After I graduated from High School, my mother gave me my inheritance. She had saved it up from the time I was born. My father had been killed in war. She used his war pension to take care of us. I thought of my mother as a tad stupid, that she did not make something of her life. I had little respect for her, but I did not abuse her in any way.
I told her that I wanted to give up my scholarship and travel with the money. She discouraged me and we argued mildly. I reminded her that I was of age; she had promised me my independence when I graduated from high school. She remembered, but told me she had planned for me to go to college. I then told her that travel would help me decide what to do with my education. We reached a compromise. She would let me travel for one year.
We made arrangements with Ohio State for me to attend after my 18th birthday. It was agreed. I took the money and went to Canada by bus. I chose a place at random and settled there. It was near a truck stop. I applied for a job as a waitress and walked back and forth to work. My shift varied from day to day. I liked it. Everyone thought I was too smart to be in a truck stop. Also, too young to work nights. Most of my shifts were during the day.
One snowy and cold evening, my shift relief was late. I continued working into the late evening hours. A tall, handsome gentleman came in and ordered dinner. He was friendly with the other waitresses. They joked and talked. I thought he was a fun guy. I got one of the ladies to introduce me. She warned me that he was a trucker and that truckers were unstable partners/marriage mates. I ignored her. She introduced me and we talked and laughed with each other.
I
later learned that he came by the truck stop cafe twice a week, evenings.
I asked to be put on the late shift (6pm to 2am). My boss finally
consented after about 3 weeks of constant nagging from me. Every time
Esteban came in, I would flirt with him. He loved it. One evening,
instead of returning to his motel, he stayed until I was off from work and
walked me home. I invited him in.
Typically, we had an affair. I was young and foolish. It was no longer necessary for me to work evenings to see him. I went back to the day shift because I knew he would come to me twice a week.
One Tuesday, he did not come by. I called the cafe and they said he had come, eaten and left. The next Friday, I waited and he did not come by. I called the cafe again. Same story. So, I put on my coat and went out. It was beginning to snow. I went to the motel where he normally stayed. His truck was there. I knocked on his door. He answered and let me in. The radio was on. We talked. He told me he was getting too serious and that he was no good for me. I was both flattered and worried. He thought it would be a good idea if I went back home and got my education. I persuaded him to rethink his decision, as I loved him and needed him. He said, "I have been doing a lot of thinking too. Please do not take the night shift again so you can see me. Let me work things out. I'll contact you and let you know what I think is best for both of us." I consented. He walked me home and kissed me goodnight at the door.
A few weeks later, I was working late in the cafe and my second shift friend said to me "I know why Esteban stopped seeing you." I retorted haughtily, "So do I. We talked." She ticked her tongue and shook her head. Looking down at the floor she said "No, you don't know." Then, she walked away. My relief came and checked in with our boss. I cashed out and went into the cloak room to get my coat, gloves, purse, boots on, etc. The door was open just a little. I heard my relief say "Isn't Esteban's wife a lovely woman. I could never travel with my husband... in a truck, and in the winter! Ooh! She must really love him!" I was stunned. I opened the door a little more and heard my friend say "Shh! Sandra's still here!"
I barged out of the cloak room with one boot in my hand and said "Did
I hear you say Esteban
was maried?" My friend defensively said, "I told you
he was no good. Truck drivers are untrustworthy." My relief said, "Oh
honey, you shouldn't have found out this way!" Tears were streaming
down my face. I put my boot on and went back for my coat and gloves.
She followed me "He wanted to let you down easy. If you didn't
see him for a while, maybe you'd forget him!" I angrily replied, "Didn't
he know I would have waited for him forever?" I stomped out of the
cafe.
There was a blinding storm. Visibility was close to zero. Snow flurries were thick and fog was heavy. It was icy cold. I was so enraged, I just walked the Great North American Highway for what appeared to be hours. I found myself in front of his motel. There were no trucks there. I slowly turned around to go home. I saw a truck heading in my direction. I thought it might be him. I turned and waited. Suddenly, I decided if it was him, I would let him kill me and suffer because he had hurt me. The truck did not turn into the motel lot as I had assumed, but kept straight on the highway. I was crying and blinded by the headlights. I was sure it was him though, so I stepped in front of the truck, was struck and died instantly. It was December, 1951.
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