So now I’m in a ditch, covered with muddy water and embarrassment. My purse is on the grass with my Sunday school envelope laid beside it. And he’s not driving; he’s looking at me shocked. Then he puts the car in park and carefully walks to the edge of the ditch in question and peers in at me.
“Come on. Let me help you up.”
I’m stubborn. That’s how I got here in the first place. And like a child I shake my head. He sighs and wonders how we’re going to get out of this. I can read his expression, even in the dusk, even without my glasses which have flown onto the roadside. He looks down at the grass and I know he’s wondering whether or not he should cut his losses. He’s considered that before. But he’s my man. He won’t leave me. Even when he retreats to the hood of the car, he can’t leave.
“What’s on your mind, girl?”
I talk. Words tumble out and roll like marbles. We’re at the same spot we’ve always been. And if we never move? Then what? I feel like he doesn’t need me. Doesn’t matter if I stay or if I go. But I don’t want to go. I want to stay – and live. There’s something biting my ankle in this ditch and it does hurt, but I can’t move until he hears me. He tugs on his overalls and looks down the road.
“I do need you. It’s hard to explain. Maybe if you’d let me help you out of there…”
I want promises. Commitments. Reassurance. Or I’m not going anywhere. It’s juvenile, but I can’t think of another way right now. “Say anything, anything to get me to move,” I pray silently. That’s not him though. We’re looking at one another. When I see him, it’s always like the first time. I don’t want to cry, but I feel my tears stinging . He and I are more alike than different. I put my hand on my hip and suck my teeth as I blink away the tears. His eyes are back down the road.
“I won’t be railroaded. Get out of the damn ditch and we can talk.” Then pleadingly. “Okay?”
“You gone let me sit square on that Fine Corinthian Leather? I smell like swamp and hot woman.”
“Suppose. You know you’re finer than that leather anyway.”
I smile. That’s a reassurance of sorts. I’ll take it. I stretch out my hand and he helps me up the steep embankment.
“You’re a mess. In a cute way, I think,” he chuckles. “You know I need you around. You do know that, don’t you?” He touches the side of my muddy face softly.
“That’s all I needed to hear, I guess.”
