Life In The Middle Of Nowhere

After Island_Boy and I parted in the supermarket parking lot of a small seaside town, I stood and watched his black truck turn and disappear towards the ferry that would take him home. Quiet. For a brief few moments I felt this digging feeling of loneliness. A black hole appeared suddenly in front of me and I found myself slipping into it.

I admit to thoughts of, “Why did you ever leave your husband? Look at you… all by yourself on an island… about to book into a hostel… of all the places.”

Briefly, I felt sorry for myself, but the new, resurrected me—the me who now loves adventure and excitement—rose from this puddle of woe and jumped into her car and headed in my own direction. I reached the bunkhouse, which was depressingly situated above a run-down little bus depot, and Pizza Parlor with a sign missing the letter ‘P’.

Shedding any veil of pity, I marveled at my situation, climbing the wooden steps to the lodging upstairs. How brave I was! What a smart idea to take a room and a bed at a very cheap place for the night, so I could enjoy the ambiance of the Island and take a sunny boat ride home the following day.

I recalled my rendezvous’ concern, “Do they have separate washroom facilities for the women?” Island-Boy asked, obviously not thrilled at the idea of me staying in such a rustic, shared living space.

“Oh, probably not!” I smiled bravely at him.

There were five different rooms and I was in the North American Room. It contained a bunk bed (no one else but me!), a desk by a large open window, a dresser, and a night stand with clock. Downright cozy, I thought, as I dropped my gear to the floor and collapsed onto the lower bunk bed. The open drapes appeared like a stage with the curtains open as if a play was about to begin in the studio across the street. I could easily see four or five ballerinas in their black leotards, pirouetting and bending like reeds in the wind.

I watched the scene as flashes of my earlier drama floated through my mind. Island-Boy and I get along very well, indeed. I am very attracted to him. I like his physical being, even the square tiny diamond in his left ear, his periwinkle eyes. I said ‘yes’ when he asked to hold my hand. And laughter lightened up the tension that is there when two strangers meet. We’re from the same planet I think. He was brought up in a family of six, as I was. He was fourth born (as I was), but between all sisters. Can you imagine that?

“I think that may have given me some advantages… understanding women a little better,” he surmised and I agreed that it would.

He’s a photographer and with that keen eye, pointed out things about me that no one ever has. Perhaps they have thought it, but Island-Boy remarked on several things about my physical characteristics.

“You have piano playing hands.”

“Your eyes have orange flecks in them.”

And about my personality: “You really like yourself don’t you?” he remarked and I had to agree. It’s been a journey.

“Your whole family is really smart,” he said after hearing about my siblings career choices.

Everything seemed like a test, but a fun one. We shopped together, yet I soon drifted away, feeling intrusive, as he closely examined the olives—only the ones without preservatives. I’ve been meeting a lot of guys lately who seem to look after themselves. We tested how our hands felt together. Nice, very nice. He put his arm around me while crossing the street and that felt warm and safe.

And then at the end, in the deserted parking lot, just before we parted, he put his arms around me and gave me a bear hug. Three times. He pressed his lips against mine four times. I touched his cheek. I was thankful that he was not the kind of man who liked to go deep sea diving with his tongue. I didn’t have to dodge any passionate wet kiss. It felt nice, the way a kiss should be between strangers who like each other a lot.

“You kiss really good,” he remarked when we pulled away.

“You have nice skin,” I returned.

Nice Skin? What a stupid thing to say! But that’s what came out. I had my hand on his cheek and it felt just that: clean shaven and nice.

And so there I was in the middle of nowhere, on an island so far away from home, laying on a strange bed in a hostel above a bus depot.

Something caught my attention outside; I glanced up and saw the most stunning full moon peer out at me from between parted clouds. It glowed.

I sighed with contentment and fell asleep…

Date two is already planned. I’m to meet him two ferries away—where he lives on a waterfront property. I’ll stay in the cabin seaside while he remains in the main house, behind. My co-worker is excited about my upcoming plans. “But,” she warned, “you should put a chair up against the door, Adrienne. No, make that a couch. Pull a couch against the door.”

I just smiled.

This is Adrienne reporting from the trenches, especially for you.


Life In The Middle Of Nowhere © 2011 Adrienne S Moody. Read the latest Adrienne exploit on Now.readthisplease.


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