Sean called me a couple of days later. He apologized for not calling sooner, but with the midway tear-down, and the travel to the next stop, he hadn't gotten a chance to catch his breath, let alone call anyone. I wasn't worried, I knew he'd call.

They were setting up the carnival in the new spot, Machias, Maine. It was about an hour, hour and half from Bangor. I thought that would be too long of a drive, and Sean agreed. The stop after Machias was Dover-Foxcroft, which was about the same distance time-wise as Bangor, but a little more West.

"I'll see if I can get to that one, Sean. Before I go anywhere, though, I have to pay some bills. I spent way too much money in Bangor, and I'm hurtin' now."

"It was all that shoppin' you did with Donna that did it," Sean said.

I had to admit that was probably true.

We talked for a few more minutes, then Sean said he had to go, that there was a line for the phone. "I'll call ya tomorrow sometime, okay?"

I said that was fine, and we said our I-love-you's and goodbyes and hung up.

The rest of the day was spent writing out checks (I really had to look into online bill-paying!), reading the classifieds, and running out to the post office. Since it was Saturday, I decided that I might go to karaoke that night, just to get out of the house. There were some days I just had to get out of my apartment. One reason was the lack of air conditioning, another was a feeling of the walls closing in on me. That's when I knew I was getting stir crazy and had to get out, no matter how hot or cold it was outside.

At home, and not working, my life became very boring. I had no television (by choice), so my only entertainment was on my computer, in books, newspapers or magazines, or watching Columbus the Wonder Cat chase some invisible creature around my apartment. I really needed something to do with my time if no one was going to hire me. I thought about Sean's offer to get me work with the carnival, but it ended as just that, a thought. I still didn't know what I could do around a carnival.

So, my days were pretty much filled with a lot of nothing. I slept late, played on the computer, made long distance calls to my mother, and went to the Mall at Rockingham Park in Salem, New Hampshire (mostly to look for any kind of work at this point).

Sean would call, and we'd talk about all kinds of things, as we were really still just getting to know each other. He told me about his ex-wife in Wisconsin, his teen years in Mississippi, and the three years he spent in jail for "bein' in the wrong fuckin' place at the wrong fuckin' time," in what the courts had called assault. For being only twenty-seven years old, he certainly crammed a lot of living in that time. Compared to me, his life was, at the very least, a little more interesting than mine.

The following week, I felt awful. I thought I was just coming down with a summer cold. Then the sore throat came and made my life hell. Every time I swallowed, the pain was nearly unbearable! I'd look at my throat in the mirror, and it was redder than a fire truck. I was achy, too, and thought I had the flu. Even when the flu like symptoms went away, my throat was still sore, no matter how much Robitussin I took.

Columbus would lay on my stomach and fuss, knowing I was in no shape to play. He acted like a female cat fretting over a sick kitten.

What I did mostly was sleep, but when even that became impossible, I hied myself over to the doctor's office. The nurse took one look at my throat and told me she didn't need to do a culture because she could tell by looking that I had strep throat.

"Strep? Are you sure? I haven't had strep throat since I was nine years old!"

"I'll do the culture, Ms. Cyr, but I'm sure that's what you've got." I made her do the culture anyway, and sure enough, she was right.

The doctor came in to see me, and gave me a brief exam and a prescription for some gross tasting syrup to knock out the strep virus. I should be my normal self in about seven days.

After taking the medicine for three days (which I had the pharmacist flavor like cherry so I could swallow it without gagging), I was feeling better. Not one hundred percent, but better than feeling half dead.

During this time, Sean would call and we'd talk. We told each other we missed the other, and couldn't wait to be together again. During one of these calls, someone on Sean's end asked, "Hey, Scoob, who ya talkin' to?"

"My girl! Leave me 'lone, 'kay?"

I couldn't tell you how hearing that made me feel! I was on Cloud Nine.

We were talking one night, and we decided that Dover-Foxcroft, Maine, was a pretty short drive from Lawrence, so it was decided that I would drive up that weekend. Sean told me he would look into getting me a job with one of the food booths, so at least I would have some pocket and gas money.

"If you can come up sooner, that would be great," Sean said. I told him I'd have to see if that was possible.

Actually, I just wanted to see him. We hadn't been together since the second trip to Bangor earlier in the month. So, when he called back Thursday evening, I told him that if he still wanted me to drive up, I could leave within the hour, that I'd pack a bag and gas up the car and be on my way.

"Yes, yes," Sean exclaimed, "c'mon then, girl!"

We said goodbye and I love you and hung up. It was seven o'clock in the evening. If I left before eight, I could be there in about three hours.

I ran around packing enough clothes and personal items for just a weekend, printed up a map from Yahoo (which was pretty accurate), threw my stuff in the trunk and drove off on a rendezvous with what would turn out to be a pretty interesting summer.

The trip went pretty smoothly, even though I got a little disoriented after I got off I-95. Turns out I was on the right road, but there were almost no streetlights, and it was dark by that time.

I made good time, and I got to the fairgrounds shortly before eleven o'clock. At first I didn't see Sean, so I thought I was at the wrong entrance. Maybe the fair hasn't closed for the night yet, so I prepared to wait in the car, as it was still raining some. Within a few minutes, Sean walked up to the car and got in.

He gave me a big bear hug and we kissed. We talked for a few minutes, then went onto the fairgrounds where the bunkhouse was, so Sean could grab a few things before we went to find a motel for the night.

There weren't too many motels in the area that had vacancies, but we managed to find one at the last minute. We could only have it for the night, because they were booked solid for the weekend. That was fine, because I needed to sleep after driving like a fiend. Sean, however, had other plans before we went to sleep.

Because he had worked all day, Sean went to take a shower, and I flipped on the television for the news, or Leno, or something else to watch. I couldn't concentrate on watching TV, because I knew what was coming after Sean emerged from the shower. The idea of being intimate with him again excited me.