Jim and Chad, Part 2 - 4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I'm finally at the saddle point between Charleston Peak and Griffith Peak. I glance down to my watch and see that it's about 10 a.m. Although I've been hiking for about four hours, I'm about thirty minutes behind schedule. Hopefully I can make up some time on the "flatter" sections of the next four miles and 1,500 feet in altitude to the summit. But it seems that I'm never sure about what really lies ahead.

As with most people on a hike like this, I walk to the other side of the saddle to see if the other side of the mountain is any greener. Just human nature to be curious, but sometimes people really to want to believe that somewhere else, wherever that may be, is always better than right here and right now. For me, the grass is always greenest wherever Chad is. But without Chad today, I'm sort of hoping to find that greener spot on the other side of the mountain, too.

As I look out, all I see is another desert town (named Pahrump as I read on the map) and the dry brown and whiteness of Death Valley National Park just beyond the town. In a sparse, simple sort of way it is pretty, but I was really hoping for something more. Maybe I'm just a little pessimistic today, but I can't seem to shake the feeling that something really bad is going to happen soon, if not today. It makes me shiver a little just thinking about it.

I take off and drop my daypack on the ground, and get out the camera to take a few pictures of Pahrump and the areas on the west side of the ridge. I'm not sure why I'm doing this because the area is so desolate, but I do so anyway. After taking the pictures, I put the camera away and get a water bottle and a protein bar. As I drink and eat, I realize that I must have needed this for some time. I also realize how tired I am and how much my feet and legs ache because of the climb to this point. After walking around some I also notice how tired my back is from carrying the daypack.

Finally I realize that the real problem is that I've gotten chilly because of the constant, cold breeze coming up the west side of the mountain. It had felt good when I first reached the saddle point, but now I need to be warm again. So I roll down my shirt sleeves, get my coat out of the daypack and put it back on. The emotional side of my brain is screwing with me because, as I put on my coat, all I can think about is how I'm covering up and forgetting that July 4th morning with Chad.

I can't seem to control how I feel as the thought makes a lump form and grow in my throat and my stomach tie itself into knots. I think to myself, 'It's amazing how emotions can make the rest of me feel like shit.' But then I finally admit something that I hadn't wanted to up to now: as much as I may want it, Chad and I probably won't be getting back together. What I had said and, more importantly, what I had done had destroyed our relationship, probably for all eternity.

I had suppressed these emotions most of yesterday, but now I begin to think back just about 36 hours to the time when Chad and I had our argument, our only real argument together as a "couple" in the almost-year we've been together. The images of astonishment and hatred on his face, the words I had said in anger, the angry words he had said back, and then the new look of 'I don't need this shit' on his face as I had stormed out the hotel room to get a stiff drink so I wouldn't strangle him.

The reality hits me like a ton of bricks, and I lean forward against the smooth, branch-less trunk of a nearby tree and wrap my arms around it for support, and in some ways, comfort. I feel like part of me is dying here as I finally realize that I've screwed up badly this time, in some ways far worse than any other time in my life. The lump in my throat grows larger making it difficult to breathe, and my stomach knots up so tightly that it's really painful. Then multiply these feelings by the pain in my legs and the chill I feel. I tightly close my eyes trying to wish all of it away, but I quickly find that I'm unable to stop the tears as they begin to flow.

"You okay mister?" asks a nearby voice.

The rich, deep voice with the Texas drawl hits me like a bolt of lightning, jarring me as I think 'Fuck, fuck, FUCK. I thought I was alone.' I quickly fight down the tears, tell my stomach to relax (yeah, sure, it obeys me so well) and quickly swallow multiple times until the lump in my throat subsides some. I pull slowly back away from the tree and wipe my face with the cuff of my shirt, trying to dry the tears. Knowing that my moment of weakness has been discovered, I feel my face flush and get red hot.

After a moment or two, I look at the ground and finally croak out a "Yeah, I'll be okay . . . someday." Then I realize how incredibly stupid the "someday" addition must have sounded and I close my eyes, sigh and blush yet again. Impromptu conversation with a stranger has never been one of my specialties and it certainly shows right now.

The soothing voice with the drawl continues, "I just wanted to make sure you weren't having heart attack or a stroke or some other medical problem. I'm sorry I caught you at a bad time." After a pause, the voice adds, "And I'm really sorry for embarrassing you, too."

All I can think of at this point is 'Damn, it shows. Hope I don't look too much like shit.' But I try to cover the feeling by saying, "Thanks for the concern. I thought I was alone, otherwise, you would have never seen this."

After a fairly long pause, the deep voice calmly and quietly says, "No need to say anything. Uh . . . we all have our tree hugging moments."

Curiosity about the man connected to the deep voice slowly overtakes my embarrassment. I shyly look up and see a sympathetic pair of eyes looking back at me. For some reason those eyes capture and hold my attention for a few moments. I think I feel something pass between us, but I can't be for sure. After another few seconds, it finally strikes me why I'm so captivated by those eyes: the color is the most intense forest green color I've ever seen, and the comforting, but concerned, look is one that makes me want to trust him with my life.

