He was woken up by Jillie getting out of bed. Baby’s crying. Interrupted his dream. He was a hitchhiker; a drifter, out on some lonely highway somewhere between Ghost Town and Death Gulch. He had that dream a lot nowadays. And that’s all it would ever be, since the baby – just a dream.
Right after he finished school, he’d planned to take a year or two and just drift, experience life, see America. He was a poet at heart, and wanted to capture life firsthand. He wanted the open road to be his, at least for a while.
He couldn’t stay. He knew he’d go absolutely crazy, looking down the wrong end of the gunbarrel of life without having fulfilled that dream. That’s it! He’d already decided; the matter is settled. Tomorrow he’ll get out of bed, get dressed, make up some excuse like running down to the store, and with the clothes on his back, he’ll disappear.
They’d get by. Hell, the baby probably wasn’t even his! Dammit, yes it was.
The next morning he woke up before the alarm. He rolled out of bed and crept quietly in the dark, past his crumpled jeans, a dirty tee-shirt, almost tripping over a lone shoe. Over by Jillie, he silently switched off the alarm. All he had left was to get dressed, grab his duffel bag, and walk out that door.
As he turned towards the closet, Jillie’s hand snuck out from under the sheets and hooked the waistband of his underwear. She tugged them down and with the other arm lifted the sheets. She didn’t have to say “make love to me”. He didn’t have to ask.
Goodbye sex. A little farewell gift before he left forever.
He lowered himself down onto her velvety warm skin and felt her legs tighten around his torso. Her beautiful sleepy eyes opened long enough to reveal her desire, then slid closed as she rolled her head away and moan deeply with anticipated pleasure. Then he took her.
When they finished he began to lift himself away. She pulled him close for one last kiss as he rolled out of bed. “Where you going, lover?” she purred.
“We’re out of milk. I thought I’d run down and get some. I’ll only be a minute,” he lied.
Duffel bag in hand, he closed the door behind him and stood on the stoop, taking in the crisp morning air that smelled of freedom. He had done it. He was able to just walk away and now he was free. Oh, the adventures and conquests that awaited him! He was a true rolling stone, a real ramblin’ man. He took a deep breath, stood up tall, and began walking.
Soon his mind was wondering. He thought of Sara, that exotic latin woman he fell so deeply for. She was so innocent, so wounded, so terrified by love.
He thought of Dawn, the basket case who’d cry herself to sleep after sex.
He thought of Cheri, who made it abundantly clear she didn’t subscribe to monogamy.
Yeah, he was a free man. So many stories just waiting to be written. If the past is to be any gauge of what the future holds, it’ll be more bitter, less sweet.
He thought of all the heartache and loneliness that awaited him on the long road ahead, and he knew he had already found his dream.
He looked down and saw he had a carton of milk in his hand.