Part X

For the previous installments, click here and scroll to Part I

Part X

Driving home from the ocean that night was peaceful.  We had held hands all night long: over dinner, on the drive home and now parked in front of my house.  Although his hand felt familiar and comfortable, I enjoyed allowing myself to memorize its firmness and calloused feel while tracing every bit with my own fingers.  We sat quietly next to each other in our seats, both not wanting the night to end, but feeling as though we had accomplished much in our day together.  We had emotionally beat ourselves, yet came out victorious.  There was a purpose to our relationship, and we both desired to see it carried through.  However, when all was said and done, tomorrow we would wake up and it would be January 2, and he was due back at the Academy.  The timing was inconvenient and unfortunate, but one can’t always choose when Love comes a-knockin’.

He broke the silence first.

“How would you like to communicate via our long distance?  I have liked writing you with pen and paper – would you mind if I continued?”

Mind?  Nothing sounded more romantic and right up my alley.  “Of course not,” I smiled.  “You know I love to write and nothing is more exciting than having a full mailbox at school.”

“Good.  And maybe I could call you once a week or so?  We could have a weekly phone date?”

“Sounds perfect.  I’ll look forward to it all week long,” I admitted.  “I don’t have a cell phone, so you’d have to call my dorm phone.  And you’d probably have to be the one to call me, cuz I just use calling cards, and those can get pretty expensive.”  He grinned at me.  He knew I was reluctant to own a cell phone.  The mere thought of someone being able to get a hold of me 24-7 seemed so binding to me.  I swore I’d never own one.

His face changed subtly.  It looked as though he wanted to say something, but the words were stuck right behind his perfect lips.  He probably didn’t even know that I caught his change of inner emotions, but I had studied his face so often the past week, it was impossible for me not to notice him.  “What is it?” I prompted suddenly.

He looked surprised, as if I had read his mind.  “What do you mean?” he questioned.

“You look like you’re about to say something.  Like something’s bothering you?”  I probed.

Shyly, he turned away from me and stared out the window into the dark street.  He sighed.  “Jenny, there’s so much I want to say to you.  I just don’t know how you’ll take it.”

Steeling myself for a blow, I pressed on.  “It’s okay.  You can tell me, whatever it is.  I’ll listen.”

He took a deep breath, and then looked me in the eyes, sincerity and deep affection lasering into my soul.  “Every time I look at you, I can’t help but be absolutely overwhelmed by your beauty.  Sometimes, it’s all I can do to not look away – your beauty overpowers me.  And I’ve tried to hold back the words, in order to not scare you off, but I just need to say them.  I need to express how truly lovely you are to me.  May I?  Would it bother you too much if told you, every now and then?”  His words poured out of him, almost in anguish. 

I searched around the car and glanced behind me.  Was I missing something?  Was Grace Kelly hiding outside my window, lurking somewhere in this car??  Was he honestly saying this to me??  And asking if I minded???  Laughing out loud, I grabbed his neck, pulled him close and hugged this sweet man tightly – and awkwardly across the middle console of our car.  “Travis James, you can tell me that any time you darn well please.  I promise I won’t mind one itty-bit.”

*

Days later, we were both back at our respective colleges: he to finish up his senior year at the Academy, and I to pick up where I left off in my junior year of college.  Stepping off the plane at the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport jolted me back into reality.  So much had happened in these past two weeks.  I vaguely remembered the young-stressed-out-girl-who-couldn’t-get-on-the-plane-back-home-quickly-enough back in December, when I now felt like a mature (well, sort of mature), at-peace woman, dating a military man.  How did this all happen?  The four letters he had given me during our time together were tucked away in my Bible and served as the only proof that I had truly just lived this fairytale of an adventure. 

I arrived back to school two days before Lisa, my roommate, did, due to Residence Life responsibilities.  Busily working at getting everything back in order before classes started up once again, I stopped dead in my tracks while unpacking my suitcases from break.  I had never told Lisa that I was dating Travis!  I never told any of my friends!!  Everything had happened so fast, and my Minnesotan life seemed so far away, and … it had just never crossed my mind to call anyone…  She was going to kill me.  She was going to think I’d lost my marbles, got knocked off my rocker, was a schizophrenic.  Last I spoke with Lis, I had happily just broken up with Boyfriend #2, swore off all men for at least five years and hugged her goodbye as she dropped me off at the airport.  And now, here I am, dating a man – two weeks later.  Travis, nonetheless.  Oh Nelly…

As if orchestrated by God Himself, in walked Lisa, less than five minutes later.  Dropping her bags, she raised her long arms over her head and yelled, “Jen!”  I fit my short 5’3” frame in her lanky arms, giving each other a good, BFF-hug.  We chatted about the weather, our Christmases, the drudgery of school for awhile. I drew in a deep breath and thought “Better now than later…” and blurted out, “Lisa, I have a boyfriend.”

