I’d been on the road for days. I checked into a motel and headed for the bar across the road. I planned on a quick beer or four, a burger and my bed.

I was on my third beer, watching the Astros and dreaming about football season when she sat down next to me.

“Hey, Bobby.”

“Hey, Lucille,” said Bobby, the bartender, immediately pouring her two fingers of Jack and a glass of water.

“You’re the best, Bobby,” she said, knocking back the whiskey in one shot. “I’ll drink the next one nice and slow.”

“Don’t slow down for me, sugar,” he said, pouring her another, “but Jimmy won’t be happy.”

“I am done with Jimmy. D-O-N-E, done,” she said, downing the second whiskey, making herself a liar in less than a minute.

“You’re new around here,” she said, and I realized she was talking to me.

“No, just passing through, ma’am,” I said, raising my glass to her and drinking my beer.

“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t ma’am me. I ain’t that old yet.”

“Just being polite.” I looked at her and realized she was quite young for a whiskey drinker…and temptingly soft in all the right places.

She must have noticed my admiring glance because she moved a little closer and said, “So, what’s your name, stranger? I’m Lucille.”

“Hank.”

“Pleased to meet you, Hank,” she said, extending her hand.

“Likewise, Lucille.”

“Get this man a beer, Bobby.”

“No, need. I’m done here,” I said to her. “Check, please,” I said to Bobby.

“Oh, don’t go yet, Hank. We was just getting to know each other.”

“I’ve had a long day, a long few days with more coming up. I’m going to bed. But, thanks, Lucille.”

She leaned over and whispered so only I could hear her, “I could keep you company for a while if you like.”

Before I could decide if I wanted company or not, a big man walked over to Lucille, hat in his big, calloused hands. I thought for sure I was about to get my butt beat over a woman I hadn’t even approached when I saw his eyes fill with tears and I heard him say,

“You picked a fine time to leave me Lucille. Four hundred children and a crop in the field. I’ve had some bad times, lived through some sad times, but this time your hurting won’t heal; you picked a fine time to leave me Lucille.”

And then he left. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the bastard at the same time I wondered how the hell that pretty little thing had four hundred children. Was that even humanly possible?

“Four hundred children?” I asked.

“Four hundred children?” She repeated, confused.

“That man, your husband, I guess, said you left him with four hundred children.”

She laughed until she cried. “You think I’ma bunny?” she laughed some more. “Or a seahorse, maybe.”

“But he said…”

“Jimmy was exaggerating as he likes to do but he said four hungry children. Hungry children. But I left dinner on the stove; all he had to do was warm it up when he came in from working. The big’uns know how to put the littluns to bed. And he is not my husband: He’s my boss. Was my boss. I took care of his kids and his house. His wife died giving birth to the baby, Cheryl Lynn, a few years ago. I used to babysit for them. Once she was gone, it just seemed natural to take care of things, ya know?”

“I guess.”

“But I’m done. He wants me to work 24 hours a day, seven days a week: He asked me to marry him. Well, that is not gonna happen. I’m too young to be tied down to one man, a farm and four babies, no matter how cute they are. So, here I am," she said, looking at me hopefully.

Unfortunately, any desire I had to get my hands on her curves had dissipated with Jimmy’s sad eyes and broken heart.

“Bobby, add a whiskey to my check for Lucille.” I paid the bill then said, “You have a good night little lady.”

My boss was telling me one time that the song "Bad moon on the rise" was playing in the car and his son asked him why the guy was singing "There's a bathroom on the right" So I wrote a parody.

Bathroom on the right

I see that you have just been drinkin

I see a situation soon

I see you're going be a needing

I door with a sign that's a half moon

[Chorus]

Oh Don't drink much tonight

The Solutions in plain sight

There's a bathroom on the right

[Verse 2]

I see that you haven't been thinking

I see your bladder about to burst

I see that you've been overdrinking

I see you haven't quenched your thirst

[Chorus]

Oh Don't drink much tonight

The Solutions in plain sight

There's a bathroom on the right

[Guitar Solo]

[Verse 3]

Hope that you get your act together

Hope that you're not waiting too late

Hope that you don't feel something warmer

Hope you don't leave this to fate

[Chorus]

Oh Don't drink much tonight

The Solutions in plain sight

There's a bathroom on the right

[Chorus]

Oh Don't drink much tonight

The Solutions in plain sight

There's a bathroom on the right

She's not a girl who misses Mitch.

Even though she was well-acquainted with the touch of his velvet hand, it was like a lizard on a window pane, hobnailed boots and all. She just wanted happiness; that was all.

She needed a fix of that happiness. So she jumped the gun. Like a mutha. Superior! In the pits she had left uptown.

She held it in her arms. It was warm and Mitch lay dead. She was happy, 'cause nobody could do her no harm.

It's a strange experience; losing someone to love someone. Usually, a person can have as many loved ones as they damned well please, so long as the feeling is true. They care for you, you care for them, there's more than enough space for the variety.

Still, sometimes, there's an ultimatum. Very, very rarely, you have to choose.

You're trapped between the person you want to be with forever and your own family. The people who've been there your entire life and the person you can vividly see as a permanent part of your future. You're trapped and there's no slight of hand possible, no other options; it's one or the other.

You remember your mother taking care of you on difficult nights. You remember the way she'd hug you out of worry or hug you when she missed you or hug you just for hugging's sake. You remember holding her back because she was a big part of your world. You remember your father's laughter. You know he can be cruel; you are well aware they both can be but these people have known you since forever.

They begged the skies for you - hoping, sobbing, searching.

They just can't accept the person you've grown to become.

They tell you're wrong. You're destined for eternal torment with this love of yours. You're sin its very self. They want you to come back to them. Be pure for them. They love you and they want you with them in their paradise and they think you'll miss it if you fuck everything up and ruin your relationship with them and their deity by loving this one person...

Love ought to be infinite. I think it is. Love is every good thing. There is shadow in it, too but the light has such a blinding, warm glow. You never thought you'd be brought to this point but what can you do? What will you do?

Your dream or your foundation? Will you go steady, choosing their hold on you, making yourself miserable but at least, knowing you haven't lost them or... Is it better to give into this other love? This different kind, this... I actually want to spend my whole life with you when I've always imagined I'd die a recluse kind of love?

Who will you choose? And who will you become at the end of it?

All this.

The fear, the loss, the damnation from desperate-to-be-righteous mouths...

All because you find yourself capable of loving the same gender.

(If you're curious, read my comment for the misunderstood lyric and a vent of indefinite length.)