Jim and Chad, Part 2 - 19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

 

I'm gently awakened by the sound of rain on the roof of the cabin. I usually love the sound of rain, but this time I'm hating it. First, I'm cold and shivering in bed because the fire has burned out again and the cabin feels as cold as winter itself. Second, the rain makes me think I'm getting "tears from heaven" related to the break-up with Chad, and that's depressing me even more.

 

But the third reason irks me the most: my bladder is painfully full again, and the sound of rain makes me want to lose it right here in the bed. Now I have to get out of what little warmth I'm in, rush to the bathroom to sit on a cold toilet seat and freeze my ass off while I try to piss through muscles that are so tightly locked that I already know it's gonna hurt big-time.

 

I push myself up and groaningly get out of bed, my feet, legs, and ass still hurting from yesterday. As I crawl out, I spot a long-sleeve t-shirt laying neatly on the second bed, so I reach for it and quickly put it on. As soon as it's on, I rush to the bathroom, naked from the waist down and hoping to get there in time.

 

After coaxing my internal muscles to relax some, I finally get some relief while sitting on the ice-cold toilet seat. Soon my bladder feels somewhat better and, thanks to the shirt, my teeth aren't chattering from the cold. As I leave the bathroom, I make a quick detour to turn on the electric heater for the cabin, then rush back to bed.

 

Once under the covers again, I wrap my arms around the pillows and try to go to sleep again, trying to forget what's really happening. But sleep is the last thing my body wants to do right now. After a few moments, I glance over at the clock and see that it's about 8:30 a.m. and I think, 'No wonder you can't sleep, you've slept twelve hours. You've never slept this much before, except when you're sick.'

 

As I look closer at the clock, I see something propped up next to it. I hadn't seen it before because either the cabin had been dark or I had been looking at it from an edge rather that from the front or back. I reach over to touch it and find out that it's an envelope, so I grab it and open it. I pull out the card and look at the front: it's two cowboys hugging each other with the words "I Love You."

 

Three emotions hit me one after another. The first is a moment of silliness as I think, 'Oh, this is sooooo gay. We've given each other raunchy birthday cards, but how utterly queer can it be for one guy to give an 'I love you' card to another? And where in the hell did he find one with a couple of cowboys on it?'

 

After another few seconds, anger makes a brief appearance. 'How DARE he continue to say he loves me when he's left me? Does that bastard have any idea what he's doing to ME?' It takes all the control I have to keep from ripping the card to tiny shreds and flushing them all down the toilet.

 

But the third emotion, sadness, quickly replaces all other emotions as I think this may be the last thing of Chad's that I'll see ever. Slowly I open the card and read the scribblings inside.

 

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After reading the card, the sadness deepens and occupies my whole body. As the tears cloud my eyes again, all I can think of is, 'I should hate you for what you're doing to me, to us, but I can't. I still love you too, Chad. I'm such a fool to let you go, but it IS the right thing to do.' With those thoughts, the now familiar pains return in my stomach, chest and throat, and I begin to cry again. I desperately hug pillows as tears cloud my vision, and my body and brain try to cope with the pain of the breakup.

 

Some minutes later I finally regain some composure. The survivalist part of me thinks, 'Come on now, you have to regain control of yourself. You've got to find a way to put this all behind you.' But the beaten-too-many-times part of me thinks, 'But how? The project you're working on is complete and moving into maintenance mode, so your work life sucks. Your lover just left you for someone else, and the dating scene for a guy your age is non-existent. So pretty much your personal life sucks, too. And then there's all those memories to deal with, both old and new.'

 

Once all the babbling in my mind settles down, a tiny voice says, 'So you really don't have much to live for, do you? So why go on living?' A couple of waves of dread pass through me leaving behind shivers. The survivalist part shouts loudly, 'Hold on bud. You've been here before. Don't get desperate just yet. Give yourself some time before you go off the deep end.' So I sit here numbly, doing nothing for what seems like a long, long time.

 

A new, howling wind outside the cabin interrupts my thoughts. It had been quietly raining earlier, so I'm wondering why it's so windy now. The curiosity finally takes hold, so I get up, walk to the suitcase, find and put on underwear, sweat pants, and socks to stay warm, then walk to the door that opens onto the deck.

 

When I open the door slightly, I'm greeted with a big puff of snow, blown in on an strong breeze from outside. The snowflakes brush up against and tickle my nose making me sneeze, which in turn makes me laugh. I open the door a little more and look outside at the near-horizontal streams of snow streaking past the deck, whirling around the lounge chairs on the deck and the trees beyond, and making all sorts of figures and shapes in the air.

 

The smell is fresh and clean, and the chill that surrounds my body reminds me that winter isn't too far away. For the briefest of moments, I'm a kid again on a "snow day," one of those days when normal life is put on hold, and all of us kids could go play in the snow without any worries. And then I think, 'In life, there's always something to look forward to. Sometimes it's an unexpected surprise like snow in October, and other times it's something we already know and love.'

