This Is How I Exhale #2
“Follow me.” He hadn’t let go of my hand. His questions were minimal, but on blind faith, he was letting me take charge, and I knew just the destination.
“I didn’t know it’d be a death march.”
“It’s barely a stroll.”
“We’re in the middle of a field.”
“It’s a small field,” I shouted over my shoulder.
“Fields by definition are not small.”
Spinning around, I found Sammy trailing through the golden chest-high grass.
Every time he stepped into a hole, his head nearly vanished from sight.
Until now, he had followed without question.
The conversation had stayed light, as we talked about members of the community.
If Gladys thought we didn’t notice her blush every time Lionel McCleary walked into the bistro, she was kidding herself.
“We’re almost there.”
“You’re not a serial killer, right? I probably should have asked that earlier.”
“You found me out.”
I slowed. Hidden amongst the overgrown grass, in the middle of the field, sat a single rock. A boulder. It hid just out of sight, something nobody had ever seen unless they treated the field like a hedge maze. Nearly shoulder-high, it was wide enough for at least six people.
“Found it!” I shouted back.
“The bodies?”
I waited until he caught up. It seemed Sammy needed to switch from weightlifting to cardio.
The gasping for air grew louder until he was bent over at my side.
He glanced up, inspecting the rock before turning a confused eye in my direction.
If he expected a flashy experience, he had retreated to the wrong town.
From what little I knew, I suspected Sammy would appreciate what lay ahead.
“We’re here.”
Sammy wasn’t a small man by any measurement.
He had walked across the green and between buildings, making small talk.
But once we picked up the pace down the street, I had to slow down for him to keep up.
I would give him credit, he didn’t complain until we reached the field.
Even then, he followed me without question. His trust wasn’t lost on me.
“A rock?”
“I think it’s technically a boulder.”
“A big rock.” He pushed himself upright. “Why are we at a big rock?”
The sky had turned orange as the sun began its descent. Soon, the breeze would pass over the mountains, chilling the night. I pointed to the rock, signaling our final destination. Without a word, he moved forward, jumping up, trying to drag himself on top.
As his legs kicked, not gaining ground, my hands went to his ass.
It was ridiculous: a gay man in the middle of nowhere with hands on a straight man’s ass.
With a shove, he rolled along the top, lying on his back.
A second later, I dragged myself up and sat beside him.
Now both of us were huffing and puffing.
Eyes fixed on the clouds passing by, we caught our breath.
“Why here?”
I had almost forgotten the reason for our field trip. “You mentioned the silence.”
“It’s eerily silent,” he said.
Firefly sat nestled in a valley between the peaks of the impressive Appalachian mountain range.
The town itself had a heartbeat, but so did the surrounding valley.
It lacked traffic, or the dull roar of the townspeople, but it was anything but quiet.
It only took a moment to calibrate and shift out of the civilized world and become part of nature.
“Close your eyes.” He listened. “What do you hear?”
“Nothing.” Flatlanders.
“Breathe slowly.” I closed my eyes, joining him. “And just… listen.”
It took a moment, but I found nature’s call.
Crickets, a symphony of tiny chirps. They were almost as loud as city traffic.
Every few seconds, a high-pitched note broke through the droning.
Somewhere in the distance, frogs croaked.
When the breeze picked up, the grass rustled, nearly drowning out the animals.
His hand shot out, landing on my chest. “I can hear it.”
There were plenty of flatlanders who found the magic.
They treated Firefly as a gateway into the forest. Kayakers.
Hikers. Hunters. Each of them had visited and taken away this exact moment.
The initiated revered the world we inhabited.
We teased the out-of-towners, but we knew the look of the awakened.
I was glad to shepherd Sammy toward his.
The trees groaned.
“Is this what you wanted to show me?”
I turned my head to see him staring at me. “This is how I exhale.”
He flashed a smile before returning to staring at the sky. His hand slid off my chest, but he left his fingers touching my arm. It almost made me forgive Bobby and Evelyn for orchestrating this rendezvous. If nothing else, when Sammy left, he’d remember me.
He’d remember Mike.
“I worked in corporate finance,” he said without prompting. I continued watching him as he fixated on the clouds above. “First into the office every morning. Last car in the parking lot every evening. The plan had been to rise through the ranks and maybe someday take over my dad’s firm.”
