Number Four

It was late. Close to midnight. I turned off my headlights and pulled into a patch of grass in his neighbor's yard. When I turned off the engine, my body was vibrating from anxiety. I had to pee. I turned around to check on my sleeping five-year-old son wrapped in a blanket in the backseat. What the hell was I doing?

I locked my car and walked the short distance to the end of his drive. If what he said was true, there would be no lights on in the house. He had cancelled our date because he wasn't feeling well and was "hitting the sack early," he said. That had been four hours ago, but my intuition told me something was wrong.

I met Love Number Four a year after my divorce from Jason's dad. My Beetle Bug was ailing, and I was told that he was the best Volkswagen doctor in Greenwood. Handsome, rough around the edges, self-assured, a man's man and not the least bit interested in me. Bingo. We have a winner, folks.

After several more visits to the car doctor's office, Number Four took notice and asked if I'd like to go for a ride in his airplane sometime. Youbetcha. One date led to another and before long we were exclusive.

EXCLUSIVE

Excluding or not admitting other things.

                                                  --Goggle Search

The house was dark. No lights on anywhere. What an idiot I was for doubting him. I had caught him in lies before, but he apologized and said he would never do it again, and here I was at midnight standing in his driveway in my pajamas questioning his loyalty and honesty and feeling so stup...

WAIT A MINUTE! IS THAT A LIGHT IN THE KITCHEN?

Number Four was a mystery. Unfortunately for me, I was attracted to men who kept me guessing. Was I that special one, or not? Four's declaration of love was affirming, but his actions were disturbing. Gone for days at a time with no explanation, last minute cancellations, taking the phone off the hook whenever I was at his house, and the plethora of women he referred to as "just friends." 

It was the kitchen light. Maybe he'd gotten up from his sick bed for a glass of water, thus the need for the light, and here I was questioning his integrity. I felt bad about that, but I was already there, so why not just take a peek for reassurance sake. Once I saw this poor sick man all by himself, I could beat down the doubt demons, calm my anxiety, drive home, and get a good night's sleep.

With every step up the drive, my anxiety grew more unbearable. Boy, did I ever have to pee. The window with the light was getting closer. How long does it take to drink a glass of water and go back to bed? Closer, closer. Ten feet away, eight, six, four...

I see him. Oh, the poor guy. He had to sit down at the kitchen table to rest before making it back to his bedroom. But wait! He's not in his jammies. He all dressed up. And he's animated, smiling, and talking. 

She was very young. Much younger than me. Pretty, too. Much prettier than... . I know what you're thinking. You thought I was going to say "prettier than me" didn't you? Am I right? I thought so. She was much prettier than the last young lady I had caught him with, but then again she was "just a friend," he said.

I walked back to the car, opened both doors on the passenger's side and peed on the neighbor's lawn. I drove home, put Jason back in bed, and then called his number. It rang busy. I called every fifteen minutes until he answered at three something in the morning. He was feeling a little bit better, he said, but he was going to have to cancel our date for the next night because of his contagious state.

I know what you're thinking. What if the neighbor had seen me peeing in his yard? Am I right? I thought so.