Jim and Chad, Part 2 - 32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

 

It's a quiet, comfortable walk from our cabins to the lodge. As we weave our way around the cars in the parking lot, small breezes flow gently over us every so often, helping to calm my nerves. About halfway across the parking lot at a spot where we're walking beside each other, a slow breeze blows across Jeff and directly to me. The gentle scent from him makes me think, 'Damn, he's even wearing my favorite cologne.'

 

When we get to the entrance to the lodge, Jeff is a perfect gentleman: he opens the door and holds it so I can enter first. I know that he's only being friendly and courteous, but the thought that enters my mind doesn't seem to want to stay just a thought. I feel my mouth curl into a big grin as I quietly say, "Still trying to make me the woman in this relationship, huh?"

 

A huge grin crosses Jeff's face and he lets out that quiet, deep, rumbling type of chuckle that I love to hear so much. After looking at each other for a couple of seconds, he makes a sweeping movement with his arm to direct me inside, then he bows slightly and says, "After you . . . ma'am."

 

With a chuckle of my own, I enter the lodge and hold open the second door for him. He looks me in the eye, then walks through the open door like a woman, holding up the back of his coat for me to watch him swing his hips back and forth in an exaggerated manner as he walks by me. Most of me laughs out loud, but another part quickly perks up and takes a long, lustful look at his perfectly formed, muscular butt as it waggles by.

 

I follow him through the door and another five to ten feet into the lodge while looking all around to see who's nearby. Luckily there's no one in the lobby area, so when Jeff stops at the greeter's station where we'll wait to be seated, I stop a few inches behind him and quietly say upward toward his ear, "If I had that big of a swing in my backyard, I'd take it apart and see how many screws I could get out of it." I know it's an old joke, but I had to say it just because it fits the situation all too well.

 

I move to his side and look over to gauge his reaction to my comment. He looks like he's trying to hold in a laugh, but he has his hand up over the lower half of his face so I can't really tell what's happening there. But when I look at the upper half of his face, I see that it's redder than usual. He's not saying anything, but the twinkle in his green eyes tells me that I'm in trouble. I can't help grining widely and laughing quietly as I think about it how I've embarassed him yet one more time.

 

The lodge this Friday evening is already packed and buzzing with activity. Vicky is standing at her usual place several feet away from the greeter's station just into the dining area. She's scanning over the crowd gathered here, looking for empty tables or those diners who are about done, and all those other things good hostesses do to keep things flowing smoothly throughout the restaurant on a busy evening.

 

When Vicky turns around and sees Jeff, her eyes immediately light up and a big grin crosses her face. I can tell immediately that she really likes Jeff. However, when her vision shifts to me, the grin and the light in her eyes seem to diminish somewhat. At first I'm not sure that I understand what she's trying to say in those eyes. But after a few seconds, I have to look down because I now know that she still disapproves of me being so close to Jeff.

 

I don't know why, but anger floods my body, ratcheting up the resentment that I have for what she did this afternoon. Although there have been many times today when I wish we had been, Jeff and I haven't been screwing around. He and I are still at that getting-to-know-each-other stage in our relationship. Sure we have a bunch of things in common, but that only makes it easier for us to be together and to talk about what's going on in our lives. So why in the hell does she feel like she has the right to butt in and tell us what to do, or in this case, what not to do?

 

My anger peaks when I see Vicky's feet appear in front of me and feel both of her warm hands against the side of my face. When she tries to lift my head to look at her, I resist. But when I hear a small sigh escape from her mouth, a small part of my anger turns to curiousity. But the rest of the anger quickly drains away when she says, "Jim, I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry for what I said to you and Jeff on the trail earlier today."

 

Helped by her hands, I slowly lift my head to look into her eyes. The bright blue color along with a look of true concern and sympathy make me feel guilty for the thoughts of just a few seconds ago. She slowly caresses my cheeks with her thumbs and continues. "Ryan clued me in this afternoon at lunch with what he knows about you. I'm so sorry that I made your week even worse than it already has been. Will you accept my apologies?"

 

Her sincere words momentarily cause me to lose any ability to say or do something coherent. The loss of warmth against my face jars me slightly, but then I feel her put her arms around me and pull me into a hug. This new feeling is so sudden and so comforting, that I quickly put my arms around her and pull her tightly to me, closing my eyes and forgetting about everything else for a short time. The warmth of her body comforts me, and while the emotional roller coaster I'm on is still going a couple hundred miles per hour, at least it feels like it's leveling off for a while.