 

Several blasts of the cold air around my feet slowly bring me back to reality. With some hesitation, I close the door and brush my hand up and down it as I remember those old memories recalled and the new memories made on the deck yesterday. Unfortunately for me, the somethings I knew and loved aren't here anymore. They're gone--he's gone--and I've got to accept that fact and go on with my life. Then I slowly scan the insides of the cabin: the bed where Chad and I made love, the fireplace that lighted and warmed us, and the bathroom where, of all places, we made that fateful decision to make intense and passionate love to each other one last time.

 

My eyes settle on the coffee table in front of the sofa on the side of the cabin opposite the bed. I see a small pile of stuff and wonder what awaits me. I walk over, sit on the couch, and see the first envelope sitting on top of three DVD cases. The envelope has "Open now" written on the front, but instead of opening it, I first take a look at the top movie.

 

The movie is "Silverado", one of our favorites that we would watch together when work got too tough to handle. I remember how we'd secretly think we're the team of good guys killing off the bad guys (our managers) and restoring peace to work. Then we'd laugh loudly, hug each other, and just look at each other for a while realizing that we have each other to help get through it all.

 

When I notice the tears dripping on the envelope, I quickly suppress those memories, wipe my eyes, take a couple of deep breaths, then open the envelope and read Chad's note.

 

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After reading the note, I look across the room to the clock, see that it's 9:43, and think 'Damn, Chad, you got lucky on that call.' I lay the note down on the table, look at "Silverado" and smile that he remembered what we used think about it. A few seconds later, I pull Silverado off the stack of DVDs, and look at the second one. It's "Spark of Insanity" by Jeff Dunham. I chuckle at the selection because I know his ventriloquist act with some pretty insane puppets will have me laughing long and loud.

 

But when I pull the second DVD off the stack to look at the third, I'm suddenly paralyzed again as tears rush to my eyes making everything blurry. This DVD is "Brokeback Mountain." It's the movie that we watched the Sunday afternoon of our very first weekend together almost a year ago. It's the movie that nearly put me into therapy after it finished and Chad finally let me know he was going back to his first wife. It's the movie that pushed us together an hour later when he found out that his first wife was never going to remarry him. And it's the movie that helped Chad recognize that the special spark between us was something he didn't want to ever lose.

 

But now it's the movie that reminds me that we're separated again, doomed to just a relationship at work that will leave me wanting so much more and not able to get it. It's the movie where I remember the emotion on Ennis' face at the end of the movie when he looks at the two shirts and realizes what really could have and should have happened.

 

It finally dawns on me that the long-sleeve t-shirt I'm wearing has a short sleeve t-shirt inside. This is Chad's shirt, the shirt he wore on the deck last night. I had hoped to keep it forever, keeping Chad's scent readily available for those moments when I need it most. But instead of changing, I leave it on and use the right sleeve to wipe away the tears dripping from my eyes.

 

Something inside me finally pops. A voice in my head loudly and angrily says, 'GET UP, you fucking wimpy pansy. Get over it. He's GONE. He's no longer in your life, and as far as you should be concerned, good riddance. His leaving you is probably the best thing that could happen. You're now free to do whatever, with whomever, whenever you want. There's no limit on what you can do.'

 

In response, I laugh and think, 'Oh boy, it's started. That war of words inside my head when something big hits me. This should get interesting.' But before any other voices can respond, my stomach loudly and insistently growls its hunger, interrupting everything else. I suspend the thoughts for a short time, then stand up and wander over to the fridge to get some donuts and milk for breakfast.

 

As I look at the top of the little fridge and inside it, I find that Chad has bought all my favorites: lots of chocolate milk and a couple of boxes of those little chocolate donuts for breakfast, along with lots of deli ham, turkey, beef, cheddar and swiss cheese, and a loaf of wheat bread for lunch. He also got bananas for breakfast, which I like, but not nearly as much as the milk and donuts. So I grab a box of donuts and a couple of milks, head back to the sofa and begin to pig out all the while thinking sarcastically, 'Oh, this should be fun--depression mixed with a sugar high.'

 

After getting some food into me, I move the DVDs to the side and look at the top of the second envelope. The handwriting on the top says, "Open at 5PM on Thursday." While sitting there, a part of me thinks, 'Fuck him, he's not here. I should open this now and see what it says.' So I reach over, grab the envelope, and flip it over to open it. But the bold handwriting on the back, letters at least an inch tall, stops me: 'I SAID DON'T OPEN BEFORE 5 P.M.'

 

I'm stunned for a moment, then reach down and get the third envelope. When I flip it over, it also has handwriting on the back, not as tall, but also in large letters: "Don't even think about it." As I hold the envelopes in my hands, I burst out laughing. At the same time, part of me thinks, 'Maybe he does know me better than I think he does.'

 

I set the envelopes down, then look at the clock. It's only about 10:15. I have enough time to take a shower, but that defiant little boy deep down inside says, 'Fuck him. He'll never know that you didn't take a shower now. He's not your guardian, so fuck him.' With that, I pig out some more, devouring an entire box of donuts and another bottle of chocolate milk while trying to figure out what to do next.