The man I love

I sigh looking outside the Boar's Nest's windows: it's raining since this morning, a cold and lashing rain, too cold for this late spring.

The Boar's Nest is now empty because it's only early afternoon, lunchtime is over, and I know it's going to be crowded again in the next two or three hours, especially in a day like this.

I keep on cleaning the wooden tables and the counter so carefully someone could think I'm trying to transform the wood in a mirror, an impossible challenge for Boar's Nest's old wood, and a useless effort for wooden tables I'm going to cover with checkered green clothes; but it's my way to keep my mind empty, following with my gestures the rhythm of the rain hitting the windows, the more the rain hits the windows the more I speed up my work, till I have to stop.

I sit down at a table near the window and I look outside, my right elbow on the table and my chin resting on my hand's palm. I need some rest, and if I were at the farm for sure I'd have taken a nap in my bed, especially 'cause of a sleepless night (like many nights during the last month).

"I'd like a warmer and sunny spring".

I'm talking alone, and I can't help but smiling because of my foolishness.

I stand up and I head to the counter, finding something else to do: now it's glasses' turn to be transformed in something brilliant, the rain's noise mixing with the water's splashing in the sink while I wash glasses I know already clean ('cause I already washed them).

Because of the noise of the water splashing in the sink and the rain outside, and, moreover, because I'm lost in thoughts I'm trying to avoid (this continuous push and pull inside my mind is exhausting), I don't hear the car's tires stopping in front the Boar's Nest. I don't even hear the door opening and his steps as he enters approaching the counter, but I feel his presence, and a mix of happiness and anxiety (as usually happens in the last month) overwhelms me.

"Hi sugar. Did you have lunch?". I look at him, smiling sweetly.

He shakes his head, "No. But I'd like to eat some of your sandwiches now, even if it's a bit late for lunchtime".

He comes closer the counter and he sits on a chair in front of me, only the counter between us; he takes off his wet hat and his wet jacket (the dark blue jacket he rarely uses, except in rainy and cold days like today) and he puts them on the seat near him. His gestures are calm, and when he takes off his jacket, his scent spreads from his damp clothes (even his shirt is a bit damp); I can distinguish every different part of his scent: his soap, his after-shave, his shampoo and, under everything, his skin's scent. The scent I know very well, the scent I smelled the night I slept in his bed (as he was obviously sleeping on the couch), the scent I like to smell every time I come closer him.

"Too much busy to have lunch?"

He shrugs, "Police's business. A lot of paper-works to do at the Courthouse, and since Sheriff Rosco and Boss Hogg are usually busy to do something more interesting, I've deal with all that office work", he looks at me smiling shyly as I put a glass full of buttermilk in front of him, "Thanks, Dais"

"Oh sugar, you should have called the rotisserie near the Courthouse and ask for something to eat instead of wait till now, especially 'cause you usually haven't even breakfast before to go to work". In my mind I can see him in his little apartment at the Boarding House, only a cup of coffee in his hands before to go to work as he's standing in front of the window. In my voice I feel all my worrisome, like a mother scolding his child, and I suddenly feel embarrassed of my way to talk to him.

He briefly looks at me before to look down again at his glass, "I… I prefer to wait and to have lunch here instead of eating something at the Courthouse while I'm working. I can't eat while I'm working, and, besides, I like your sandwiches more than anything else"

He blushes a bit and he tries to hide his face taking a sip of his buttermilk.

My cheeks start burning, both because of the pleasure of his sweetness and because of my sense of guilty (or, at least, I think it's a sort of sense of guilty, 'cause I don't really understand what it's exactly, but for sure it's an unpleasant feeling).

"Oh, Enos, you're so sweet"

How did we go back to this kind of relationship? If a stranger sees us now, he wouldn't ever imagine Enos and I nearly got married last month. And nobody in Hazzard talks any more 'bout our nearly wedding, like if it was something so absurd and impossible to be even to talk 'bout. Nobody talks 'bout it, neither my family, neither Enos, and neither do I.

I try to empty my mind staring at his hands and at his tapering fingers around the glass. I smile looking at the ink stain on his right forefinger, a proof of his hard work, and a proof of his being so a bungler sometimes. Before I realize it, my right hand reaches his one.

"You did a hard work, sugar. But, while I prepare your sandwiches, it's better you go to wash your hands if you don't want to eat ink"

Before I realize it, I'm pulling his hand toward me like if I'm goin' to look over it, like a mother with his child. His hand is so warm, his palm so comfortable, his fingers so tapering and his nails so perfectly shorts and clean, except that ink stain on his fingertip.

"Uh, sorry Dais. I washed my hands after my work, but I didn't see…that. Sorry"

I feel all his embarrass as his hand slips away from mine; he stands up and he walk to the bathroom, to obey my order like a child, and I'm suddenly fighting again with that unpleasant feeling.

