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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Jim and Chad, Part 2 - 33. Chapter 33
Chapter 33
While walking through the dining room to the lodge's front door, Jeff makes a slight detour to visit Vicky at the greeter's station. When he moves up behind her and gently wraps his arm around her waist, she jumps slightly and then laughs when she sees who it is. He leans down and whispers something into her ear, then lets go, tips his hat and walks toward me. She smiles tentatively at him, looks around for me, and waves to both of us as we leave the lodge.
Just outside the door of the lodge, I look up and catch Jeff's eye. Since I couldn't hear what he said to Vicky, I'm curious and hoping he'll tell me. He looks back at me, catches the look in my eyes, shrugs his shoulders and says, "I told her to make sure that Ryan gets his tip. They'll figure it out soon enough."
I reach up and squeeze a small part of his huge, coat-covered shoulder, then let go while saying, "You're a good man, Jeff, a really good man."
In the dim light around the lodge door, I'm somewhat surprised to see doubt in Jeff's face. He looks aways and unconvincingly says, "Yeah, uuuh, thanks," as we start walking toward the cabins.
Breezes flow across us once again while we walk near each other in silence, each of us caught up in our own thoughts to say much of anything. Some of mine are about leaving tomorrow, but most of them are concerned about Jeff's reaction to my comment. A small voice inside says to me, 'What's up with that? He really is a good man, kind, considerate, and generous.' But before I can think about it much more, just like last night, we all too quickly reach that spot where we split apart from each other, that spot where Jeff takes a few steps to go into his cabin and I take a few steps to go down the ramp to my cabin.
I glance up to Jeff and see the uneasy look on his face. He searches for something in the area around the front of his cabin, then looks between his cabin door and me a couple of times. When his eyes finally settle on me, he nervously points toward his cabin door and asks, "Can we talk?"
His nervousness, along with a couple hundred quiet voices in my head saying "No," keeps me from immediately accepting his offer. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping that he'll understand what I'm feeling. "As much as I'd like to, that's probably not a good idea. We don't have chaperones."
He lets out a sigh and nods his head as if he agrees with me, then walks over to the ramp leading down to my cabin and starts his searches again. He suddenly turns, looks at me, and holds out his hand. The uneasy look is immediately replaced with a boyish half grin that almost makes me laugh. He's starting to act like a little kid who knows he's doing something wrong, but he's going to do it anyway.
More voices in my head yell out "No," and I shake my head to indicate that to Jeff. Almost immediately Jeff's face turns serious. While looking directly into my eyes, he reaches over and gently takes my hand out of my coat pocket, grasping it in his now chilly hand and slowly pulling me toward the ramp.
Seeing the intense look on his face, I give in but quietly say, "Only down the ramp. Not into my cabin." He acknowledges my words with a slight nod of his head, his face and those eyes getting more serious by the moment.
Hand in hand, I follow him down the ramp to a darker spot along the side of his cabin where the lights from the parking lot, his cabin, and my cabin don't quite reach. If people walk by, they can see our outlines so it's still in public, but it's more private than the brightly lighted area in front of his cabin.
We stop in the darkest area and Jeff begins to push on different parts of the handrail with his free hand. Just when I'm about to ask what he's doing, he finds a sturdy portion and leans his butt against it. He slowly spreads his legs while looking at me, lowering himself until his eyes are just about the same level as mine. Then with the hand he's been holding, he slowly pulls me forward to a spot between his legs a little more than a foot in front of him. As I move into position there in front of him, our eyes lock onto each other's eyes.
I look away from Jeff's face when he distracts me by unzipping his coat then reaching over and unzipping my coat. But I quickly look back at his face when he hoarsely and shakily says, "I need a hug. I need you as close to me as you can possibly get." Even in this dark area and under the wide brim of his cowboy hat, the need to be held shows strongly in his face. His eyebrows are turned up in the middle giving him that sad, vulnerable, puppy dog look. But it's the eyes, eyes not above or below mine, but at the same level as mine, eyes shimmering with tears in the dim light which cause a lump to form in my own throat.
