David Alan Dedin
To Be With You Alone
Thirty-Nine
To Be With You Alone
April, 1991
Washington, Illinois
The night was full of a thousand stars as Alan and Guinevere laid in the back of his 79’ Silverado, watching the sky. Tears for Fears sang “Head Over Heels” on the radio as the two lay in the bed, the vast Peoria night all around them. They were parked in a field on top of Washington Street hill, with a near empty bottle of whiskey between them. They had been there an hour, after an earlier Checker’s shift that day, and the two were reflecting on their lives – and what was to come in the future.
“The night is so beautiful,” Guinevere said, taking another swig of whiskey. She passed the bottle to Alan – “Don’t you think so?”
“Yes, it’s beautiful, but not as beautiful as my Schnookums.” He took a swig.
“Where do you think we’ll be in thirty years?” she asked, looking at the stars.
“Well, wherever it is, I hope we’re together,” Alan told her. “As friends, at the very least. I can be your crazy gay uncle, if you ever have kids.”
Gwen smiled.
“I really love you, Alan,” she said. “Even if I don’t have the parts you like.”
“Oh, I don’t care about your parts, Schnookums. What you and I have … well … it’s a friendship that transcends most crappy straight-people friendships.”
Guinevere laughed. “I’m glad I’m not a crappy straight-person friendship.”
“No, Schnookums, what I meant was” –
“I know what you meant, dumbass,” she said. “I get it, I really do.”
“Did you mean it?” he asked.
“Did I mean what?”
“That you loved me? Did you really mean that you love me?”
Gwen answered without hesitation: “Yes, Alan … I love you.”
The two finished the whiskey in silence.
“I’m worried about my future,” Gwen admitted. “I’m worried that I’ll end up getting pregnant, and living my life with my parents.”
“Why would you be worried about that?” Alan asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess I’m just worried that I’m having too much fun now … leaving Denny’s with you … working with you at Checker’s…”
“How can you be worried that you’re having too much fun?” Alan asked.
Gwen hit him with her arm – “Are you serious?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you don’t have fun at Checker’s?”
“Well, I guess I do…”
“And that’s it, exactly,” Gwen said. “All the people we work with, the stoners, the losers, and people like the Bradley Boys. They all have plans for their lives, but for me and you, well … we’re just going along for the ride. Does that make sense?”
“I suppose so,” Alan said.
“What do you mean? Don’t you agree with me?”
“Well, yes and no,” Alan told her. “I mean, no, we’re not in college, but that doesn’t mean that our lives are lost. And what’s wrong with having a little fun? I think we’ve earned it. I think we deserve a stupid little restaurant job.”
“I guess you’re right,” Gwen said, stretching out in the bed. Alan looked at her beautiful body – a goddess in the moonlight – with curves in all the right places. Without even thinking, he touched her breast – “Schnookums!”
Gwen sat up in the back of the cab, and looked at Alan squarely in the eye.
“I’m sorry, Gwen…I didn’t mean to” –
Cutting him off, she put his hand on her bosom – “It’s okay, Alan. I don’t mind.”
His dick growing hard in his pants, Alan reached over to Gwen and kissed her. He was expecting it to be awkward, but she kissed him back. A moment later, they were tearing off their clothes, and a moment after that, Alan was inside her … under that night of a thousand stars.
Guinevere was the only woman that Alan would ever have sex with.
* * * * *
Later, as Alan was driving home, red and blue lights flashed in his rear-view mirror. Alan pulled over, then rolled down his window.
“Have you been drinking, Sir?” the officer asked.
“Just one or two,” Alan said.
“Then you don’t mind taking a breathalyzer?” the officer asked, producing a small, handheld device. Alan slurred no. He climbed out of the car and blew into the device – FAIL.
The officer looked him squarely in the eyes, “You’re drunk, Mr. Lavinski … and I can arrest you for DUI” –
“But being that it’s the end of my shift,” the officer continued, “And I don’t want to deal with paperwork, I’m going to let you go … though I want you to pull into the next parking lot you see and sleep it off.”
“You’re lucky, Mr. Lavinski … you dodged a bullet tonight.”
And all of this was recorded by the officer’s dashboard cam.