 

All too soon, Vicky pulls away a few inches and looks up at me again. "I don't say this to very many people," she says quietly, "but given the quickness which you and Jeff have become friends and from what Ryan and I have felt over these past few days, I want you to know that both of us will support you wherever we can. And this isn't just part of our job, this comes from our hearts." Then she looks over to Jeff. "And that goes for both of you."

 

I quickly look up to Jeff's eyes and the glistening I see there makes my eyes do the same. I see him nod slowly as if he's seconding what Vicky has just said. I smile that half smile that I seem to get when I'm in a sentimental mood, and feel a warmth build inside me when I see that reflected in Jeff's smile back to us.

 

I pull Vicky back into another hug and try to say something. It takes a couple of times clearing my throat before I can quietly say, "Thanks. The emotions of this week took over before . . . well, my thanks to you and Ryan for being so helpful and understanding." Then squeezing her tighter, I add, "And thanks for this hug, too."

 

While standing there, the small, guilt-instilling voice in the back of my brain asks, 'But you know she's not the only one who should say something here, don't you?' So when Vicky pulls away, I grab and hold onto her hand. She gives me a questioning look and I quietly say, "I know that this is going to sound unusual given how I just reacted, but don't ever lose that instinct of yours."

 

I take a quick, nervous look over to Jeff and quietly say, "Sorry, big guy, but I have to say this." His smirk and the slight shake of his head indicates he already knows what I'm about to do. When he doesn't say anything, I look back to Vicky, who's waiting patiently for me to explain. I clear my throat and say, "Jeff and I . . . we, um, . . . when you and Ryan came by us today, we were in desperate need of some chaperones." As I make that admission, just remembering the heat of that moment makes my face flush. With a sort of chuckle, I add, "We really needed someone to pull us apart and keep us from. . . ."

 

"That's enough, Jim. She gets the picture," says the deep voice next to me. I look up at Jeff and see that his face is flushed, but he also has a laughing look in his eyes. I'm comforted to know that he's still okay with what I've said.

 

Vicky's giggle attracts and recaptures my attention. While still holding onto my hand, she moves closer and says quietly to me, "Well, if the truth were to be known, Jeff has always been something of a on-again, off-again fantasy for me, what with those good looks, broad shoulders, big muscles, and such. But I found out today that my Ryan is just perfect for me."

 

Now I'm confused and thinking, 'Huh?' Seeing my confusion, Vicky puts a hand on my chest, leans closer and very softly says, "Honey, as much as I've fantasized about his big body over me in bed, based on what I felt in his jeans when I hugged him today, well, he's just too big for me." With that statement, I see her face flush red.

 

Impulsive sometimes isn't a strong enough word to use, especially when it applies to my inability to control what I say. It takes a couple of seconds, but I finally realize that "Well I'd like to give it a try, at least a couple of times," probably isn't appropriate for me to say out loud, at least not in the lobby of a restaurant. My face flushes hotly, and I have to close my eyes and shake my head as the embarrassment rushes through my body, replacing everything else I'm feeling right now. But the soft laughter from both Jeff and Vicky, along with another hug from Vicky, makes me glad that I'm among people who understand my outbursts.

 

Jeff, in his usual inimitable style, finds a way to lessen the embarassment. In that quiet, drawling voice of his, he jokingly says, "Good thing humans don't spontaneously combust when embarassed, otherwise we'd all be ashes by now."

 

While we all laugh out loud at his comment, I look over to Jeff and see his bright red face along with a huge, wolfish smile. Another part of my body stiffens and my face grows even hotter when I interpret the look in his eyes to mean, 'And I'd like to give you a try a couple of times, too.'

 

Vicky quietly leads us to a table near the corner of the room. I notice that our salads and drinks are already waiting, so I look around for Ryan, finally spotting him somewhere across the room helping another customer. In that little moment between customers, he looks up and catches my eye. I nod my head and mouth the words, "Thank you," to him. He smiles, bows slightly, and mouths the response, "You're welcome," then turns away to help another customer.

