Day 9: 6/13/77
We should have done fine that morning. We had the fresh eggs to eat, a reminder of the kindness of our hosts. For some reason, I was suddenly in a hurry to get on the road. I asked Inanna if she would start lighting the stove. I figured I could then get right onto packing the sleeping bags while she made breakfast. She became silent, which is how she would show she was upset. I said, “No problem, I’ll get the stove.” She tried to pack the sleeping bags but was unable to because they require some tight stuffing. Frustrated, she walked away. As I ate breakfast alone (cold, except for coffee) she was behind the barn crying. When she returned, we went through the whole routine:
“Why don’t you care?”
“I do care.”
(Silence)
“I just wanted to see if you’d mind learning how to light the stove so we could get an early start.”
“I thought you didn’t like working with the stove.”
“No. You’re making assumptions. I wish you’d check them out.”
“I can’t be like that, all rational, when I’m emotional. You’re always so rational.”
And then I became more rational, she needing me to be less so.
We got packed and started out, but a half mile down the road, we picked it back up. She said she wanted to go back—alone—that she couldn’t handle the pain. She wanted to divide up the gear right there. I resisted for a while. Finally, I relented and made a move to divide up our things. At that point, she upped the ante emotionally, saying, “I can’t believe you’d leave me out here.”
After a long time we finally rode. We followed Tinker Creek, in the shade of Tinker Mountain, and I wondered if this was the place of Annie Dillard’s book, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. The terrain was tough and there were several more stops while Inanna cried. First she was going to call someone from the first phone we came to. But when we found a phone she said, “There isn’t anyone.” Inanna kept saying she’d make up her mind to leave at the next town we came to.
At one point I yelled at her in anger. She seemed to relate to the emotion and hugged me a little.
The ride down from Catawba was very nice and mostly downhill. There was a beautiful valley with rugged hills across from us. I let my mind get into the bicycling and tried to let my fear dissipate. I think she was doing the same. But I couldn’t put out of my mind that this could be the end of the trip—at least as we had envisioned it. Inanna might decide to turn left at Christianburg, a few miles up ahead, and head for Roanoke, where she could catch a plane or bus back to Virginia Beach. What would I do? If I went on alone, the trip would be much harder, without emotional support, her nice cooking touches, her pacing which kept me from wearing myself out. But I would not go back. That wasn’t even a consideration. So I decided I would go on without her. If she were going to be this brittle, then the crisis would continue across the country, and into the future. I began considering life alone and cycling alone, steeling my heart to the challenges which would be ahead. I already felt haggard from the gritty journey I was anticipating.
Finally, we rolled into Christianburg, demoralized. I was sunburned, too. In a Kentucky Fried Chicken place, we bought cokes. This was a decision point. She could turn back here towards Roanoke. She decided she would continue, but as a “buddy”, not a lover. She said that she had gotten too attached again and the pain was too great. She said she was very disappointed in me, that my love was so shallow that I’d let her split—and still not show caring.
As we rode on, ten more miles from Christianburg to Radford, my depression, fear and confusion were palpable.
What I’m doing is allowing her to be herself, I’m not making decisions for her. I’m voicing my wants and needs but not taking over for her. She seems to want me to get very active and pull her out of these moods. I don’t think I should and I don’t think I can. And how can I be more emotional? I’m just not as emotional as she is. I’m me and I think that’s OK.
Why are we doing this relationship/bike trip? It seems dumb to me—risking so much, based upon unknowns, such as:
Will the bikes make it physically?
Will we make it physically?
Will we get sick or injured?
Will our relationship bog it down?