Missouri Loves Company (Rip Lane Book 1) Page 17
“Dating’s not a real relationship?”
“No. Because there’s no security. No safety net. No knowledge that you can count on somebody to be there for you no matter what happens. Dating means you can leave when things get tough.”
“Marriage is no different. You ever seen the divorce rates?”
“Being married makes it tougher to leave.”
“Why would you want to make it tougher to leave a bad relationship? Life’s too short. If things aren’t working out, you should be free to move on. Why prolong the agony?”
“You never want to get married again?”
“Something wrong with that?”
“Yes. There is.”
“Enlighten me then.”
“What?”
“Tell me what’s wrong with staying single.”
“Well . . . aren’t you afraid of dying alone?”
“As opposed to bringing somebody with me?”
Anna shook her head sadly.
“Look,” I said. “We all die alone. No matter how close we get to another person. No matter whether we decide to get married or stay single. No matter how many people we know. You assume getting married means a spouse will always be there for you. But what are the odds of that happening? Not great. Let’s say you get married. Half of all marriages end in divorce. So now you’re down to fifty percent. But we’re not done calculating the odds yet. Because one spouse has to die first. That could be you, or it could be your spouse. So now you’re down to twenty-five percent. Not great odds.”
Anna studied me, head cocked.
“Who did this to you?” she said.
I didn’t say anything.
“Don’t you want more out of life, Rip?”
“Like what? Structure? Domestic life? If I wanted the American Dream, I’d get a nice home in the suburbs, a wife, a dog, a cat, two kids, two cars. I’d go to PTA meetings and backyard cookouts and garage sales. But I don’t want the American Dream. I have my own dream. And I’m living it. How many people can say that about their life?”
We were quiet again, still holding hands, still strolling along the walkway. After a while the silence between us went from comfortable to uncomfortable. An awareness was growing. A mutual awareness. We both knew where this was heading, and it was not somewhere I wanted to go.
We walked past other couples. Married couples. They didn’t look any happier than we were, and we were pretty miserable. At least I was.
To know oneself is the first step toward happiness. I know just enough about myself to know that I cannot live without my freedom. I wanted to be with Anna, but not at the expense of my freedom. Marriage would imprison me. It would box me in.
I also know just enough about myself to know that I cannot live without sex. Entering spousehood is like entering the priesthood. In both instances men take a vow of chastity. Priests do it knowingly. Husbands do not. But they find out soon enough. When it’s too late. Husbands in sexless marriages have no good options. Never getting laid again is a bad option. So is cheating. The only other option left is divorce.
Anna made a little sound and I turned my head to look at her. She smiled sadly and looked away. Her brown eyes were swimming.
“What’s wrong, Anna?”
“Nothing.”
“But you’re crying.”
She didn’t say anything.
“You upset with me?”
She let go my hand, just let it go.
I reached and caught her wrist. She wrenched it away.
“Please let me be,” she whispered, not looking at me.
That night the lovemaking was different. There was some distance between us that had not existed before, and I had no idea how to cross it. It felt like a sad good-bye. Anna kept her eyes shut. Tears slipped out anyway. It touched something in me. I cried a little too.
We talked about it in the morning. And in the afternoon. And in the evening. But nothing was resolved. We found no middle ground between dating and marriage. It was all or nothing. No compromise.
Anna’s need for a husband outweighed her need for me. I found something wrong with that. It seemed impersonal. As if the title of husband were more important than the man himself.
On the other hand my need for freedom outweighed my need for Anna. Was there something wrong with that too? Maybe there was. But nothing could change it.
The following morning at daybreak I packed up my things. When I went to hug Anna good-bye she flinched away from me.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “This is not easy for me.”
“Not easy for me either.”
“You’re the one leaving. It’s always easier for the one leaving.”
She was right. I knew from experience.
“Friends?” I said.
“For what it’s worth, yes, we’re friends.”
CHAPTER 70
MY THOUGHTS RAMBLED on as I motorcycled through the flickering sunlight. I had offered Anna all I could give her. It wasn’t enough. She wanted more from me. Expected more.
So long, sweetheart. I will always miss you. There will always be a deep sorrow for what might have been.
The morning sky was a rich blue. The air was warmed by the sun and smelled of pine and honeysuckle. My motorcycle purred gently beneath me.
A few miles down the winding road the loneliness began to seep in through the little chinks of my mental armor. I had lost another good woman. I was on my own again. Alone. A feeling of emptiness filled me. A sense of longing. Of loss.
There was another feeling too. A loathsome feeling. One that I was not proud of. It was a feeling of relief. A feeling that I had somehow avoided the straightjacket of lifelong husbandly duties.
I drove into the entrance of S’mores and Snores Campground and cruised past camper after camper until I reached my own. The garage ramp went down. The motorcycle went up. The straps went on.
In the campground office I checked out. Then I climbed into my motor home and drove off. Within a couple of minutes I was on the highway. When I rode past downtown Pottsland I glanced at it and realized it would be for the last time. I had no desire to return.
Later that day I spotted a hitchhiker in the distance. As I drove closer I could see it was a blonde with a small suitcase and big boobs. She looked good. I stepped on the accelerator and drove right past her. She looked even better in my rearview mirror.
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Novels featuring Rip Lane:
Missouri Loves Company
Florida Son
California Bust
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