I knew an origin story when I heard one.
“Two years. Not a single piece of recognition. Every vacation denied. I gave it everything, and I realized I had become a husk of a person.” Turning my attention to a dog-shaped cloud, I remained silent, giving him space to speak.
“I didn’t see friends. Every meal turned into fast food.
I stayed up late at night, knowing if I went to bed, it’d mean waking up to that damned empty parking lot. ”
My heart ached at the confession. In part because nobody should live like that, but also because, tangentially, I related. It wasn’t corporate finance, but I had my own parking lot. What had once been a North Star had turned into a sense of dread.
“I didn’t give two weeks.” He chuckled. “My boss asked if I could stay late. He had no idea what I had been doing. While he stood at my cubicle, I didn’t say a word. I shoved all my bobbleheads into my briefcase, stood up, and left. Dad was not thrilled.”
It reminded me of my final performance as Mabel. She had made a spectacle, but I silently went through the motions until the club emptied. There was no fanfare as Patrick removed my wig. Sammy and I had quietly exited a prison we had built for ourselves.
“What did you do next?” I held my breath.
“Right away?” Sammy rested his hands on his stomach. The spot on my arm turned cold. I laced my fingers over my chest while I waited on pins and needles for an answer. If he had done it successfully, perhaps he had the answer to whatever I had been seeking. “I was lost.”
The knot in my stomach loosened. “I can relate.”
“Got a new job. I got fired for underperforming. For the next six months, I applied for the same hellish position at different companies. I phoned in every interview. I ate a lot of chocolate chunk cookies in bed. I had no idea who I wanted to be.”
Every muscle in my body wanted me to roll over. Only a foot separated us, and I wanted to close the distance and hug him. Different circumstances, but he admitted a fear I wasn’t ready to voice. Every morning since that night in the club, I wondered why I got out of bed.
I feigned a stretch, wiping the tears from my eyes. My body went through the motions while I fantasized about chocolate chunk cookies in bed.
“I threw it all away without a plan.” As he spoke, the regret simmered in my chest. “I saved myself.” He turned and smiled. “Walking out of that cubicle saved my life… figuratively speaking. I felt like it was the first time I made a decision for myself.”
I exhaled. Not regret. Preservation. I hardly knew the man, but knowing he looked back at that moment with conviction eased a worry that had become an unscalable wall. Somebody had found a light at the end of their tunnel. It meant I could too.
“Are you okay?” he asked. The question didn’t have Firefly’s usual ulterior motives behind it. Sammy looked at me, and I couldn’t speak. His eyes lingered, and I didn’t want them to look away. The softness gave me something I had been craving.
I nodded. He didn’t push. In the drawn-out silence, I wanted to confess, to get the weight off my chest. The loneliness, the sadness, it didn’t seem as heavy while the forest played its song.
His willingness to listen, to open the door and not drag me through it, made space for a conversation I wasn’t prepared for.
“I will be.”
His hand moved to my arm, giving it a squeeze. “Give yourself grace.”
I hadn’t. I hovered between worlds, second-guessing every decision. His words were soft, affirmative, but I took them as a command. Even as the tears streamed down my nose, I let out a long breath.
Exhale. It was the first step out of the in-between.
“It’s getting dark,” he said.
He sat up and started to stand. My hand shot out, fingers locked around his shoulder. I held him in place. He crossed his legs and waited for me to sit up.
“You haven’t seen it yet.”
“What?”
The sun had all but set, and the sky darkened, and night was close behind. Dusk, nature’s in-between. We waited. He didn’t speak as the seconds turned to minutes. In the distance, a tiny light appeared. As if on cue, the show began.
“Magic,” I whispered.
It started with one, then another. Dozens of dots faded in and out. As fast as I could point, they vanished. After a few minutes, the field turned electric with thousands of tiny, fading lights. Sammy got to his feet, and I watched as he slowly turned.
In every direction: fireflies.
When life got complicated, I needed to refill my wonder. Seeing Firefly Valley’s namesake took my breath away. I watched as Sammy continued spinning, taking in the scene. Finding somebody who appreciated it as much as I did made this time feel different.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Ditto.