Chapter 11: The Gentleman
Candidate One.
Josh Taylor wiped a moist hand over his sweaty brows, pushing the perspiration up into his already damp hair. Tired as he was, it didn’t help much. He thought his fatigue was merely a byproduct of the current exertion combined with sleepless nights, unaware of the impact retrofitting was taking on his soul. Unaware of the retrofitting, period.
"Look at that fatty... now that's what you call a Big Bertha," huffed Bode, breathing heavy, not so out of breath though that he couldn't talk while running. Critiquing everything in their path.
"I don't think you should call her that," huffed Josh, keeping pace with his friend. Slightly aggravated with the commentary. Would running faster shut Bode up? he pondered.
"What? Am I not being politically correct? What should I say... she is height challenged... 'cause she's not tall enough for her weight? It’s not like she can hear me. When did you become such a prude?" questioned Bode.
"I'm not a prude... I see her out here everyday, rain or shine... I've seen her out here walking even when it’s too cold for me to run," he confessed. So much for being a tough guy, he thought.
He didn't know the heavyset woman striding down the sidewalk about a block ahead of them on the opposite side of the street. In fact he'd never really gotten a good look at her, she was usually covered up.
"Well that sucks... If she walks that much you'd think she'd lose some weight... wouldn't be such a chunk."
"Actually, I think she has."
"Oh my God... You mean she was fatter? Wow!"
Josh eyed Bode with quiet disgust for several seconds. "You really are a prick. You know that?" Was he being a hypocrite? Didn't he used to make such mental judgments about fat women when he saw them in public? He was different now.
Several of the nurses who had helped care for Julia were large women. They had been kind, took their time with her, even encouraged her on the really bad days. He could still see them, getting warm washcloths to wash his wife's face when the chemo made her sick and she'd vomited, or brought her cups of ice to suck on so that she wasn't thirsty when she couldn't even hold down water. They'd brought her extra blankets and pillows, anything that she needed to make her more comfortable.
Nah, he thought, he wasn’t the same man he once was. Not after seeing the love of his life go through that.
Bode looked secretly pleased. A hint of a smile was on his sweaty mug.
Josh frowned, becoming suspicious. What’s he up too? Is this an act? Recalling that several people had commented about his appearance lately. Some noting the fact that Josh looked weary and that there were dark circles under his eyes, again.
Those same eyes gawked sideways at Bode seeing through the charade. So that’s it, Josh mused. It’s a test. Anger being a healthier emotion than depression. It sure as heck beat being the gloomy shell of a man mired in bitterness and grief-- that he had been. Bode’s intentionally trying to push his buttons. Instead of being angry he allowed some of his old cockiness out.
“You up for a little challenge?”
"Hmmph…Race you to the light."
"You're on," Josh agreed, his competitive spirit kicking in.
Bode kicked it into high gear and was passing him.
The two raced down the wide sidewalk, Bode reached the light first, only by a few steps, shouting, "I win, I win!"
"Race you to the library," egged Josh, as he caught up then passed Bode who was dancing a little jig.
The Cobb County Library was the halfway point on the seven mile loop that the two had mapped out.
"You won't be ahead of me for long."
"Wanna bet."
Josh made it to the library a full yard head of Bode.
"RACE YA BACK!" called Bode as he rounded the grounds, darting past the large duck pond and up the side street the two routinely used. It ran along the backside of the library.
"Damn it," replied Josh, annoyed that his innate sense of timing had failed him, taking off after his friend.
His muscles were warmed up and he was hitting his stride. It IS getting easier he thought... being disciplined helped. The inner voice was one he had listened to often over the past 18 months. Driving him to improve, to push himself to go on. Slowly it was getting easier to breathe, to be alive without her.
He'd even starting dating again, well sort of.
There was a girl from human resources with Cobb County that he'd had a drink with two days ago, exactly one beer after work and some pleasant conversation. It had been okay, certainly better than his previous attempts, he mused.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see her again. Josh had not realized how superficial she was before they'd talked at the bar. Plus there was the whole dating a colleague aspect. Not that he was against social climbing, but she was kinda arrogant and seemed really interested in fast-tracking her career. Unsure he could be of help to her, or even if he wanted to. Added to that, he'd had another bad dream about Julia that really upset him, put him off his game.
