The Handoff

It was a cheap hotel and a pair of unfamiliar beds, and I probably wouldn’t have slept very well under any circumstances anyhow. Whatever the reason, Ben and I were up in time to see the sunrise.

I didn’t mind a bit. The sooner this was over, the better.

While he was still in the shower I walked down the balcony to get a coffee in the hotel lobby. The sun was just peeking over the horizon and the asphalt wasn’t the blistering hot sheet it would be in an hour or so, but I wore my sandals anyway. I hadn’t seen any snakes last night but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

The night clerk looked exhausted but kind, and I felt like buying her a coffee. I settled for exchanging smiles while I waited for the little door on the machine to open. The coffee was weak but the price was right. I knew I could choose between Ben complaining if I didn’t get him one too, or having him complain about how lousy it was. I opted for the latter and stepped back outside with just the one paper cup.

Back outside our room, I opened the door and heard the shower still running. Ben always got dressed in the bathroom, I knew, so I left the room door open and stepped back outside to watch the sunrise. The car was parked just below us, and it’d be hot as an oven by the time Ben finished packing. I thought about running downstairs and opening the windows but I couldn’t be bothered.

“Connecting with nature out there, are you?” Ben asked a few minutes later.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I asked without turning around.

He sidled up beside me at the railing. “It’ll be awfully bright for driving.”

“We can always stop for breakfast somewhere.”

“Haven’t you already got yours there? Where’s mine, anyway?”

“You hate instant coffee.”

He laughed. “You know me too well, man.” He took a moment to look out at the dazzling rays. “Guess you know her real well, too.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t like instant coffee either.”

He laughed harder. I joined in but I guess I missed a beat. “Come on, Dan,” he said. “We talked about this, didn’t we? You know I’ll take good care of her, and you’re the one moving to France.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” I said. “Ready to go?”

“I’ll go pack,” he said. “You want to drive?”

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious, Dan.” He tossed me the keys. With my coffee in one hand, I was lucky to catch them with the other. That, he did find funny. It only took him a minute or so to throw everything in his suitcase and zip it up, and I still hadn’t quite finished the coffee when we shut the door behind us. Seeing I wasn’t done, he said, “Could you finish that before we go?”

“Listen to you!” But I finished off the coffee as directed while he dropped off the key inside.

I started the car and got the air conditioner running, and stepped back outside to wait for Ben. He must have stopped to chat up the night clerk, because he had that same bashful grin he’d always gotten from flirting since high school. “Let’s go find that diner,” he said.

The first few minutes out on the road were quiet. It was a long drive to Lake MacPherson, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted it to be over now, or if I wished it were an even longer drive. Ben must have had similar thoughts, because he broke the silence with a memory that had been on my mind, too. “Remember the first summer you had your license?” he asked. “We had that big long road trip planned, but your parents wouldn’t even let us leave town?”

“Didn’t we know they would say no!” I agreed. “I remember thinking I shouldn’t even ask, at least then I’d be able to think it might happen someday.”

“And it did! I mean it is!”

“Yeah.” I wondered if it ever got this hot in France. Probably not. There’s a reason their novels are always so depressing.

“Come on, Dan, you had some great times with her!” Ben said. “You’ll always have those memories.”

“You’re right, of course,” I said. “And French women smoke more than she does, don’t they?”

Ben laughed. “I sure hope so! But they’re better on the curves!”

I laughed, for real this time. It felt good.

The elusive first diner appeared just as we were finally cooling off. I pulled off and suggested leaving the windows open, but Ben vetoed it. The place was about half full, and the greeter pointed us to a booth by the window. She was tall with a few extra pounds and red hair in a bun with a pencil stuck through it, a perfect combination of both our styles. “Can I get you gentlemen some coffee?” she asked.

“Oh, you surely may…Julie!” Ben said with that same grin, after craning his neck to see her nametag.

“Allrighty then!” she said, and spun on her heel to go get it.

“Think she likes me,” Ben said.

“Think she didn’t appreciate you staring at her boob,” I said.

“Can I help it if that’s where her nametag is?” Ben replied. “Not all of us stayed in college and got all refined, Mister Feminist.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I said, and turned my attention to the menu.

I got waffles and scrambled eggs and the biggest orange juice they had. Ben got an omelette and hashbrowns, and offered to pay for my share. “Sending off gift, man,” he said as we were finishing up.

