Three Loves (Chapter Six)

My friend and I stayed in touch on a regular basis, both my mail and phone.


As far as the mail went, he told me that he enjoyed everything I sent to him but not to expect to hear back, as he was too busy to write letters.


This didn't bother me, because several of my friends weren't big letter-writers, but they enjoyed hearing from me.


Anyway, the phone was enough.


One thing that I was sorry about was that I'd forgotten to take any pictures of him on the day we'd gotten together at McDonald's.


I'd brought my camera along but had left it in the car thinking that I'd take one or two (or MORE?) when we returned to the parking lot.


But he'd stayed until the absolutely last minute--where he would already be somewhere close to ridiculously-late when it came to going to see the furniture but not so late that the people who had it for sale would give up on him and sell it to someone else.


So no thought of the camera came up during our hurried good-bye--which was a pretty lingering good-bye to have been a hurried good-bye.


I told him to drive carefully and not try to make up for lost time, and he assured me that he always did--and, besides, people were used to his running late.


This wasn't something he was especially proud of. He was just confessing to a bad habit--one that I was also guilty of at times, having even been a few minutes late for our little visit.


When I told him that the only thing I'd been sorry about was that I'd never gotten to take his picture, he told me that I could always do that the next time we got together.


One day near the end of March, I decided that I wanted to do something really special, but I wasn't sure just what.


I was considering even driving all the way down to Cave City just to eat at Hickory Villa--especially, if I had a certain companion going with me. If we were to start in the mid-morning, we'd be there in time to enjoy an early dinner, visit with Etta, Bobby, and family, and then head back, getting in sometime after midnight.


I hadn't been down that way since I'd attempted to carry out my plans to take part in the Green River Writers' Retreat (held in a dorm on the campus of Western Kentucky University in Bowling Green).


What I'd hoped for was that I'd become so involved in the goings-on of the conference that it would take my mind off of my pain so that I could get on with the healing process.


What I didn't find out until a couple of months later--when I finally went to an orthopaedic specialist--was that the reason I wasn't recovering was that my joint had frozen due to the length of time my knee had been out-of-place and how long I'd continued to sit in the car before my folks came down and drove me home.


The doctor told me that I was going to have to work my knee until it became flexible again.


Since I now knew what the problem was, I began to try to bend it a little bit at a time until it finally got to the place where it bent normally.


This took away a lot of--though not ALL of--the pain, but, to me, my knee still felt unstable.


This, of course, would be taken care of later when I began wearing the brace.


Anyway, my dad accompanied me to the conference, as I was not only unable to drive, but I also needed assistance even getting settled in bed at night, not to mention getting meals, etc.


We ate a lot of pizzas and subs the few days that I lasted.


One morning, I called for him to hurry up and bring me some towels to pee into, because I knew I couldn't get up fast enough to make it into the bathroom.


At that point, he told me that we could go ahead and stay if I wanted to, but he wondered if, perhaps, all of this were a little much for me, and that it might be time to pack up and return home.


I couldn't have agreed more, as much as I hated to leave the conference.


The hard floor of the dorm corridors had been playing havoc with my knee with every step I took, and I was obviously getting worse.


I could barely make it out to the car.


We headed back home.


But we made two stops along the way, the first one being at Mammoth Cave National Park.


Etta, Little Joe, Sunshine Eyes, and a few other favorites were conducting tours and wouldn't be above ground for a good while--but I DID get to visit with Marshall who came over to the car to talk to us for awhile.


We then drove on into Cave City.


This was a slower time (after the lunch hour) at Hickory Villa, so Bobby also came out to the car, and we talked for awhile.


Then, it was time to head on back to Anderson.


On the way there, we were unfortunate to get into some sort of demonstration that some disgruntled truckers were taking part in, and it was a real challenge not to get mowed down by one or more of them.


My knee was driving me crazy with every jerk of the car.


By the time we arrived home, I could barely walk into the house, even using my walker.


