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      Subject: Sizzler - Romance
      Pages: 0
      Publication Date: March 2005

      Trailer Park Nights 2: The Candid Confessions of a "Young Adam" Continue


      A Renaissance E Books publication
      ISBN 1-58873-629-6
      All rights reserved
      Copyright © 2005 by Randall Lang

      This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.

      For information contact:
      Renaissance E Books
      Email comments@renebooks.com
      A Sizzler/B D Edition


      Rose and I had been together for several months. They had been months of highly charged sexuality interspersed with a quiet and mundane daily life. The days were largely filled with work, meals, evenings and bed. Then, as if by magic, Rose would conjure up or be swept into the sexual whirlwind that always seemed to swirl about her, drawing me inevitably along to never ending awe and appreciation. After a weekend of amazing sexual experiences capped off with a major dose of introspection and maturation, my life seemed to have arrived at another level, well above its modest beginnings. It was just after this critical juncture that I returned home from work to find my Rose in tears, crushed by a telephone call from a distant stranger.

      "Please sweetheart! Tell me. What's wrong?" I pleaded with her to open up to me.

      She pushed me away and walked to the sink. She stood with her back to me, pulled a paper towel from the roll and wiped her face and eyes. She took out a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water. I waited patiently while she took a long drink then set the half full glass on the counter

      Rose turned to face me with her eyes cast downward, then slowly looked up until our eyes met. It was shocking to me! Rose's eyes had captivated me from the first moment I saw her. Those beautiful, deep, green eyes that could turn me into gelatin were red and swollen.

      "I had a call at work today."

      It was a relief just to hear her speak. She seemed to be gaining some control, but I could see she was fighting and her strength was nearly gone.

      "It was from a social worker in Indiana. They have Larry in the prison ward of a hospital in Gary, Indiana…" Her voice trailed off as she again broke down in tears.

      I moved to her and took her in my arms. She clung to me and sobbed more deeply as I quietly held her and smoothed her hair. Her pain was so deep and I felt helpless. All I could do was hold her and gently kiss her cheek. Eventually she straightened and pulled away to get another towel.

      Suddenly she slammed her fist onto the counter and screamed, "That sonofabitch! He couldn't be dead!" Again and again she slammed down her fist as the tears overtook her. Through the tears she screamed, "I thought he was dead! I was getting over him! That miserable (slam!) lousy (slam!) sonofabitch! (slam!) Her knees failed and I rushed to catch her as she collapsed. She clung to me as we sat crumpled on the floor, her hysterical tears soaking my neck and shirt.

      There was nothing I could say that would help. I wanted to take away her pain and make it better, but that was beyond me to do. All I could do was hold her shaking body and listen to her sobs. When the anger and tears began to relent, I whispered to her.

      "Come on, sweetie, we have to get up off this floor. Come sit on the couch with me and we'll talk." I took her arms and gently yet firmly lifted her from the cold vinyl floor. She clung to me briefly as I started to walk us toward the couch.

      Near the couch she suddenly stiffened and pulled away from me.

      "I better go to the bathroom. I feel like such a mess."

      "You're beautiful and you always look wonderful," I whispered to her, bringing a tentative smile to her lips. She kissed my cheek and turned to the bathroom.

      As soon as she was out of sight I.made a call. Among the list of numbers near the telephone was Merrilee's. My fingers shook as I dialed. Merrilee's voice was a welcomed sound.

      "Hi Merrilee, this is Randy."

      "Hello baby! Need some lovin'?"

      "Merrilee, it's Rose!" I'm sure she could hear the panic in my voice. "Could you come down? She needs you."

      Without a question she responded, "I'll be right there!" I hung up and it seemed just seconds before Merrilee burst through the door.

      "Where is she? What happened?"

      Before I could answer Rose appeared from the hallway. Merrilee rushed to her and quickly wrapped her arms about her as Rose broke down again. Merrilee slowly guided Rose to the couch as she again struggled against the tears. I felt empty and useless. I was grateful for Merrilee.

