Love On The Streets

I took the same route every day. I lived in a small apartment, drove an economical, compact car, and worked a secretary job for a software company; only twenty minutes' drive on the freeway, which was situated a few blocks up the street from me.

One Monday morning I pulled out of my complex parking lot onto the busy street and groaned at the pile-up of cars. Road construction. The sign said delays should be expected for the next two weeks. "Great", I grumbled aloud. Heaving a frustrated sigh, I flipped on the radio, searching for something interesting to listen to as I passed the time.

As the three lanes of traffic slowly crawled along at a snail's pace, I began to glance about at other people in their vehicles. I always did amuse myself with people watching and though it's not really an advisable activity while driving, I decided that anything under 5 miles per hour should not be considered driving.

Suddenly I caught sight of him. He was a boyishly handsome guy. Short black hair, olive complexion, hazel eyes. He was driving a nice car. I had no idea the make or model, but it was black and sporty. I laid my head back on the headrest of my seat and looked his car over, admiring its sleek, muscular build. Heaving a dreamy sigh, I continued looking it over until I realized he was looking my direction. I gasped and glanced up at him in horror. He flashed me a stark white grin. I responded with a weak smile and looked away quick, suddenly feeling unworthy to even look in his general direction.

My heart began to pound as I wondered if he was still staring at me. I couldn't bring myself to look. Traffic began to crawl along now and I breathed a sigh of relief as I released my foot from the brake pedal and coasted along, resisting the urge to glance to my left.

But, just as quickly as we began to roll along, we all suddenly halted to a dead stand still once again. Out of my peripheral vision, I could see the black, shiny car pulling up along my left again. I stared straight ahead, biting on my lip, feeling completely humiliated for being caught ogling over a much nicer can than my own.

Suddenly an air of confidence rushed over me and I flipped my hair back and raised my head, reminding myself that the man next to me was a complete stranger, I'd most likely never see him again, and I had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. In the moment, I jerked my head to the left and glanced in his direction quickly. He was staring right at me. It was like he was waiting for me to look. I froze. Our eyes locked for a few seconds. We just sat there staring, expressionless, as though we were now engaged in a staring contest.

I couldn't take the tension anymore. My face broke into an amused smile. He smiled too then and I could tell he was chuckling. Shaking my head and laughing now too, I turned away from him again and traffic moved on.

Tuesday morning, I pulled out onto the main road. There were slightly fewer cars, so traffic moved along at a slow, but steady pace. "Good," I said aloud. "Maybe some people decided to leave earlier. Thank goodness." I flipped on the radio again and coasted along, enjoying the music. Suddenly the car in front of me hit the brakes. I glanced about quick and realized the morning wasn't going to start out so smooth after all. As I sat periodically heaving the usual frustrated sighs, I caught site of something moving about furiously in my right peripheral vision. I glanced over and there he was - the man in the black, sporty car, waving his arm to get my attention. My jaw dropped in surprise. He responded by throwing his head back and laughing. But just as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared with the commencement of movement in his lane.

Wednesday morning the number of cars on the main road outside of my complex was even more sparse than the day before. I pulled out into a lane and coasted along with a smile on my face. One stoplight before the freeway, I caught a red light. "No big deal," I thought. "I'll take the red light over heavy traffic any day." I flipped through the radio stations, looking for a good "morning commute" tune, then sat back in my seat and gazed around at the other cars. Just as I noticed the lane to my left was empty, the color black filled the space. "NO WAY!" I exclaimed aloud. Sure enough. It was him. Our eyes met and I stared in disbelief, my jaw gaping open. He shrugged his shoulders and laughed, then rolled his passenger window down.

I panicked as I watched the window continue its descent, then gazed up at the man in wonder. He motioned for me to roll my window down. I froze for a second, wondering if this was a good idea. We were still at a red, but it was only a matter of seconds before it would turn. I decided to fulfill his request and rolled my window down.

"Hey!" He shouted.

"Hi!" I shouted back, half laughing.

"Are you following me?" He teased.

"Ummm...no. I believe I was here first, actually." I teased back.

"Do you work out in Phoenix?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yep."

"Cool."

"Have a great day!" He called out and his car suddenly roared away.

"Wha...?" I checked the light. It was green. The car behind me honked. "I'm going. I'm going." I responded and stepped on the gas.

Thursday morning I saw him drive past me in the next lane over, glancing over at me and waving with a big smile on his face. I shook my head and laughed as I waved back.

Friday morning was overcast. I rolled my windows down and breathed in the air as I drove along, a look of contentment plastered across my face. I love overcast days. And it was a Friday. A bonus, as far as I'm concerned.

