A
man has a deep love for his gentle woman, but the vast open roads
just keep calling his name.
This
story is inspired by the song of the same name by Glen Campbell
(Jimmy Webb). I have a great love for this song, and when I listened
to it, this story was instantly formed as I was lost inside the
lyrics of this loving, but heart breaking ballad.
By the Time I Get to Phoenix
The
brisk 4:30 a.m air left my face as I walked through the large door of
her apartment building. I slowly ascended the stairs and when I
reached the top, stared indecisively at her apartment door, thinking
of what I was about to do. I slowly slid the cold, folded paper out
of my silk inner-jacket pocket and hung it on her door. I looked at
it for a moment before turning on my heels and heading quietly back
down the stairs, out the door and to my car. I thought in those
moments of going back and ripping that paper from the door, but I
knew I had to do this. I got in my car and I slowly pulled away.
By
the time I got to Phoenix, the morning sun would have been just
kissing her skin as she awoke. She’d have crawled out of bed,
brewed herself a cup of her favorite coffee and then she’d have
gone to check her mail downstairs. But today she’d open the door to
see a folded paper hung from her door, that same folded paper I’d
left there just hours before. She’ll read it and she’ll laugh
because in that note I say I’m leaving, and she knows I’ve said
that so many times before. She’ll just fold it back up and set it
on the table, paying no mind to it as she continues on with her day.
She’d
have been working as I reached Albuquerque. She would have paid no
mind to the fact that she’d hadn’t heard from me all day. She’d
work her morning hours then try to phone and give me a call at lunch.
But she just heard that phone keep ringing off the wall. She’ll
shrug it off and pretend that this doesn’t seem strange.
I
entered Oklahoma around midnight and found a gas station to stop for
a bite to eat. I looked around at the bags of candy and peanuts, then
my eyes caught the sight of a café in the back. It was a small
place, just a bar-like counter against the back wall in the corner of
the lonely store. Just looking at it made me think of her. The way
she looked in her uniform, the way she’d always bring me my plate
without even taking my order, she just knew me that well. As I
thought about her I thought about how she looked while she slept.
She’d have been sleeping then I thought, in her silk sheets. She’d
reach over and feel the empty space where my body would have been,
and call my name out softly. She’d cry, thinking maybe I meant it
this time, maybe I really did leave her. I’ve tried to tell her
time and time again that I was leaving. As she looks back now, she
never thought I would really go… I bought a small bag of peanuts
and, with a tear running from my eye, walked back out to my car and
was on my way again.
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