I flew to see her in Chicago, went out for dinner and hopped a train to South Bend the next evening. We brought ***** and whiskey to keep us company on the short ride along the lake. That night we made love, I mean really made love; both reaching ****** simultaneously. My prowess was there, in spades, but we slept instead. The morning greeted me with a ******* and she another ******. My prowess turned to hubris but I said nothing aside from, “Wow.”
The day, a Saturday, was spent touring the campus; a beautiful one at that, my favorite. I acted as tour guide while she abided courteously; I had the day, the girl, the nostalgia. There was a football game and we decided to go; the home team versus their oldest and most hated rivals, a must see. We yelled and screamed at the away team until they lost; beating themselves really. In the ecstasy of victory we promptly returned to the house and to bed. Again we made love, again simultaneous ******. I felt a deep, heavy connection, a longing. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep but the night was cold and long and my breathing too slow to match hers. For hours I sat and let my arm go numb until I could stand it no longer and went for a glass of water.
In the morning we made love again, she reaching ******, me with a feigned smile. The day was spent with my father’s family, an unexpected detour. She was affable, me benign, and the day went on until we boarded the train once more, this time sober. We discussed my next visit, or rather attempted to as the conversation turned to politics, welfare, humanity. As I left for the plane I told her that I loved her and she said, “Goodbye.”