 

Both Jeff and I seem lost in our own thoughts through dinner, so there's not much conversation between us while Jeff eats his huge steak and baked potato and I eat mine regular-sized one. We're sitting on the window side of a four-person table which is a couple of tables away from where I sat last night. The view is still spectacular, and I glance out every now and mentally remark on how the lights in the canyon still look like twinkling Christmas lights.

 

Unfortunately for me, the dinner, the companionship, and the lights aren't enough to ward off the uncomfortable, almost ugly, feelings that have been growing inside since I got to the lodge. As we finish our desserts, I look down at my watch and see that it's about 7 p.m.

 

After another few seconds, a rush of adrenaline and a feeling of complete loss take over my body and brain, leaving me unable to breathe for many seconds. Quickly, thoughts of what happened in the cabin begin to terrorize me again. My face flushes, and I look out the window toward the canyon, desperately trying to control it all. The authoritarian side of my brain is yelling, 'GET A GRIP YOU PANSY-ASSED WIMP. NOT HERE. NOT IN FRONT OF JEFF. NOT. IN. PUBLIC.'

 

But the feelings keep bashing into me repeatedly, feelings so intense that I can't stop some tears from clouding my vision. Then I suddenly know why this is happening--on the East Coast, it's 10 p.m. on Friday night, with no work tomorrow. It's an unremarkable situation for most, but as sure as I'm sitting here, I somehow know that Chad is moving out of the condo back home.

 

As the feelings of loss and abandonment continue to churn and roil inside, Jeff's leg rubbing gently against mine slowly brings me back to the present. As soon as he has my attention, he looks down at his arm. My eyes naturally follow his, down to his arm which he's wiggled flat against the table between the window and the napkin dispenser with the palm up. When he knows that I've seen his arm, he quietly says, "Grab hold and hang on for as long as you need to."

 

I place my arm over his and grab hold of his warm forearm near the elbow, while his hand strongly grabs hold of my forearm from underneath. When I look back up at his understanding eyes, I finally get it: he's throwing me a private lifeline in a public place, a lifeline strong and steady to hold me and keep me from drowning in all of the emotions. His small effort further clouds my eyes with tears as I turn away and look out the window, my head lost in all the thoughts of the moment.

 

It's touch and go for a while as I think through all the times Chad and I have been together. I can see him in the kitchen as we cooked dinners, each of us working quietly next to each other. I can smell him along with the mixture of smells from soap and shampoo as we shower together. I can feel him in bed, the power and passion as we reach our climaxes together followed by the warmth and loving touches as we fall asleep against each other.

 

Luckily for me, the emotions finally drain away. But they leave me feeling exhausted and wondering once again how to control it all. That authoritarian voice inside once again says, 'Man up, little boy. Quit being such a pussy. Deal with it because life goes on no matter what happens to you.'

 

'Yes, life does go on,' I say to myself, but another part of me continues to dream about what Chad and I had together, how much love we could have shared with each other throughout our lives, and how much we could have helped and cared for others. Now all of those hopes and dreams have been wiped from the face of the earth, never to be recovered.

 

Then, as if the story comes to an end, a new feeling moves through me. It sweeps away the emotions almost completely, and it surrounds my heart with a new, hard shell that will never be penetrated again. It's the analytical engineer in me taking over, and I begin to relax somewhat. I know this personality--it's the personality I use at work to stay somewhat detached from everything else going on around me. And it's taking over now to keep my heart from breaking and to keep me from feeling the intense pain that I know this situation has already and will continue to inflict on me.

 

As I look up and meet Jeff's understanding green eyes, I remark to myself about how incredibly understanding and supportive this good-looking stranger has been to me, how comfortable I feel around him, and all of it in less than 24 hours. It had taken at least a couple of weeks for me to feel this comfortable with my prospective wife. And it had taken several months before Chad and I had felt this close.

 

But as much as I don't want to admit, I'm still right about the relationship between Jeff and me: we're here to help each other through our personal crises . . . and nothing more.

 

I look down at our locked arms and squeeze his huge forearm, my fingers barely covering the top side. Then look up and say, "Thanks. I needed that."

 

Jeff grips my arm and squeezes it, the look in his eyes saying, 'You're welcome.' But he doesn't let go immediately. After another few seconds, he quietly he asks, "You going to be okay?"

