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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 - 35. Chapter 35
Chapter 35
When I hear Mike's quiet voice, my first instinct is to quickly pull my hand away from Jeff's chest. I feel guilty just for touching him, and as the guilt grows, it makes me feel like I'm going to burn in hell for all eternity. At the same time, the adrenaline kicks in and I get that nervous 'OH SHIT' feeling because I'm about to meet Mike. And then there are all of the other emotions which are running rampant through my brain and body. So, in about two seconds, I've gone from really enjoying my time with Jeff to feeling like I'll soon be the most hated man on the planet.
However, throughout all of this confusion, I start thinking about getting caught in a compromising situation with Jeff yet one more time. A quiet chuckle seems to bubble up to the top of it all and force its way out of my mouth. While chuckling, all other feelings ease somewhat leaving me with one main thought: although it's taken a while, with all the divinely-placed chaperones and unexplainable mental influences, I finally get the hint that Jeff and I really aren't meant to be together.
I look up to Jeff's trusting green eyes. He's not laughing with me, and the look on his face is one of concern and worry. In what I know is an effort to apologize for accidentally forcing me to meet Mike, he whispers, "Sorry."
Almost as quickly as the feeling of guilt had made an appearance, a new feeling of peace and calmness sweeps through me. I take a deep breath, wipe my eyes, then quietly respond, "S'okay." After a couple of seconds, a thought pop into my head and I have to add, "But do you remember last night's conversation?"
Jeff looks up over my head, his eyes focusing on something in the distance behind me. Soon those calm, green eyes begin to glisten again in the sunlight. Thirty seconds ago that would have made me do the same. But now a feeling deep inside further reinforces the belief that it's time for me to move out of the way and help these two get back together, to get them moving again along the same path toward their own common destination.
When Jeff looks back down, I smile my wish-it-could-have-been-different half smile and shake my head. Then I reach up, touch his whisker-rough cheek with my fingertips, then gently wipe away the tears with my thumb. The warmth of his face against my fingers makes me wish for more, but I now understand that it isn't "meant to be."
I pull my hand from his face, take another deep breath and hold it for a second or two, then let it out. Jeff follows, then clears his throat and takes another deep breath, puffing himself up bigger than I've ever seen him. The action makes me think he's about to turn away and talk to Mike, but something inside makes me quickly reach out and grab his coat, keeping him turned toward me. "This is my battle, not yours. He wants me to go to hell, not you," I say quietly to him.
His face shows a range of emotions ranging from surprise that I would say such a thing, to anger for some unknown reason, to pain as he feels he should have been doing this, then finally to an uneasy acceptance. His questioning eyes search my face then settle down and silently ask me, 'Are you sure?'
"I'm sure," I quietly answer back. He lets out his breath as I continue to look at him, steeling myself for what's to come.
I let go of his coat and gently push him toward his truck with the other hand, then walk around Jeff to meet Mike. While moving away from the safe zone that I associate with Jeff, the feeling I get is similar to that of going over the top of a hill in a roller coaster without seat belts or any other restraints--zero Gs with lots of hope that I don't fly out of the coaster to a most certain death.
As I walk to a spot near the rear wheel of Jeff's truck, I look up to meet Mike's eyes and quickly find out what Jeff meant about them. They're not just blue, they're a piercing ice blue and unnaturally bright. They also reflect black from Jeff's truck and a little green from the trees behind me. And a chill goes through me as I think that they're not burning laser eyes, they're eyes that would freeze me like liquid nitrogen if they could. Then all he'd have to do is flick me with his finger to shatter me into a thousand little pieces. I immediately think of how terrifying it might be on the receiving end of a hostile cross-examination by him in a court room.
As he stands there, arms folded, leaning gently against the back of the truck next to us, I also realize how tall his 6 foot, 6 inches really is. It's intimidating just like the first time I saw Jeff standing next to me on the deck of the lodge. But as luck would have it, another thought pops into my mind and I can't help but chuckle and look down at the ground, turning a bright red from the embarassment. And, no, the thought isn't about how much I'd like to be fucked by this really nice looking, blond-headed guy.
