Jim and Chad, Part 2 - 25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

 

As we make our way off the deck and around the side of the lodge to the parking lot with Jeff's hand still holding on to my collar, I find myself suddenly very awake. Being gently manhandled by this one special guy also has me feeling elated (am I that desperate for affection?), and this feeling must have been reflected in the big grin that almost hurts my face. My mind even drifts towards thoughts of light bondage which is something I've never considered doing with another guy before.

 

When we get to the parking lot, Jeff lets go of my collar and catches up beside me, both of us walking slowly and a little unsteadily toward the cabins. I know that Jeff has seen my big grin when he says, "Looks like you enjoyed my hand on your collar just a little too much." I can't seem to help it, but my continued grin says it all, making Jeff laugh quietly as we walk toward the cabins.

 

We reach the ramp to his cabin all too quickly. The ramp to my cabin goes downhill beside his cabin, so I stand on my ramp while he stands on the steps into his cabin. Since he's now a little uphill from me, I look up to his eyes. They look a little sad and I'm sure that's reflected back to him in my eyes as well. And deep inside, I get those familiar stomach and throat pains that have been so prevalent throughout the day. I've really enjoyed being around Jeff and would like to get to know him more, so much more, but it doesn't look like that's in the cards, at least not right now.

 

"So what are you doing tomorrow?" Jeff asks after a few moments.

 

"Not much." But something in my brain tells me that I'm wrong. As I think a little longer, I finally remember what Chad wants me to do. "Uh, no, that's not right. Actually, my day has been kind of preplanned for me. I'm supposed to go hiking up to Cathedral Rock and then over to Mary Jane Falls."

 

Jeff looks at me a little puzzled. "Preplanned?"

 

"Yeah. Long story there. I'll tell you some other time. Do you need me to take you to the airport in Vegas?"

 

"I'm here until Saturday morning. Mike's going to pick me up then." With some hesitation in his voice, Jeff asks, "Can I, um, tag along with you tomorrow?"

 

I feel another big grin appear on my face, and a wave of euphoria sweeps through me at his question. I'm thinking giddily, 'YES! I get to spend another day with this guy.' Jeff's face brightens as he sees my grin, and I confirm what he's seeing in my face by saying, "Yeah, sure. Wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, we have more to talk about, well, if you want to that is."

 

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Jeff responds quietly, those perfect white teeth showing in his huge grin.

 

"Okay, about ten tomorrow morning?" I ask.

 

"Sure, see you then. 'Night."

 

"'Night," I say as I turn and walk down the ramp to my cabin.

 

As I get to the bottom the ramp, I come face-to-face to "it" much sooner than I realize, partly because my sense of how fast things are happening is screwed up by the alcohol, but mostly because I'm concentrating too hard on getting a freakin' key out of my uncooperative jeans pocket. I should ignore it and continue without stopping, but this was a problem two and a half years ago, and it's quickly becoming a problem now. At first "it" measures roughly three feet wide, a little over six and a half feet tall, and a couple of inches thick. But in my mind it quickly grows from that miniscule size into a incredibly huge wall, impassable on either side or over the top, and impenetrably thick.

 

I don't know how something as simple as a door can do this to me. Actually, I guess I should say that I don't know why my brain does this to me, but it does. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but the situation scares the crap out of me and makes me feel angry and really lonely all at the same time. I should just stick the key in the lock and turn the knob.

 

But as I stand there in the chill, a breeze blowing by every so often, the door and the nearby walls become transparent, and I can see what happened last night on the other side. I see Chad and me next to the fireplace, naked and kissing each other passionately, the heat of the fire warming us and the room. I see us fall to the bed, laughing loudly and tickling each other, Chad pinning me and lowering his head to kiss me calmly and seriously. And I see us in passionate couplings with closeups of our faces as we each experience our peaks.

