"Thank you so much
for the steak
and for all the hospitality
you've shown me
these two days,"
I say to Bill and May.
"You're welcome,"
Bill responds
with a warm smile.
"It was our pleasure, dear,"
May adds.
"It's not every day
that we have guests,
you know.
We have enjoyed
having the company.
What time is your bus again?"
"8:30 in the morning."
"We'll be glad
to give you a ride
to the bus stop,"
Bill offers.
"That would be wonderful.
Thank you so much."
"It's nothing at all, really,"
May insists.
I smile at these two
beautiful souls
with genuine love.
I have rarely met
such generous people.
I know that
they can't possibly
have much,
yet they refused to let me
pay for the steaks.
At least they let me
buy the drinks.
It's not much
in comparison
with all they've done for me
since I arrived,
but it's at least
a small token
of my gratitude.
"Oh look,"
May says,
turning toward the door
of the pub.
"It's Audrey at last."
I turn to see Audrey
walking up to the table
with a huge smile.
My heart leaps.
I've been hoping
beyond hope
that she would show up
ever since we left the house.
She looks even more beautiful
than she did last night.
Her red turtle-neck
and black leather jacket
contrast her golden hair,
causing several other heads
inside the pub
to turn and gaze.
We all stand to greet her.
"Sorry I missed you for dinner.
Mother left me a message
that you wanted me
to join you,
but I left school late
and only just got home.”
"Would you like a drink?"
I ask.
"Sure, I'll have a glass
of 7-Up with a cherry, please."
"Okay, I'll be back
in just a moment."
"7-Up with a cherry, please,"
I tell the bartender.
As I wait for Audrey's drink,
I watch her converse
with Bill and May.
Could she be the one?
Could it be here
that I plant my roots?
Don't go there, Todd,
those are dangerous thoughts.
I can't help but ponder
the possibility, though.
I'm a thinker,
that's what I do.
Why should this
be any different
than any other crush
I've ever had?
I know my heart,
it's the heart of a wanderer.
How, then,
can I possibly trust it?
These dangerous thoughts
are bound to lead
to unnecessary heartache,
as they always do.
"Fifty pence,"
the bartender interrupts
my reverie.
"Thanks,"
I say
as I hand over the change,
meaning it more
for interrupting my thoughts
than for getting the drink.
"Here you go,
a 7-Up with a cherry."
"Thanks, Todd.
So, you're leaving
tomorrow morning?"
"Yeah.
I figure it's time
that I move on.
I still have
a long journey
ahead of me."
As my heart
continues to taunt me,
I realize that
this journey
will be long
in more ways than one.