I look over at Jeff and he's looking at me like I'm crazy. As a way to explain myself, I say, "Now I know why a Chihuahua flops onto its back and pisses all over itself when surrounded by two Labrador Retrievers."
Before either of us can really laugh, Mike quietly says in a voice close to but not quite as deep as Jeff's, "Just don't expect me to sniff your butt."
As both Jeff and I laugh loudly, I turn back to Mike and see that his expression has relaxed a little. There's a small, sly smile on his face, but nothing what I hoped for. Also, the intensity in those eyes hasn't changed much. Mike is making it tough to get to know him, and with his lawyer training up against my lack of real social skills, there's not much I can do except try.
I take a quick look over Mike, trying to figure out how to work this "opportunity." He's tall, has wide shoulders, an unnaturally narrow waist mostly hidden by the open coat, and that golden blond hair Jeff talked about. And there's not a single hair out of place. I recall Jeff's words about perfect hair, so I know that he doesn't want to treat me as a friend. So what am I to him? Arch enemy? Nemesis? Or just a useless old man?
Not really knowing what to do, I decide that I should introduce myself. Maybe that will "break the ice" between us. So I take a couple of steps closer to Mike with my hand extended and try to warmly say, "Hi, Mike. I'm Jim."
Mike hesitates for a second, then looks over to Jeff while the rest of his body remains perfectly still. The expression on the profile of his face indicates that he'd rather shoot me than shake my hand. After another few seconds, I drop my hand, back up a little, then look over to Jeff and see that his eyes are locked to Mike's. Although neither of them are saying anything, I can easily read Jeff's angry, "shouting" expression at Mike. Jeff's defiant posture, legs spread and arms crossed tightly on his chest, further reinforces the expression.
This is definitely not where I wanted this to go, so I quietly clear my throat to see if I can break the tension between the two. Jeff looks over to me, the angry look on his face and in his eyes slowly fading away. I gently shake my head, hoping he gets the message that I want to do this without interference from him. Slowly but surely, Jeff relaxes and calms downs. I know I can continue with Mike when Jeff unfolds his arms, turns slightly to close the truck door, then gently leans against it.
Mike is staring at the ground when I look over to him. After a couple of seconds, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other, then he looks up to me. For a brief instant I see what Jeff's actions have done to him: those intense blue eyes have lost their spark, and the rest of his face shows defeat and despair. Then just as quickly as that look had appeared, it disappears behind a passive stare, the trademark bland look of a highly successful poker player . . . or lawyer.
I know that I have to defuse this time bomb so I try another joke. "So . . . I see we have similar philosophies when choosing the guys we like to be around."
"And that would be . . . what?" Mike asks after a short pause.
I pause for a moment thinking about another song, then with a grin I say, "Save a horse, ride a cowboy." After a half second, I nod my head toward Jeff and add, "And what a sweet ride that must be."
Mike barks out a laugh and a big grin crosses his face. For a moment or two, all I can think is, 'Damn, he's good looking when he smiles. Those blue eyes say so many thinks on their own. I see another reason why Jeff loves him.' But then he looks over to Jeff, and the spark in his eyes goes out again. He quickly looks down at the ground in front of his feet as if he's been scolded.
I take a quick look over to Jeff and see that he's looking at the ground and doing nothing to help this situation. Of course, I all but said for him to butt out, but he doesn't have to give Mike the cold shoulder either. So, now that I know I'm truly on my own in this conversation, I pause for a moment and think about what I could do, what havoc I could cause for Mike in this situation. But without much thinking, what I really need to say, and in hindsight what I should have said much sooner, tumbles quickly out of my mouth.
"Mike, I'm not a threat."
Mike looks up quickly, huffs, and quietly says, "That may be what you think, but I know differently." A somewhat angry expression crosses his face, but that is quickly replaced with a look of resignation. "In the almost year Jeff and I been together, when we talk on the phone, he's talked only about his family and one other person: you. And this is the first time he's ever let me drive his truck, which I just find out is so he can show it to you. So, based on those facts, along with the ways I've seen him respond to you in the last couple of minutes, I already know that I'm not the one he wants to be with."
