This winter was a hot one, with only its minus 20, I felt as if I was developing a heat rash.
Lola just pulled her semi over to the side of the road, setting her air-brakes and climbing down out of the cab.
“Hot enough for you Lola?” I asked, wondering if the sweat was rolling down her perfectly formed breasts as we spoke?”
“Put your eyes back into your head, and join me for a thawed Banana Daiquiri. If you dare take the chance, that is?”
We sat there, in that roadside cafe, watching as the waitress scraped the ice off the counter tops, readying them for the next wave of customers. I stretched my tired feet out on the finely woven carpet of pure Caribou fur, displaying in pomp and circumstance what this thought called Alaska was telling me in my imagination.
Lola just sat there, without speaking. Her Top Gun Tom Cruise dark glasses allowing her to stare at the world at large, while keeping her own feelings to herself.
“Have I ever told you how I ended up in Alaska?”
Her sunglasses showed me nothing in the way of this being a trap, or a genuine request? Sometimes, or was it most times? I dare not ask any questions of Lola. She was a wildcat in a sack, but that sack had gaping holes in it, allowing her to strike out at anyone nearby. The doctor had told me that one more attack like the last one, and I’d most likely lose my left arm. That wouldn’t be so bad, but how would I give Lola my famous foot massage with only one hand? It wasn’t easy deciding what was most important but I just hope that the pieces fell into place along the way.
“My father. He decided to apply as a lighthouse keeper in Homer Alaska. Homer Alaska! What do you think about that?”
New trick question. I started to flex my right arm, hoping to get a bit more muscle tone in it before I had to answer her question. Was it a good thing, or a bad one? Would she be happy, or angry if I answered incorrectly? Was there any chance of the banana in my Daiquiri to regain its form, or was it to remain forever in its weak, and flabby way?
“Uh. Good thing for you and your family, wasn’t it?”
Lola just sat there, clenching and unclenching her right fist. I started to rub my jaw in anticipation of getting hit in the same place as last time, she lost it. When she got really ticked off one time, she picked me up and threw me onto a nearby pile of snow! Better that then the raw asphalt on the other side, which made me count my blessings and thank my lucky stars when it happened. She then jumped back into her truck backing up over my moped, then popping a wheelie before disappearing in a cloud of smoke. That will be the first and last time, I’ll be asking her if she needed some help in buttoning the top button on her blouse. Just one of those everyday questions for the rest of the population!
“Just think of it. Stranded out there in Homer. Sitting in a lighthouse. All alone and all. He must have been crazy as a loon to think of something like that!” Said by banging her fist so hard upon our table, that the ice on nearby counter top began to crack in response.
I just sat there, sipping my lukewarm Daiquiri, thinking of what next to say. If only I could tell her about the first time that we met. I, standing on the side of the road, shoveling asphalt, and her stepping off her Semi, the sun radiating around her body, with me snapping a photo to remember how special that moment was for me. Almost a religious event, which would have been even better if her Levis were just a bit more worn, allowing the faintest glow around……
The door to the Cafe slammed waking me from my dream. Lola drove off in a huff, leaving me to contemplate my limp banana, and itching heat rash, while still halfway in thought about how I really felt about her.
No matter how hard she hit me when it pleased her.
Just so wonderfully hard…..