Even though I don't understand what's going on and I'm uncertain about how to do what he wants, I put my right arm inside the coat and under his left arm, then put my left arm over his right arm but outside of his coat. Jeff sees what I'm doing and quickly mirrors my actions. I initially try to turn my head away from his, but as we pull closer together, the side of my head bumps the brim of his hat. I take one more look at his sad face and tearful eyes. After a short pause, I finally decide to twist my head so it fits under the brim, my face aimed for that special spot where his neck meets his shoulder.
Each of us pushes our right arm up and around each other's back and uses it to pull the other closer. The sides of our faces and the days-old beards rub gently against each other as we move closer, the heat from the side of his head and cheek radiating into mine. As my feet inch forward toward him, our bodies draw slowly together, from our chests, across our stomachs, and finally down to our crotches. The heat of his body warms me as we slowly move closer and tighter together. When my feet stop between his legs, I feel him move his legs carefully, but snugly, around the sides and backs of my legs. As I snuggle my face between his neck and the collar of his coat, all I can think is that he's gotten his wish: I'm as close to him as I can possibly get, at least with clothes on.
The clean smell of soap, the gentle scent of his cologne, and his own personal scent permeate my nostrils. The warmth from Jeff's huge, muscular body against mine, holds me captive and makes me unable to think clearly. Those feelings, along with the image of the serious, tearful look on his face, suddenly overpower all other thoughts and I get lost in the same emotional vortex that overtook me on the trail earlier today. But as the emotions surge through me, a logical voice deep inside speaks up and says, 'You need to be his rock tonight. You need to be the strong one, just like he's been for you all those other times. You need to let him lean on you for a while.' So, even though it's difficult, I reign in all the emotions and squeeze him harder to let him know I'm here for him.
We stand that way for several minutes, the breezes occasionally moving slowly over us to remind us where we are. Several times Jeff breathes in short, quick breaths then holds it like he's fighting his emotions, trying to keep them bottled up inside. After about the fifth or sixth time, I hug him even tighter and whisper, "Let it go bud, let it go. I've got you this time."
But even as prepared as I think I am to be his rock for the rest of the evening, I find out differently when he finally lets it go. As his quiet sobs slowly grow more intense, raw emotions pour from him into me, making my throat and stomach hurt. My eyes cloud up as I feel his hot breath and warm tears against my neck as he cries quietly in my arms. All too soon my brain is barely able to contain it all, barely able to control the emotions which are running rampant through me once again.
It takes several minutes, but slowly Jeff gets it back under control. As the quiet sobbing slows, the tight hug we have on each other begins to loosen some, the pains in my throat and stomach lessen, and I'm better able to control my own feelings. They're still overwhelming, but they're relaxing into something a little less intense, something that I think I can control while still supporting Jeff.
Jeff finally takes a really deep breath, holds it for a few seconds, then lets it out in a sigh. Within the confines of the coat, I try to scratch and massage his solid, warm back to give him some more comfort. He moans quietly, and when I'm done he gives me another good hug.
As we stand together, still wrapped up in each other's arms, he tries to say something then clears his throat and quietly says, "Sorry about that."
I chuckle quietly, then clear my own throat and say into his nearby ear, "We all have our tree-hugging moments," thus making a reference to the comforting words he said to me on the trail a couple of days ago.
He moans quietly. "Damn, I hoped you'd forgotten that one. That wasn't one of my better lines."
"But that's exactly what I needed the hear at that moment. It let me know you were concerned, so there's no need to apologize." After a short pause I add, "And tonight I'm glad you chose to hug me instead of a tree."
In response to my comment, he squeezes me tighter, and we stand there hugging each other for a few more moments. I'm hoping that he'll say more and give me more of a clue as to what's just happened, but after a minute or two of silence, I relax the hug and quietly ask, "You wanna talk about it?"
Jeff takes in a deep breath and sighs. "You really wanna know?"
