A Bar in Omaha

(continued)

By Wayne Scheer

Meanwhile, we talk and discover we're both Midwesterners. I tell her I'm from Clinton, Iowa, and Karen is from a little town called Carlisle, just outside of Des Moines. "We met our junior year at the University of Iowa, and we've been together ever since."

She ignores my happily-ever-after story. Instead, she tells me how she couldn't wait to get out of the small town where she was raised. "You've never heard of it. No one has. Sarcoxie, Missouri."

"Right off Interstate 44," I say. "Near Joplin. Southwestern corner of the state." I would have told her how I read road maps when I'm alone in hotel rooms, but that's not the kind of thing that impresses women.

She tells me how lonely it is on the road and how she envies me having someone to come home to. I tell her that a woman as good looking as she is shouldn't have any trouble with men

"Not usually," she says, raising her eyebrows. We both laugh.

We order another round and then another, and I'm feeling comfortable, like we're old friends. I also feel her foot slipping under my pant leg. I get chills as her toes touch the skin just above my sock.

I see it's a little after ten, and I think of Karen waiting for my call. I pull my leg away and tell Gwen I have to go. I try to stand, but the room spins and I stumble a little. I call the waitress over and ask for our bill.

"No, no," Gwen says. "Let me get this. You can pay for breakfast in the morning."

I think it over for what seems like hours. A lifetime of sexual fantasies dance through my head. I look at the smile on Gwen's face, but this time I also see the lines forming around her eyes and her bottom lip. When the waitress arrives, I sign the bill. "I have to make a call," I say, as I try to steady myself.

"You really are chained to your wife." She laughs, and lets her eyes finish the thought.

"Yeah, I am." I hold onto the table for support.

"It must be nice," she says.

I smile and shake her hand. She tells me she's staying in room 458. As I walk, unsteadily, to the elevator, I repeat the number to myself. I turn to look back at her and watch as she downs her drink. I punch the elevator button and I think of how Karen has wanted us to renew our vows. I wonder if this counts.