I could smell autumn in the air, and it smelled like changing leaves and rainy days spent in bed with my lover. I could feel the love emanating from him, as we lay tangled in each other�s arms. His soft words caressed my soul and I opened my heart to him each time we made love.

I wanted to feel him when he wasn�t there, my fingers itched to touch him when it was forbidden, and my lips ached for his skin every moment of every day. When he wasn�t near me, I had no reason to keep my eyes open; I had no desire to even get out of bed unless I knew that I�d be seeing him, feeling him, loving him.

He told me that day that he had to go out of town for a few days, but that he wouldn�t be gone for long. I was devastated initially, but I tried not to let him see that; I put on my game face and told him that I�d water his plants for him while he was gone.

He said no, his mom would be checking in on the house and that it probably wouldn�t be good if she came over and I was here. Obviously I should have seen a problem with that; I mean what would be wrong with me meeting my lovers� mother? But no, I couldn�t stay at his house, and I didn�t want to ask for a key, so I got dressed and drove him to the airport. He kissed me chastely on the cheek when I pulled into the parking lot and moved to get out of the car. No, he said, you go on home and I�ll call you later.

It wasn�t until I got home that I realized I didn�t know where he was going. Business something-or-other but of course I hadn�t thought to ask him where these meetings were. I was going to call him on his cell phone, but I figured he would just call me when he got to his hotel. Actually, I hoped he would call me the second he got off the plane. I was nervous for him because I love him and flying makes me uneasy.

The wind thrashed against the window I was looking out while I was waiting for his call. I didn�t know where he was, I didn�t know how long he was going to be in the air, and I didn�t even know the number for his mom�s in case he never did call me. I was starting to get worried, but I consoled myself by thinking that he was probably on a long flight and was waiting to land before he let me know he was okay. Stop worrying, I told myself. Everything will be fine.

I worried my way through work the next day. If he had been in town, I would have woken up in his arms; we probably would have made love by the light streaming in through the curtains. I would have whispered words into his skin; words I didn�t really want him to know about yet. But the fact was I hadn�t talked to him by the time I got home that day. And I really started to worry, so as soon as I had left work, I pulled out my cell phone and called his phone. It didn�t even ring.

The number you have reached is out of service. Please hang up and try your call again.

Well, that couldn�t be right. I had programmed his number into my phone while we had been watching TV together. And then I had called it just to make sure. I called his cell phone a ton of times; why was it not going through? He probably just turned it off.

Of course he did. He�s in meetings; he doesn�t want to be interrupted. I would have shut mine off too.

But when night came and I still hadn�t heard from him, the tears started to take over, and bad things were happening in my head. He was in a plane crash � no, it would have been on the news. I didn�t know how to tell if he was okay or not. My mind was playing tricks on me. I couldn�t sleep that night.

Or the next night.

I must have called his cell phone a hundred times over then next week. I didn�t go into work at all; I jumped on the phone every time it rang, hoping it was him. But somehow, I knew it wouldn�t be him, ever again.

I went to his house a week later, to see if I could find out if he was back, if he was dead, anything, and there was a car in the driveway; a car I had never seen before. It was a black Porsche, and I walked up to the door and knocked just feeling inside me that he was home and that we could be together again. The door opened, and a stranger stared out at me. It was a man, and I could see a woman behind him in the hallway. I could hear the happy voices of children from inside the house and I stepped back to see if I was at the right place.

But this couldn�t be right.

How can someone just disappear? I loved him, and then he was gone and he didn�t tell me where he was going or when he�d be back, but now he�s gone and I don�t know what to do without him.

Two months later I get a postcard in the mail. On the front there is a picture of cactus, tall and green and so impersonal. I flip it over and on the back is my lover�s messy scrawl. There is no return address, but the top left hand corner says AZ, USA. And there is a single message written in the writing that I love so much.

�Each day the sun sets into the west, her heart sinks lower in her chest. Friends keep asking when she's going, finally she tells them, don't you know there is no Arizona�

But what does this mean?

I read it over and over. At least I know he�s alive now, right? But what does it mean? Why isn�t he here with me?

I was listening to the radio in the car the other day, and I had set it to some country station that he used to listen to. I was humming along to some song, when I recognized the words of the song. They were the same words that he wrote on the postcard. The song was called There is No Arizona.

It broke my heart. I didn�t understand why he would leave like that. We shared so many good times; we spent so much time together, and then he just gets up and leaves like I don�t even exist.

Now when I smell autumn, instead of thinking of smooth days and calm nights, I think of the storm that haunts my dream. I remember the way he smelled and that makes me sad. He ruined it for me. And I�ll never know why.

He never sent another postcard. I suppose it�s better that way. I don�t have to decipher any more of his silly songs. But that doesn�t mean I don�t think about him.

[end]

[Lyrics � Jaime O�neal]