While the logical part of my brain is saying, 'Don't go there,' the part of my brain which controls my mouth isn't working, so out pops, "Sure, why not?"
Jeff turns his head so that the front of his face is against the side of my head and tries to talk. "I . . . you. . . ." Then he draws in a deep breath, lets it out in a quiet sigh. "I'm falling for you, hard and fast. There's so much we have in common. In only a day I feel I've known you for most of my life." With a new roughness in his voice, he continues, "And I'm upset because I don't want to lose you now, just when I've found someone really special."
My body tenses up in surprise and I try to back away. I just want to see his face and to find some way to interpret what he really means. Does he really mean the words he's just said? Has he just said the words that I never expected to hear? I'm grateful that he's said them, but I need to see his face to really know he means it.
But he holds me in that hug strongly, not letting me move. Quietly he says, "Please don't be angry with me, and please don't let go. I still need you here for a few more minutes." After a short pause, he continues, "I know I shouldn't have said that, but I feel I had to. I want you to know where I stand, whether or not you feel the same way."
A million different thoughts and feelings go flying through my brain. He loves me. God what a stud he is. He shouldn't love me. But I love him. Damn, he smells good. Gotta love these warm hugs. He what me? It's cold out here. But he's warm. Did I mention hunky? God, that sounds like I'm comparing him to a piece of chocolate. He'd look really good in a full beard. . . . And the thoughts continue to ramble on.
Pretty soon I feel lightheaded and stars begin to appear in my vision. I'm not sure what's really happening until Jeff quietly chuckles and says, "Breathe, Jim, breathe," then slowly alternates between hugging me a little tighter and letting go.
Not knowing that I'd been holding my breath, I suddenly start panting, trying to get some oxygen into my body. The lightheaded feeling and the stars quickly disappear and I slowly come back to the present. When my breathing finally slows, Jeff chuckles again and asks, "I seem to have a nack for leaving you breathless, don't I?"
Remembering our hug from earlier this afternoon and what I had said then, I feel my face flush strongly at his statement. Damn, just when I think I'm immune to him being able to embarass me, he finds a way to do it to me again. He truly does leave me breathless and at a loss for words. What do you say to the ideal man who's just told you that he loves you? What do you say when you've just acted like an idiot in hearing those words?
Several more questions run through my brain, until I run across the two questions that stop everything. But what about Mike? What role does he play in this? As I stand there in the warmth supplied by Jeff, I sigh when it finally dawns on me that I really don't play any role in this situation. Mike's role is the only role with Jeff.
When I take in a deeper breath and start to ask those questions about Mike, Jeff surprises me once again by first saying, "Yeah, yeah, I know what you're gonna ask. You're gonna ask, 'What about Mike?'"
I'm stunned again by his statement and maybe now I'm beginning to understand what he's been talking about. Maybe we really do know each other better than I think. But rather than get angry because he said it first, something makes me relax against him and chuckle. "Damn, you're good," I say quietly.
I thought that would get a quick laugh from him, but it doesn't. After a few short seconds of quiet, Jeff responds with a despondent sigh. "I'm not as good as you think. I'm feeling pretty guilty at this moment."
I'm not sure I know how to reply to this one, so I try to muddle through something. Quietly I say, "Last night we agreed that we could be close, we could touch each other, all without feeling guilty. But tonight, especially after getting to know each other so much better, we both know we want so much more. That's the problem, that's what's making you feel guilty . . . and that's what's making me feel guilty, too. So, at this point, I think we'd just better leave it at this." So I hug him one last time, and try to pull away.
Jeff takes in a deep breath and sighs. He begrudingly lets me loose, and I slowly push away from him. As we break apart, I look at his eyes. They're still sad, but this time I see that he already agrees with what I've said.
I reach down and zip up my jacket to keep the warmth inside as another cold breeze blows by. I reach over and zip up Jeff's coat as well. When I look back up, Jeff's head is turned down, the brim of his hat covering his eyes and nose. Shortly after zipping up his coat, I also notice that he stuffs his hands in the pockets. I sigh as I realize that he's beginning to pull away from me.