After hearing those words, I think, 'So there it is. There's finally the root of why he's angry.' For a couple of seconds, I'm pleased to see that Mike really is as smart as Jeff told me. He should have been able to pick up on the clues. However, the speed of this is so much faster than I expected. I take a look over to Jeff and find his eyes locked to mine. Now I know what I have to say, and from the quiet sigh and the blank-changing-to-sad look on his face, he also knows.
I look back to Mike and begin slowly, working my way into what will probably be my final words to Jeff. "Yes, I could have handled this situation differently and made it a little less stressful for everyone. But I needed a friend, someone I could talk to and lean against. And like good friends always are, Jeff was there when I needed him most. He helped me recover part of my dignity, my spirit, my sanity, in the aftermath of a . . . a really bad week . . . actually more like a really bad two or three months. So, as much as I don't want to say this . . . as much as I love Jeff . . . and as much as I want more . . . because of his existing relationship to you, the most Jeff and I will ever have is a friendship. That means that now I have to let him go, let him go back to you, because that's what's truly meant to be."
I stop for a moment realizing that I've begun to shake from the pent-up nervousness of meeting Mike and from finally making the admission that I'm letting Jeff go, just like I had let Chad go. After taking a deep breath, it takes me another couple of seconds to control some of the memories that are trying to resurface, especially my last words to Chad just a few nights ago. But through all of the mental confusion and pain, something deep inside reminds me about Jeff's words and that he needs some help, too.
"But," I say a little more forcefully, standing a little straighter and looking Mike solidly in the eye, "but, counselor, before I truly let him go, because Jeff has helped me so much these past few days, I need to know that you have his best interests at heart. So, pardon my bluntness with this question, but what do you plan to do to ensure Jeff's long-term happiness and well-being?"
Mike looks somewhat shocked that I would be so bold in my question. Maybe it's because he thought I'd be a complete pushover, or maybe it sounds partly like a father asking about how someone will take care of his child. Or maybe he's concerned that I'm not really giving up Jeff. But whatever the reason, the spark returns to Mike's eyes and I see the slighty dazed look which indicates he's thinking about what I've just asked. So to throw him off a little more, with a sly grin I quietly add, "And, at the same time, I'd also appreciate it if you could tell me what he looks like naked."
Over the next couple of seconds, the range of emotions which cross Mike's face is interesting to watch. But the end result certainly isn't what I expected.
"Why?" Mike asks with a questioning look on his face.
Instantly I'm pissed off because I think that he's asking, 'Why should I answer your question?' But rather than get into a angry pissing contest, I take another deep breath and decide to see if that's really where he's going with his question. "Why what?" I ask.
Mike quickly answers, "Why are you letting Jeff go so easily? He's the best person to ever come into my life. I know I wouldn't . . . and won't . . . let him go easily."
With just those few words, my anger is replaced with a happiness, albeit an uneasy one. 'Maybe, just maybe, Mike will talk to me,' I think while trying to reorganize my thoughts after hearing the real question. It takes me some time, but I finally start my answer. "I'm not sure exactly how to answer that except to explain some of my upbringing. I lived my teenage and college years in Lubbock, Texas, a little town of about 250,000 people about a hundred miles north of where Jeff grew up. And I found out in those years that West Texas folks always try to do the right thing, no matter what it may cost them. That may or may not happen in other farming and ranching communities throughout our country, but like noboby else, those relaxed, friendly, gracious people always try to do that.
"In those communities, no matter whether you have 100 acres or 30 thousand acres of farm and ranch land to manage, you never know when the nearest house, barn, or even a canyon might actually be on your neighbor's property. That distance and the direction it's in is always important to these folks, especially because freak thunderstorms or duststorms happen, or you or your horse might get bitten by a rattlesnake, or your tractor might break down in the middle of these vast, untamed areas.
"So, while it may not apply in big cities, although it should, those folks do the right thing because of the friendships they have with their neighbors, people who could make a real difference between life and death." Then after a pause, I add, "And Jeff knows I know this, and, while it may appear backwards to you, it's how he'd expect me to handle this. Both of us would feel guilty if we didn't hold to the principles we were taught and have been shown to us to be true time after time. Besides, who knows what'll happen in the future. Maybe I'll need your help one of these days."
