It was 7 P.M. This would be another late evening for Dan. For once, though, I was relieved. I wondered what had prompted me to tell our sitter that I wouldn't be home at 6:00 - the time I usually arrive.

I wasn't ready to go home yet. I wanted to prolong what I was feeling, not pretend that it didn't exist. I needed to drive.

I called the sitter on my cellular phone. "Cathy, I have to stay later than I thought at the office. Can you stay with the kids till Dan gets home?"

No problem. What would I do without Cathy? Strange that I didn't even think to say hello to the kids.

I turned out of the Commons lot and made a left onto Beacon Street. I passed Fenway Park. Crowds of people - dads and kids with baseball caps, groups of teenage boys in their uniform of earrings, torn jeans, hats backward and high top sneakers - were beginning to file through the gates. Big game tonight - the Redsox were playing the Yankees and Martinez was pitching against Clemens. I saw one family - a father, mother and two kids - who walked hand in hand, so they wouldn't lose each other. I remembered that Dan had promised William a game this season.

I made a left by Boston University on to Longacre Drive. Brigham and Women's Hospital came up on my left, where Rachel was born and where William had his hernia operation. I made a right onto Route 9. This was the way I took to get home to Newton every night.

I left Brookline and passed Chestnut Hill Mall on my right. I needed to hear some music. I opened my cassette holder while stopped at a red light. The first cassette I picked up was Dan Hill's.

"I'm only just beginning
to see the real you.
And sometimes when we touch
the honesty's too much
and I have to close my eyes and hide..."

I savored every touch of Eric's all over again, every moment of the afternoon. I felt like an explorer who had made one momentous discovery after another, but the discovery was of another person and of myself - places inside of me that had been only vague memories. I was with Eric fully and honestly. I was there. Something that I had not felt in a long time. Was it something that I had once felt with Dan? It seemed like another lifetime ago.

"I want to hold you till I die
till we both break down and cry
I want to hold you till the fear in me subsides."

Fear?..... Was it the feeling of being cut off - alone? Yes, but I sensed it was deeper than that. Something to do with the fear of being cut off from me. Never again feeling passion, burying myself to accommodate my marriage. God, I had become so practiced at the lines. "Listen Carmen, be real. You can't expect bells and whistles after thirteen years of marriage. Settle for comfortable, familiar. It's warm and safe."

"Dammit," I thought, "I don't want warm and safe. I want alive and connected. Maybe warm and safe works for Dan but it's death for me. Sure there's no conflict. Why should there be? Whenever I've tried to talk to Dan about my feelings, he's pushed them aside, saying that things are fine between us and that I shouldn't make a big deal out of nothing. Dream on Dan.

My emotions surged, as a voice inside me said, "I can still feel the sweetness of Eric's touch. How can I hold on to that? I can't give it up. I won't give it up."

I had passed the exit to Newton and kept on driving in the direction of Wellesley College. It was a perfect night and I had this urge to lie on the grass by Lake Waban and watch the stars. We used to take the kids there to swim and sometimes Dan and I went there to walk at dusk. I shoved that thought aside.

I parked the car, walked over and sat down on the grass. I watched as mothers packed up their kids and picnic dinners. A few runners passed me. An elderly couple walked briskly, in rhythm with each other. A young couple strolled on the far side of the lake, his arm around her waist, her head on his shoulder. I wished Eric were here with me.

Why does life have to be so complicated?

* * *

September 24

I've been lying by the lake for a long time. For the first time in years I feel compelled to write. I knew that if I kept this journal, a gift from Lisa, in my briefcase, I'd eventually use it. I guess that time is now.

Haikus to Eric

Your eyes caress me
Slowly, I cover myself
Until the next time.

Your lips taste my skin
A shiver passes through me
It touches my hunger

These moments with you
Yes! I am Carmen again
Your love is in me

Your strength compels me
My soul wants to celebrate
Our time together.