“No, that’s fine!” I said. “I’m flush with my last paycheck from that place, you know.”

“That place!” he repeated. “No love lost there, huh?”

“It did push me to the point where I had the courage to buy that one way ticket to Paris, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Ben said. “Just…I feel like I ought to get you something, you know?”

“Just take good care of her.”

“You know I’ll do that, Dan!”

Did I, really?

We’d already gone over her likes and dislikes, what worked and what didn’t and what to avoid at all costs, and what to try first when she was acting up, and how to take good care of her. But did I really know if Ben was up to it? He was my oldest and best friend, but I’d learned things about her that I could only have learned through a long and intense relationship, and all through the long drive I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d forgotten something. Maybe it was just guilt that here I was running off to France, maybe I was forgetting something – several things, even! – that I just knew instinctively after all this time. Or was it that I was jealous and didn’t want him to know every last secret?

Through the long and poignant drive to Lake Macpherson, I just couldn’t tell for sure. We both did our best to talk about other things – old friends, memories from high school, plans for the next big trip, which we were both sure would happen even if we had no idea when – but I couldn’t set my mind at rest about the whole thing. Rather than give him any excuse to accuse me of whining, I kept my mouth shut for long stretches.

Ben didn’t seem to mind. He even took a nap for an hour or so after lunch, leaving me alone with my own poignant thoughts. It didn’t help and I was glad when he woke up. “How much farther?” he asked.

“We’re almost there.”

“Can I treat you to dinner at least, when we get there?”

“If you insist. You really don’t have to, man.”

But there was a nice bistro by the hotel, and when I saw the prices, I caved in. At least we got a male waiter. “So how long are you staying here, again?” he asked as we ate our steaks and salads.

“Three days,” I said. “My folks think I’m still working through this week, so no long goodbyes.” Then I chuckled. “Not with them anyway.”

“Dan, I promised, didn’t I? I’ll take care of her!”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

“How’s the wine?” he asked.

“Great,” I said. “Sorry you can’t have any.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “Better safe than sorry. Remember Jimmyjim?”

“God, that sure got the point across, didn’t it?” I nodded and did take a moment to remember Jimmyjim. Back in ninth grade, our school had brought in a speaker who’d killed his son, Jimmyjim, in a drunk driving accident. Heavyhanded as hell, but it had worked: neither of us had ever gotten behind the wheel after even one beer.

The sun was setting as we finished our dessert and Ben paid the bill. As we stepped outside, we must have looked like two guys just enjoying a decadent meal, no sign of the goodbye we were in for now. I considered inviting him to crash in my hotel room and head home in the morning, but I didn’t really want that. He was my best friend, but I wanted this over with.

“Well, I ought to get home just about ten,” he said as we lingered on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. “Anyone there I can say hi to for you?”

“Not my folks, that’s for sure. Remember…”

“I know, Dan, they think you’re still working and don’t have time to visit. Ain’t like I want to have to see them either, you know.”

“Yeah, of course. Sorry.”

“Well, I guess I’ll be off, my friend,” he said. 

We shook hands, and I turned to head back to the hotel. “I’ll email you from France,” I said.

“Uh, Dan?”

I stopped in my tracks. “Oh!” I laughed and shook my head. “Didn’t I tell you I was having a hard time letting go!”

“I know, man, but I told you I’d take good care of her.”

“I know you will, Ben. Of course you will.” With that, I reluctantly drew the keys out of my pocket. “Here you go. Did I tell you she likes an oil change every six months?”

“At least five times, Dan. And rotate the tires then, too.”

“Right, and –”

“Dan! I’ve got it! Have a safe trip!”

“Thanks,” I said. “You too.” And I turned back toward the hotel. I just couldn’t watch him drive off in her.

It was a beautiful hotel room and I was feeling strangely relieved, now that it was over. Relieved, but strung out from the road. I took a long bath. When I got dried off, I was feeling refreshed rather than tired, so I put a fresh change of clothes on and set off for the hotel bar.

“House cocktail for you?” asked the barmaid as I took a seat by the window. “We call it a MacPherson Mimosa.”

“Sounds great,” I said. “Please.”

“Certainly, sir.” She poured me a glass of water and was off to make the drink, and I turned and looked out the window at the full moon shining on the lake. La lune, le lac…I had three days to brush up my French and no way to go anywhere else if I wanted to. I sipped the ice water and smiled.