Wonder this time where she's gone . . .

What was she like?

I don't know.

No, I'm not being evasive, it's just...it's just the truth. Nothing more.

What?

Yeah, okay. I'll try.

Once, about five years ago we went for a trip. Just a tour around the state. You know, drive along the coast, do some camping, maybe rent a cabin somewhere. And I remember that for the first two or three days she never said a word.

Who knows why? Sometimes it would be something I said or did, and sometimes it would be something I didn't say or do; and sometimes it didn't have anything to do with anything—at least anything in the world you and I might know. Who knows for her?

It was like she had just left—or I had. Yeah, that's it. It was like everyone in the world had stopped being real except her. See, she wasn't really ignoring me—that would have been too personal. You have to let a person be a part of your life to ignore them, and that was something she would never allow.

It used to drive me crazy.

When we were first together I would really flip out sometimes. After a day or two I'd start shouting and throwing things just to get her attention, and a couple times I slapped her. She wouldn't scream or cry or anything. Hell, she wouldn't even say anything. She'd just look out at this secret world of hers with those empty eyes.

God, what a look.

Anyway, we'd been on this trip for about four days, and she'd been off inside her head wherever it was she went for the whole time. We were walking through these woods and she was ahead of me.

It was beautiful.

It was one of those days they try to capture for travel posters or those greeting cards that are blank on the inside. There was a stream off to the right and the sunlight was that soft gold color that just drips down around the leaves. I remember sitting down on a log and just watching her. Her hair was loose and flowing down her back—you know, the way she wore it sometimes.

No, I guess you don't.

Pity.

How can I describe it? It was that dark brown color that sunlight can make the most beautiful thing you have ever seen, and as she moved gold and deep wine highlights would float through it like the colors themselves were alive.

I'm sorry. That's the best I can do. I can't really describe her in a way that comes anywhere close to what she was.

I have a photograph of her in my wallet that I took on that same trip. It's the closest thing I have to what she really looked like. We were on the coast and she's sitting on this big piece of driftwood looking out at the ocean, and you would swear she's remembering a world somewhere you will never see, but would give your life to know.

Do you think you could get that photo for me? They wouldn't let me keep it when they took my wallet and belt and stuff.