      I sat in a chair opposite the couch as Rose slowly told bits of the story between bursts of tears. Apparently Larry had landed in Indiana where he sold the trailer and everything else of value. He had developed a drug habit and basically lived on the streets. About six weeks ago he had attempted the armed robbery of a drug supplier and was severely beaten by two men. The police found him near death in an alley and took him to the hospital where he'd been ever since. His fingerprints connected him to several burglaries in the area. When he came out of the coma, they charged him and moved him into the prison ward until he was well enough to stand trial. His body had gone through drug withdrawal while he was in a coma, but for the most part, his memory was gone. Recently his memory had begun to return in bits and flashes, and in one such flash he called for Rose. In his babblings, Larry talked about Rose, Point Martin, and the Riverside Hotel. The social worker began to put things together and managed to find the hotel. When she called the hotel, she had asked if a "Rose" worked there.

      Rose's devastation was complete. It seemed tall the hurt and pain, the uncertainty and emptiness, the loneliness had instantly come crushing down upon my beautiful Rose. I wanted to go to her and hold her until I could take the pain away; but at the same time I wanted to sweep her away somewhere to hide; to pretend this hadn't happened. I wanted to believe our tender loving relationship had not been disrupted. I wanted our "little island of peace" in a world of chaos to be as it was. I guess deep down, I had hoped Larry was dead, or at least would never again bother us. I had, just days before, realized I deeply and completely loved this woman although I knew I had no right to do so.

      So I sat feeling useless and empty watching Merrilee comforting Rose while my mind rushed to consider as many future scenarios as it could shape. What would happen now? Would she rush off to him? Would she forsake him as he had done to her? Was our bond forever broken? Have I lost the most precious thing in my life? The thought of losing her was more frightening than death, for without her, there was no more life for me.

      I stared at the two women. My stomach churned and fear ran through me like a chilling ice storm as tears formed in my eyes. I sat silently and still, as through my mind passed again and again one brief phrase. Rose, I love you … Rose I love you … Rose, I love you…




      I may as well have not been in the room. I moved to sit next to Rose as she sobbed in Merrilee's arms. At this time of personal upheaval, Rose had turned, not to me, but rather to Merrilee. I felt twinges of jealousy, but at the same time I realized these two women had worked their way through tragedies together long before I ever entered their lives. My role was resigned to that of assistant comforter, probably the best for which I was suited.

      A full half hour passed before Rose calmed enough to leave the couch. It was more like looking at a different person than just another side of a person I knew well. We all stood. As Merrilee wrapped her arm about Rose's shoulder, I turned and walked toward the kitchen. The words Rose spoke sent a chill through me.

      "I have to go out there."

      I froze, waiting for Merrilee to respond.

      Please! Talk her out of it! Tell her not to go! Don't let her do this! Rose, I love you! The thoughts flew through my head as I waited for Merrilee to say anything similar.

      "Are you sure?" Merrilee asked.

      I turned to see Rose nodding slowly and tearfully. "Yes. I have to see if there's anything left. If I can help him, or maybe I just want to slap his face and tell him to go to hell, but I can't just sit here."

      I was hurt and confused. "Go to him! You want to go to him! The same piece of crap who stole everything you had, and left you with two boxes! You want to go to him! You'll leave here to go to some worthless junkie asshole in the psycho ward of a jail!" In my anger I had walked toward her until I stood directly in front of her.

      She began to cry again. "But he's not really like that! You didn't know him before! He was kind and gentle, and he loved me!" She was screaming through her tears.

      "Rose, I love you!" There seemed a brief silence before I heard the start of a scream. A scream not of hurt or terror, but rather frustration. Something hit the side of my face hard, knocking my head sideways and leaving the dull thumping pain, followed by stinging. Through the scream I heard her words.

      "I didn't ask you to love me! I never wanted you to love me! You have no right to love me! He's my husband!"

      I lost sight of her with my clouded head turned to the side, but her words cut me like a knife. I felt her body press to mine, her wet face against my flesh and her arms wrap tightly about me. Her sobs filled my ears, leaving me confused and shaken. She spoke, softly this time, almost whispering through her tears.

      "I can't love you! I've fought loving you! But dammit, I do love you! Did you have to make me say it? Are you happy now?" Her arms pulled ever more tightly about me. "I do love you!" Her voice faded away among the tears while she clung to me as if for life itself.

      In the midst of the chaos I began to understand the incredible torment that filled my dear Rose. The opposing forces that strove to tear her apart sought to make her choose between her husband, whom she deeply loved despite his actions, and me, the newcomer who had built with her a life of peace that now included a full and rich love for each other. I remembered a children's verse. I couldn't recall where it came from, but it resounded clearly. "Sometimes to love something, you must set it free."

