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- 06/28/2013
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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 - 7. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
The scenery on the hike back down this part of the mountain seems to be whipping by quickly. I was already back to treeline, and what had been a thirty minute hike up the mountain was a ten minute hike back down. Since I am now in a pissy mood (literally), I find an out-of-the-way spot and take a leak, covering the large patch of ground with my yellow stream. After I am done I think, 'Angry? Just piss all over everything.' Finally reality sets in and I think, 'What a way to remember your hike--piss all over Mother Nature,' and begin to feel childish and stupid.
Still somewhat angry as I return to the hiking path, I look at the skies and angrily ask out loud, "Who the FUCK is Sarah?" I mentally go through the 70 to 80 people we work with. No Sarahs. I think through the few number of Chad's friends that I know or have heard about. No Sarahs. I scan back through our work schedules for the past couple of months for customers. No Sarahs. I still have no clue. So I work backwards in time to try to figure out when I noticed a change in Chad. September and October had been minimal contact times. I was gone most of August. Then thinking back to July. Chad and I had our last good physical and emotional contact on July 4th. Then I realize that this must be centered around our purchase of the big, old house. We had settled on July 12th and the closing agent's name was what? Oh, fuck. Sarah Parker. Then I remembered the day we closed on the house.
Chad and I had arrived at the title company about 5 p.m. We came straight from work after a day of customer meetings, so we were still in our suits, with our shirts unbuttoned at the top and our ties hanging loosely around our necks. I looked good this way most of the time, but Chad always looked stunningly good. His perfect face, with a strong squarish jaw and athletic body, a charming and warm smile, and blue eyes, dark blue indoors but sky blue outdoors, always had an profound effect on people, especially the women. The women would admire me for a short time, but then they'd see Chad and fall all over themselves to do just about anything for him.
We were closing on a 200-year old, three-story Victorian on five acres of land at the edge of the Chesapeake Bay. The grand, old house stood high on a hill so we didn't have to worry about flooding from hurricanes or nor'easters. The property sloped down rather steeply to a boat dock that would give us easy access to the boat I wanted to buy.
It had taken a couple of months for us to find this place and it would be several more months before we could move in--needless to say, the place needed major work, both inside and outside on the grounds surrounding the house. However, it was what we both wanted, so I was buying it and Chad was going to pay me back his part of it. I remember seeing the spark in Chad's eyes as he looked at me. He hadn't said anything at all, but that spark in his eyes and the excited smile that went with it said, 'This is it!'
However, on closing day Chad seemed subdued. At work I wanted to ask what was up, but got too busy to spend the time with him. On the drive to the title company, he avoided the question. But when he saw Sarah, he relaxed and became a little more animated. He and Sarah started a quiet banter back and forth between them, and I remember quietly enjoying their conversation while Chad and I signed all the paperwork. At the end, she gave her business card to both of us and said to call at any time if we found any problems with the paperwork.
Because I was with the person I wanted to be with for the rest of my life, I had turned off all my good-looking-person-nearby sensors. But Chad's interest in Sarah automatically turned them back on for me. The first thing I noticed was that Sarah was about Chad's age. The second was that she did not have a wedding band on her left hand. A few more seconds after that, I finally noticed Sarah's physical beauty. She was just a couple of inches shorter than Chad, a long-legged, thin beauty with long, dark brown hair and an oval face. Her nicely fitted, light colored pant suit accented her tan, her smile was almost as charming as Chad's, and her deep brown eyes were intense but friendly. In short, even I was somewhat in awe of this young woman as she stood nearby and talked to us.
As we left, I walked ahead but Chad paused for a couple of seconds and said something to Sarah that I didn't hear. She laughed and I could see that she was hooked on him. He was a charming guy, and I was always little jealous of this. Like so many others, she had fallen for Chad in that thirty minutes we had been signing paperwork. But little did I know how much Chad had been affected by Sarah.
On the way back to the condo, Chad was again subdued and quiet. A couple of times I tried to pull him out of his shell, but he always quietly countered with something like "I'm thinking about work right now." When we got back to the condo, he changed quickly and went back to work to finish a project. Thinking back on it, the following two to three weeks were when Chad's work habits started to get even more intense, spending many hours at work and then working overtime at his townhouse. Unfortunately, I didn't really notice because soon after that was about the time my parents had died.
