is that going to be comfortable?” I asked, motioning with my head over to the tent. “I mean, like, am I going to feel every stick and rock underneath and get my back all jammed up?” Maggie laughed at me, shook her head, took another sip of beer.
“Yep,” she jokingly affirmed. “You’re going to feel every blade of grass, little miss Princess and the Pea.”
“All right.” I rolled my eyes very dramatically.
“C’mon,” she said. “Camping is so not a big deal. We’ve got a mattress pad in there. It’s going to be comfortable enough. We’re just roughing it a little bit.”
“I can deal,” I said, plunging a cut piece of celery into the tub of hummus.
“I do have to admit camping isn’t the same without a fire,” Maggie weighed in, looking toward the lantern longingly. “We’ll have to go to my family’s cabin up in Minnesota sometime. Then we can do the whole camp fire thing. It’s on a lake, too.”
“I’d love that,” I said, happily smiling over at her. “What’s it like up there?”
“Quiet,” she said. “Private. It’s way out there. It’s near the Canadian border.”
“Wow,” I said. “I bet it gets cold.”
“Uh, heck yeah,” said Maggie. “But in the summer, like right now, it’s amazing. The lake is totally underpopulated and pristine. Just an amazing spot.”
“Next year,” I grinned.
“Next year,” Maggie agreed.
By the time we opened up our second cans of beer, I was starting to feel a bit relaxed and loopy. It was nice. Darkness had surrounded us in the forest, though the we had the lantern to light our conversation. We were laughing together, joking, having a great time and getting closer. But we also hit on more serious notes. Maggie had always been special to me but she was becoming something far more. I was eager to know what might happen to us when we returned to Chicago.
“Well!” said Maggie, weighing my question. “My hope is that this will, uh, continue. Does that sound about right?”
“It does.” I couldn’t suppress my smile, I was buzzing with wonderful feelings. “So does that mean that I have my first girlfriend?” This gave Maggie such a laugh, she almost fell off her log.
“You’re so funny, Dana,” she said. “Yes, I think you have your first girlfriend.”
“My grandmother would be so proud,” I said with a straight face.
“That gallows humor…” said Maggie, getting serious, holding a finger up and pointing it at me. She looked very straight as well. Then she broke. “…is hilarious and I support it 100%.”
“It’s how some of us cope.”
“And others of us help the bereaved cope with our fingers and tongues,” said Maggie devilishly. I could see the light in her eyes.
“Is that right?” I said like I was being enlightened to a secret. “Hmm. I think I could get used to those benefits.”
We laughed together. My heart raced as I thought about Maggie and our budding relationship. Before I knew it, Maggie had stood up from her log, beer can in hand, and moseyed over toward me. She sat down next to me on my log.
“Hi,” she said sweetly.
“Hi.”
Then we were kissing and it was awesome. I felt a warmth boil up in my belly. Together, both Maggie and I closed our eyes softly and sighed into one another’s lips. I could feel my heart rate ramp up, my legs wobble. It was as though we were in our own private little world. Out there in the wilderness, surrounded by forest, by darkness, by the sounds of insect nightlife and the occasional far-off howl. I’d be just fine if we never went back home again, if we turned the car around and just kept driving west like we both wanted to do. I had quit my old life, so I might as well send everything else packing with it. My job, my apartment, my life in Chicago. Maggie represented the future to me and the future most certainly looked bright.
Later on, I had already snuggled up into my sleeping bag inside of the tent with the lantern stuffed into one corner, the light dimmed. I sighed happily, I smiled, I kicked my feet a little bit as I waited for Maggie to get back. I couldn’t believe I was feeling so enthused about a new relationship at 35 years old. But at the same time, this felt like the first time I was getting involved in someone I truly longed for. It wasn’t just some ruse, it wasn’t me feeling like I had some duty to fulfill. This was about fun, about happiness.
Outside the tent, through the thin material, I saw a flashlight’s beam bouncing toward me. It grew closer and closer until the light shined into the tent through the open door flap and then Maggie poked her head in.
“Got room for one more?” she asked with a grin.
“Of course.”
“Great,” she said. Flicking off the flashlight, she crawled inside the tent and zipped the flap closed. Maggie then slipped out of her flip-flops and maneuvered around, unbuttoning her jeans and beginning to slide out of them.
“All the food okay?” I asked.
“Everything’s in the car,” she said. “Don’t want to have any visitors to our campsite in the middle of the night.”
“Right.”
Underneath Maggie’s jeans she had on a simple black pair of panties and now, on her hands and knees, wearing just her underwear and a tank top, she began fussing with her sleeping bag to get it open so she could get inside it for the night. Once inside, Maggie slithered her hand behind her back, unhooked her bra, and pulled it out fr
om under her tank top.
“It’s like a song out there,” I mused softly, my eyes focused on her as she got situated in her sleeping bag. “All those chirps and creeks and whatever else.”
“It’s beautiful,” said Maggie. “I love the sound of nature. It’s much better than all the yelling and sirens we hear in the city.”
“And fireworks at odd hours,” I said with a laugh.
“Yeah, those too.”
“I’ve got to admit to you, Maggie,” I said. “It’s not bad in here. I’m pretty comfortable.”
“I knew you would be,” she said. “Hey,” said Maggie, bringing her arm out of her bag and deftly unzipping the side of it. “Want to get close?”
“I do,” I said. I followed her lead, unzipped the side of my sleeping bag so that we had an opening between us. As I did this, Maggie reached over to the side of the tent and grabbed a fleece blanket, tossing it over top of the both of us. Then we worked together to get closer, arms sneaking in to the other’s bags, warmly touching accepting bodies.
“Mmm,” she groaned softly, reaching her hand up and removing her glasses. Maggie folded the arms into the frames and set them off to the side. “Do you prefer me with or without my glasses?” she asked, smiling sweetly.
“I think you’re equally pretty either way.”
“A very political answer,” Maggie said. Leaning toward me, she pressed her lips into mine and we kissed. I felt a wave of wonderment wash over me. Squirming a bit under the blanket, under the sleeping bag, I tried to get even closer to her, feeling her slim body underneath all that material. With help from the warmth between us, I dissolved into our sensual kiss. I was eager to be next to her. My hands explored up and down her small figure.
Restless On A Road Trip: A Lesbian Romance Page 13