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Parallel tracks
May. 3rd, 2006 01:13 am9:30am and my girlfriend awakens, stretching skyward in the passenger seat besides me. "I could use something to drink," she says. After 200 miles of hard driving on dusty highway, breakfast is sounding good to me too.
Blue signs loom amidst the grasslands, and soon we are pulling into Mike's Roadhouse Cafe. Kettleman City, middle of nowhere. Hand in hand we walk to the door; hand in hand we sit at our table. She is beautiful, with her smooth skin and serene blue eyes, and that way that she smiles at me.
It's not exactly San Francisco here. More a place for pickup trucks and farmer men, cowboy hats and 1950's memorabilia. Is there a place for us? I do not know, and my mind begins to run in parallel. One half listens to her stories and enjoys her pretty smile. The other half keeps a steady eye on our surroundings.
I check to see, is anybody staring? What kind of looks do we get when passersby notice the fingers of two women, intertwined beside the hot chocolate and hash browns? If someone menaced us, would the other diners protect us or would they join in?
What would I use as a weapon, if I had to? My vegetarian meal requires no knives, and I'm dubious as to how well I could break the bottle of tabasco sauce into suitable shards like that kid from The Outsiders did. That's pure fantasy, anyway; I don't really think that I could keep my hold on a sharp object if someone stronger tried to take it away.
Am I willing to die for this, the right to hold my girlfriend's hand in public, anywhere we go? I guess I am, because I'm not exactly choosing the alternative, of hiding. I don't take her hand to make a public statement; I take her hand because that's what we do. Whether we're alone or in company, we like to reach out and sense each other near. I don't want to ever have to do differently.
I know that I should take that Impact class that my friends have been talking so much about. Many folks are using it to heal from past demons, but the fights that keep me vigilant and hyper-aware are the ones that might be yet to come.
