Clandestine Confessions

I had not seen him since June when I stopped by his house to pick up a book I lent him.

I was “supposed” to retrieve it when I was there for dinner a week prior but left without it.

“You forgot your book!” he texted me the next day.

Perhaps “forgot” was not the best word choice for this situation…

My neglecting to ask for it while standing at the door after our hug goodbye was not from it slipping my memory.

No…I stared right at his bookshelf before leaving. This was intentional. A deliberate failure to mention it. I needed a reason to do an evening like this again.

The book could give me just that.

–

“I will come by soon to pick it up!” I messaged back.

It would end up being the last time I would ever stand in that house again. He would move a couple months later. That living room, that kitchen, that porch, that deck have been the holder of my favorite and most transformative conversations in this life so far.

Like the one that led me to chase the sunset at Arches National Park on August 31^st, 2021 – when I met the feeling of “home” for the first time. And knew, without any doubt, this was where I belonged. This was to be my next adventure.

And this visit would not be the exception. I sat in the same chair, in the same spot as that day and revealed to him that his persistent questioning finally worked…

“So, I started my book…”

His eyes got wide. His smile even larger.

“Well look at you going for it! I am really proud.”

We talked in depth about how it was going, my internal struggle of what perspective to write it from, my uncertainty of exposing too much to the world…

There was an opaqueness to my transparency as I spoke the latter for he did not yet know the story of my life. And I could sense he knew I was holding back. There is always an effortless fluidity to our conversations…but today my words were halted, hesitant, hindered.

Trying to say a lot without saying too much.

And he so graciously offered me the privacy. Never prying or instigating or demanding me to show up past my point of readiness.

–

“I’ll soon let you read the first few chapters,” I said to him while standing at his door about to leave. Followed by me struggling to open it…keeping the tradition alive one last time.

And one last time he would laugh.

“Twist the handle hard and then pull with all your strength,” he said. They were the same instructions as the prior twenty encounters with this fickle door.

I always admired that he never took over and did it for me. He trusted I would eventually get it. He knew I could.

And I always did.

–

Six months of no sighting of him made for utter mayhem within me leading up to his arrival.

I was in rough shape…but in the most life giving way.

I did not sleep the night before. I was completely spaced out at work. I had a heart beating perpetually faster.

I was convinced the earth was rotating 100 times slower with the pace time was moving. Nothing will slow down time quite like butterflies in the stomach…

6:30 might as well have been a month from now. It all felt the same.

–

I was sitting on my couch trying to distract my emotions with a Christmas movie (chosen without the knowledge that the main character’s name was the same as my friend’s…) when the text came through.

“On my way!”

The final 25 minute countdown began.

I lit my favorite holiday candle in my kitchen. I turned up my heat (per my dad’s orders…). I began the playlist I curated specifically for the night. I put on my sister’s watch.

And I waited for his inevitable call asking where to park…my queue to make my way downstairs.

–

I was on my thirtieth lap (perhaps an underestimation…) of my apartment, my failed but valiant attempt to subdue the adrenaline, when my phone lit up with his name.

“Where would you like me to park?” he questioned on the other end of the line.

I laughed to myself at our predictability. I stood at my kitchen window and guided him on where to go. And upon him successfully finding the spot, I began the trek to meet him at the door.

30 seconds of me reminding myself to breathe.

30 seconds of my stomach flipping in excitement.

30 seconds of me coming up with the right words to say knowing full well one look at him will turn my brain into mush.

30 seconds of pure bliss realizing the waiting is over…

Plus, the three additional seconds of me pausing at the door taking it all in, taking a mental snapshot to immortalize the moment.

Him in the same spot he always stands as he waits, staring up at the sky, the look of peace on his face, the gentleness surrounding him.

I linger in the presence of who he is when nobody is believed to be watching.

It is a rarity to ever encounter that version of a person.

And I am reminded even more why my heart is so captivated by him as I watch in awe.

If only he knew just what I see…if only he realized just how lucky this world is to have him in it.

–

The clank of the door pulled the focus of his eyes onto me.

“Hey!” he said. A genuine excitement laced his tone…my heart skipped a beat…or two…at the sound.

“Hello! Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

That wasn’t even the line I rehearsed on the way downstairs, but it released from my lips instinctually.

And would become an unknown foreshadowing of the evening…far beyond just the desk being built.

“Glad I could! Happy to be the left brained person you need.” He was referring to a statement I made earlier about my mind seemingly not capable of operating from anything but the right side.

(This is why I am a writer…)

–

Little did I realize going into the night that I was needing much more than just the other half of a brain.

And little did I know I would receive it in the hours to come.