I give Mike a few seconds to digest what I've just said, but then quietly remind him of what he needs to answer, actually, what Jeff really needs to hear. "So, after that nice tangent, Jeff's happiness and well-being?"
Mike takes a nervous, fleeting glance over to Jeff, then he looks down at the ground. I know that he doesn't want give his answers in front of me, so I try to make it easier for him. The space we're standing in makes a wide V because Mike had to park Jeff's super-long truck angled across two spaces instead of one, so I get him to move from the back of the neighboring truck to a new spot just in front of its back tire. Now, he's much closer to both of us, with Jeff at the bottom of the V and Mike and me near the middle of the sides. Although a part of me deep inside is yelling, 'What the fuck? You're being way too nice,' the "West Texas" part of me wants to make sure Mike has had his opportunities to patch things up with Jeff.
During Mike's move closer to us, I just have to make a little fun of Jeff. So I point to him and say, "Pay no attention to him. He may growl and snarl but he doesn't bite." To which Mike quietly adds, "At least not too hard." After a few chuckles between the two of them, Jeff and Mike visibly relax for the first time I've seen them together. I get the feeling there's way more in that chuckle than what's being said and I really want to ask, but when I see their actions I know now isn't the right moment.
Mike takes a long look at Jeff, their eyes communicating something. Mike then sighs, looks over to me and says, "To answer your question indirectly, I'll do anything I have to do to ensure Jeff's happiness and well-being. I'd be the biggest fool on the planet not to. I may not always say it, but I love him more than anyone else in the world."
Mike looks down at the ground, sighs, and quietly admits, "Okay, so maybe the first thing that attracted me to Jeff was the body under the clothing, especially those broad shoulders and all those muscles. And I never seemed to understood why I kept losing racquetball games to him until he mentioned that I needed to concentrate more on the game rather than the scenery." He looks up from the ground to me, and with a small grin says, "But he's always been good fantasy material, especially when he puts a cowboy hat on," to which we all chuckle a little.
After a short pause, Mike turns serious. "But soon I found out that the guy is also a freaking genius. He builds things with his hands and works on cars and trucks as well as he plays the stock market or figures out math problems. And he does them all better than anyone I know. And if that isn't enough, all he has to do is read something once and he seems to get it.
"But over the last year I've been repeatedly amazed at the love he has and shows for the kids he works with. He relates to them so easily, and his easy-going, humorous attitude helps them relax and appreciate life. That alone has helped many of them through some really rough times and situations, and helps them learn how to cope with their situations. They're all the better for it, especially at one high school which used to have some serious gang problems. Jeff entering their lives virtually changed the school. It's even made some of the faculty and administration change how they deal with the kids.
"And I've personally felt that love too. Jeff has always been there for me, day or night, rain or shine, whether I deserved it or not, he's always been there to give me a hug whenever I've needed one. Just like for you this week, he's been my best friend for the last couple of years." After a short pause, Mike adds, "And on that alone, I should have been doing everything I could to keep him happy."
Mike looks over to Jeff, sighs, and quietly apologizes directly to him. "Unfortunately, I have been a complete idiot. I haven't been nearly as good to you as you have to me. For that I am truly sorry."
After a moment or two, Mike looks back over to me, stands a little straighter, and with more of a conviction says, "But that's about to change. As of yesterday afternoon about two, I became unemployed. I'd had it with the 70 to 80 hour work-weeks and the constant badgering by one of the partners at the law firm where I was. So I quit. Now I have time to be with Jeff and get to know the farm and all the stuff that goes with it like how to ride a horse or drive a tractor. I also want to check out job opportunities with or near him, maybe volunteer some of my time or become a part of a school system that will want me. All of this is something I should have done a long time ago."
Jeff's sudden intake of breath causes both Mike and me to look at him. The expression on Jeff's face is initially blank, but it soon dissolves into "that" look, the look I saw last night when he was talking about how much and what he loves about Mike. He tries to say something a couple of times, but can't seem to until he finally clears his throat and quietly says, "Thank you."
