But… my fingers hover over the bottle, hesitating. Impulsively, I grab it. A memento to remember last night by in case memories alone won’t suffice.
Switching off the light, I creep out of the bathroom toward the laminate wood dresser where my purse lies. I notice Hayes’ guitar case is on the ground, now open, with his guitar perched on top of it. On the dresser, next to my purse, is a small notepad with writing on it. Curious, I carry it to the window and draw back the curtain, allowing a trickle of light from the breaking dawn to slip through and illuminate the room enough so that I can read his words.
His handwriting reminds me of him—difficult to read at first, bold, and assertive.
The lights were soft, the words were hard
Tough year left your heart scarred
Flirted over light beer and cheap wine
Brokenhearted, lonely, and looking for a sign
You in my arms, felt so perfect, so right
Lust burns brightest just for a night
You in my arms, forgetting the sorrow
Loved you last night, but I’m not your tomorrow
What happened between us can’t happen again
But I’ll still think about you
Every now and then.
Fingering the note, my eyes fill with tears. Even though he didn’t say it outright, it’s there between the lines. Last night meant more to him than a simple one-night stand. Echoing his song lyrics, the knowledge that our time together was precious has to be enough because there is no tomorrow for us.
Last night was all we got.
It feels intrusive to read his scribbled lyrics, like I’m reading his diary. These words, though written about me, aren’tforme. Yet I can’t help but obsessively read them again.
The longer I stay, the more I risk Hayes waking up. It will be messier if we interact this morning. I’ve never had a one-night stand before, but I assume the morning after is usually uncomfortable. I don’t want to taint what we shared with empty promises and awkward goodbyes.
After slipping out of the motel, I walk back to my stranded car and call a tow truck. Thankfully, it’s early enough that rush hour isn't yet in full swing, so they arrive quickly. While the driver loads my vehicle, I arrange for the repairs and order an Uber to take me home.
When I cross the threshold of my house, almost two hours later, I let out a long sigh of relief. Since Laura and the girls are already gone, to work and school respectively, I step into my bathroom and start the shower. It takes forever to heat, but I jump in when the temperature is only slightly hotter than lukewarm, eager to scrub off the stench of alcohol, sex, and questionable choices.
As the water hits the different parts of my body, I swear I feel Hayes’ phantom touch on my skin. A nibble here, a scrape of his scruff here, a swirl of his tongue there. Standing, my face under the water’s spray, I relish the memories, cloudy as they are, of last night. I remember Hayes’ expressive, leaded blue eyes and the feel of his large, calloused hands all over me. Just the recollections are enough to make me squeeze my thighs together.
Hayes certainly knew what he was doing.
Unlike Kyle. Seven months had passed since Kyle and I last had sex, and the increasingly rare times we were intimate during the last half of our marriage usually left me wanting.
I met Kyle during the third week of my freshman year of college, and we were inseparable after that. Two years my senior, he proposed after he graduated. We were young and naïve, and we assumed marriage was the natural next step after having dated for two years. We’d both grown up in the church, and had been taught that you date, you marry, andthenyou have sex.
Unfortunately, what the church does not espouse upon is how to havegoodsex. My sex life with Kyle was always lackluster, often feeling perfunctory, like a chore to be checked off the marital checklist. Untillast night, I assumed that sex just wasn’t as amazing as the romance novels describe.
Until last night. Until Hayes.
But my night with Hayes was just an escape. He provided a brief respite, a temporary distraction from the realities of my life.
He was a detour.
A circuitous course used temporarily before returning to my normal path.
4