 

Many more scenes of us together play in my mind, a few here (especially the time we spent on the deck), but many from back home, all of Chad and me together. Many moments throughout my condo, but one special moment in particular. It's a memory of that day when he'd fallen apart in my arms just inside the condo's front door, then cried for what seemed like hours. It's that day when he finally realized why he'd been so angry towards me and others: it was the first anniversary of his now ex-wife leaving him. The picture of my strong and ever-so-cool lover crumbling in front of me brings tears to my eyes.

 

Then I relive the motions of me picking him up and holding him carefully as if he were going to break. I pulled him to me and held him tightly all through that night. When he said that he had failed, I reminded him that he hadn't failed, she had changed her mind. The words didn't seem to help, but holding him had.

 

Then the roles reverse, me crumbling before him on the anniversary of my big loss. I don't remember much of that day, other than Chad holding me tightly from the time we got home from work until the next morning. I can still feel those arms around me and the warmth of him next to me.

 

A cold breeze rushing across my face brings me back to the current moment, and the door and walls slowly return to normal. When I realize that the cabin before me is cold and dark and empty, and it has memories that will be quietly whispered to me all night long, another batch of tears rush to my eyes. Deep inside I think, 'Who can I lean on now? Who will help me battle my fears?' I feel my stomach tighten, my throat gets a lump and starts to hurt, and a new apprehension moves through and chills my body as I try to confront my "door into hell."

 

The footsteps I hear nearby don't really register until I hear the quiet drawl. "You okay, bud?"

 

My body begins to shake from the chill, and the pain in my stomach and throat shows in my voice as I say, "It's another door. It's another goddamn door. Do you know how many doors we go through each day? At home, there's the front door, garage door, closet doors, bathroom doors, bedroom doors. At work, there are building doors, elevator doors, office doors. Try going to the grocery store, or the mall, or even going to church, and there are doors in and out of all those places. And the car doors going back and forth between everything." I feel tears running down my cheeks, so I wipe them away with my hand. "And behind each one is yet another fucking set of memories that I have to fucking deal with."

 

I don't know how much longer we stand there, but soon I feel Jeff at my back, his left arm reaching over my left shoulder and his right arm wiggling in underneath my right arm, both pulling me backwards into him, into a comfortable hug. I put my hands on his coat-covered forearms and pull us closer together, making the hug even tighter. I close my eyes and allow my head to fall slowly backwards until it rests on his shoulder, the warmth of his neck and face radiating into the side of my head.

 

The closeness and comfort quickly have an effect on me. I take a number of deep breaths and soon the shaking begins to fade. When I'm calmed a little more, I think that this feeling against Jeff, me leaning into the thick coat which covers his obviously solid body, is much more comforting than I should allow.

 

Jeff breaks the spell of the moment by quietly saying, "Give me your key."

 

I hold it out in front of me and I feel his right hand gently grab it from under mine. He then moves his left hand to mine and guides it to the handrail that's next to me. "Keep your eyes closed and your hand on the handrail."

 

When I have a firm grip on the handrail, I feel him gently disconnect from me, retracting his arms from around me and slowly backing away. I hear footsteps and the door squeak open and close, then after a few seconds, I hear it squeak open again. This time he takes both hands and says, "Keep your eyes closed and walk forward slowly."

 

We walk forward together, Jeff guiding me. When my ears notice the change in the noises as we move from outside to inside, I hesitate for a second until Jeff pulls a little harder and I begin to move forward again.

 

Soon we stop. "Open your eyes, bud."

 

I slowly open my eyes and notice that all the lights in the cabin are on. I had made sure they were off when I left earlier, but Jeff has turned them all on. He's also turned on the electric heater to warm the cabin because I hear the fan running.

 

I look up to Jeff to thank him for helping me, and I see the usual look of sympathy and true concern. However, this time the look slowly morphs into the will-you-do-something-about-this-because-it's-driving-me-crazy look that Chad used to give me every now and then. Instantly I already know the question he's going to ask, and I think, 'Uh oh. Here it comes.'

