At work the next day, I asked for the next week off and Brady laughed at me for a good minute. When he got that out of his system, he acquiesced under the condition that I do all the foul, slimy, leaky, crusty, smelly chores for the crew, including latrine duty for the foreseeable future. And the pigs on my boat were disgusting. But picturing Skylar in a bikini made it all worthwhile.

By the time her Jaguar rolled around at quittin' time on Friday, I was already on the dock waiting for her with my duffel bag over my shoulder. I strolled over, ignoring the comments meant to humble me and bring me down from the clouds. My eyes were on her. She stepped from her car, looking chic in her sunglasses and "travel" clothes. Then she greeted me by placing the car keys in my hand and with a quick kiss.

There were plenty of hoots and howls, and Skylar simply took my hand and waved to our audience. "Have a great week, boys!" she said, and then everyone on deck wished us "bon voyage" without a curse word, a wisecrack, a disgusting noise, or an obscene gesture. I wasn't fooled, though, and judging by the way Skylar lowered her sunglasses to look at me when we were standing opposite each other, she wasn't fooled either.

Once the doors shut and we had a chance to enjoy a moment alone together for the first time in two whole days, I revved the engine just for fun, turned up the radio, and then we were outa there!

https://youtu.be/Gvsc7rx2Has

South she wanted, so south we headed. With a tent, sleeping bags, and enough packaged food in the back seat to last us a month, we weaved our way down the East Coast and only stayed in motels when it was raining. Otherwise, we pitched the tent in the woods a few times and at the southernmost tip of Florida, we spent one spectacular day and then night on an abandoned beach under the stars.

https://youtu.be/Eo2ZsAOlvEM

To amuse ourselves for a while, we took turns naming planets and constellations. Soon the game turned into a wager. Skylar, the science teacher, knew her stuff, but I was named after the brightest star in the constellation Orion—Rigel. I was married to a galaxy—Andromeda. And I was born in a mystical city named after the North Star—Polaris. So, in other words, I totally hustled her and won . . . easy.

She cried foul, of course, because "no one from planet earth knows that much about astronomy." But she let me have my reward—anything I wanted.

As good as her bikini looked during the day, I liked it even better while peeling it off her. And then Florida was crossed off the list. Thoroughly, I might add. . . .

Damp, sandy, and gloriously in the buff, we crashed into a sound sleep and awoke to the sound of the tide coming in. We meandered on the beach longer than we should have that day, so for the next couple of nights, we took turns driving through until morning. We hit diners, hamburger stands, and soda shops in small towns across the East Coast. It gave me a taste of America and all it had to offer, and I had never had more fun.

We didn't have a chance to make "memories" in every state on the way down, but we hoped to hit any we missed on the way back—South Carolina, Virginia, and New Jersey. By Sunday morning, though, Skylar had come down with something really nasty—the flu, we assumed, but it was more like the plague. I wanted to take her to the hospital, but she insisted we keep going since we were already cutting it close time-wise.

Throughout the day, her symptoms got progressively worse. At about midnight, I abandoned our plan to get back to Massachusetts and attempted to find a motel. She wasn't going to be able to work the next day anyway.

For some reason, decent motel rooms were hard to come by in central New Jersey. The ones that seemed marginally acceptable were full. After three failed attempts, Skylar was shivering uncontrollably, lethargic, and disoriented with fever. I settled for the first available room I could find.

"Sorry I ruined everything," she said as I helped her from the car.

"You didn't. We had nine great days. Didn't we?"

"Yeah, but we'll miss New Jersey," she said, and then she erupted with a cough that seemed to shear the functional lung tissue she had remaining. "Is that where we are?"

"Yep. We'll have to come back sometime," I claimed, but based on the smell alone—a damp combination of raw sewage and industrial output—I couldn't come up with a reason why.

Once I settled her into bed, I sat down beside her and rubbed the back of my knuckles across her hot cheek. "Is there anyone you want me to call? Your father maybe?"

"No!" she cried out with unmistakable fear in her glossy eyes. She tried to rise to a sitting position, but after what appeared to be a dizzy head rush, she grabbed for her temple and eased back down on the pillow.

"I just thought. . . He's a doctor, isn't he?"

She didn't answer, and that made me realize our road trip wasn't undertaken with her parents' blessing. They probably knew nothing of me. Maybe they even believed she was still engaged to Sam.

I can't say I was crazy about being her secret love affair. I wanted her to be proud of me like I was of her. But I also had to trust her judgment. She was waiting to tell her parents for a reason, and if it was so we could enjoy as much conflict-free time as possible, then I supported that. I just wished she would let me in on her thought processes . . . soon. But we had to get through the night first. And I had this terrible feeling it was going to be a rough one.

After a long, apprehensive pause, she said, "I'll be fine. I just need. . ."

She ticked off about five medicines I had never heard of. I didn't even know if what she mentioned was real. She was pretty out of it.

"All right. I'll be back in a little while."

Rush. Finding My Way (1974).

https://youtu.be/Gvsc7rx2Has

Simon and Garfunkel. America (1968).

https://youtu.be/Eo2ZsAOlvEM