 

The new self takes over the conversation and confidently says, "Yeah." After a sigh, the new self adds, "Don't ask me how I know this, but Chad moved out tonight." Jeff's face shows sorrow at my statement, and I know that he's feeling some of what I used to feel. With a small shrug I quietly add, "But it was going to happen sooner or later, so I have to accept it and move on."

 

Jeff continues to look at me intently, studying my words and reaction. Then he smiles a wistful half smile, nods his head once as if he understands and supports what I've said, and squeezes my arm one last time before letting go.

 

As I lift my arm from his, I feel greatful for his continued support. But it's now time for me to move on. So I sit up straighter and stretch my arms and upper body, trying to get rid of some of the stress that I've been feeling for the last few hours, trying to forget what's happened for a while.

 

While I'm stretching, I'm still looking at Jeff because I have this new feeling that something just isn't right. After a few seconds evaluating the situation, my brain finally points out something odd to me: when sitting down, Jeff is shorter than I am. He's still way broader than I am, but this time I'm looking down at him, rather than looking up.

 

Jeff also seems to have noticed the difference in height, because, much to my quiet amusement, he slowly but surely moves around in his chair, trying to be subtle about his movements but trying to sit straighter at the same time.

 

I can't help but give Jeff a sly grin. He sees my grin, looks down at the table, then back up to me, a sheepish grin crossing his face. He now knows that he's been caught trying to sit taller than me, trying to be taller than me in all situations. When he finishes moving around, it appears that we're the same height while sitting here, but I can't really tell.

 

Quietly I ask, "I know this is kind of personal, but what is the length of your inseam?"

 

Jeff tenses at the question, but he soon relaxes and begins to chuckle. "Thirty-six," he answers quietly.

 

I grin at him and chuckle before almost whispering, "Mine is thirty-one. I'm 'long waisted.' I'm much longer from neck to crotch than most people my height. Chad and others have said that I have a good swimmer's body, but the drawback is that I can't find clothes that fit me. It always seems that I have to special order extra large tall shirts with short pants."

 

As I finish what I'm saying, I look over to Jeff's eyes. I don't understand what they're saying, but the feeling of his legs rubbing the sides of mine interrupt my thoughts. I look underneath the table to see his long legs reaching over to my side of the table, his feet now under my chair and trapping my legs in between his. I look back up to his face and now I see the shit-eating grin that covers his face. I want to ask what's going on, but before I can, Ryan shows up at our table.

 

"Gentlemen, it's been a pleasure having you here tonight. I'm not trying to chase you away, but I want you to know that your meals are 'on the house' tonight, so there won't be a check for you to pay. Is there anything else I can get for you? Coffee? Another round of drinks?"

 

I quickly look up to Ryan, and he looks over at me. Although he has his poker face on, I see something in his eyes and instantly know what's going on. I want to let him know that I don't want to take advantage of this situation, but I also don't want to insult his decision. "Are you, ummm, and Vicky, sure about this?"

 

I watch a flash of recognition at what I've said cross his face. He now knows that I know who's really paying for dinner tonight. Then the poker face, now with a knowing grin, reasserts itself and he says quietly, "Yes."

 

"Then in that case, we thank you. And I'm sure Chad's credit card will thank you as well."

 

Another flash goes through Ryan's eyes, and he grins broadly and does a slight bow before turning to help the customers at another table.

 

When I look back at Jeff, I laugh quietly at the intense, confused look on his face. I quietly explain by saying, "Ryan and Vicky are still trying to apologize for interrupting us this afternoon."

 

Jeff then gets it. He shakes his head, reaches for his wallet, and pulls out three bills to leave for a tip. He puts them together, folds them twice, and puts them on the table so the numbers are face down. Because he didn't show me what they were, I quietly ask, "Is that enough or do I need to add some more?"

 

He reaches down, flips the folded bills over briefly so I can see the number 50, then flips them face down again. With a big grin on my face, I look back up to Jeff's grinning face. While standing up from the table, he quietly growls out, "I'll be damned if friends who were in the right place at the right time doing the right thing are going to pay for MY dinner."

 

And all I can think right now is how good Jeff is as a friend, how he takes care for people around him and how he himself always seems to do the right thing. But a split second later, that thought morphs into something much, much stronger and deeper. As I look into his eyes before he turns to head for the front door, I realize how much I really love him.