Jim and Chad, Part 2 - 5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 

I find myself groaning as I bend down to pick up and put on the daypack. Although I've drunk a good portion of the water that was in the pack, there's still more to carry. However it and all the other "essentials" are getting heavier by the moment. I think of the remaining two hours to the summit, in addition to the four I've already put into this hike. If Chad had been here, I would have fed off his energy on the remaining hike to the top. But without him, I feel almost powerless and unable to continue. I begin to wonder if I really want to finish this, and I find sanity is making its first appearance. But something inside me says to kick the sanity and keep going. So I do.

 

I suddenly remember reading about some other hikers who put part of their water in a convenient, out-of-the-way location and get it on the trip back down. So I take off the daypack and unload about half of the remaining water bottles in a spot near some trees but hidden from the trail. I also unload some of the protein bars, hoping that the chipmunks won't be too nosy while I'm gone.

 

After putting on a much lighter daypack, I resume the hike. I look around and hear the birds chattering and see them chasing each other from tree to tree. Although the few trees here are spaced about 50 to 100 feet apart, each one is beautiful and formed in its own unique gnarled way given the windy, dry climate "in these here parts" as I could imagine Jeff saying in that rich Texas drawl of his. After looking around some more, I rediscover the sky again: a bright blue, sunny, cloudless sky that makes me realize that maybe the day isn't so bad after all. And believe it or not, I finally realize that I'm warm again as the blood gets pumping to power me up the "less steep" part of this trek. My mind begins to wander again, back to Tuesday, and the aftermath of the battle between Chad and me.

 

While sitting in the hotel bar just after midnight early Tuesday morning, I had finally gotten my temper back under control. It had taken two rather large rum-based drinks and just over an hour sitting alone to let my sometimes dense brain sort it all out. Slowly I had come to the realization that I really needed to apologize, especially for pushing Chad against the wall and putting my hand around his throat. (When given enough time, I usually come to the "duh, you dumb shit" moment when the light bulb comes on . . . and electrocutes me.) But in my defense, his statement about me being "an old fag" had really pissed me off and caused me to say and do stupid things. The fight left us emotionally bloodied, but at least I had the sense to leave the room and get away from the situation before I got us physically bloody, and me arrested, too.

 

My thoughts were interrupted by four couples in their mid-twenties noisily entering the bar. From what they were discussing, they had been to a show somewhere along the Strip and were now here for a nightcap before going to their rooms. I wondered if they were all married, and as I looked at their hands, all four couples were wearing wedding rings. They found the big booth in the corner of the bar and continued their conversations, loudly at times. One of the conversations was centered around why one couple wasn't having any alcohol that night. Then I heard the whoops and hollers and the congratulations going to the couple--she was pregnant with their first child. All the guys gave the thumbs up and grinned that knowing, you-knocked-her-up grin at the father-to-be, while all the ladies started discussing baby showers, what the couple needed for the new baby, and all those things that women discuss about their first child.

 

At first the discussions were kind of fun to listen to, but after a while it began to make me think back about two and a half years earlier when my life had been nearly perfect. At that time I had a wife and two boys, ages 13 and 10. I had a good job and a nice house, and we were beginning to travel some to show the boys what America looked like outside of our cozy nest in the mid-Atlantic. We'd seen mountains and caves and oceans and rivers and "the fruited plain." The looks of amazement and wonder on their faces as they discovered what our country really had to offer had put contented smiles on my and my wife's faces.

 

Then one awful evening in late April, my nearly perfect life ended abruptly. A sleepy dump truck driver coming home from a bar plowed into the side of my wife's minivan, instantly wiping out my family. In short, that asshole's negligence had left me "suddenly single." I had made sure that the shit was put in jail and his company paid dearly for the stupidity, but even all the money in the world couldn't come close to the warm hugs, loving smiles, and fun times with my wife and kids.

 

After I had thought about it for a short while longer, the light finally came on. I had been as bad as that truck driver, and I had just severely damaged . . . no . . . I had just destroyed my relationship with Chad. I quickly got up, left payment for the drinks, and hurried back to the room. While in the elevator, my brain went into overdrive visualizing two sets of images superimposed on each other: one set of a truck hitting a minivan and another set of Chad and me in our fight. The elevator ding announcing my floor startled me back to reality.

 

I slowly opened the door to the suite to make sure that I didn't wake Chad if he had fallen asleep while waiting for me to return. As I walked in, I began to look quietly for him. I went through the living room and quietly into the bedroom. After looking in all rooms, it finally dawned on me that he wasn't anywhere in the suite, and his suitcase, clothes, and laptop were gone. As I searched a little more closely, I also discovered that he had left no note to say where he was going.

 

After another few seconds, panic set in. What if he called the police and they're coming to arrest me? A little voice inside me said, 'Chad would have led them to the bar and they would have already arrested you there, dumbshit.' Then I got angry because he'd walked out without finishing our argument. The little voice inside then says, 'Well, you wouldn't stay around if your roommate became suddenly psychotic and threatened to choke you, would you?' Finally, the last emotion appeared--sorrow. The little voice inside simply said, 'You are such a fool. You should have simply asked him if he wanted to go home.' My throat got a big lump in it and my stomach knotted up really tight, and all I could do was sit down and let the tears flow.

 

About 4 am, I finally realized that I had gone through a half box of tissues. I rationalized the crying by thinking, 'Men don't cry, we just use a lot of tissues to blow our noses.' I also thought that I hadn't used this many tissues at both of my parents' funerals combined. Their deaths had been a natural part of life and I could deal with it. But the fight with Chad, that was human arrogance and stupidity, MY arrogance and stupidity, in its most extreme form.