Josh was a self-taught, software engineer for Cobb County Public Safety, installing upgrades, making sure that the network was secure, protecting it against hackers.
He worked behind the scenes and didn't have to deal with criminals or access records. His bachelor's degree was from Georgia Tech which he got in record time, opting out of many of the classes other students labored through by acing placement tests. Graduating two months before Julia had been diagnosed.
"You're moving like an old man," goaded Josh as he caught up to Bode, they'd passed by City Hall near the main square and had to stop at the intersection -- the traffic light was against them. Both runners were breathing heavy and jogging lightly in place.
Bode wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, he started to dry it on his shirt, seeing as that was drenched too, he shook his hand like a wet dog letting sweat fly everywhere.
Josh, eyeing this activity, stepped farther away to avoid the flinging drops, he was already wet enough. His nose wrinkling in mild disdain, wrinkling even more when he took a deep breath and realized how bad he smelled. Geesh! Gotta hit the shower, he thought, hoping that there was enough soap left.
The white figure on the crossing signal on the opposite corner changed to orange numbers and began counting down from 24.
"Not long now... By the way... how's it taste?"
"How's what taste?"
"My dust in your mouth..." Bode grinned.
"I think you mean my dust ... Three... Two ...One..." Josh counted down with the orange numbers and took off before the signal changed, he narrowly missed running into a car, while calling back, "Sucker."
"Man... you're getting reckless...you little shit."
Bode was hot on his heels. Catching up, he said, "I think you need to get laid...get rid of some of that pent up energy."
Josh grinned.
He'd been out with two other women in the past eight months. All he had done at dinner with each was talk about his late wife.
How much he'd loved her and how he'd felt powerless to help as she’d battled the cancer. He even admitted that part of him had died with her. At the time he'd known he was committing every cardinal sin in the book, breaking every dating rule. He’d been a complete mess. Surprisingly, each woman had had sex with him, pity sex to be sure, it was still sex. He'd never called either one after. A girl who gives herself up that easy? That wasn’t what he was looking for, he thought.
They were not like Julia.
Back when the two of them were in high school, Julia had made him wait and wait and wait until he thought he'd go crazy. He'd wanted her so badly. It wasn't until senior year that she finally agreed to let him make love to her. By then he was already head over heels. So was she.
Love changes things. He'd been so afraid of hurting her, it being her first time that he'd messed up royally. Growing overly excited when she had touched him with those gentle, soft hands, he'd lost it
, literally, before things could even get hot and heavy. She’d been an angel, patient, kind, encouraging and they'd tried a second time with more success. The next day he'd proposed.
"Push it," hollered Bode, breaking into Josh’s memories, scattering them like his own sweat. He smacked Josh on the right shoulder as he got a second wind before passing.
"Where are you getting this energy?"
Bode laughed.
They were nearly at the city park where they'd left their vehicles, Bode's Chevy truck was parked about six spaces from the sidewalk.
Josh's motorcycle was parked a few spaces farther down on the right side near the drinking fountain.
Family members had been worried when he'd bought the Harley after Julia died. Remembering the looks they gave him, he smiled ruefully. He could tell they thought he’d lost his mind. The murmured conversations behind his back as they had stared at the metal and chrome monster. Some feared that he had a death wish. Perhaps he might have had one then, he didn't now.
"YES! YES! YES! Take that man... I won fair and square!" Bode did a little victory dance as he stepped on the curb surrounding the edge of the park.
Josh followed on his heels, entering the grassy area a few steps behind. He stopped, leaned forward slightly with his hands on his hips, catching his breath. "Good run man... I almost had you though."
"You wish," Bode replied, a friendly challenge in his tone.
"Next time."
"We'll see. Hey I gotta head out... you're okay, right? Not going to have a heart attack or anything like that on me?" he asked mockingly.
Josh gave him a withering look. Familiar with the fact that Bode's teasing was his way of making sure that he was okay.
Over the past 18 months he'd learned to wear a brave face in public. Friends and family worried less about him when he did.
"Too soon huh?" Bode shook his head unrepentant. Pulling his shirt off, he squeezed some of the wetness out, waving it as he moved to his truck, "Later."
