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‘Do we?’I doubted myself until my eyes widened and took in the familiar walls of my old farmhouse bedroom.‘Oh ... Dad’s place...,’ I finally...realized, as the phone continued ringing and my heavy eyes began darting frantically for the source. On my stomach, I began throwing my arm over the side of the bed toward the sound coming from the floor, blindly fishing for my Nokia.I found my pants, and lifting them up, quickly fished my phone out of the front pocket.“Mornin’, babe” I answered, trying to. She and I managed to find the necessary privacy for making love three times, and I left each time feeling unsatisfied. Not sexually, that was fine. I missed her emotionally. I knew she would eventually have to leave, and I wanted to keep her near.She left for Arizona the 3rd of January, 1998, driving the Aspen. She called the 7th to tell me she'd arrived safely, and I breathed a sigh of relief.I came out of the shower wrapped in my robe one Wednesday evening in February to find Lisbeth. I openeda cupboard and grabbed the Shredded Wheat box. There was a noteaddressed to me on the fridge as I opened it, which I took off and puton the isle counter. I poured out my bowl of cereal, added the milk andpoured the hot water into a mug with a tea bag in it. I took onemouthful of the cereal then looked at the note. I swallowed hard. I was still sat there 15 minutes later when my mother came down thestairs in her dressing gown."Please tell me this is a joke." What, dear?" she looked over. ”“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”“Every day.”We drove on in silence for most of the ride home. I glanced over at my wife as much as possible without driving off the road, taking note of the various positions she experimented with to ease her sore bladder. At first she tried just crossing her knees and bending forward, then she moved her feet onto the dashboard and pulled her knees to her chest. Finally she just shoved her hands between her legs and squeezed her thighs together.When.
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