“What?!?!?!?”

*

And so our semesters progressed.  Travis faithfully wrote me EVERY.DAY.  Checking my mail box was a new found pleasure for me, as I was sure to get (almost daily) a thick envelope with “Jenny!” scrawled across the front.  The mail carriers began to question me about whom this mysterious admirer was.  I would smile knowingly and kept all information to myself.  I loved having a relationship that wasn’t on stage – full and center – for all eyes and ears to know about.  Not many knew I was dating, and I reveled living in this small, private world that just Travis and I could enjoy.  Each letter we wrote to one another held our hearts, our dreams, our passions, our daily grind, ourselves.  It took time and effort to handwrite our correspondence, yet the time and effort grew our communication and our relationship into something rich and alive.  Every Thursday night, at 10 o’clock (my time), you could find me waiting anxiously by the phone in my room.  No sports game, no hall prank, no girl’s night out could persuade me to give up those weekly talks.  They were the bright light in my week – when I could hear that easy, familiar voice tell me he missed me.  It was the magical moment when the man in the letters would come to life and speak my name.

*

We saw each other twice during that spring semester.  He was able to work around his demanding baseball schedule to come see me.  It was a quick weekend, requiring him to fly red-eye flights both ways.  The weather was lousy (i.e. February in Minnesota) and the dorms in which I lived had limited visitation hours for males and females.  We found ourselves in my roommates car (since I didn’t own one), shivering away, trying to stay awake and make the most of our time, wishing our circumstances were different for most of the trip.  He kissed me that trip, once, but it was so awkward and awful that I don’t like to count it as our first kiss.  We both said to each other after my freak-out-crying session post-kiss, “Let’s forget about this one.”

I visited Colorado once in the spring.  We both had a three-day weekend, so he offered to fly me out to visit him and watch him play a game of baseball.  I was thrilled to see him in action, and get away from the strict rules of my school.  My aunt and uncle also abided in Colorado Springs, so I had a place to stay with wonderful company.  All in all, the trip looked like it was going to be a success.  And I hoped, oh I hoped, he would attempt to kiss me again.  I was ready this time. 

Alas, two days before I flew out, he called with some heavy news.  He had torn his Labrum, which connected his bicep muscle to the bone.  He would no longer be good for pitching.  If he decided to have surgery, he’d be out for the rest of the year.  Otherwise, he could try and rest it, ease back in to pitching, but he would not be able to start or close.  His baseball career was pretty much done.  Besides being completely humbled by that, here I was just days away from going to watch him play.  And more bad news: the team was now scheduled to play TWO double-headers the weekend I’d be visiting.  And, Trav wouldn’t be playing – at all.  I tried to comfort him and tell him it didn’t matter – I’d gladly watch baseball all day as long as we could be in the same vicinity of each other.  Which I did.

Those were two very long days, in which I sat in the stands, hoping for a glance of my studly boyfriend any time he’d emerge from the dugout.  I was alone, most of the day, basking in the Colorado sun, wondering how these crazy circumstances continue to befall us.  There was simply never enough time for us to be together.  At the end of the fourth baseball game, Travis surfaced from the concrete cell and headed straight for me.  Gosh, he was amazing to look at.  Tan, sculptured arms; body akin to that of a Greek god, handsome face to gaze on… and he was mine.  Lucky, was the word that kept coming to mind.  Swinging an arm around my waist, he practically lifted me off the ground as he whispered into my ear, “Let’s get outta here.”  I couldn’t agree more.

Driving to my aunt’s house, we both showered while tried to scrape the sun and dirt off our weathered faces.  Emerging from our separate bathrooms, we smiled with great satisfaction at one another.  “You sure do clean up nice,” I joked.  I was crazy for him. 

We dined at a fancy restaurant and enjoyed a warm, scrumptious meal, over which he was able to share his frustrations with baseball.  It had been a tough four years and I was just beginning to see this whole aspect of his life that I had missed.  Such hard work and dedication put into this love of his – baseball – with little to show for it.  I, though, was encouraged by his motivation to steady onward in a sport that wasn’t giving him all he had ever hoped for.  His faithfulness was inspiring. 

