It appeared as if nothing could help me. A horn blast from the semi-truck next to be almost scaring me to death. The trucker waves out his window and yells some obscenity that I cannot really hear. The tucker reminds me once again of what it is I am doing.I drive the rented convertible, with the top down in spite of the cool temperatures. How odd I must appear, in my low cut white blouse and my very short black skirt. My blonde hair (actually a wig) is tied in one long ponytail that falls between the opening in the back of my pink ball cap. As I drive I am constantly aware of the feel of the cool air brushing against my hose. Even after 100 miles I am not yet comfortable driving in heals. All of this appears to be normal to the truckers that I whiz past in the early morning drive. So normal that more than one has blasted their horn, waved, or shouted in an attempt to get some response.At least this would be normal had I been more used to the truckers behaviors, or had I really been. There were still many people awake, including a woman directly across the aisle. I didn’t like the probability of being caught. ‘Sasha!’ I whispered urgently. ‘Let’s save that! Not that there’s anything I want more, but look – there are too many people around.’ He lifted up his head. ‘Besides, I want all of you and you want me. All we have to do is wait a few more hours. Then we’ll have a proper reunion.’ ‘All right,’ he reluctantly agreed. ‘But just one little taste?’ I punched him again on the arm. He winced and said, ‘Ow!’ We got our pillows and blankets and settled in for the rest of the long flight. He asked me how things were with Dylan. ‘I don’t want to talk about it now. Let’s just say, it’s not any easier to live with him – or without him for that matter.’ I took his hand in mine and peered intently into his face. ‘Promise me that we’re not going to talk about Dylan, or about what will become of us, while we’re on this trip. It is just so difficult right now, I don’t.
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