Trust Fall #2
As I passed the gazebo, a handful of women with big floppy hats weeded freshly planted flowerbeds.
The park had families sprawled out on blankets while kids played frisbee.
On the surface, Firefly appeared like any other small town in Maine.
The place might be identical, but it was the people that made Firefly special.
“And not just the residents,” I said as I spotted a group of eight people sprawled out on the grass. In the middle was my brunch date, sitting cross-legged as he talked to his employees.
From here, I couldn’t hear his words, but he maintained the attention of everyone around him.
I spotted the two who had joined him at the club.
While he wore a dress shirt and tie, everybody else had on shorts and t-shirts.
They looked more like tourists than tech employees on a retreat.
I partook in Firefly’s favorite pastime, being nosey.
Wandering closer, I approached from behind so he couldn’t see me. I plopped down on a bench.
“…it’s been an amazing week. I think we needed this.” His employees raised their hands in the air, wiggling their fingers. “We have one more task, and then I think we can call our first annual retreat a success.”
“Except for the Moxie incident,” the woman said, her expression sour. So did the rest of his employees. Somebody in town had given them the official initiation. That meant Firefly had taken a liking to this group of tourists.
“If I have to drink that again,” said a young man in a neon pink t-shirt, “I’m happy being a flatlander.”
They all laughed. I assumed a corporate retreat, especially while wearing a dress shirt and tie, would be in a stuffy office filled with slideshows. I should have saved my judgment. Sampson got less stuffy as he reached into his bag and produced notebooks.
“Reflection time.” They greedily snatched them from his hand and passed them around until everybody had one.
“We’ll have a reflection meeting in two weeks.
That’s great, but I want you to give me your ideas.
Be big, bold, and daring. How can we better help people?
Hopefully, you’re rested and energized. Go back to that tipping point that brought you to burnout.
Let’s explore it. Be vulnerable. Dr. Shirk will be there to help us process. ”
Wow. Exhale wasn’t a clever name for his app. Sampson practiced what he preached.
“And that’s the end of our first retreat. Everybody ready?”
They set their notebooks aside and sat upright, hands in their laps. Without directions, they closed their eyes. For the next few minutes, they simply sat and breathed. My eyes closed as I straightened my back. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.
Lilacs. In the distance, I heard children shouting for their dad to throw the frisbee.
I pulled my thoughts inward, focusing on my posture.
The boards of the bench pressed against my legs.
I let go of the tension in my shoulders and relaxed my jaw.
I exhaled, letting the stress escape my body.
As my mind tried to return to the existential dread, I focused on my hands clasped together.
For a moment, I felt at peace, my fears set aside as I took inventory of my body.
“It works.”
I opened one eye. Sampson stood on the other side of the sidewalk.
His backpack hung off his shoulder as he brushed grass off his legs.
He was thick, as if he went to the gym to ward off the belly.
It only partially worked. After hearing his approach to business, the dress shirt and tie didn’t make sense.
I could almost see him at the gym, lifting weights in a t-shirt with a cartoon kitten giving two paws up.
“The breathing, I mean.”
“I need to ask.” I gestured to the grass where they had been sitting. “You’re talking about feelings, and you’re—”
“Dressed like a corporate cog?”
“I’d have said a respectable businessman.”
He snorted. The awkwardness of our brunch had vanished as he meandered toward the bench. “I had a teleconference with an investor earlier. I think the tie makes them comfortable. They don’t fully understand our holistic approach to tech.”
“Adaptable,” I said. “I respect that.”
He raised a foot, showing off a nice brown dress shoe. “I hate shoes. I hate socks. If I could live my life in flip-flops, I would. Summer? Winter? These toes need to wiggle.”
It was my turn to snort. The small talk came naturally when we weren’t being shoved together out of necessity. He had gone from dorky and quiet to a commanding presence. It made me wonder if he fled because of the flier or if it had been a poorly timed situation.
“Did it help?”
My eyes shot up from his shoes. “Huh?”
“The breathing?”
“I think so? Let’s say I’m not great at getting out of my head lately.”
He set his backpack next to me and offered a hand. When I hesitated, he thrust it closer to my chest. I caved and took it. Pulling me to my feet, we stood chest to chest, or at least belly to belly.