As we left dinner and decided to go for a drive, he was still venting about the day and the game.  While I cared for his thoughts and emotions on the subject, I was secretly trying to figure out how to change the subject to something a little more poignant, say… us?  Driving aimlessly, we were heading into the mountains.  

“Do you know where you’re taking us?” I interrupted, somewhat concerned.  Travis had a history of losing his way. 

A mysterious smile spread across his face.  “Of course I do,” he responded.  Settling back into his seat, I could see the wheels turning in his head.  We zig-zagged our way up the steep slopes of the Rockies, winding this way and that.  Darkness had already fallen over the city, and the city lights were blacked out by the looming forest on both sides of the narrow road.  Suddenly, there was a clearing and Travis quickly pulled to a halt on the side of the road.  “Look,” he pointed. 

Spread out beneath us was the city of Colorado Springs.  It was stunning.  The moon was rising behind us while stars shone brightly in the unindustrialized sky.  City lights twinkled down in the valley, while we, two gods in the heavens, looked down from above.  A sight I’ll never forget.  “Wow,” I breathed.  “How’d you find this place??” 

“I’ve got my connections,” he admitted half-jestingly.  I sank farther into the leather seat, grasping his warm hand, wanting so badly so be snuggled into his arms.  We had definitely not hugged enough this trip.  I could tell he was still somewhat reserved around me – physically – due to my reaction to him trying to kiss me when he visited Minnesota.  The car was comfortable, but not cozy, and this view demanded a long look.  I desired to be comfy and surrounded by those arms, enjoying a sweet kiss in between glances at the panoramic view below us.  Looking at him sideways, his expression was unreadable.  My guess was his mind was still on baseball.

“Want to step outside the car and get a good look?” he suggested abruptly.  Grrr… and move me from the warmth of this car?? 

“Sure,” I agreed, as girlfriends are prone to do without voicing their true opinions.  He jumped out of his side and jogged over to my door, in order to beat me to opening it.  He always loved to play the gentleman’s role, and I didn’t mind obliging him.  It made me feel distinctively feminine – a feeling I enjoyed.  Gently pulling me out of the car, he kept his strong arm wrapped about my coated waist and led me to the grill of the Jeep, which we leaned back against, staring at our exclusive view.  The night air was brisk, but not too bad if I leaned deep into his chest and snuggled my head under his chin.  He was warm, always warm, and muscular with just the right amount of smushiness.  I loved the way he felt.

Seconds after we positioned ourselves just right on the front of his car, he began hashing out some part of the baseball game that was still bothering him.  You’ve got to be kidding me!  I thought.  This man has a one-track mind.  Here we are, in the midst of the Rockies, overlooking a gorgeous view, with me pushed into his chest and he’s thinking about baseball??  Still??  Even I’m thinking about kissing, and I’m the girl!  It’s time I took things into my own hands, or else I’ll be leaving Colorado with no goodbye kiss!  And with that, I pulled back from his chest ever so softly; lifted my face, as if to watch him talk, yet aiming to distract him with my supple lips.  Nope, he just kept going.  Baseball this, catcher that, pitcher this, batter that… Alright, I decided, Mother always told me to NEVER kiss a boy, but this here boy is needing a bit of help, and gosh darn it, Mother will never have to know!  I shifted my weight to the tips of my toes and moved my lips to position them right on the corner of his mouth.  Immediately, the word-flow ceased and he grew quite still.  Puckering my lips ever so slightly, I planted a soft kiss.  Take it away, boy.  And he did!  Turning his lips to rest fully on mine, his arms gathered me tightly to his body.  What ensued jeopardized my beating heart and took every ounce of breath left in me away.  His lips moved over mine as if they knew them by heart, kissing me softly and slowly at first, then progressing to passionately embracing me.  His kisses were perfect in every way and warmed every last bit of cold in my body.  Tingles and firecrackers, chills and roller coasters – this man was not just made out of romantic words and thoughtful gestures.  I could have stayed there all night. 

Alas, after only two hours our legs became cramped from standing so long, and our noses were threatening to run from the cool, night air.  He pulled away one last time and said with a sweet, intimate smile, “It’s late.  Let me take you home.”  As we circled back down the mountain, fingers laced and sleepy smiles stretched across our faces, I looked at him and said, “I’m usually not so forward, kissing boys and all.  But God knows you were taking your sweet time!  You can’t expect a gal to watch you play baseball all day long in that sexy uniform and not give her any kissin’ when all’s said and done.”

Squeezing my hand, he kept his eyes on the road and grinned.  “So, you think I’m sexy in my baseball uniform, eh?”