 

"Jim, if you're so bent out of shape over this guy leaving you and if you're both still so much in love with each other, why aren't you going after him and doing something about it?"

 

I pull my hands away from him, put them in my pockets, and say, "Looking back on it, even though we still love each other deeply, it wouldn't work out in the long-term. The biggest issue is our age difference."

 

"But you two can't be that far apart in age."

 

I chuckle at the comment then quietly say, "I'm 48 and Chad's 26. You do the math, but the end result is that I'll always be old enough to be Chad's Dad. And he really needs only one of those in his life."

 

Jeff's eyes grow wide at the mention of our ages. With a slight stutter he says, "Ffffuck, you dddon't look that old. I thought you were closer to my age."

 

His words make me want to laugh, but they also make me feel warm inside. However, reality quickly wins out. "Thanks for those kind words, but you're suffering from the everyone-looks-better-when-I've-had-a-drink syndrome. And when I've had this much to drink, I'm so relaxed that the lines and wrinkles pretty much disappear."

 

Jeff pauses for a few seconds, and then I begin to hear the frustration in his voice. "But age really isn't a factor in a relationship where the love is so strong. I know a few couples like you and Chad. In about twenty years, you add another young person to the mix so that the relationship just sort of renews itself over time."

 

"Yeah, I've heard about that, but it wouldn't work for Chad and me."

 

The look on Jeff's face says, "And why not?"

 

Seeing that he really wants an answer, I clear my throat and start. "Chad and I aren't really gay, we're both bi. Actually Chad's pretty much straight, and I'm probably the only male lover he'll ever have. So what you just said really wouldn't work. I don't think Chad would ever want to add a third male to the relationship. What we have, or had, was definitely unique, and I don't think it could ever expand to include someone else. Given that, I'd feel extremely guilty for not being there as he ages. I'd never want him to be lonely late in life. It's just not right."

 

I sigh as I think of the real reason why we broke up. "But there is another thing. At the very beginning of our relationship about a year ago, I said that if he found that special female who took him places where I couldn't, then I'd let him go. Well, in July, he found her. Her name is Sarah, and I've met her. She's one beautiful lady, she's within a year of his age, and she can give him something I can't. So being true to my word, I've let him go to her."

 

I watch Jeff's face as he digests what I've just said. A couple of seconds later, a perplexed and questioning look moves onto his face, and he says, "But two guys can give each other everything they need. The only thing they can't give each other are . . ." His eyebrows go up and the proverbial light bulb goes on over his head as he finishes with ". . . kids."

 

"Yeah, Chad wants to grow old with someone calling him . . . 'Dad'," I say quietly trying hard to keep the emotions under control when I say 'Dad'.

 

"Daaaamn," he drawls quietly. After another few seconds, his expression turns from one of understanding back to one of questioning. "But there are adoption services and surrogates, so that two dedicated and loving guys can have kids."

 

I nod my head, agreeing with him. "Those other methods are worthy options, and believe me when I say that I'm not trying to belittle them or what they do for people, especially for guys who can't stand to be around women. But those kids just aren't the same as ones a guy creates with his female partner. There's a bond among a Mom, Dad, and each child from that moment of conception all through life that just can't be described or explained." Jeff's eyebrows go up a little more at my remarks, and I can still see doubt in his face.

 

"But how would you know that? Do you have kids hidden somewhere in your past that you haven't told me about?"

 

At first I'm surprised and a little angry that he asked the questions. But then I sigh and think to myself, 'Well, dipshit, you led him right to it, didn't you?' Being drunk reduces the impact, but the questions are ones that sober me quickly.

 

I stand a little straighter and brace myself for what I'm going to say, then start with, "I, uh, . . . I was . . . married once to a beautiful . . . smart . . . talented woman. We met later in life, both of us believing that we'd be single for the rest of our lives. But once we started dating, each of us believed that we'd found our soulmate in the other.

