Secret Lucidity(66)

I’ve been impatiently waiting for this trip—this freedom. I knew I needed it, I just didn’t realize how badly until now.

It’s creeping close to ten o’clock when David pulls into a dirt parking lot at a random diner in the middle of nowhere. For hours, it’s been nothing but silos, train tracks, and empty fields. Any normal person might feel cautious getting out of the car, but for me, I’m joyous. Thankful, that for the first time, I can be out in public with David. I can touch him and kiss him without fear of someone we know seeing us. So, when he opens my door and takes my hand, it feels like utter bliss.

“You look way too happy to be at a dump like this,” he jokes as we walk toward the run-down building.

When we step inside, we are greeted by the sweetest old lady with white hair that’s perfectly quaffed into a bun. She takes in my tangled one and smiles. “You look like you could use a nice cup of coffee.”

“And a brush.”

I pinch David’s side at his remark, and he takes my hand in his as we’re led to our booth. I slip in next to him, and he drapes his arm around my shoulders, tucking me against his side.

“So what can I get you two to drink?”

“I’ll take the coffee,” he says. “And she’ll take . . .”

“A glass of water would be good.”

She smiles at us and drops the menus on the table before scurrying off.

“This is nice.”

“You’ve got low standards.”

“I meant us,” I laugh.

“Good. I was starting to worry,” he teases before shifting into a more serious tone. He leans his forehead to mine and gives me a gentle peck. “This is what I’ve been missing.”

“What’s that?” I whisper.

“Being able to have you like this without worrying.” He kisses me again.

“Three more months.”

“Here you two go,” our waitress says when she sets down our drinks. “I’ll be right back to take your order.”

We poke around the menu and David suggests we stay away from the bar-b-que. When I ask why, he says, “Are you familiar with Tobe Cooper?”

“Should I be?”

“Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a cult classic, but you’ll never look at bar-b-que the same way again,” he says with a sly grin.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, but I’ll take your word for it.” I close the menu. “I’ll get the turkey sandwich.”

“Two turkey sandwiches,” David orders when the elderly lady returns, and soon enough, we’re back on the road.

Using David’s heavy coat as a makeshift blanket, I close my eyes and drift in and out of restless sleep for the rest of the drive.

With the time change, it’s close to two in the morning when we arrive. It only takes me one step into the cabin to be reminded that David is a trust fund kid.

“I thought you said this was low-key,” I remark as he walks through the oversized cabin, turning on all the lights. “I was expecting something a little more . . . rustic.”

“Shit’s built out of cedar,” he calls out in humorous defense from one of the back rooms.

I laugh to myself. Sure, it’s cedar with contrasting dark wooden floors with a gathering of eclectic plush rugs throughout. But the chef’s kitchen is a bit on the lavish side, with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops.

Soft music plays in the background, and I suspect the property owner turned it on in prep for our arrival.

Opening the door that’s off the living area, I step outside onto the wraparound deck, which is surrounded by incredibly tall pine trees. I can hear footfalls from an animal down below, but I can’t see much in the darkness when I look over the railing.

“So, what do you think?” David says when he steps outside.

I turn around, and he wraps me in his arms. “It’s perfect.”

He takes me inside and shows me around before we settle into our room. When I step out of the bathroom after brushing my teeth, we crawl into bed. Tucked under the heavy blankets, we hold on to each other—warm and naked—and in our exhaustion, make love slowly until we fall asleep.




We wake up to snow falling in giant, white flakes. Not ready to face the chill of the room, we spend most of the morning in bed. That is, until David grows desperate for coffee. I dig through the bags of food we brought, and we scarf down a couple breakfast bars before we pull on our ski gear and head for the slopes.

The drive up Sierra Blanca is breathtaking. Everything is covered in pristine snow, and when I see a pull off, I tell David to stop so I can take a picture of the two of us on my cell phone. When we get back into the SUV, I stare at the two of us on the screen. I’m smiling at the camera while David kisses my cheek.

I don’t care what the law says, there’s nothing criminal about our love. The fact that we have to hide something as pure as what we have together is the only crime I can see. Unwilling to have anything damper this weekend, I shove those thoughts aside to have a great day on the slopes.

Once we’ve been fitted for our boots, he talks me into a board when I tell him I’ve only done skis.

“You’ll love it,” he says.

Nervous about not having any poles, he takes me over to the bunny slope where he teaches me the basics. After several falls that get some good laughs out of the little kids zipping by, I do a few more runs until I feel myself getting more confident on the board.