pretending ahead

she clicks "buy" and it's official. desert-bound. all at once i feel accomplished and committed. her big smile quietly assures me that she wants to go away with me. i tell her i cant wait to board the plane with her and leave behind this winter. 2 months is not much in the grand scheme of waiting games, and they will go by quick.

the tickets are safely tucked into the corner of my mirror. 11th row, visitor's dugout. the day has played out several times in my imagination, and every time she is smiling and shading her eyes with her hand.

she will wear her st patrick's day hat with the clover. it will be warm and dry and sunny and windless. she will say the cacti look like people and she will square her arms, showing me her impression of them while she laughs at her own joke. i will laugh with her; because i am in a good mood, and because she is sweet enough and cute enough to make it funny.

she will bring two swimsuits and we will go swimming before we leave the hotel. she will want to race me from the shallow end across, and she will probably win. i will challenge her to see who can hold their breath the longest, and wear my sunglasses in the water. she will dry her hair with the thick, bright white hotel towels and read her library book in a pool chair. she will feel easy and unhurried by our tentative schedule.

i will ask her to read the map and tell me how far we are from the stadium. she will trace our route and tell me it is really close, once we pass the little tree. she will ask to stop and look at a souvenir shop and we will buy postcards and shot-glasses with armadillos on them. she will offer me a granola bar and a sip of her water and we will put our paper bags in the back seat and get back on the road.

at night we will drink wine and clink our glasses more and more as we finish the bottle. we will listen to r&b songs play through the portable speakers and roll joints for the next day's drive. i will stack hotel pillows on top of each other and prop my head sideways and ask her open ended questions so that i can hear her answer them. she will tell me new stories about the library patrons and her eyes will squint happily when she remembers how she couldn't wait to tell me... because she knew i would see the humor.