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DAY 13 – Friday, March 26
START / END: Orangevale, CA
MILEAGE: 46 miles

HIGHLIGHTS: Laura’s House, Fanny Ann’s

Lauren and I have always said, and those who know us would agree, that we have a most unique relationship.  After meeting at a wedding and spending only one full day together I told Lauren that I was falling for her.  A week later, she drove an hour and a half out to JFK Airport to see me during my hour-long layover.  We courted and fell in love over e-mail while I lived in Los Angeles, and she flew out to visit me for a weekend even though I was still essentially just some guy she’d only met once.

Our relationship has always been built on wide-open communication and a trust that I haven’t seen in many other marriages.  We’ve never held anything back about our past relationships or the skeletons in our closets.  And neither of us has ever let jealousy get the better of us.  I never worried about another guy flirting with her or hitting on her because I knew at the end of the night she was coming home with me.  She in return has trusted me implicitly to be faithful to her, even though a large percentage of my friends are women, several of whom I’ve been intimate with in the past.  She knows for certain that whatever my past, she is my present and future. 

Lauren’s trust in me has encompassed so many people and life situations, and this weekend it extended to include Laura as well.

I had met Laura over four years earlier through an online personal ad.  This was before online dating was considered more or less socially acceptable, before there were dozens of dating sites charging thirty dollars a month to be a member.  Back then, you could post, search and reply to profiles for free.  I had my pic and profile on several sites but hadn’t had much luck until the day I got an email from Laura.  I had mentioned something about the desert in my intro and that was all she needed to take a chance.  Before she even knew who the heck I was, she was saying that we needed to go to the desert together sometime.  Soon we were emailing twenty times a day about every topic deep and shallow.  I told Laura about the “weird” things that pass through my head every day, and she would respond, “Dude, I have totally felt the same thing.”  For the first time in my life I felt there was somebody who understood me… all of me. 

I was able to talk out a lot of my angst and confusion about life and she was able to shed light onto the things I was having trouble figuring out.  It was Laura who finally made me realize that I could move out of Los Angeles, a place I always thought I needed to be.  It was because of Laura that I am married to Lauren.  I would never have had the courage to leave L.A. and move three thousand miles “for a girl” had it not been for Laura freeing the free spirit inside me. 

Laura and I only met in person a couple times.  One time, toward the beginning of our friendship, she swung by my Van Nuys apartment on her way back from somewhere.  We talked a little and kissed a little, but it was awkward.  While we continued emailing, we didn’t meet again face-to-face for several months, and by then she had a steady boyfriend.  She moved to Orangevale and I drove up to visit a couple times.  Before I left L.A. forever, she drove down and we finally took that trip to the desert that we had talked so much about.

As much as Lauren is my soul mate and the love of my life, Laura, I’ve always said, was my kindred spirit.  She was the one who always had an insight into my soul that no other person had.  And save for Lauren, Laura was the woman I loved most in the entire world.  Knowing all of this ahead of time, Lauren still had the trust in me to spend a weekend at Laura’s house in Orangevale. 

I woke up around seven in the morning when I heard the sound of a child laughing.  Laura’s seventeen-month-old daughter, Laila was up and about.  Even though I was still exhausted from the day before (and the couple weeks prior), I decided there was no sense in wasting any time.  We were only planning to spend two days here and I wanted to get as much face time with Laura as possible.  I walked into the living room where Laura and Laila were playing.  Laura and I hugged again, never seeming to let go.  Over the last couple years, email had finally given way to the telephone and we picked up our conversations as though we had been talking face-to-face the entire time. 

She introduced me to her daughter Laila who was shy at first, but warmed up to me fairly quickly.  I gave her her space and asked her questions about the toys she was playing with.  Pretty soon, she was bringing the toys over to show me.  After less than two hours, Laila was kissing and hugging me like family, something Laura said she never does. 

Lauren came out around nine o’clock and she and Laura sat around talking like old friends while I played on the floor with Laila.  When Laila went down for her nap, the three of us sat around the kitchen table laughing, joking, busting each other’s balls.  We argued about the good and bad of everything from music to vaccines to the Atkins diet.  Laura felt Lauren’s belly over and over again, grabbing at the little foot that kept dragging itself back and forth.  We talked about the road trip, the places we’d seen, and the places we were going.  We talked about Laila’s birth and the birth we would have in a couple months.  We talked about everything deep and trivial.  By mid-afternoon, we forgot that we were even on a road trip, because for the time being, we were home. 

