A Road Trip with Dirty Laundry by NavigatorGirl,NavigatorGirl

“But it sure looked like you were heading that way, like you wanted one last fling before settling down.”

“Oh, I did . . . or thought I did. But I had such a conscience attack, I couldn’t do it. Brian is fun, a jokester, good looking, sexy, but just so rough and egocentric when it comes down to it.” She paused a moment. “I suddenly had this vision of my Richie, so polite and respectful and trusting, as well as . . . pretty good in . . . oh, just such a great guy, head and shoulders above Brian. I felt completely out of place all of a sudden.”

“So, when you left the room, did you come right here? It’s late.”

“I was really messed up in my head. I didn’t even think to put my bikini top back on until I passed someone sitting outside another room who was gaping open-mouthed at my boobs. You weren’t at the pool any longer, so I got in the car for a while, to think, and . . . also so I wouldn’t get in your way in case you were . . . Finally I came here.”

I smiled. We were silent a moment.

“How about you and Shane?” Michelle asked, tentatively. “Did you do anything? I mean, you’re not committed to anyone, so who could blame you if you did.”

“We had a great time,” I answered, trying to sound nonchalant. “He’s a wonderful guy.” I stopped there, but something in my expression must have showed more. Or maybe Michelle noticed the protective object Shane had deposited in the waste basket.

“Oh my god, you did it,” Michelle exclaimed, her eyes widening, and her mouth falling open. “You did it, and I chickened out.”

We both broke out laughing at the irony of it. Then she pressed me for details and I had to tell more. We giggled like school girls, and made more than one raunchy allusion and a few bad jokes during the telling. But it was late, and eventually we both calmed down and decided to get some sleep.

“You might want to reconsider which bed you take this evening,” I said. “The sheets on the one you picked earlier don’t look so fresh.”

There was fresh laughter as I made my way to the shower.

* * *

Chapter 3: Journey on

At breakfast, it was apology time for some of us: Brian for soliciting Michelle, she for leading him on and leaving him cold. A truce was made, although there was still some uneasiness between them. And our group dynamics had changed: Brian told no jokes, made less talk in general, while Shane was more assertive in his low key way. He even engineered the day’s agenda — before I knew it, Brian was convinced to escort Michelle on a tour of New Orleans highlights, which he knew well, to make amends for almost raping her and treating her as a whore.

Shane and I did not go along on the tour. We. . . well, we had our own agenda. After signing up for another night at the motel office, we headed straight for my room, and hung the “do not disturb” sign on the outside door knob.

I was dozing, lying on my back, my limbs entangled with Shane’s, when Michelle’s tentative knock sounded on the door. We looked at the clock, and were surprised to see it was late evening.

“I can’t believe they’re back already,” Shane whispered. “See you later in the pool. Maybe we can leave them there and come back to the room. I could stay right here with you for another week.”

But road trips involve many twists and turns.

For one thing, when we all met the next morning for breakfast, Michelle and Brian were edgy — they had made peace and maybe had even relaxed enough to be able to enjoy their tour of New Orleans, but were well aware their relationship held nothing substantial for either of them, and both were antsy to journey on to their own destinations.

For another, despite Shane’s remark the previous evening, he and I had just about run out of energy. Also, while I still considered him sexy and sweet, we were also running out of things to talk about. We came from different backgrounds and had different life goals. Over eggs and grits a mutual realization developed between us that while this had been a fantastic stop, we also had to journey on. Shane even mentioned his mother would be expecting him home, and he would be unable to explain this kind of delay to that very traditional woman.

Our companions jumped at that, Michelle noting that Richie would be getting worried where she was, Brian saying he had a date coming up with an old girlfriend. Which left me to agree with the wisdom of packing it in.

We checked out and met in the motel parking lot for goodbyes. Shane and I exchanged addresses, with promises to write and to call if we were ever in each other’s neighborhood. Michelle and I got into our car to journey on, primed with detailed directions by the two guys. Shane leaned through the passenger window and we exchanged one more lengthy but tender kiss.

He also wondered aloud if we would be good enough to ask Richie to find his footlocker and mail some of his civilian clothes to him, which we had one final laugh over. I promised I would see to it, and he gave me the key to the locker. Our eyes held each other as the car started to roll out of the lot.

As we reached the street, Michelle broke into my reverie, remarking, “Brian! The SOB.”

“Why, what did he do now?”

“He was working so hard to get into my pants, a real comedian but oh so lonely and in need of a woman, and all the time he had a hot date coming up with a girl friend!”

That broke into the sadness I was feeling at parting from Shane. I could not stop laughing for miles.

Late that day, we reached Alabama and found a motel room near the base. We called Richie and told him we would be there the next morning. He was waiting outside his building when we arrived, and proudly waved the three-day pass he had finagled after our call. Michelle virtually mugged him, jumping into his arms, smothering him with kisses.

“You don’t know how glad I am to see you,” she exclaimed. “We have a lot of missed time to make up for.” Richie barely had time to give me a sister-hug before Michelle virtually dragged him off to our motel room, telling me not to be in any hurry to come back there for a while. I made a tour of the local park and some thrift shops before meeting them for dinner that evening. They looked exhausted but happy.

I confess to being a little lonely and bored the next couple of days as Michelle and Richie spent a lot of time at the motel “planning the wedding.” Apparently my help on that was not needed as much as Michelle had earlier led me to believe.

Richie did have time to locate Shane’s foot locker and get his civilian clothes, although he felt a little odd doing so since he did not know him. “What are the odds? A guy who forgets his clothes is lucky enough to choose a restaurant where he meets two strangers going to the same base he just left, who feel sorry for him and agree to forward his stuff,” Richie said.

Michelle and I nodded, as we exchanged glances.

I found boxes and packed Shane’s clothes in one, then packed the other with my dirty laundry addressed to me at my parents’ house. That way I avoided time at a local laundromat and could use the space in my bags for my thrift shop finds, avoiding extra luggage fees from the airline. I included a note in my box of dirty clothes, in case Mother should open it, saying I did not expect her to do my laundry but just put it aside until I got home in a couple of days.

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