That day seems so far away from the day our downfall began. I had gone to sleep shortly after our little tiff about him loving my laugh. At least I tried to trick him into thinking I was asleep. I couldn't doze off with so much on my mind so I laid very still with my back to him, staring off into the darkness of the room. My inner turmoil kept flip-flopping between brushing it off and letting this relationship progress into something I felt deep within would be a good thing and ending it all right then and there by waking him up before storming out. As my mind played out every possible scenario, a bad habit of mine where I convince myself that being prepared for the worst is the best thing to do, I must have finally fallen asleep. That night I had one of those dreams that felt like years. It was so long and detailed, spanning over what felt like a lifetime, a lifetime that I was spending with him.

Feeling him shift beside me in bed when he got up in the morning never failed to rouse me from my own slumber and he knew this. Normally, I'd stretch like a cat and he'd kiss me good morning, leaving me to get a few more minutes of sleep while he took a shower. Today, I didn't move and he called my bluff. "You're up," I heard him murmur from his squatted position near his suitcase. "Don't pretend to be asleep because I know you're up." I don't recall ever hearing this tone in his voice before, not even when he told me every torrid detail about the collapse of his marriage. This was a different kind of hurt I was hearing. "I didn't even do anything wrong. You don't have any reason to be mad at me right now." I finally opened my eyes and looked at him.

I realized that his morning kiss was like coffee to me. Without it, my sight was blurry and I felt no desire to move more than my eyelids. Forcing myself to sit up on my elbow was torture. "We need to slow down," were the first words from my lips. My voice was course with sleep.

He turned slowly like in a movie and looked at me for a long moment, disappointment all over his face. "Slow down? It's been six months and I haven't put a finger on you and we need to slow down? Six months and no one knows about us and you want me to back off? How much more can I possibly back off?" The disappointment was turning into anger.

"You don't understand," I tried to fight him, tried to make him see it my way, but his anger took him over quickly. He had the same face he had when he was in the ring giving a killer 'I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore' promo. He really was mad as hell and he wasn't going to take my bullshit anymore.

"Me?" he cut me off, his voice raised, his tone on the verge of rage. I was realizing I had already pushed him too far. At the same time, this was exactly the direction I wanted to go. So I pushed harder.

"Yes, you!" I yelled back, my voice overpowering him. "I've told you time and time again that this needs to remain a secret and you… you're just getting too close." I moved so I was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing him.

"Did you really think that I wouldn't fall in love with you?" were the next sad words from his lips. The anger had subdued again into sadness. I closed my eyes, hoping when I opened them again that the past 12 hours hadn't happened. When I opened them he was still there, only he'd taken a few steps closer to me. I felt suffocated.

"I can't do this anymore…"

Panic immediately overcame his features. "No. I mean, just give me a chance. I… I won't say it anymore. I'll throw the scent off our trail."

I shook my head and rose from the bed. "I need some time away from you."

"No, wait." He tried to stop me as I went to my bag. "You'll see. I promise. You can't go." But it was too late. While he was pleading with me to stay, I pulled on shorts and shoes and zipped my bag up, knowing everything was in there already. I pulled the bag up and pulled the handle out of its storage spot. "Please," he was begging me as I walked to the door. "You'll see, I'll prove it." He kept talking but I blocked him out as I opened the door and left our room. I didn't look back.


He never once put a hand on me to keep me there. He was strong and I was so tiny, it would have been easy for him to physically keep me there, but he didn't. Begging didn't suit him at all, either. To know that I was that far under his skin that he'd resort to begging was unsettling, such a different feeling from the first time we were alone together.

I had been on the road for just a month and found myself ditched by the girls I was traveling with mid-loop. It wasn't any of their faults, there was just a few scheduling conflicts and I didn't know anyone else well enough yet to catch a ride so I had rented a car myself and was trucking it from Nowheresville West Virginia to Nowheresville Ohio. My stomach announced itself about half way there and I decided a little no name truck stop would be as good as anywhere to get a bite to eat. I settled into a booth near the front windows and ordered a soda as I looked over the menu. When my drink came, I glanced out the windows as I sipped from my straw and saw a big tour bus pulling up into the parking lot where the trucks were. A moment later I did a double-take when I saw him climbing off the bus and walking towards the entrance.

I hadn't picked up my menu to cover my face fast enough because he spotted me, recognized me, and came right over. "Is this seat taken?" he asked and I lowered my menu just enough to peek over it at him. He was smiling at me, his dimples prominent.

"No, it's not taken," I managed to stutter out and he slid into the booth across from me with ease. The waitress brought him a menu, he ordered an orange juice, and I guess I had a dining partner.

"It's always good to see a friendly face, right? Personally, I hate eating alone. I tried to convince my bus driver to come in with me, but he's too professional. He's new. My old driver had to quit, his old lady wanted him home more. Life on the road isn't for everyone, I guess." He talked like we were old friends and I just stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. He was looking down at his menu, oblivious to my shock that he was really sitting there and acting so casual. I picked my jaw up off the table just as he looked up at me and for a second I caught a bit of shyness in his eyes. "Sorry," he apologized but didn't specify what he was apologizing for.

The rest of that meal together had been nice. He toned it down a little for my sake and I eventually relaxed enough so that we had a normal conversation. I had been his puppet that night, doing what he wanted, even if that was just being someone to eat dinner with. Oh how times change.