The next day, I made an appointment to see an orthopaedic specialist and found out that the soonest I could get in was September 12--which would have been my grandma's 94th birthday. It would also be the eleventh anniversary of Roberto's murder--and, ironically, the day that a long-distance sweetheart would die of cancer in 2000.


That particular September 12, though, was the day I had an appointment with a specialist and the day that I would, in the evening, enjoy the debut of LIFE GOES ON.


And--speaking of LIFE GOES ON--my life had indeed gone on since then, and it was now late March in 1990, and I wanted to go somewhere accompanied by my DEMOCRAT LAWYER.


I wasn't particular about just where--Kentucky DID sound nice after all of this time, but it WAS a little far to travel, so I'd pretty much scratched that idea--but just somewhere romantic where we could spend some more quality time together.


When I called him, he told me that he was trying to get ready to leave to go see his sons---the older of which was having a birthday a couple of days after the weekend, so they would be celebrating--so he wouldn't be able to go anywhere with me that day. I told him to drive carefully then asked if this would be a good day to take some pictures of him. I told him that I was just across the highway from his apartment complex and could run over there for a few minutes and meet him in the parking lot.


He told me that this wouldn't be a good idea "at this time."


I wasn't quite sure what he meant by that. I didn't ask, and he didn't tell.


How I ended up spending my day was doing a little shopping, as I was planning on getting down to Kentucky in the near-future to spend a few days and wanted some nice things for the trip.


A few days before, I'd already had a t-shirt custom-designed for me.


It was hot pink and had lettering reading: "I'm In LOVE! -- What's YOUR Excuse!?!"


This was in reference to the fact that I could be a little twitterpated at times. In short, I had a bad case of spring fever, which--like the warm weather and the lilac buds--had arrived quite a few weeks before spring!


While out driving around, I heard on the radio that some winter weather would be moving through--mostly, up north, but some of it in the central part of the state.


Typical basketball weather!


It seemed that, no matter how unusually-springlike the weather might be in late winter, a batch of wintery weather would always arrive sometime during Hoosier Hysteria--many times, starting about as soon as the Sectionals began. This year, it had held off until time for the State Finals.


I wondered if my DEMOCRAT LAWYER had left yet to see his sons in the northwest part of the state, and I wanted to tell him to be especially careful.


Even if just his answering machine were on because he'd already left, I could at least leave him a message that I was thinking of him and hoped he was having a good time but, also, being careful.


He answered, himself.


"Hi, Baby-Doll!" I greeted him--eliciting, as I'd hoped it would, his wonderful laugh.


He told me that his plans had changed some (a couple of guys he'd gone to school with were in town, and he was putting them up for the night), so he would have to postpone his trip for a couple of days. I was relieved to know that he wouldn't be driving in a winter storm--and I also wanted to get home, myself, before it set in.


A little while later, I remembered that there was something I'd forgotten to tell him, so I pulled up to the nearest pay-phone and called him.


He heard my voice and hung up on me.


I thought there SURELY must have been some mistake, so I tried again--and the same awful thing happened.


Sometime after that, I had to pee.


By this time, I didn't always get my walker out of the car everytime I wanted to go in somewhere.


As long as there was a ramp to walk up and down instead of having to step up and down off of a curb, the walker was just one more thing to get in my way.


I got out of the car and felt a little wobbly, but I just thought that I had sea-legs.


But my walking didn't improve, and I was unsteady on my feet even inside of the restaurant, so I found someone who looked capable and asked him if he would get me back to my car because I wasn't walking too well that night.


I knew that it was my emotions that had caused me to have the setback--but, even so, the setback was very real.


When I got home, I got ready for bed.


I would try to call my DEMOCRAT LAWYER again in the morning, beg him not to hang up, and tell him that I could understand and accept it if he needed a little space from me. He'd been through so much, and I was afraid that I had succeeded in crowding him. One thing for sure: I didn't want to lose his friendship forever.


But there was a long night between bedtime and morning, and I cried myself to sleep.

TO BE CONTINUED. . . "Three Loves (Chapter Seven)"