Although part of me wants to rest in the comfort I get from those eyes, another part tersely reminds me not to stare too long. So I lift my gaze slightly and look up at the thick, dark brown eyebrows. They're mostly horizontal, but the inside edges angle up slightly to give him a sad puppy dog look. I know that it's a look of true concern, but it's also a look that triggers a slight adrenaline release. My heart speeds up a little, and my mouth goes dry.

As my vision widens slightly, I see that the thick hair on top of his head is a sun-streaked medium brown, short but not military short on the sides and a little longer on top, the way I like to have my hair cut. It's parted somewhere to the left of center, and it all sways gently back and forth in the breezes that brush past us every so often.

His face is nicely tanned with a strong, but not large, nose in the center and with a nice, strong, squarish jaw line below. Under the nose is a warm, bright smile that instantly makes me feel at home. Surrounding his mouth is a nicely trimmed, thick, dark brown mustache that grows down to frame his mouth and blend with a neat goatee. And those strong jaws and tanned cheeks have the scruffy beginnings of a thick, dark brown beard.

When something inside jars me back to reality, I have to quickly look away because this guy is way too good-looking for me to control myself if I keep looking at him. I'm thankful my face is already flushed because I feel it flush again. When I realize that my body is already responding to him and approaching the point where I could become even more stupid in my words and actions, I immediately suppress the feelings and force my heart to slow its thumping in my chest.

Now I'm beginning to feel like the true dork that I am sometimes. I know I've seen him before, but can't place him right now. That along with him standing about four feet away has left me really nervous and almost speechless. But finally I get may act together and say, "Thanks for the concern. It's been a rough week, but I'll be okay," which, I quickly realize, is almost as useless as what I said before.

"Someday, huh?" he asks quietly, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

With a sigh and a small chuckle, I say, "Yeah . . . someday."

After a short pause, the guy extends his hand. "The name's Jeff," he quietly drawls.

I look back up at his face, then reach out and shake his huge, warm hand, holding on a little longer than I should before releasing. "I'm Jim. Uh, hope you don't think I'm too much of an idiot."

With another chuckle and a something of a sparkle in those green eyes, he says, "Trust me, we ALL have our painful moments." Then with a sound of real concern, he continues. "Seems to be more common these days with the pace of things. Sometimes we just have to let go and get it out of our system."

I think to myself, 'An incredibly good-looking guy who's also compassionate, standing by me near the top of a mountain which sits in the middle of a desert. What are the odds? Around 1 in what? 300 million? A billion?' When I finally realize that I need to hold up my end of the conversation, I ask, with some hope for company on the hike, "Are you headed up to Charleston Peak?"

"Nope. Already been there. Just coming back down now." The quizzical look on my face must have clued him into what I was now thinking, because he chuckles and says, "No, I didn't run up. I just started a little earlier this morning."

I make some quick calculations in my head. "Wow, so you started about two or three this morning?"

He looks down at the ground and, with a much thicker drawl, quietly says, "Yeah, about that time, but I'm not actually sure. Couldn't sleep so I decided to get an early start. Came up the north loop and going back down this loop."

"Wow. You must be pretty tired by now."

"Yeah, but I needed to do this to help me sleep."

I look a little closer at his eyes and see that he's much more tired than I noticed before.

As he turns and begins to walk away, he looks up and asks, "So, see you down at the cabins?"

"Sure," I quickly respond, his question finally helping me to remember where I've seen him.

As he walks away, I slowly scan down his body, starting at the extra wide coat-covered shoulders that support his daypack, down to the narrow waist and the nicely-shaped butt under the slightly-loose jeans (at least the part of his butt I can see that isn't covered by the coat), and down the muscular legs to the hiking boots. As I mentally change his hiking boots to cowboy boots and add a Stetson on his head, I think that he could have been one of those really good looking rodeo riders, all solid man, ready to take on anything that life sends his way. A man's man with a beautiful wife in the bleachers cheering him on and later kissing away the pain in bed. I'm instantly infatuated with the green-eyed, dark-haired, handsome stranger, and I find that I can't help staring at him as he walks away.

After another few moments, I suddenly realize that he has stopped and turned around to look back at me. As I look up at his face, I know it's too late to make an excuse for my staring. His gaydar is up and running, and I've just been pinged and discovered. His huge, bright white grin makes my face flush as he shouts back to me, "Like the view from here, the view from the top of the mountain is really nice today. No haze, nice clear view for a long way. Excellent picture taking weather. Hope you like what you see. I know I did."

I immediately catch the double meaning from his words and really wish that I had a good comeback. But rather than try to respond and further embarrass myself, I just force a smile and give him a small wave. After he turns and walks away, I close my eyes, slap my forehead with my hand and sigh. Simultaneously, three parts of my brain start babbling at each other. The social side says, 'You are such a moron. At your age, you should have at least a small ability to talk coherently to strangers.' The excitable part which drives a certain appendage in the middle of my body says, 'Hmmmm, nice ass, one I'd like to explore more. Bet he looks REALLY good nekkid.' (Comedian Jeff Foxworthy defines "nekkid" as Southern for "naked and up to no good.") But the logical, authoritarian side wins out with, 'Leave him alone, he's already taken. Now get your ass in gear or you're never going to make it to the top.'