 

"My wife had trouble conceiving and carrying children, so all through the pregnancies and especially after they were born, we called them our 'miracle boys.' As babies and toddlers, we knew each of them were very special, and the looks on their faces as they discovered new things made us happier each and every day. As they grew older, they made really good grades in school, were both Scouts, and excelled at many extracurricular sports and academic activities. They were our pride and joy.

 

"Unfortunately for me, I found out too late how important family really is, how cool and rewarding it is to grow old with someone calling me 'Dad,' and to be there for them as they grow older. About two and a half years ago, all three were killed by a drunk driver who ran a red light. If they'd gone through that intersection five seconds sooner or later, they'd all still be alive today. My world came to a standstill that day, and I lost everything truly important to me.

 

"Chad and I had talked about this, but I guess it never really sank in until about three months ago when he talked with his own Dad. And, as everyone says, the rest is history. He's moving on to a life with Sarah to become another 'Dad' to some kids, and I'm left to restart my own life."

 

I'd been watching Jeff the whole time I was talking, expecting to see some reaction to this "little" revelation. But I see none. Jeff's face has turned stone cold and passive, and the sparkle has left his eyes. When I move slightly to one side, his eyes don't follow. Just like our waiter had said, he looks like he's lost something, or someone, of his own, the memories of which so completely occupy him that he's lost contact with the world around him.

 

I wait for a few more seconds, then slowly reach over to him. He jumps when I touch him, then he looks straight at me with that far-away look still on his face. A few seconds later, in a stressed-sounding, higher pitched voice, Jeff says, "Hey, I have to go now. I've got some other things to do. Uh, see you in the morning? Ten, right?"

 

I watch as he moves away, and I'm stunned at what I'm seeing. This is not the Jeff that I've been talking to all night. This Jeff is a completely different person, one who isn't sure of himself, one who looks lost and all alone. But instead of trying to find out more, I just quietly respond, "Yeah, here at ten," as he moves through the door and closes it quickly behind him.

 

I stand here waiting, half expecting Jeff to return and declare that his leaving like that is just a bad joke. But he never comes back. Tears start to run down my cheeks again, partly because I'm angry at him for leaving, and partly because I'm afraid that I've driven him away with what I've told him. Finally a small voice inside my head says, 'Quit being such a whiny, old woman. Just let it go. You're tired, he's tired, and you've had too much alcohol. Maybe what you said really did trigger something inside him, but you need to let it all go for tonight.'

 

I guess my body's self defense mechanisms are kicking in again because another big, body shaking yawn hits me and the sleepiness returns. I lock the door, then turn to make my way to the bathroom, suddenly realizing that my bladder is about to explode. So I move quickly to answer Mother Nature's call, then get ready for bed.

 

When I'm ready, I make my way around the cabin turning off the lights, until there's only the light on the nightstand by the bed. Standing in that dim light, I see the rumpled sheets and bedspread, and think about what Chad and I had been doing in this bed a little over 24 hours earlier. As images make their way into my brain and tears cloud my vision, I suddenly say to myself, 'Damn it all,' then quickly crawl into bed and turn the light out, not allowing my brain to fuck me over again.

 

Lying there, my head spinning from the alcohol, Jeff's sudden departure tonight, and Chad's departure last night, I can't help but think that it's impossible for my life to get any worse. But the realist in me kicks in and says, 'Whoa, bud. You still have a good job, and a good place to live, even if it does have memories you'll have to deal with. You have other good friends at home. And you're not suffering from cancer or some other debilitating disease that slowly robs you of your mobility while your brain stays active. So just deal with it. And like I said before, stop being such a whiny, old woman about this.' I laugh out loud because the battle in my brain has started again, but luckily an alcohol-induced sleepiness soon takes over, and the war of the words slowly gets quieter and quieter.