“You can’t believe how incredibly difficult it is for me, especially as a writer,” I said to Jon’s best friend Brodie during one of our video chats prior to Jonny’s coming to Palm Springs, “to find words to describe just what and how I feel when I’m talking with him.”
Startled, Brodie injected, “You haven’t dropped the L Bomb, have you?”
“The what?” I asked a bit confused.
“You – haven’t – told – him – you’re – in – love – with – him – have – you?” he said slowly as if speaking to someone slightly dimwitted.
“Of course not,” I said exasperatedly. “How could you say that to someone you’ve never met in person? Hell, I don’t believe it myself half the time. It’s impossible.”
Brain was now firmly in control of my part of the conversation but that didn’t stop Griselda from monkeying with the controls.
“Except for when I look at him during one of our FaceTime chats,” I said with endearing softness.
While my head was absolutely determined to keep me from investing my emotional well-being in anything as risky as opening myself up to a possible relationship with another man without first garnering a commitment of some kind, my heart was equally determined to fully give of itself to one Jonathan Peter Breithaupt, if not more so.
The struggle, no make that battle, between my heart and my head had never raged as feverishly as it did during those five days Jonny and I spent together in Palm Springs.
And, then…
That same Sunday evening after dinner Jonny suggested we go for a swim in the apartment complex pool. Being well past sunset, we had the pool to ourselves. The air temperature was still in the nineties and the water in the pool, while slightly cooler, was absolutely perfect for a late night swim.
At first we horsed around like guys do in the water. I took advantage of buoyancy to do in the water what I could never do on land, pick Jonny up, hold him, and then dunk him. We laughed, splashed, played around and then settled down to just drifting, floating about, and doing what we did so often, talking.
The more we talked, the closer we got to one another, both figuratively and literally, and the more we looked into each other’s eyes. Finally Jonny scooped me up, I threw my legs around his waist and he held me in his arms.
“I know you like knowing what people want and expect of you,” I said planning on paying him a compliment. “This weekend has turned into so much more than I expected. I want to tell you something. Jonny I love you. I’m in love with you.”
Suddenly I knew why Brodie referred to this as the L Bomb.
Inside my head alarms went off, emergency lights began flashing, and Brain who was reclining, feet up on a desk while blissfully enjoying the endorphins coursing through my system, stood bolt upright and slammed his fist down on a big red button marked “ADRENALINE”.
He threw his other arm out angrily and pointed directly at Griselda and looking at no one in particular shouted,
“CLAP HER IN IRONS!”
Having done that he began furiously typing, “[REMAIN CALM. ASSUME A NEUTRAL EXPRESSION] and then his words began flowing from my mouth.
“I know you don’t feel as strongly about me as I do you,” I began in the least romantic way I could think of, “I would like to know how you feel, but I know you’ll tell me in your own time. I’ve shared so many other things about myself with you [BE NONCHALANT, SHRUG SHOULDERS] that I just thought you should probably know this as well.
“[BE FUNNY, MAKE A JOKE] Besides it’s kinda hard to hide how I’ve been feeling lately, anyone who sees me knows how I feel, hell even aliens on the dark side of the moon know how I feel.”
That last bit being more of a statement of fact than a joke for anyone who’d been anywhere around me for the past several months.
Heart pounding and adrenaline pumping through my veins, I could have easily hoisted Jonny over my head on dry land, I can’t really recall much of anything about the way he reacted to my blurting out the truth at that moment.
All I recall is beginning to chatter away much as I had that night I picked him up at the airport and vainly trying to make jokes out of every little comment. I even went into a full blown dissertation of what to expect from the effects of extremely dry air evaporative cooling as we exited the pool. It’s often surprisingly cold.
I fell asleep that night again with my arms wrapped around him but this time with my heart pounding all while muttering a silent prayer that Griselda, and more to the point I, hadn’t screwed things up beyond repair.
Once in the park, it was love at first sight once again for Jonny…
The following morning my attempts at conversation were still a bit stiff and forced but Jonny didn’t seem to notice.
“Canadian,” Griselda said dejectedly.
This was Jonny’s fourth day in the desert and his eastern Canadian dread of high heat, which can be very humid by comparison with Palm Springs notorious “dry heat,” had abated. He really appeared to be enjoying the weather. We caught a break as temperatures had fallen from about 116 degrees to the low 100s. Don’t laugh, it’s noticeably cooler.
Even though it would mean nearly an hour in the car with nothing to do but talk, all the while ignoring the previous evenings outburst, I decided we’d take a chance on the heat and potentially awkward silences and drive out to Joshua Tree National Park, which among other things would mean crossing, and in my case, nattering away about, the San Andreas Fault.
Once in the park, it was love at first sight once again for Jonny, this time with the park’s unique landscape, vegetation, and rock formations all giving rise to that joyous river of childlike wonder and enthusiasm that flowed so freely from him with each new wonder he experienced. I was actually a bit jealous of the park.
“Wish I could provoke a reaction like that,” I told Brain.
“Don’t we all,” he said sardonically.
Who knew there were that many fans of Chrysler 300s.
Just before starting the drive back to Palm Springs I stopped the car at one of the park restrooms for a nature break. When I emerged there was Jonny, stripped to the waist, sunglasses on, face up, taking in the late afternoon sun. Hearing my approach he turned and started to put his shirt back on but I stopped him and told him to continue what he was doing for a little longer.
I unholstered my iPhone, flipped it into camera mode, and with my shiny black car in the background I quickly snapped a series of pictures of him in a moment of peaceful contentment just soaking up the sun.
Later I added the shot to the Facebook albums I’d made. During the next 18 months it would garner more “likes” than any other picture I’d posted to Facebook.
Who knew there were that many fans of Chrysler 300s.
That last evening we headed for the pool again after dinner. By now all seemed to have returned to normal. We laughed, talked, and were very much at ease with one another or least I was.
After a brief bit of play, and with no warning whatsoever, he scooped me up in his arms again, this time wrapping my legs around him for me. He didn’t say much of anything at all. He just smiled; the sweetest, warmest, gentlest smile I’d ever seen come from him or any man I had ever known.
For I don’t know how long, we just floated around in delightful little circles as if dancing.
As I told Brodie, you cannot believe how incredibly difficult it is for me to describe the feelings I had during those last few moments we had together in that pool.
Edited by
Kenneth Larsen
Next Up: Deniability
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