Mike quietly responds, "Don't thank me, thank Lila. I know you were really pissed when I left here on Tuesday, but now I know why I felt so strongly about being in L.A. for her. Seems none of her five children or twelve grandchildren, most of whom are older and should be more responsible than I am, had the decency to come visit her in the hospital. They all seemed to think it was another one of her stunts. If I hadn't been there, she would have died alone."
After a moment to himself and a couple of deep breaths, Mike looks back over to me. As he speaks, the glistening in his eyes and deep emotion in his voice catch me off-guard. "Lila was not only my very first legal client, but she was also a long-time friend of my family and a next-door neighbor. So, she's been in my life since I was born. As a matter of fact, she was almost like another grandmother to me. For some reason, she and I gravitated to each other. She was the charming, but eccentric, multi-millionaire socialite whom no one seemed to like or get along with. But she treated me better than anyone else, at times spoiling me, as a child with milk and cookies or a big Christmas present, or as an adult with a beer and a steak dinner. Then she'd turn around and challenge me to improve myself, make me do something better or change something about me. I guess it was that mixture of charm and unpredictability . . . and bossiness . . . that fascinated me but pissed off so many others."
Mike chuckles, then reaches up and messes up his hair. He quietly says, "And that was one of the things she wanted me to change. She told me to stop being so formal, to get my hands dirty now and then." He looks over to Jeff and with a chuckle he adds, "And she told me to go plant a garden with my 'nice, young, man friend,' that we can't really get to know each other well until we produce something together." Jeff chuckles quietly at the comment, but his eyes never leave Mike's.
Mike slowly turns to me and continues. "And when I finally realized what she meant by that statement, I finally realized how badly I've been acting in my relationship with Jeff. It really was an eye-opener for me.
"But that wasn't all she said to me. I'll never quite understand why this happened, but about two hours before Lila died she asked me if I had paper. I thought the request was odd, but the lawyer in me always has a notepad handy just in case I need it. So, she dictated and I wrote lists of wishes and changes for each of her five children, their spouses, and those twelve grandchildren. Then at the end that group, she proceeded to have me write down nine things I need to change to keep Jeff happy." He chuckles a little, then says, "As it turns out, I have the longest list of all."
Then turning serious again, he looks over to Jeff, chuckles, and adds, "And the very last thing she had me write down was this: 'Do whatever it takes to keep that nice young man of yours close to you, even if it means being the bitch for the rest of your life.' And she wasn't talking about being a complainer."
It takes me a moment to digest the comment, but Jeff's short coughing fit clues me in and I start to laugh. I know it isn't appropriate to laugh, and I try to stop it by covering my mouth with my hand. But quickly Jeff and Mike begin to laugh too, so I relax and laugh along with them.
In between his coughs and laughter, Jeff looks quizzically at Mike and quietly asks, "She really said that?"
Suddenly Mike turns bright red and quietly says, "Yeah. I don't know how she knew, but she really hit me hard with that and some of the other things I need to do. I brought the whole list with me so you'll get to see it. And all the lists are very personal. How she knew all those details, that's another thing I'll never quite understand." He sighs then quietly adds, "And, with your help, I'll make sure to follow-through on all of those changes."
When Mike looks over to me again, all of the sudden I feel the full impact of the change in his attitude. The harsh look in his eyes is gone, replaced with deeper, relaxed looking blue, and a few strands of his golden blond hair have fallen down in front of his forehead, the ends hanging just above eye level. Now he seems to have something of a smile when he talks, and his voice has lost most of its "edge." But through all of that relaxed attitude and feeling, there's something of a restlessness that remains.
"Seems Lila somehow knew what was going to happen yesterday and today, and I had no clue. I thought I'd have more time to make it up to Jeff and to prepare better for what lies ahead. Finding out about you was . . . unsettling. I always thought I'd lose Jeff to a woman, but when I found out it was another guy, well. . . ." Although we wait, Mike sighs and never finishes the statement.
