Midnight Cheeseburger

For roughly two years my phone rang every Sunday night around 11:30.  "I'm on my way home, do you want anything?"  These phone calls almost always ended with cheeseburgers at midnight.  In one of my first blogs I mentioned telling The Brown Eyed Man just the week prior to our breakup that "Midnight is really too late for cheeseburgers."  Then ending the blog  with "Be careful what you wish for."

Last night was the worst night of the summer for heat and humidity.  I knew that sleeping was going to be practically impossible, but I gave it my best shot.  I just started dozing around eleven thirty when my phone rang.  Now, certain people have special ring tones, so I'm coming out of my sleep to that old familiar tone...... dreaming?  No, the phone is actually ringing.  Curious.....hmmm.......what's wrong?

It turns out that he blew a tire, right by Mc Donald's.   "Want anything?.....and uh, could I possibly have a ride home?"  It did cross my mind briefly to leave him to his own devices, but I'm really not that kind of person, and I hadn't eaten much dinner because of the heat, so I had my midnight cheeseburger, driving down 35 toward Foxborro.  Heck, it was a lot cooler cruising the summer night with my windows down than swealtering under the fan in my bedroom.  I was able to say hello to my dog, and could have taken her, but didn't want to remove her from the air conditioning. Poor girl, she was a bit confused.  Hey, it's Mom.  HI MOM, come on in and enjoy the air.  You aren't coming in?  Fine. I'm going in.  Hey wait, the car is starting.  Here I come Mom!  What?  geez. 

So I headed back out into the summer night, radio blasting, weaving my way along the country road.  Wondering how I felt about all this.  So familiar, and yet not because it's awkward.  I don't like that, the awkwardness. 

He drove his new cycle in to work today and then came over to fix the tire.  We stood outside in 90 degree heat with an awful amount of humidity, joking and arguing and working together as a team as we have many times in the past.  Followed him back out to the country, making sure nothing was wobbly or falling off the car, like I have many times in the past.  Drove him back into town like I have many times in the past. (Yes, brother David, when he got in the car I used my best Morgan Freeman and said "Where you wanna go Miss Daisy? Don't worry, I gave you all the credit for that one.)   He fell asleep on the couch, and I actually clunked out in the chair. Like we have many times....blah blah.... and then he headed home.  We walked out to the garage, he hopped on the cycle, and after he put the helmet on said to me. "You're my hero."  I smiled and said, "I know." Then he backed her out, stopped, and stared at me for what seemed like an hour.  "You really are my hero."  I just waved, and said, "I know." 

I am grateful for the acceptance I have finally gained.  The gut wrenching pain is gone, but shoot.  It still doesn't change the way I feel.  The words I used were "I know."  The words I meant.......well it doesn't take a brain surgeon to guess what they were.