I reach under his chin and pull it up so that we're looking at each other again. "I need you to answer two questions for me, and I need your promise that you'll answer them fully and honestly." After a few seconds, Jeff nods slowly to confirm that he will. "The first question is this: name three different things that you love about Mike."
Jeff tilts his head back and looks up to the sky, his eyes focusing on some distant star. Almost immediately, he says, "He's fun to be around. He's always making me laugh about stuff. He's borderline hyperactive and always keeps things lively between us, well, at least when he's not too busy and overworked. Then he's just grumpy."
"Okay. That's one."
Jeff glares at me and tenses up some. "But that's three, if you ignore the grumpy part."
"No. Think about it. They're all roughly the same thing. What I really meant is three distinctly different things that you love about Mike."
Jeff continues to glare at me for a couple of seconds and then visibly relaxes. "Yeah, okay, that's one," he sheepishly admits. He looks down at the ramp and then looks up again. "He's really good with other people, insightful, always able to make them feel comfortable and at ease. He can work a room really well."
I chuckle a little, then ask, "I bet that's got you a little jealous, huh? It would me."
With a sigh, Jeff says, "Yeah, some."
"Okay. Now the third thing."
"He's really, really good looking."
"Mmmmmm, that doesn't really count. I can see that for myself." As I gently poke Jeff's chest where his heart is, I add, "Try something else, something from the inside that I can't see."
Jeff pauses for a short time then finally says, "The guy is smart, really smart. He was second or third in his graduating class at the Stanford Law School, and his class had some of the smartest they've had in a while. And he seems to do really well in the courtroom, where I guess you have to be quick and smart." After a short pause, he quietly says, "He always seems to get it, I mean understand things, way before I do."
When Jeff looks up, he has this questioning look on his face, something like 'Is my interrogation over yet?' I almost laugh at the image, but instead grin and quietly say, "That works."
He looks at me, now visibly relieved. But his remarks about Mike's looks have me curious. If Jeff says that Mike is really, really good looking, and Jeff is the best looking, best built guy I've ever seen, now I'm curious about what Mike looks like up close. I can't help it, so I ask. "So what does Mike look like?"
Jeff grins broadly, then chuckles without saying anything. After a short pause, he quietly says, "You've already asked your second question."
I get a little pissed at his response, but then realize that he's just trying to add a little humor to the situation. So I take a deep breath, let it out and relax some, then chuckle as I say, "Okay, so fuck me. I'm gonna ask more than two questions. Okay?" Jeff laughs loudly as I playfully punch his shoulder. "So what does he look like?"
Jeff looks away from me, almost as if to visualize a picture of Mike on the side of the cabin next to us. He gets this contemplative half-smile on his face as he begins to describe Mike. "He's a little taller than me, but you already know that. Well-built, nicely hairy, blond, golden blond, not a washed out, bleached blond and not a dirty blond. And his hair style always seems to fit the occasion. For formal occasions or if he's meeting someone, it's always in place and perfect. At those times, he looks a lot like Aaron Eckhart, the guy who played Harvey Dent in one of the Batman movies. But if we're at home and being casual, it always seems messed up. So when he's relaxed or being silly, he looks something like Curtis Stone from 'Take Home Chef.'
"But it's his eyes which always seem to affect me the most. They're a medium to light blue, depending on whether he's inside or outside. But the unusual thing about them is that they're almost iridescent or reflective, so sometimes they pick up other colors around him. I always seem to get lost in them, like they're casting a spell on me. . . ." Unfortunately, the more Jeff rambles on about Mike, the more I realize that I'm no competition, I don't even rank close to Mike. I have to look away from Jeff's face because the pleasure I see there makes me further realize that he and I will never be together.