That night, Lauren’s trust in me went above and beyond what any husband has a right to expect.  She stayed home and babysat Laila while Laura and I went into Sacramento to party.  In the few times Laura and I had hung out together, we had never gone out partying.  When I first told her about this road trip and that we would stop in to see her, we decided that it was about time we did just that.  That was before we knew Lauren would be eight-months-pregnant. 

When I asked Lauren ahead of time if she minded staying home with Laila while Laura and I went out, she was gracious and understanding.  She knew Laura and I wanted to hang out together and have a few beers, and what’s more she knew that she (Lauren) wouldn’t exactly be the life of the party at a bar until two in the morning while pregnant.   

Laura put Laila to bed and I kissed Lauren goodbye.  Lauren told me not to be out too late and then kissed me again.  Unspoken words came through plain as day in her eyes: “I trust you with her.” 

Laura and I hopped in the car, rolled down the windows, cranked up the radio and were singing along at the top of our lungs as we headed toward Old Sacramento just over twenty miles away.  We were headed for Fanny Ann’s, a bar and restaurant where Laila’s father, Jay worked as a cook.  The bartenders there knew Laura and she knew they would probably give us some free drinks.  Plus, after Jay finished his shift, he’d be able to hook us up as well. 

We were lucky and managed to find an open parking spot on the street, then headed over to Fanny Ann’s and wasted no time ordering a beer.  Cheap beer.  Light beer.  Beer that wouldn’t weigh us down or drain our wallets any faster than necessary.  It was only nine o’clock and there was a long night ahead of us.  We went over to the kitchen window and Laura introduced me to Jay.  Nice guy.  Good-looking guy.  He smiled and said it was great to finally meet after hearing so much about me, then said he’d come find us when his shift was done. 

We were done with our first beer in less than ten minutes, so we got another round, as well as a couple of shots.  I got my signature shot of Wild Turkey, which I always raise to my friend Bill.  Back in L.A. the two of us started off every night with the same shot.  When I moved away we made a pact to always raise the first shot to each other.  I amended this shot to also include Lauren who had allowed us to come out tonight.  Laura seconded that and we downed and chased. 

Fanny Ann’s is a cool Old West saloon with plenty of wood in the walls, booths and floors.  They even encourage you to carve your name into the bar.  There are five floors, three large bars, a decent sized dance floor and a restaurant.  The bathroom doors upstairs were designed with the intent to confuse.  The door for the ladies’ room has a sign pointing to the men’s room.  The door for the men’s room has a sign pointing to the ladies room.  All night long you can watch drunk and sober people alike walk through the wrong door then walk back out embarrassed. 

Around eleven o’clock a D.J. started spinning and we went down to dance.  Dressed in tight black jeans and a cut off shirt that showed off her perfectly flat stomach, Laura was definitely the eye candy for all the guys there – and I was the luckiest sonofabitch in the whole dang place in their eyes. 

When Jay got off at midnight, he bought us our next round at the lower bar and we all sat around drinking and laughing.  I knew Jay and Laura had had their issues.  That’s why he no longer lived with her and Laila.  I felt a little uncomfortable, as I’m sure he did, because I know that he knew that Laura had told me everything.  In spite of all that though, Jay was a great guy on this night.  Easy-going.  Always quick with a joke.  The kind of guy you couldn’t help liking.

At the end of the night, Laura and I were three sheets to the wind and over twenty miles from home, but that was all right because Sacramento has a really cool designated driver program, the likes of which I’d never seen.  You call the hotline and they send two drivers.  One drives you and your car back home.  The other driver follows you in a separate car to bring the first driver back.  The whole operation is run by volunteers and they simply ask that you tip the drivers whatever you feel is appropriate.  Basically, Laura told me you pay their gas money plus a little extra.  It’s a great program that more cities should really think about adopting.

After we said goodnight to Jay, Laura called the hotline and twenty minutes later we were cruising back toward Orangevale with the windows down and the radio cranked, singing at the top of our lungs.  Our driver, a twenty-something guy just smiled and even made a few attempts at joking back and forth with us.  Back at Laura’s I gave the guy ten bucks and thanked him for his troubles.

Before going in, Laura and I hugged each other, again for minutes, not seconds.  We told each other how much we loved each other and then went inside.  I brushed my teeth and curled up beside my wife, rubbing my hand over her belly.  I told her how much I loved her, kissed her on the lips and we fell asleep still spooning.

ONTO DAY 14