      I knew I couldn't hold Rose back. She faced a frightening and terrible choice and I had no right to continue her agony. I brought my arms up around her and held her close. As she sobbed quietly I spoke softly into her ear. I was surprised at the calm and even methodical tone of my words.

      "Then you must go to him. To see if the love is still there. To see if you can put the pieces back together with the man you love. To rescue him, love him, be with him, but if you can't, if he's too far gone, if the love isn't there, promise me you'll come back."

      I felt her wet face nod against me. Suddenly Merrilee moved to join us as the tears silently streamed down all three faces.

      * * * *

      I sat on the bed, silently watching Rose neatly fold and pack her clothing and belongings. It struck me how much more she now owned than when she moved in with her two cardboard boxes. She easily filled my two large suitcases and one of Merrilee's, along with numerous other boxes and containers.

      It had been a long and restless night. The same bed that had so often been the scene of passionate lovemaking had become the last refuge of two people clinging urgently to each other in the dark. Little bits of pillow talk about our adventures and experiences together brought about muted bursts of tears and occasionally teary-eyed laughter. In the darkness, no words were so absent as those that wanted so desperately to be said. "I love you," had remained unspoken between us.

      I had called off from work earlier, knowing I would be in no state of mind to actually do a job. The dread within me walked each step as I carried the heavy bags to Rose's car and arranged them in the trunk. Then followed the boxes, and the other containers. I stepped back into the trailer just as Rose was coming down the hallway. She looked surprised and her eyes followed me as I walked back to the bedroom. I reached into the antique beer stein that held our "living money" and took out all it contained, and added to it whatever I had in my wallet.

      Rose stood quietly as I walked back to her and pressed the folded bills into her hand. She protested briefly but yielded to me, neatly putting the money into her purse. We walked to the door silently until she turned to me.

      "I want you to stay here. I'm going to stop at Merrilee's for a few minutes, then I'll go. I've been very happy here. You gave me stability and peace when I most needed them, and you gave me so much more. I know deep inside I could have built a life with you, but right now I don't know if that would ever be possible. I don't know if I'll call you or what will happen. This may be the last time we ever see each other, but Randy, it's been good! It has been so good!" She started to cry.

      The words began to form in my mouth. I wanted to say Rose, I love you! I started to speak, "Rose…" She raised her hand like a traffic cop.

      "Don't!" Her tears flowed freely. "Just don't!" The door slammed behind her, leaving only the silence. I stood quietly in shock as I heard her car pull away.

      The instantaneous emptiness was overwhelming! I collapsed onto the sofa in disbelief that she was actually gone. There was no solace to be found! No words to be spoken! Nothing could ease the pain and the complete loneliness that overwhelmed me. The tears streamed from me as my mind and body were wracked with an anguish I could have never perceived.

      * * * *

      I had always liked the river. I found it to be peaceful and calming as the water flowed by, with the trees waving in the gentle breeze. Rose and I would sit at an old picnic table near the river. Sometimes we chattered, and other times we sat quietly, basking in the peace and tranquility of the place. This day it offered me no respite, no medicine to lessen the pain within me. I walked from the bench to the river's edge, occasionally kicking random rocks into the flowing water. Even several trips failed to bring a moment of serenity to me.

      Instead my thoughts were filled with her. How far had she traveled by now? Where was she? Would she come back? The place offered only memories of happy days together that may never be renewed. Eventually resigned to the futility, I started back to the trailer.

      My motorcycle sat parked along side the trailer, partially sheltered by the crude lean-to cover I had thrown up to try to minimize weather damage to it. It really was a thing of beauty. Deep blue with chrome; wide, heavily treaded tires encased beneath the wide chrome fenders; and the elegant multiple exhaust pipes bathed in chrome and wrapping like metallic snakes around and below the engine, ending in a grand terminus that would pronounce the engine's thunder to all nearby. I thought of the freedom it represented and the head-clearing crush of the wind into my face that it gave. Among my cluttered thoughts came: I need some air.