 

After a few more minutes, I decided to stop torturing myself and write Chad an apology since he probably wouldn't want to talk to me anymore. It took about two hours with all the restarts, but I finally wrote something that I thought I could live with.

 

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I remember spending almost thirty minutes trying to figure out what the closing line should have been. At six in the morning, with no sleep and the beginnings of a headache from a hangover, the words didn't come easily. "Love" and "Yours truly" certainly didn't fit anymore, "With apologies" sounded like I was the only one at fault for this situation, and "Best regards" sounded like something that ended a business letter. So I went with something that I wanted to say personally to Chad. However, after having written it, I noticed that it looked downright pathetic. Unfortunately, at that early hour, I knew of nothing else to write. So I finally gave up, folded the note and the hand-drawn map, shoved them into a nearby envelope, sealed it, and put on the desk. A numbness replaced all other feelings as I turned off the desk lamp, leaned back in the chair and tried to relax for a while, looking at dawn breaking on the horizon.

 

The next thing I remember is waking up with my head propped up on my right arm, with the sunlight hitting me directly in my face. I had a pretty bad headache from the hangover, and I also had a neckache from how I had been sitting in the chair. Then I tried to get up--the pain in my back, in my butt, and from the blood settling into my legs reminded me that I was too old to be doing this all-nighter shit, but I finally was able to get up out of the chair.

 

As I looked at the clock, it read about 9 am. I had slept sitting upright for about three hours, and I had also slept through sunrise, which was something I had really wanted to see. Apparently I couldn't correctly do something as simple as staying awake for ten minutes to see a sunrise anymore. While I renewed my mental torture about the whole situation, I made my way to the bathroom to take a shower to see if I could shake some of the feelings. The warmth of the shower made a difference, but the numbness returned in place of all other feelings. I knew that I had to get ready and get that note to Chad before it got too late, but now I also didn't really care.

 

After I got ready, I called the front desk to see if Chad was in the hotel and if I could get a room number. I was told that Chad had "checked in" about midnight last night, but he had strictly ordered the front desk to let only one person have his room number or to connect phone calls to the room. When I told them my name, I found out that I was not that person. The operator told me that the only person that could get through was his wife, Sarah, and if I wanted to contact Chad it would have to be through her. Of course I was surprised by these little revelations (His WIFE? Sarah who?) but did not discuss it further. When I said I had a letter to leave for him, the operator told me to leave it with the concierge and the hotel staff would deliver it to him.

 

A numbness got stronger as I realized that Chad had shut me out and I was now on my own. Soon there was an uneasy silence among the normally chatty parts of my overactive brain. With a sort of robotic nature, I packed and left the room, checked out and dropped the letter off with the concierge, and headed for Mt. Charleston and the cabin in the rental SUV. On the way, I stopped at a fast food restaurant and got something to eat for breakfast. It wasn't until after I got back into the SUV that I realized that the food didn't seem to have any taste.

 

I got to the cabins just about noon. After visiting the lodge office to get my key, I was walking back to my SUV to get luggage and coats when I saw two guys standing in the parking lot: a tall blond with a nice, strong face and wide shoulders standing next to a slightly-shorter, broad-shoulder brunette with his back to me. Both were standing next to a dark green pickup truck that was turned away from me. I couldn't tell exactly what model or year it was, but I knew who made it from the easily recognized, small, blue oval on the tailgate.

 

Over the next minute or two, their quiet conversation appeared to be somewhat tense. When I looked next, the blond had climbed into the truck and closed the door. Something led me to watch as he lowered the window, then reach out with his hand and stroke the side of the brunette's face. When the blond leaned out the window and pulled the brunette into a kiss, I quickly realized that they were a gay couple. I watched them kiss for a couple of seconds, then turned away, at first feeling guilty for being a voyeur looking at two really good-looking guys, but that quickly changed to an intense jealousy about their relationship.

 

About the time I headed for my cabin, the blond drove away waving to the brunette until the truck turned and disappeared onto the road at the end of the parking lot. The brunette returned the wave, then turned to walk to his cabin. For a few seconds I saw what seemed to be mixed expression of sadness and anger on his down-turned face. However, when he looked up to me, all of that was quickly replaced with a warm smile. As we walked past each other on the way to our respective cabins, we gave each other that head nod of greeting that most guys give to each other. But because I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts, the good-looking face hadn't really registered in my brain until he showed his kindness to me on the trail a short while ago.

 

I found the cabin to be nice and comfortable. Turns out the folks at the lodge office had been nice and upgraded Chad and me to a larger, family cabin with two smaller beds rather than a "honeymoon cabin" with a single, king size bed. After seeing that, I chuckled and shook my head in disbelief while thinking, 'Seems like everyone wants us to be separate.' Then I looked at the rest of the cabin: nice vaulted ceiling, bathroom with large, glass-sided shower and a two-person hot tub, windows on both ends to let in lots of light, and a private deck on the downhill side so we'd have a nice view of the canyon and surrounding mountains.

 

But the part of the cabin that got to me was the fireplace in the center of it all. As I looked at it, I couldn't help but think about the ecstasy that Chad and I could have had making love to each other on the bed next to a roaring fire. After thinking about it for a few moments, I finally realized that it wasn't going to happen . . . ever.

 

Although despair was beginning to raise its ugly head, I must have felt at home in the cabin because I found myself quickly winding down from the tension caused by the argument between Chad and me. Soon I realized I was almost falling asleep on my feet, so I kicked off my shoes, collapsed on the bed, pulled the bedspread over my weary body and defeated mind, and just let it all go for a while.