Mike looks back at Jeff, their eyes latching again. After a short time Mike quietly says, "Because we're being open and candid about all of my problems, and Lila told me to meet them head-on, I'm going to talk about . . . 'it.' Are you okay with that?"
Jeff barely nods his head in response, but says nothing. It's when his face flushes bright red that I wonder what's coming up.
Mike looks back to me. "When Lila was talking about me being the 'bitch,' there's something that Jeff and I . . .," he says, his voice trailing off at the end. Mike run his fingers through his hair once again, then sighs and starts again. "Lila's comment reminded me of a problem that I have. Since we've been together, Jeff has been . . . well . . . damn, this is difficult. Okay, I've been aggressive and domineering and haven't been as sharing as I should have been, and the result is that I've made Jeff the 'bitch' for all the times we've been together."
It takes me a couple of seconds to decode the euphemisms, but I finally get it, and Mike's bright red face shows that he's pleased that he doesn't have to explain more.
Unfortunately I have to make sure that's the case, so I quietly ask, "And . . . so you, oh, . . . you need to learn to take it up the ass?" I look over to Jeff, and the surprised, and somewhat shocked, look in those green eyes confirm the phrase that I had just used as being the "private" matter he was talking about last night.
Mike's nervous "Yeah" brings me back to the situation, my eyes shifting from Jeff to him. He continues with, "Yeah, therein lies the problem." He sighs and nervously chuckles, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, I'm not trying to brag but I'm pretty well endowed. Guys have turned me down when they've seen how large I am, and based on the number of guys I've been with, I'd gotten used to being one of the biggest ones out there."
He looks over to Jeff and continues, the nervousness easing as he talks. "Then I meet Jeff," he says with a wry chuckle. "He's about a half inch shorter than I am, but he's got to be at least an inch bigger around. And that used to terrify me, well, it still does, especially when I start to think about where 'it' is supposed to go."
I bark out my own short laugh as I think about the situation, and the thought which pops into my mind speeds its way out of my mouth before I can stop it. "Beer can fuck, huh?" The surprised look on Jeff's and Mike's faces help me realize what I just said. So I look down at the ground and quickly say, "Jeez, sorry. Can't seem to control my mouth sometimes." Jeff and Mike laugh out loud at my comments, making me feel stupid at first, but okay after a few more moments.
Recovering after a few more seconds, I ask, "So are you doing something about this?"
"Yeah," Mike says. "I won't go into details, but yesterday when I got home, I got drunk, which is something I do rarely. Then I got really friendly with some 'toys' that we have. It hurt like hell and I had to bite on a washcloth while I did it, but I finally took the largest of them, the one that actually gets close to Jeff's size." The look of pain on Mike's face makes me makes me cringe at the thought of what he did, but Jeff's quiet moan indicates that he now understands what Mike has really done for him.
But even I have to recognize the brilliance in Mike's next move. He pulls a key out of his pocket, holds it up for Jeff to see, then looks over to him and quietly says, "So now we're at a crossroads. Seems everything is pretty quiet at your schools, so I got permission for you to be away until Thursday. And when I got here, I got us a cabin until Wednesday morning. I hope you'll stay with me and help me complete some of the changes I need to make in my life. But you can also go back home today. It's your decision. And if you decide to go home today, just leave me here. I'll find my own way . . . back."
I stare at the hand with the key for a short time and quickly realize that Jeff won't be able to refuse the offer. The two of them have been together longer and are closer than Jeff and I, and I did say that Jeff and I were to be only friends for this trip. Realizing once again that Jeff and Mike are another "meant to be", I close my eyes for a moment then open them and look up to Jeff, meeting his eyes. Those eyes glisten in the sunlight, and as we stand there, I wonder if those are tears of happiness for what Mike has done or if they're tears of sadness because we'll never see each other again.
But rather than think about it too much, I do what I know I have to do: I nod my head toward Mike indicating that Jeff should go to him. When Jeff turns and those green eyes meet those blue eyes once again, I know that neither of them is seeing me anymore. They quickly move into the type of tight hug that Chad and I used to make, arms intertwined and faces buried in the coat collar next to each other's neck. After another split second, I also remember that this is how Jeff and I held each other last night, each of us giving the other comfort in that tight hold.
