she pulled off the asphalt onto the drive, the wheels of her candy apple red mercedes angrily crushing the chirt.

before her a faded hunter green steel gate. a bit more robust than your average corral gate. electric lock with keypad on her left.

she got out of the car. a quick moment of recognition. the smell of pine. the call of red birds and morning doves in the trees. “Who-oo, who… who… who.”

it had been a hot day, but the pine forest and that old Cahaba river evened out the atmosphere.

she wore short khaki chinos, a loose navy blue blouse, enormous sunglasses. a half sleeve of golden bracelets. flats.

she stepped in front of the mercedes and surveyed the bridge, the gate, the river, the forest.

the rush of the river over stone. the dove in the distance – “”Who-oo, who… who… who.”

she leaned against the hood of her car. arms crossed she scanned the treeline on the other side of the bridge.

after a while, she looked at her watch. folded her arms again.

after 20 minutes she stuffed her hands in her pockets and surveyed the gate. there would be no passing.

she took a deep breath and without shouting, but with enough volume to be heard across the bridge and over the water, she said, “I know you know I’m here.”

random bird calls and one particularly pissed off squirrel the only response.

she said, “Youre being silly.”

she flopped back onto the hood of the mercedes. folded her arms.

“I know youre there,” she said.

she waited another 5 minutes.

“fine!”

this time was loud.

she adjusted her huge sunglasses and turned to get in her car. she flopped in the leather seat, slammed the door, feeling the heat of embarrassment distilled with a lifetime of frustration begin to wash from the bottom of her face to the crown of her forehead.

she turned the rearview mirror toward herself and checked her makeup. pursed her lips at herself. teased her hair.

Returning the mirror to its appropriate orientation she began to back the mercedes out of the crush and run drive.

in the middle of the Cahaba a small island. less an island and more like a pile of stone, tiny mussels and sand bifurcating the flow.

he stepped out from a stand of mimosa trees that had somehow found purchase in the skerry. holding a bamboo fishing pole. worn tshirt from a Smiths concert. camouflage cargo shorts.

she slammed on the brakes, the mercedes coming to an abrupt stop. throwing open the door she shot out of the airconditioned cabin saying, “What the hell are you doing?”

he cocked his head and gazed at her. how well she had aged. she could have easily passed for 20 years younger. maybe 30. very handsome woman.

she walked to the edge of the bridge and looked down at him.

“youre an asshole.”

he replied, “you were supposed to be here 5 years ago.”

now she cocked her head. “I waited for you to get divorced for 5 years. We’re even.”

a river of emotions that flow through two lovers spirits. the universe does not care about time or distance. physically the human heart grows weary. it is flesh. it is finite. the universe does not care. over time the human heart simply cannot sustain the pain of yearning. a true, perceptible pain. the universe does not care because the universe is infinite. its river flows forever. but while rivers may erode stone, it forever carves deeper.

they stared at each other for a moment. for an eternity. the dove, “”Who-oo, who… who… who.”

“gate code is 0533. come on up to the house.”