As I coasted along, I took note of my gas gauge. I was nearly empty. I quickly assessed the situation and realized I may not make it to work if I didn't stop for gas first. I glanced in my mirrors and quickly darted across the road in order to make that left turn into my last chance for gas before I hit the freeway.

I pulled up to the pump, grabbed my purse and ran in to pay with cash at the register. As I stood in line, I noticed a car pulling up behind mine, but there was no pump for it to pull up to. There were other pumps available, but the car just sat behind mine. Then a man emerged and began to walk toward my car, peering in the windows. I furrowed my brow in concern.

"Ma'am." The lady behind the register called to me.

I snapped out of my fog and stepped up to the counter to pay. "Sorry. I need ten on number 5, please." I handed the cashier my money and then quickly made my way out to my car, wondering what was going on. As I drew closer, I thought the man looked familiar, but being a woman of vanity, I had removed my glasses before entering the store to pay and without them everything was a blur.

"There you are", the man said with a laugh.

I stopped dead in my tracks and squinted at him.

"It's me - your traffic buddy." He laughed again.

I clasped my hand over my chest then. "Oh!" I exclaimed. "Oh, of course. Yeah. Hey!"

He laughed again and I joined him.

"Gosh, you scared me," I said, opening my car door and throwing my purse onto the passenger seat.

"I scared you?" He pretended to be insulted.

"Well...I mean...I can't see very well without my glasses. I left them in my car. I was standing in line in the store wondering why some strange man was approaching my car. I thought maybe I'd done something in traffic to make you mad at me or something."

We both laughed together.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He gently took the gas nozzle from my hands then. "Let me get that for you."

"Oh, wow! Thanks!" I exclaimed. "You really don't have to. I mean...you probably need to get to work and..." I looked him over as he pumped my gas, completely oblivious to his motives. I was only 20 at the time and, being unaccustomed to attention from the opposite sex, I was always slow to pick up on cues.

He finished pumping then and returned the nozzle to the pump.

"Here," I jumped in, placing the cap back on the tank. "You don't have to do all this. Really."

"Actually, I was hoping I could get your number," he stated, leaning against my car.

My breath caught in my throat. I glanced up at him in horror. "Uh...." My voice suddenly became weak and shaky.

"What's wrong?" He responded in a slightly irritated tone, his smile suddenly vanished.

I looked away and my face turned flush. A wave of guilt flooded over me. I felt like an evil person. Like I had led this poor victim into a trap of some sort, although it was never my intention.

"Why can't you give me your number?" He asked in a softer, gentler tone.

I met his eyes, a look of horror still etched into my face. I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat. All I could do was shake my head, as I pleaded for forgiveness with my eyes.

"What?" He laughed a breathy laugh. "Are you OK? I'm not a serial killer or anything. I just think you're cute and I feel like we've almost been dating or something". He chuckled aloud then and folded his arms across his chest.

I laughed weakly, exchanging my expression with one of pain.

"I was just interested in getting to know you," he continued, "and thought maybe you'd be interested too, so I..."

"I'm married!" I shouted it in complete exasperation, cutting him off mid sentence.

He jumped away from my car as though it had burned him. His look was hard. His expression was accusing, as though I had betrayed him.

"I - I....I...." I held my left hand up and pointed to my ring-less fourth finger. "I'm married. I'm so....I'm so sorry." I felt horrible. Evil. In reality I was innocent, but I didn't feel innocent. "What have I done?" I thought.

"You're not wearing a ring." He held his hands up then and backed away, as though I were holding a gun to him, threatening his life. "You never...seemed like you were married." He glared at me hard, continuing to back away.

"I'm pregnant." I pointed to my flat belly. It was only my first trimester so I wasn't showing. "My fingers are swollen already. That's why I can't wear my ring."

The man turned and nearly ran back to his car. I turned away and stared blankly at my expression in my car window as I listened to his door slam. The engine roared as he sped out of the station. I glanced about at the other people pumping gas. It seemed they were all staring, taking in the drama. I looked away again in shame and quickly slid into my car, driving away quickly. My heart pounded all the way to work, my flesh stinging with the feel of a thousand needles. I ran the past week's events over and over in my head, trying to determine where I had gone wrong.

That night at dinner, as I sat across from my husband, the man in the black, sporty car invaded my thoughts. I wondered if I should tell my husband. I felt like a bad wife. I felt like a lost soul bound for hell. Perhaps a bit dramatic, but being the young, inexperienced, guilt-ridden woman I was at the time, I really felt as though I had committed some sort of crime against the institution of marriage.

Fifteen years later, this experience continues to haunt me to the point where I will absolutely REFUSE to look in anyone's direction if they honk, wave, or call out to me in traffic.