“Let’s try something.”
The smell of lilacs was replaced by vanilla.
I wanted to bury my face in his beard and drown in the delicious warmth.
He didn’t let go of my hand as he guided me onto the grass.
This wasn’t the same man from this morning.
In his element, he had a quiet, take-charge attitude.
As he dragged me along, it was obvious the gym had paid off.
“Okay, turn around.”
Eyebrow high, I gave him a confused expression.
“I promise. It’ll get you out of your head.”
I turned.
“Arms across your chest.”
I did as he asked before I realized what was happening. I spun around. “Trust falls? Really?”
He redirected me. “Yes. Just like when you were in school.”
“I didn’t trust my classmates as far as I could throw them.” School hadn’t been good to me.
“Does that say something about them or you?”
He wanted me to trust him as he sank that dagger into my back?
I was about to protest when he rested a hand between my shoulder blades.
It wasn’t intimate in a romantic sense, but it tightened something in my stomach.
Mabel would use the closest man for a dance pole, but me, I longed for the simplest of connections.
I crossed my arms. “I’m heavier than I look.”
“Are you making excuses?”
“I’m trying,” I admitted.
“I’m asking you to trust me.”
“But I hardly know you.” My palms lay flat against my chest.
“If you knew me, you wouldn’t need to trust me.”
Annoyingly, he had a point.
I wanted to feel his arms wrapped around my chest, stopping me from hitting the ground. More than that, I needed this. This man I hardly knew only saw Mike. It was less about trusting him and more about trusting myself.
I fell.
“Whoa!”
I didn’t stop falling. Instead of stopping me, he joined me, toppling to the ground.
I landed on top of him with a thud. His knees poked my butt.
All I could see was the open blue of the sky and a single cloud drifting over the town.
If it weren’t for my new friend’s softness, I’d be walking with a bruised tailbone.
“You’re supposed to stop me!”
“You’re supposed to wait for me to say go.”
I trusted him to catch me. Either the universe knocked the wind out of my lungs, or it had a twisted sense of humor. I chose the latter as I laughed. Neither of us moved. Half draped across him, I almost bounced as he joined in the laughing.
We fell together.
“I swear it’s not funny,” he said.
Nearly wheezing, I reached over my shoulder, patting his face. “It’s plenty funny.” The ridiculousness of it took over, and I gasped for air as I laughed. Not performed, not staged, just pure joy.
He pushed himself onto his elbows, and I rolled off his stomach. Lying in the grass, my fingers drifted between the blades. It might have gone horribly wrong, but it was exactly what I needed.
“Your methods are unorthodox.” My head shot up. “But they’re effective.”
“Just how I planned it.”
There was no rush to pull away, no speedy excuses to stand and brush ourselves off. I lingered in the rush of falling, the half-second of disbelief before it felt like freedom. He was either accident-prone or a genius.
“Too bad the retreat’s over,” I said, the laughter subsiding. “Next you’d have me blindfolded and walking into traffic.”
He chuckled. “We save that for day two.”
We sat upright, our legs untangling. I’d call him a well-meaning disaster. It made him even more adorable.
Holding back my reply, I wanted to exist in this moment for a few seconds longer. “I’ll be sure to check out the app.”
“Maybe we’ll bump into each other again.” He picked at the grass, eyes focused on his hands. “The others are heading home, but I thought I’d stay a little longer.” He shrugged. “A real vacation.”
More time in Firefly?
“You’ll get to experience the crazy.”
“Oh?”
“Firefly is at its best when they’re putting on an event.” I avoided mentioning Pride specifically. “I assure you, you’ve seen nothing like this.”
He got to his feet, and offering me a hand, I didn’t hesitate. He pulled me up. Standing eye-to-eye, the grin returned. With the slightest upward turn of the lip, he went from handsome to downright sexy.
“I’ll see you around?”
“Firefly will make sure of it.” I’m sure they were already plotting. I backed away, ready to exit and go about our days. “Take care, Sampson.”
“Sammy,” he corrected. “My friends call me Sammy.”
“I’ll see you around.” I shot him a grin, a genuine, heartfelt smile. “Sammy.”