When he comes out the bathroom I'm preparing his sandwiches, in a so intent way I seem a chef of a famous restaurant preparing his most famous menu, but it's my way to keep my mind safe from pesky thoughts. Few after, I'm looking at him as he eats his belated lunch (and I know him so much I perfectly understand how much hungry he is); he smiles, telling me how good my sandwiches are, and then our talking switches to the bad weather outside, to his work (joking 'bout Rosco and Boss) and to my family.

How did we go back to this?

Less than thirty minutes after I'm again alone in the Boar's Nest, looking at his patrol car leaving under that cold rain and wondering how he can be so impenetrable and distant (besides his kind and lovable behavior), and why I feel so disappointed and saddened; he's acting as he's always acted in the past, I know, sweet and lovable but shy and discreet (rarely showing his real and deep feelings), but now I want more.

It's the point: after our nearly wedding I want more from him, but he's running away and I don't know why. I should be somehow angry to him because of what I now consider as coldness, but I'm not angry at all; on the contrary I feel somehow guilty and I don't know why. It seems lately I don't know anything, neither 'bout me nor 'bout him.


Sitting on a chair behind the counter, I put off my shoes and I massage my feet, sighing: sometimes I wonder why I keep on using so high-heeled shoes instead of being content with something a bit less high, especially when I have to work, and especially in a day like this.

"Are you OK, Daisy? The Boar's Nest has been really crowded this evening, don't you think?"

"Oh yeah, and thanks to this rain. Really tiring", I smile at my colleague Mary, "fortunately people are goin' home right now, and fortunately it's nearly closing time"

"Hey Daisy. We're goin' back home. Do you want we wait for you?"

"Thanks Luke. But there's no need you and Bo wait for me. It's better you go to the farm and help uncle Jesse preparing dinner, he's waiting for you. I don't think I'm goin' to get lost on the way home"

"OK Daisy. See you at the farm. Bye Mary", Bo smiles at me and at Mary, who's blushing; I smile and I shake my head, amused by Bo's talent to make a girl blushing simply by saying her "bye": for sure it's not only his way to smile and say "bye", but his blonde hair and blue eyes too to help him with girls.

I look at Bo and Luke leaving the Boar's Nest when Mary breaks a glass, her cheeks still burning red.

"Oh, Mary", I laugh, "I can't believe Bo's such a power on you"

Mary blushes even more, and I suddenly remember Enos' similar way to blush and to be so clumsy when he's 'round me.

"Oh, Mary. I didn't mean to tease you. I'm only wondering why you're so shy 'round Bo. You should tell him what you feel for him"

She kneels down picking up the glass' pieces, "I'd like to be less shy, and I'd like to be like you, Daisy. You're not shy at all, and you always tell what you feel. You're never afraid of your feelings… and of what your feelings can bring to you"

I stare at Mary, her words slowly piercing my mind.

"What do you mean, Mary?"

"See, Daisy, sometimes it's better to live in a dream instead that facing reality; I mean, I prefer to be Bo's friend without knowing what he really feels for me, dreaming of his love, instead of telling him what I feel: I couldn't stand his refusal".

I start thinking of the sense in his words, and of her way to act, so similar to Enos', when a hoarse voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Hey you two, chickens, stop chatting 'bout boys and bring me another beer"

I turn to the only customer left in the Boar's Nest, a young man sitting at a table near the window, an empty glass in front of him; I walk to him, my hands on my hips when I stop in front of him, an angry look on my face.

"Chickens? We're not chickens, and you're drunk. So, come on, it's closing time. Go home and have a good sleep".

He looks at me and I can see he's really, totally, drunk.

"I've… said… I… want… another… beer. Do… you… understand? Stupid chicken"

I fold my arms trying to stay quiet, Mary's eyes on me and on the stranger, "No more beer. It's closing time, and you're too drunk to drink anything more".

He keeps on staring at me with his drunk and angry look, so I change my attitude, trying another way, "Come on, sugar", I show off my best smile and my sweetest voice, "I promise you I'm goin' to offer you a beer if you come here tomorrow evening, when you'll be sober"

Before I can realize it, he stands up and he takes me on his shoulder as a potatoes' bag, so that I now see the Boar's Nest upside down.

"If you want to be so sweet with me, baby, come with me. I want you to be sweet with me at my place, where we could have some fun"

I suddenly hear Mary shouting, and then another voice (a male voice) before I can put again my feet on the floor to see Enos seizing the villain's by the collar and punching him.

"ENOS!"

"Go away and sober up". In Enos' voice all his anger, a cold and low voice, a tone he rarely uses and only when he's really, really, furious, a tone so different from his usual high and funny pitch.

"Hey, who's this man, chicken? Your friend? Your boyfriend? Your puppy?"

"Stand up and go away, if you don't want I arrest you", again that angry voice.

I don't know if thanks Enos' punch, or thanks his voice and look, or thanks his uniform and muscular body, or thanks everything, the young man finally stands up and he dashes to the door.

"Just in time, deputy Strate". Mary falls on a chair, relieved.

I can't help but smiling because of her way to call Enos "deputy Strate", but, in effect, thinking 'bout it, Mary is three years younger than Bo, and it means several years younger than Enos, so she probably sees Enos as a grown-up man (what he IS, in effect, since he's 32 years old).

