Chapter 13 – Chapter 13

As I flew back toward Milwaukee and then drove to Madison, I knew what I needed to do. I didn't know if I had the strength to do it, but I knew I needed to muster it if I could.

Our last conversation before Spring Break had been our ugliest. JJ asked what I was doing for the Break, and I had made the mistake of honesty.

"This guy, will you have sex with him?"

"Yes. That's the point. That's why I'm going."

"I'm not comfortable with that."

"Well, I'm not comfortable with you having sex with Claire. But, you do, so gander and goose."

"Rarely. And, I don't think it's the same."

"I know you don't, which is probably why we are where we are. But, it's the same. You don't think it is because you don't place the same value on man to man as you do man to woman, which is pretty fucking sick at this point. Regardless, you can't consign me to 'I get to have sex and you don't.' You have to understand how un-fucking-fair that is."

He started and then stopped. I don't think he had anything to say.

I, too, started and then stopped. I didn't know what to say.

One part of me wanted to plead with him to "choose me," to give in to what we had built, which he had to admit was incredible.

The other part of me wanted to chide him, to force him to admit that I was entitled to fuck as much as he was entitled to fuck.

I didn't satisfy either want. Instead, I left him alone in his office. I was angry and hurt as I slammed the door, too loudly.

As I drove back to him, I was resolute. For him, I needed to let him go. I mean, if I loved him like I claimed, I couldn't undo him like I wanted.

For me, I needed to let him go. I mean, I was dangling over the edge, and there was nothing to catch or cushion me if I fell.

"We can't keep going like we've been going," I said.

When he didn't respond, I said, "We can't keep doing what we've been doing. We can't keep making out. We can't keep teetering between that and this. It's not fair to anyone involved."

"Okay."

I was destroyed that he didn't fight me, argue against my resolution, try to conjure a solution that allowed for that and this. I was destroyed that he did exactly as he should have done.

"I mean," he added. "I agree. I'm not proud of what I've done. I shouldn't have done it. Thank you for fixing it. I should have, but I couldn't. I tried, but I wasn't strong enough to deny myself."

"Oh my God," I thought to myself. I was in deeper than he was, and now he was ceding to me the high road. I didn't belong there. I was making a play, hoping he would plead. He didn't.

"What's done is done," I said, resigned.

"What's done is done," he said, moving to the door of his office to see me out.

"One last kiss?" I asked, weakly.

When he didn't move or respond, I asked, even more meekly, "please?"

His lips met mine. I opened my mouth, and his tongue found mine. I clamped one of my hands to the back of his head and the other to the base of his back.

"I love you," I sent, as I kissed him.

"I want you," I sent, as I kissed him.

"Please don't let me go," I sent, as I kissed him.

Our kiss ended, and his forehead was against mine, the tips of our noses touching.

"I'm sorry," he said, resignedly.

"I know," I said. "Me, too," I admitted.

*****

"We should still train together" I read, opening the note that was in my student mailbox. "7 a.m. T and Th?"

We had planned to meet at oh dark thirty two days per week, one to bicycle and one to run. Swimming, a totally solo sport, was for each of us on our own.

At 7 a.m. on Tuesdays, I saw him on his bicycle, pedaling with his head down and bearing down.

At 7 a.m. on Thursdays, I saw him beside me, striding with his head down and bearing down.

"You should run with your head up," I said, after one of our runs. "Like you walk. Resolute. Tall."

He didn't really respond. The time we spent together was business-like and formal.

I was both astonished and disappointed by how easily he turned me off. One minute, we were making out like teenagers. The next, we were apart and separate, the prior intimacy in the rear view mirror, getting smaller and smaller as we moved further and further from it.

He handled it with aplomb, like he was totally okay with the end of that and the current of this.

I did not handle it nearly as well. I was bereft. When I saw him, I wanted to hold his hand and kiss his mouth and resume our trek toward wherever we had been heading.

He seemed totally uninterested in that destination.

In fact, he seemed relieved the journey was over.

*****

I sublimated my desire for him into training to beat him. Maybe, I thought that biking or running or swimming faster would impress him. More likely, I thought that beating him would prove I was not whatever he thought I was and that he did not have the hand he thought he had.

We trained hard. I felt it in my bones. I ached when I rested my head on my pillow.

I saw it in my physique. Generally slim, I slimmed to the point that there was not an ounce of fat on me. Every muscle I owned rippled. I was as taut as a snare drum.

I also saw it in his physique. Already in good shape, he moved into even better shape.

I marveled at his composure. He was like a spigot. He was on. Then, he was off.

I wasn't so controlled. I missed him so much. I couldn't just turn him off. I ached for him. I wanted him to ache for me. I wanted him. I wanted him to want me.

Every Saturday morning, we took our long run. Typically, I listened to music, which meant little or no talking. The Saturday before graduation, the eighth Saturday of our new normal, I was fed up and needed to talk. The resolution was evansescent; I wanted to rescind it.

"Don't you miss me?" I asked, when we had barely started.

"Miss you? I see you all the time. Since we started training, I've spent more time with you than ever before."

"You know what I mean, the dancing."

"I don't recall any dancing."

"That's what we were doing… dancing. You know, around the floor."

"I must be obtuse. I'm not following."

"The handholding. The kissing. It was all a dance."

"Ahhhh…. I've never heard it called that. It was fun while it lasted. And, yes, I do miss it, I guess. But, I don't miss the guilt and the regret. They were starting to overwhelm me. You stopped it all at just the right time."

We ran on.

"I miss it," I finally confided.

He stopped, but I didn't realize it. When I did, I had to circle back half a block.

"I know you do. I see it in your eyes every time you look at me. You have to see it in mine, too. You have to fucking see it in mine, too."

I was surprised by the profanity. He never swore.

"But," he said. "It's better this way. I get to be with you, but not in a way that cleaves me. If we had kept going, I'd have done something from which there is no return, and I can't have that. I just can't have that."

His eyes were wet. I grabbed his hand, pulled it to my mouth, and kissed the back of it, right in the whorl.

"I can't run any more today," he said. "I feel like a flat tire."

"I'm going to keep going," I said. I didn't want to, but I couldn't walk with him back to our cars. His confession was too much. I'd have pushed for the "something from which there is no return," whether in his car or in my car or someplace we found, fumbling with each other.

When I got home, I texted Barrett. "Hey, I graduate next Saturday. I know it's last minute, but how would you like a visitor the following week. I'd like to celebrate."

The bubbles appeared almost immediately. "Sure," he answered. "We can 'celebrate' all u want."

The following Saturday, JJ stopped running when I told him I was going to Dallas and would miss a week of training.

"What?" I asked, circling back to him.

"I don't know. I wasn't expecting that…. bit of news. It shouldn't bother me, but it does. I think I'm jealous."

"You can't be."

"I know."

"It's not fair for you to be."

"I know."

We started running again, but his proximity was wounding me. I turned off our regular route. I needed to be alone.

I thought back to a re-run of Will & Grace, where Grace refers to Will as her non-romantic life partner. That's what JJ was becoming to me, and I had to decide if that was enough for me, whether I could thrive as a sexless lover to my straight, married friend.