Sudden quiet and a warm hand against the side of my face bring me out of my thoughts. I look back at Jeff's eyes and find compassion in them. And, do I dare think it, do I see love there, too? But rather than believe something might happen, I slowly reach up and wrap my fingers around Jeff's hand and pull it away from my face. With a shakiness in my voice that I can't control, I hold onto that hand and ask, "Second question: What does Mike need to do for you to completely forget about me?"
The whole situation with Mike, the thought of losing Jeff permanently, along with his eyes changing back to sad at my question, causes the lump to form in my throat again. He groans quietly and says, "Oh, buddy," as he pulls his free hand from his pocket and puts it gently up against the other side of my face.
Emotions begin to build up in me again, a little part of me still hoping for a relationship, but most of me now knowing that it can never happen, it should never happen. I have to control these emotions, control my feelings for Jeff, so I reach up with my other hand and gently pull his second hand from my face. With a new resolve, I clear my throat and ask the question again. "What does Mike need to do for you to completely forget about me?"
Jeff looks quickly up to the sky again, tears glistening in his eyes. He shakily says, "One, he'd have to give up his job, or at least change to one where we can be together more often. Two, he'd have to learn more about the farm and my background so that he can better understand where I come from. Three, he'd have to learn how to take it up. . . ." His voice is interrupted on the last point as he turns his head and starts coughing.
As soon as the coughing calms downs, I quietly ask, "And number three is?"
Jeff looks at me and grins sheepishly. "Unfortunately, that's kind of private between Mike and me. I should have just said that."
I'm now really curious, but instead of pushing him for more details, I simply nod my head and say, "Sure, I can understand that."
We stand there pausing in our conversation, Jeff's eyes boring into mine. Then he slowly raises both of his hands, mine still hanging onto them, and gently puts one on each side of my face. Then he actually says those words that I never dared hope for. "I love you, Jim."
My body starts shaking, partly from the cold air around us, partly from nervousness, partly from the overwhelming feelings inside. Tears cloud my vision, and I know I have to get away from him soon or I'll make a total fool of myself, fawning over him, wanting him to be mine permanently no matter what the personal cost would be. I pull his hands away from my face, put them together and push them to his chest.
With a new control that comes from somewhere deep inside, I pull it all together and stop the shaking. Looking deeply into his eyes, I quietly respond, "I also love you, possibly more than anyone else before. You're the tall, dark, incredibly handsome stranger who meets me on the trail and lets me know that someone cares. It's a one in a billion chance of meeting. It's like winning the lottery. And then you comfort me when I cry, you make me feel desirable again, you make me feel. . . ." I stop for a moment and chuckle at where my words are going. "You do all those other tiresome clichés that romance novelists seem to write about." Jeff smiles briefly at the comment, but sadness quickly returns to his face because he already knows what's coming next.
"But . . . but you're my 'what might have been.' Although I wish it weren't true, this relationship isn't meant to be. I've heard it described elsewhere as 'our paths are meant to cross, not join.' Your relationship is with Mike, not me. Mike is so much closer to your age, and Mike completes you as a person and will force you to be more than you are. And those are things I can't be or do.
"So what do we do next? Now I can take care of myself, all because of your love and attention. You . . . you need to go back to your cabin, call Mike, and work out what you need to. If you don't already, you need to love him just like you love me, actually more than me." I stop for a moment to swallow the new lump in my throat and blink a couple of times to try to control the tears. "And maybe it's best that we don't see each other tomorrow. I don't think I could cope with meeting Mike and leaving you at the same time."
With that I pull my hands away from his without looking at his face, then turn and take a couple of steps down the ramp toward my cabin. Jeff quickly grabs an arm and turns me back toward him.
When I see the pleading, tearful look in his eyes, I almost lose control. "Please move to L.A.," he says quietly.
He could have said just about anything other than that and I would have been okay. But with those words I'm no longer okay--the invitation has left me truly speechless. The lump in my throat grows even larger making it difficult to breath, and the pain spreads from my stomach to other parts of my body. All I can think is 'Oh, God, help me. I can't do this. I just need to get away from here.' Although it begins to crack, somehow the shell around my heart stays intact as I quietly and quickly reply, "I'll think about it."