Shaking his own head at his friend’s irreverence, Josh rolled his eyes. Bode was a piece of work, he mused. There were days that he’d like to throttle him and others that he couldn’t have made it through without his friendship.
The truck’s engine sprang to life with a mechanical roar.
Josh lifted his chin, giving a parting nod at Bode while the vehicle backed out of its space.
As the Chevy pulled out of the lot, Josh fished out his phone and walked to his Harley. No longer surprised by the volume of email that clogged his in box.
Two items in particular caught his attention: an email from the HR girl and a notification from Millstone University that his new interns were starting today. He hoped that they had more drive than the last one.
His mind fast-tracking to the duties looming on his plate, he'd need some time to work on a couple of projects alone. Figuring that even if the new interns were not that advanced in their studies he could put them in charge of setting up a multidimensional array to collate data files or better yet, clearing out the network's cookie cache. There was little they could damage doing either and since he'd written the cache clearing program, basically they would be babysitting while it did all the work. Eventually, he’d evaluate what kind of skills they had.
HR girl wanted to know if he had plans for lunch. He didn't but was unsure if he wanted to spend any more time with her. Be tactful, he thought, then smiled and sent her a text:
"2 new interns arriving 2day, swamped. Thanks tho."
He climbed on his motorcycle fully aware that she would probably ask him out again, he'd worry about that later. He drove home and jumped in the shower.
When Julia was alive he would have been in and out in four minutes flat because he liked to make sure there was enough hot water for her bath. These days the shower was his refuge, the one place he didn't have to hide his pain, the one place he allowed his feelings to surface and cried when he needed to. Over the past year and a half he’d used up a lot of hot water.
It didn't take long to dry his hair or body. He wrapped the towel around his waist.
Using his left hand to wipe the condensation off the mirror in order to shave, he noticed his fingers, one more predominantly than the others. The tell tell white line around the third finger was nearly gone. He rubbed the base of it with his thumb, could almost feel the warmth of the gold band still on his skin. Of course it wasn’t there.
Julia had made him pledge to take off his wedding band one year after her death. She'd said that that would be long enough. He remembered the look in her eyes when she’d said, “I don’t want you wasting your life grieving. Promise me.”
He'd done what she'd asked, in stages. His mournful heart reluctant to part with it.
Taking it off on the anniversary of her passing. He only made it through a few hours. Julia might have thought the vow relieved him of a burden. He had not seen it that way.
The weight of the band had become part of him, the absence of it acutely felt like an open wound, reminding him especially that day of all days -- that he’d lost something more precious than a piece of gold. Part of his own flesh was gone, his link to the life they’d shared.
Nonetheless, a promise was a promise, he’d thought. If she was looking down from heaven, he didn’t want to disappoint her.
Each day he took it off again for a few hours, trying to distract himself with work, exercise or friends, keeping it in his pocket until he could put it back on.
Slowly he got better at it. Developed the requisite stamina. By the end of the month, he found that he left the ring in his pocket all the time. Close enough that he could feel its reassurance through the fabric.
While fishing coins from his khakis one day, it had dropped on the floor, rolling out of sight for several panicky minutes. Eventually he found it near the back leg of his desk. After that he didn’t carry it around anymore, knew that he couldn’t risk losing it.
He’d put it on Julia’s little glass ring holder atop the dresser, right beside where she’d left her teardrop earrings. That’s where it remained.
Next to burying his wife, it had been one of the most difficult things he’d ever had to do. It was a signal, meant moving forward even though he wasn’t over her, even though he didn’t want to.
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes looked a little less hollow, the bags under them were evident. The nightmares had returned.
What triggered them he didn’t know.
They had stopped, that is, up until a couple of weeks ago. Several of them had left him unbelievably raw, he'd woken up shaking, screaming out, trying to save Julia, reaching for her and finding nothing but cold air. Those were difficult mornings.
He wondered if his subconscious was trying to work through some residual guilt that he was still alive and she wasn’t.
For what must have been the umpteenth thousandth time, he thought that things were slowly getting better. Still, he missed her every single day and knew that even with the constant mental pep talks part of him always would.
Getting dressed he spent the next ten hours at work, following his mantra that a steady plan is the path to success. Living was getting easier.