      The September air can bite at you quite fiercely on a motorcycle, and I knew this trip would be a long one. Opening the door of the trailer again slapped me with the emptiness inside. It didn't take long to put on the leathers. The leather pants pulled over my jeans and my feet sunk half way up to the knees in the large black boots. From the closet I grabbed the leather jacket and pulled it on, securing the waist and wrist snaps tightly. Then something caught my eye. I looked to the right.

      The right half of the closet was empty except for one item. Alone on a thickly padded hanger hung the soft green dress Rose had worn the previous weekend. I froze, staring at the empty garment she had so completely brought to life; the dress that had wrapped about her form to create the most exquisite creature to ever draw breath. I need some air!

      I slammed the leather gloves into the helmet, put on my tightly fitting sun glasses and closed the door behind me. I had no idea where I was going or how long I would be, but I needed some air.

      The River Road paralleled the river for about five miles before it made a sharp left turn along a tributary creek, then made a right across a bridge over the creek, then again along the river. The left turn went under a railroad bridge that went straight across the creek atop a large concrete support pier in the water. I had driven that way back and forth to work and knew it well.

      The bike felt good as I strained to kick my leg up and over the large seat. The gloves went onto the gas tank as I put on and secured the helmet. The key went into the ignition, and finally the gloves went on. It was a drill I had practiced many times over the years and one I knew well. A turn of the key brought a great roar of thunder as the beast sprang to life and shook beneath me. The transmission cracked as I kicked the lever into low gear. It was automatic to me to match the engine speed with the clutch as the bike lurched forward. I eased it along the narrow gravel roadway from the trailer park.

      Still her face haunted me! Those eyes! Those incredible eyes that captivated and held me hypnotically. She had a way of not quite smiling as she toyed with me like a puppet on a string, teasing me with her raw sensuality. Image after image, memory after memory flooded back over me. I need some air!

      As I approached the junction with the River Road suddenly the image of Rose in that beautiful green dress filled my mind. I could see her red hair softly flowing over her shoulders framing her face and ending as the dress plunged to accent the swell of her breasts. The ghost would not leave! The image would not go away! The front tire met the asphalt pavement as I screamed out, "I need some fucking air!"

      The throttle went to full open. The back tire disappeared into a haze of grey smoke, and burning rubber filled my nostrils as the front wheel left the ground. The bike shook as the engine screamed and the rear tire fought for traction. Instinctively, I learned forward but the front wheel remained airborne. I slammed up to second gear as the rear wheel continued to spin. The front dipped briefly before again lurching skyward. The lines on the road began to fly by. The rear wheel spinning stopped as I slammed my beast into third gear, and finally the front wheel touched down. The guard rails and trees blurred as the wind tore at my face. I need some air!

      Fourth gear brought the engine speed back from redline before the needle closed on it again. Buildings along the road lost all color and shape into a blur. The dashed center line became a yellow ribbon that I hugged. I could hear her soft voice, her laugh, the love sounds she made. I need some air!

      I kicked into fifth gear as the speedometer went above one hundred. The air screamed into my ears broken by the rhythmic whoosh of the passing utility poles. The road surface looked so perfect, so soft, like a long black blanket waiting to wrap me up. I remembered her touch and the feel of her skin against me. I remembered the taste of her. I need some air!

      The engine continued to scream even after I shifted to high gear. The speedometer was between one hundred twenty and one hundred forty. The wind rush was constant, tearing at my helmet and pulling at my jacket. I pushed my head down onto the gauges as all around me became a blur. Ahead, I could see the turn and the railroad bridge pier. The concrete pier looked almost white among the dim surroundings. Only the pier stood out to me like a welcoming hand to greet me. Looks like I'm gonna' get some air! The pier came at me growing larger by the second.

      Then suddenly there was calm! And in my head a soft, peaceful voice seemed to whisper to me, "She … may … come … back!"

      I released the throttle and slammed on the rear brake. It seemed an eternity before the back tire began to slow and to grip the road, leaving a screaming trail of smoke behind. The turn was almost upon me. I grabbed at the front brake and squeezed with all my strength. As it took hold, the rear wheel slid to my right and the bike fell. The pavement ripped at my gloves and pulled my jacket up. My leg was pinned under the sliding bike as we flew toward the approaching turn. A shower of sparks surrounded my head and I could smell the scent of burning iron filings. The bike seemed to spin a different way and suddenly we were separated. My head bounced over the pavement with the sound echoing in my helmet. I love you Rose! And there was quiet.

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