Although I want to stay and talk with them some more, it's so obvious even to me that their tight hug is my cue to leave and let them work out everything else. As I walk quietly behind the trucks and other vehicles to my SUV, all I can think is how they've weathered a hurricane in their relationship and will come through it better and stronger than ever . . . and I'll be all alone . . . again.
The next thing I know, I'm standing at a scenic overlook about twenty miles from the cabins and a half mile off the main road, in that area just after Kyle Canyon dumps out into the long, wide, flat valley that extends northward from Las Vegas. Because I'm shaking so hard, I feel lucky that somehow something inside me detoured me to this spot rather than allowing me to get killed by driving, accidentally of course, into someone or something else.
Now that I'm not a threat to anyone else, the tears start in earnest accompanied by the raw, choking feeling in my throat and the painful turmoil in my stomach. As I lean over to let the tears fall onto the ground in front of me, all I can think is, 'Thank God it's so desolate out here. I'm really going to make a fool of myself now.' Then all the voices start up again. But the one consistent theme in all of them is that I've already made such a fool of myself in front of Jeff and Mike that I can't really do much more damage. That point is driven home when one of those voices asks loudly, 'Why would either of them want anything you could offer, especially when they have each other?'
Along with the irritating voices, my brain recalls images of Chad and me, and Jeff and me, along with other images from the past few years. Images of good times and bad times mix together and cause alternating moments of intense joy and intense pain throughout my body. Unfortunately, many images are of Chad or Jeff walking away from me, and as they disappear, the word "alone" appears in their place. Then another part takes over my thoughts and wonders why this is all happening to me and why I seem to be pushing everyone away from me. The confusion it leaves behind truly worries me and makes me wonder if I really am going insane.
Luckily after only a few minutes of this torture, the images and other thoughts fade. They're replaced with a single image of an eight lane super-highway that ends abruptly at a desert landscape. I have to shake my head and chuckle a little because of how well it fits my life right now. Over the sand dunes and through the washouts, around the cactus and rocks, nearby on one side of that landscape I see my life on the East Coast, the ugly realities of what has happened in my life now far out-weighing the good memories. On the other side way off in the distance, I see the West Coast with the possibility of a new life, but a life probably without Jeff. But what makes me really nervous is that nothing else appears on that horizon and all of it has this fuzzy look like it's a mirage or the images are being screwed up by heat waves over the top of hot pavement.
All of the sudden, the two words, "Black Bear," enter my mind. Somehow I know it's the name that Jeff gave his truck. I take a deep breath and sigh at the thought of how much we truly do . . . or did . . . have in common. A little voice inside says, 'Another lost opportunity,' and a vast, empty feeling settles deep inside my gut, making me wonder if I'll truly know and love someone like Jeff or Chad ever again.
After battling all the emotions for another few minutes, I finally decide to put it all away because I need to get to Vegas before it gets too much later. So I wipe the tears from my eyes and take one final 360 degree look at the countryside. When I'm done looking at the clear blue skies, mountains, cactus, and gnarly, wind-blown trees, I take a deep breath and say up to the sky, "Dear Lord, I don't want to stay where I am because the memories are so vivid and overwhelming, but I'm scared and uncertain about moving to someplace new, especially on a different coast. So please help me figure it all out because I don't have a clue what I need to do next. Amen." Then I crawl into my SUV and drive away, headed for Vegas, a golf game, and a nice dinner before having to face the reality of the long plane ride . . . home . . . or what's left of it.
The End (of Part 2)
And with that said, I know I'm about to get some hate mail. Sorry, folks, but this is a natural stopping point. The story will be continued and completed in Part 3, but it's going to be a while because I still have lots of writing to do. The beginning and end are there, and I know where I want to go between the two, but writing it so it has the same impact as this story is proving difficult and emotionally painful. In the interim, please enjoy all the other good stories here on the web site. I know I do.
My thanks to others who have written comments and liked my writing. But my special thanks goes to Randomness. Thanks for being there, my friend. Your constant background support and funny answers to "random", off-topic questions has meant the world to me.
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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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