Clandestine Confessions

“Before we do this, I have to ask…do you trust me?”
We were heading towards my car when I posed the question.
He took one path and I another, a glaringly obvious display of how differently our brains operate.
He cut straight through the grass.
And then there was me who walked left down the sidewalk and then down the driveway and then turned right down the road.
He had been waiting at the passenger’s side door for a comically long time before I arrived.
Despite my best attempt to get to him as quickly as possible in the longest, most complicated way possible.
(And trust me, it was/is not lost on me how loudly metaphorical this was…)
But he did so patiently, offering me a sweet smile when I met up with him…the expression on his face indicating he noticed the journey but honored the choice…exuding a peace signifying no desire to rush me to the end he trusted I was inevitably going to reach.
“For what it’s worth, no matter which decision you made, you were always going to make it. There is no other option within you.” His words from December echoed in my heart, spoken after sharing with him the intent I had for my future post wedding…had I never met him.
•
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?” he replied.
“Just checking before you get in the car with me for the first time,” I said with a laugh while getting into the driver’s seat.
On a subconscious level, there was very much more to my question. But that is a conversation for a different day…
I could not help but release a giggle at how unprepared the seat was for his presence.
The triumphant return of my unhindered laughter brought an unexpected tear to my eye… a sound I seem to always miss much more than I realize.
“Please feel free to make any adjustments,” I said as I watched him maneuver his body to fit the small space; his knees almost to his chest and his body awkwardly leaning forward from the low headrest.
“It is all good! I am just not used to this ponytail being in the way.”
His hair had indeed gotten much longer. It was the second thing I noticed when he opened the front door.
However, we both knew that was not the culprit for this amusing spectacle. But how deeply touched I was at his gesture of making it the scapegoat to ease my mind.
•
I typed our dinner destination into the Maps app as he situated himself to no longer look like a practicing contortionist.
I had asked him a few nights prior if he would like to join me for an adventure trying a taco restaurant. It was recommended to me by my coworker, one of the more popular Utah Tik-Tok “influencers”. Given how hyped he became talking about the place, I knew we were in for a memorable experience.
And I was not wrong.
To the point we highly contemplated going back to the restaurant to order seconds (despite the 45 minute wait) after quickly finishing the first round of tacos on his deck.
We opted instead for uninterrupted conversation…another three and a half hours worth.
“Did it have a feeling of a date?” my best friend asked the following day.
“It’s hard to say…because what one would say looks like a date is just him and I being him and I. I only know us as the versions of ourselves who have 5-hour long conversations and effortlessly talk and joke around.”
That is all we have ever been from the first hello. Since that dining table in a hotel restaurant three years ago.
That infamous day when for the first time in my life the disordered mind let me know it had no need to be here and peacefully, quietly backed away.
Not out of fear or intimidation. Not out of obligation or expectation. Not out of guilt or shame.
But because it knew its purpose for existing was soon to be abolished…or fulfilled…depending how you look at it.
“You can take it from here J…you are safe…you know what to do…,” it whispered within.
•
“Alright, I am ready. You ready?”
I looked his way for confirmation.
I would see beside me him in a much more relaxed state. His hair now down and hat flipped forward.
“Yup!” he said, verbally affirming what my eyes already knew.
I put the key in the ignition.
“Wait…one more thing.” I turned and looked his way. “Just go into this experience with the knowledge most of my learning how to drive came from watching my dad who had aspirations to be a NASCAR driver.”
He let out a laugh.
“You have zero need to be concerned about this. You have what…16 years under you belt now of doing this? A record of two cross country drives? I think I am in good hands.”
He paused.
“Although, as I say that, I realize how much that sounds like it would be good for one’s last words.”
He gave me a sly smile.
“Ha…I promise to keep you safe.”
And I can assure you I have never driven more cautiously in my life…not even when I had all my belongings packed to the brim in my car driving home to Utah.
Some things make up my life.
Some things are my life.
I treat each accordingly.
•
And I can guarantee he could sense it; my overly vigilant, excessively careful, VERY much out of character driving…
For early in that drive he leaned closer to view my phone screen propped up on the passenger’s side vent, guiding me on where to go, how many more miles until I turn, attempting to eliminate any possible distractions.
However, the irony being that our new proximity, unbeknownst to him, had created a massive one…
Strengthening the already intense feelings that had been overtaking my body since his text confirming our plans.
All the very best of them making the knees weak, the butterflies to multiply, the pulse to quicken in a way that spoke life, bliss, healing, peace.
How immensely magnificent to think the deepest of painful experiences and emotions led me straight to these most beautiful.
And how much hope I hold that I have only scratched the surface of what this heart is to know…