"Are you OK, Daisy?"

His voice is worried and I can feel his eyes on me.

"Everything's OK, sugar. You came just in time".

I fold my arms around my chest to stop trembling, and I hope he's goin' to hug me, but he remains still in the middle of the room, keeping on looking at me. He only nods and he waits for Mary and me till we close the Boar's Nest ready to go home.

On the way to Mary's home (I usually give her a lift to her place), and then on the way to the farm, as I drive my jeep, I can see his patrol car behind me; he's escorting me home to check everything's OK: a perfect cop, close friend… and… what else? Boyfriend? Nearly husband?

When I stop the jeep in front of the farm, his patrol car is still behind me. I come out Dixie and I approach his car; the smell of fried chicken from farm's kitchen makes my stomach grumble.

"I think dinner is ready. Please, stay here and have dinner with us. Uncle Jesse, Bo and Luke would be glad to have you for dinner, sugar. And I know you love fried chicken… especially… fried chicken's neck", I laugh remembering the way I managed, some years ago, to distract him from doin' his duty (or, it'd be better to say, the way he let me distract him from doin' his duty) using fried chicken and, obviously, my power on him. But it's a bitter laugh since that sense of guilty, again, grabs my heart in a cold grasp.

Fortunately he seems unaware of my feeling, and he smiles amused, blushing gently.

"Enos, I've really appreciated what you did at the Boar's Nest. Thank you. So, come in, I'd like you to stay for dinner"

"I'd really like to stay for dinner, Daisy. But I have to go back to the Courthouse and to my work", he shrugs, "Besides, I only did my duty, and you should thank Bo and Luke 'cause they called me to ask me to check everything was OK at the Boar's Nest before you went home. They told me they noticed a drunk stranger, and they were right to be worried because of him".

Looking at his patrol car goin' away, I think I'm really lucky to have uncle Jesse, Bo and Luke… and Enos… protecting me. So, why I'm feeling so lonely? Why do his words and his refusing to stay for dinner hurt? I feel like I've lost something, and I don't know exactly what and why.


Finally a sunny and perfect spring day, but another day spent at the Boar's Nest, another lunchtime over, and I didn't see him yet. Maybe he's goin to come later, or maybe not; anyway, I don't want to wait for him.

As Mary enters the Boar's Nest, I decide what to do.

"Mary, I come back soon". I look around to see only few quiet and well-known customers, no sign of that drunk youngster, so I can leave without worrying 'bout it: anyway, I think Enos scared him enough he's not goin' to come here again.

I drive my jeep to the town, a bag full of fresh sandwiches and a bottle of buttermilk on the passenger seat, and a smile on my face as I enjoy the sunlight's playing through the branches and I smell the spring's scent. My smile grows up when I see his patrol car in front of the Courthouse.

Walking to the Courthouse's door, I look inside through an open window; he's there, sitting at his desk, his elbows on the desk and his forehead on his hands, totally lost in his thoughts, and I'd pay anything to know what he's thinking of. I swallow against the lump in my throat (again that sense of guilty is overwhelming me) and I head to the door.

"Hey sugar. I hope you're hungry", I smile and I show him the bag in my hand, "A lot of sandwiches for you. Since I didn't see you at the Boar's Nest for lunch, so… I decided to bring here your lunch"

Enos raises his head from his hands and he looks at me, surprised and amused at the same time, "Hi Dais. I'm really hungry. Thanks"

I look at his hands opening the bag, his eyes sparkling and a gentle touch of red covering his cheeks as he glances at me, "Thank you".

I spend the following half-hour at the Courthouse, talking to him and enjoying the way he's eating my sandwiches (he was for sure really hungry), till I realize I have to come back to the Boar's Nest.

As a perfect gentleman, he comes with me to the door, thanking me, again, for his lunch, and I can't help but smiling for his kindness.

"Who's this man? Your friend? Your boyfriend? Your puppy?". That man's words suddenly come to my mind; I see again Enos clenching his fists and his teeth, ready to punch him again but maintaining his self-control.

Suddenly I realize everything: everything 'bout him, and 'bout me, everything 'bout us.

I stop on the threshold, blinded with the sunlight and that new awareness, so my jeep's keys fall from my hand. I look at him kneeling down to take my keys, his usual kindness, and, before I realize it, I bend to him and I kiss him as he's getting up.

In front the Courthouse, bathed by the sunlight of this finally warm spring, the spring I was longing for, I kiss Enos: I kiss the man I nearly married, the man who confessed openly his love that day at the lake, the man whom I never told my feelings, the man who's probably waiting for words I've never said and who probably stopped that wedding because of the lack of these words, the man I've probably always loved without realizing it so strongly and surely like today.

The man I love.


Again the romance between Daisy and Enos, as Daisy's POV. A bit short, but I hope you liked it (actually I have no idea for a long and complex story). Besides, this story is a sort of experiment: an illustrated fic... or a graphic novel (I don't know how to describe this). You can find the poster of this story on Hazzardnet ;-)