I pull my hand from his, then turn from him and quickly walk down the ramp, thinking about how stupid a response that was. 'I'll think about it?' Damn, someone needs to teach me some social skills or maybe just take me out back and beat me really good for being so stupid. But I had to get away before I did or said something I'd regret later.
Luckily I quickly get to the door to my cabin, once my temporary hell, now my temporary safe haven. I unlock it and go inside, closing and locking it behind me. Never once do I look back because I'd probably never be able to let him go if I did.
I turn toward the door, spread my arms and put a hand on the frame on each side, and lean into it wondering what I'm really supposed to do next. I've just told Jeff to "go away," and there are no more letters from Chad left to read. In short, my love life, and maybe my life, is pretty much over. I'm 48 and there's no one to grow old with, no one to lean against when I really need comfort, no one to share dreams with. Pretty much I've loved the best of both sexes, twice on the male side if you include this one-day romance with Jeff. So that means everything will be downhill from here.
As I stand here wallowing in self-pity, I hear Jeff's footsteps on the ramp. At first I thought he was moving toward his cabin, but after a few seconds of listening, I suddenly panic: the footsteps are getting louder. Although I thought the pain couldn't get worse, the lump in the my throat and the pain in my stomach multiply ten-fold as the sound of Jeff's footsteps approach my door. The shell around my heart shatters into a million pieces, leaving my heart exposed and aching, completely open to anything Jeff will want to do with it. Adrenaline pours into my body as the footsteps slow and stop in front of my door, and I stand there waiting for the knock.
But the knock never comes. Instead, I feel the door frame move slightly toward me. When I realize that Jeff is leaning against the other side of the door frame just like Chad did two nights ago, I try to wish away the pain inside, a pain so strong that tears rush down my cheeks and drip onto the floor in front of me.
I'm paralyzed standing here. I can't cry out loud, I can't scream in frustration, I can't even move the slightest amount, because if I do any of those, he'll know that I'm on the other side, leaning into the frame just like he is. And then he'll want to see me. And I'll give in. But knowing he's hurting on the other side of this door is also tearing me apart inside. I never meant to do this to him. I never intended to fall in love so quickly, or have him fall in love with me. And I certainly never intended to put us in the position where neither of us could have the something we both want so much.
And through all of this, the loud belittling voice inside my head shouts out, 'Good job, asshole. You've just fucked up another life, another person whose true relationship is with someone else. Last night you should have told him to go away. But, nooooo, you had to have someone close by. So now he's hurting just like you are. WAY TO GO, FUCKHEAD.'
So the desperate part of me takes over and starts praying silently once again. 'Dear Lord, please help me through this. I've fucked this up so badly that I really need your help. If Jeff and I are meant to be together please let him knock. But if we aren't, please relieve his pain, help him to forgive me for dragging him into my life, and help him move on without regrets. Amen.'
Time seems to drag on forever, but eventually I feel the door frame move gently away from me. After a few more seconds, I hear Jeff's footsteps as he turns and walks slowly away from my door and up the ramp to his cabin, pausing a couple of times on his way there.
I thought I would feel relief when he left, but each retreating step tears a small chunk out of my heart and further reinforces the feeling that he's no longer a part of my life, no longer a possible future. Instead it's now all in the past. The tears flow more freely and my sobbing grows louder as I force myself to walk away from the door and through the cabin, shutting off all the lights as I head for the bed.
Soon I find myself in bed in underwear and a t-shirt, hugging two pillows while a third pillow lays across my back trying to fake me into thinking someone's there. In the total darkness of the cabin, the full impact of my loneliness hits me. Tears roll from my eyes onto the pillows as I lie there thinking about Jeff and Chad and my wife and kids and thinking through all the "what-if"s in my life. But luckily for me, as the adrenaline dissipates and the exhaustion from today's hikes takes over, the voices in my head fade and the images of the past slowly dim. A simple sentence is the last thought through my head before it all disappears: 'I miss them all so much.'
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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