It will probably come as a surprise to no one that Jon not only passed his first certification exam but he did so with flying colors scoring some twenty-odd points more than required to go on to the next round of testing.
What you may be wondering about is how the reasoning between the emotional side of my nature, Griselda as I like to call my heart, and my logical mind, Brain, came to terms with the idea of my returning to Canada.
“Whatever gave you the idea it would be a good thing to fly cross continent, rent a car and drive Christ-knows-where in Ontario to see this man again?” I asked Griselda.
“I did it for him,” she responded softly motioning to Brain. “I can’t stop feeling what I’m feeling for Jonny, he can’t stop trying to make sense out of Jonny’s refusal to let go, and we can’t go on living torn between obsession and longing.
“We’ll fly to Canada and spend a weekend with Jon. You’ll have dinner and, over the course of the next few days, raise the issue of making a clean break and why he can’t seem to do that.”
“You say that like you already know the answer to that question,” I said.
“I do,” Griselda said, “I have from the beginning, but you and our logical partner haven’t been able to come to terms with that yet, and until he reaches that understanding we’ll be living in an unending limbo of misery.”
“She’s right,” Brain chimed in, “there’s a piece missing in this equation and until I can resolve it I don’t think I’ll ever be able to rest.”
And that’s how, despite having no income whatsoever, I decided to tap into some of the principal of my sole remaining asset and fly away to a speck of a town at the base of one of the Great Lakes.
“I should tell you,” Brain said as we packed for the predawn hike down the street to the Palm Springs airport, “if this goes badly once again, I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to hold things together. Despite this being Griselda’ idea she still longs for this man and is just as wounded as we are by what’s taken place.
“Unless we come away with a real understanding of what’s going on here, I don’t know if we can survive another emotional onslaught like the one that took place following our return from Toronto.”
“Great,” I thought to myself as I checked the E-Ticket on my iPhone, pulled up the handle on my rolling bag and headed for the door, “now he tells me.”
I decided to tap into some of the principal of my sole remaining asset and fly away to a speck of a town at the base of one of the Great Lakes.
Being an AARP senior discount travel package, mine was another grand tour of airports of the continental United States. I flew from Palm Springs to the Dallas Fort Worth airport, where I spent a leisurely two hours awaiting a flight to Toronto on a plane so small that at nearly 5’ 10” in height I had to lower my head to avoid hitting the emergency exit signs in the ceiling above the aisle.
My only problem came when the rental company I was to pick up my prepaid car from refused to accept the same credit card I’d used to pay for the travel package. The only other card I had, thanks to my recent near bankruptcy, was a Debit/Check card from my credit union, which they wouldn’t accept either.
An hour after clearing Customs and Immigration and exiting the airport, I finally found a rental car company that had cars available and would accept my self-funded AMX card. I threw my bag into my full-price Chrysler 200 rental and drove out of the parking facility with absolutely no idea where I was going, much less how to get there.
The car, while full of lovely features like a satellite radio, cruise control, power seats and windows, did not have an onboard GPS. To make matters worse, it would cost a bloody fortune to use route mapping in my cell phone as it would have meant paying exorbitant international roaming fees.
Adding insult to injury, because it was October and the sun was setting earlier, it was now dark during rush hour in metro Toronto, and it was raining.
After discovering that Canadian drivers don’t believe in allowing their fellow drivers to merge from one lane to the next (in fact they ban together as if to repel invaders), I finally made my way to the two-lane highway that would take me from the GTA (Greater Toronto Area) to Owen Whatever.
I arrived too late on a Thursday to get together with Jonny, although we did text a bit before retiring for the day.
Jon had class the following day and, of course, a workout after that. We agreed to meet around seven. I picked him up in the condo complex he was staying in, and after a bit of small talk we headed out to an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant a few miles away.
“I figure this will be a good way to save you from having to pay for a big dinner,” Jon joked as we were seated, “and I can eat as much as I like.”
Throughout the evening, my heart and my mind worked in perfect unison as we navigated the unspecified terms of our being with Jonny again. Quickly I came to the realization that humor seemed to ease the unspoken tension between us.
I spent most of the evening alternating between talking about his schooling and what life was like in such a small town, while slipping in as much witty banter as I could think of.
At one point he began telling me that he’d finally met a gay couple living in the area, “Their names are John and Jim, they have a house out near the bay,” he said. “They’ve invited us to lunch tomorrow.”
I thought to myself a drive through farm country and woods still flush with autumn colors, might be the perfect time for “the talk.”
We left the Sushi Palace and I drove Jon back to his room rental, and as he was about to exit the car he said, “By the way, John and Jim are very hospitable and they love to entertain, lunch is going to mean dinner and that’s going to mean staying overnight, so you’d better pack a toothbrush and some warm clothes; it’s going to be cold this weekend.”
“What was that about the best laid plans?” I could hear Brain asking Griselda.
I thought to myself a drive through farm country and woods still flush with autumn colors, might be the perfect time for “the talk.”
I realized I hadn’t brought much more to wear than jeans and a couple of pullovers. If I’d brought the cargo shorts, I’d have looked like any other retiree back in Palm Springs. Not the kind of thing for a fall weekend in Canada.
In the mall across the street from the restaurant Jon and I had dinner at the night before, Owens Snore had two stores with men’s departments to choose from; Wal Mart and Sears.
Not being a fan of the Evil Empire, I headed for Sears. Once inside I was at a loss for what to buy for a weekend in the Canadian country. I knew I’d need something warmer than what I’d brought and that Jon had been teasing me about being able to adapt to Canada and its climate.
Twenty minutes of wandering the aisles of the Sears men’s department and I wasn’t inspired by a single item of clothing, and then I saw it. I rushed to the rack, searched for my size, and tried it on. It was a perfect fit.
“If we’re going to do this,” Brain said, “we need to go whole hog.”
“Accessorize,” Griselda added. I scooped up my selections, paid for them, and rushed back to my hotel room to change.
“Perfect,” I said looking in the mirror before leaving to pick up Jon for our weekend outing, “hopefully this will go over well.”
It was a chilly, grey day as I pulled into the driveway of the condo Jon was staying in. I had the worst case of butterflies in my stomach I think I’ve ever had. I rang the bell and stepped back from the glass storm door.
A minute or two later, Jon opened the door and, even before he could push the storm door open, a huge smile crossed his face before he nearly doubled over in laughter at the sight of a sixty-something lumberjack standing before him.
There I stood in jeans, my hiking boots, and bright red plaid snap-front flannel shirt and Canada’s trademark winter headwear, a black toque.
“Ready to go, eh?” I asked. He didn’t answer, he just kept laughing and chortling all the way to the car.
There I stood in jeans, my hiking boots, and bright red plaid snap-front flannel shirt and Canada’s trademark winter headwear, a black toque.
Edited by
Kenneth Larsen
Join us again on November 21 for: A Weekend In The Country.
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