Maybe if I had paid more attention to our relationship and less time at work over the past few months, I would have seen the real situation sooner and more clearly: Chad is very interested in a beautiful female about his age, and the "old fag" is slowly being pushed away. The fight we had was just Chad's rebellion against staying with some old fart. And rightly so, I'm 48 and he's 26. I sigh as I think, 'Twenty-two years difference in age. He has a right to find and be with someone his own age for the rest of his life. When I retire, he'll be in his mid-40s. When he retires, I'll be 90 or dead whichever comes first. Even I wouldn't want to be in that situation.'
I soon realize that I've stopped walking. I put my hand up to my forehead and think, 'What the HELL was I thinking getting involved with him to begin with?' Then the memories start flooding back--his quiet, confident smiles and humble attitude that went with a good golf game; the jokes and laughter in the condo and at work; the long, quiet, strong hugs we gave each other in the kitchen or the front hallway when we needed reassurance that everything really was going okay; and his naked body and how my body responded to it along with all the kisses and sly looks we gave each other when one of us moved into position over the other in bed. All I could think of was, 'I'm the one who needs him, but he no longer needs me. There's no real reason for him to stay with me now that he's found someone better.'
As I start walking again, feelings of being lost and helpless flood me in countless waves. Tears build up in my eyes as it finally hits me that all the things I had done over the past year had been for Chad. I had scheduled my work around his schedule. I had built my personal life around what he wanted to do. I had purchased the house for him. And now with the renovations almost complete, my stupid brain finally figures out that Chad doesn't want to make a long-term commitment to an old fag when there's someone else who can give him a real life, a life that is better and far more "normal" than I could ever give him.
The moment becomes an epiphany for me, a simple and striking moment of discovery when I finally see what has been unfolding in front of me since Sunday. Like a wrecking ball ramming the side of a building, the realization of what I must do hits me hard, so hard that it temporarily takes my breath away. Even though I love Chad intensely and completely, I really do have to let him go, just like the still, small voice on the summit had said to do.
I stop again, lean over and put my hands on my knees and begin to cry harder, the tears dripping off the end of my nose and disappearing in the dirt below me as the pains return in my throat and stomach. Second only to my wife and kids, I am losing someone that I really, really want to keep in my life. The thoughts make me feel small, worthless, and worst of all, old, really old.
Images of Chad and me together flood my brain again, especially our late night conversations about life and people. The questions he asked had made me really think about what I felt about these subjects, and the comments he made sometimes amazed me at the depth of his knowledge and convictions. These are part of the reason why I feel so tied to him and why it is now so difficult to let go. It is also part of the reason why I'm so attracted to him and so few other guys--he's good looking, he's really smart, he knows where he's going in life, and he's compassionate on so many levels.
After a few minutes of sobbing and beating up myself mentally for being so blind to reality and stupidly believing that Chad wants anything I have to offer, my body's defense mechanism takes over and the numbness returns. The chatter in my brain ceases and I now know what I have to do, whether I like it or not. I stop crying, dry my eyes and begin to walk again, my mind going blank while my body moves forward as if it were on autopilot.
I must have lost track of time and distance because I soon encounter the sign at the saddle point which directs me down the side of the canyon to where I had started earlier in the day. Had it not been for a chipmunk running by carrying something that looked like a shiny foil wrapper, I wouldn't have remembered the water and food that I had set aside earlier in the hike.
I look around trying to remember where I stored all the extra stuff. After another five minutes of searching (some people say your memory is the second thing to go when you get old), I finally remember where it is and walk over to the correct tree.
When I look down at the extras, all the water is there, but only one of the four protein bars is left. I get a little pissed as I think, 'The chipmunks stole my food, just like Sarah is stealing Chad from me.' After a few seconds, I realize again how stupid and absurd that last thought sounds and I begin to laugh for the first time in a few days. The rational part of my brain finally takes hold and says to me, 'Get a grip, idiot. The chipmunks aren't out to get you. They're just hungry, and you're just really tired. And Sarah isn't out to get you either. So stop, eat the last bar, have some water, then finish this hike and do what you have to do.'
I drop my daypack, load up all but one of the remaining water bottles, then take a short break to eat and drink while sitting on a nearby rock overhang that overlooks the west side of the mountain and the sights in the valley beyond.
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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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