Becoming Brett

24. A Man & A Woman

A sweet smell floats on the breeze as we walk through the park, planted flowers arranged along a gazebo thats used for weddings fragrance the air. James is deep into his thoughts, describing this podcast that he listened too. Factual and full of statistics, all approving that climate change is real. That earth has only 60 more years of farmable land.

It feels bleak, an under current of despair to his voice as he speaks passionately about his concerns, his disbelief that it's not a larger one.

This is one of the many things I love about James. He's a bleeding heart, empathetic and gentle but passionate and fierce about matters he believes in.

"Why is that not making headlines?" He cries. "I mean did you know that the sea levels are rising? Water expands when it gets warmer so this makes sense plus ya know the glaciers are melting because the temperature increase. Which sure okay higher sea levels might not seem like a big deal to some people but coastlines are changing and we've even had some islands disappear. Just covered up by water now."

I also love that James is knowledgeable on the things he's talks about it. The two of us can get lost in a conversation, digging ourselves deeper into facts and theories and the mechanics of things.

"I think I read somewhere that floods happen in U.S. coastal towns something like nine times more than 50 years ago." I comment.

My feet have been aching for the past several blocks, well before we entered the park but I didn't want to interrupt James while he was in the middle of his rant. Now however seems like the perfect opportunity to pull him to a bench.

I change direction, his hand still in mind and he doesn't protest, following behind me as he says "oh I read that too, that's crazy isn't it?"

Sitting on the bench, I look up at James who's focus has drifted to something behind me. His gray eyes are dark in the shadows of his knitted brow, a wrinkle in his forehead as he studies what's before him. I almost turn to look but I'd rather try to remember James like this, thoughtful and series. Because even though I love that James is always happy, always smiling, I also love these moments when he isn't.

"Hang on, I'll be right back." His fingers drop from mine and he starts to head away before I can ask what.

And even though my feet are killing me, I follow. They scream in protest as I take off after him, my old converses offering nothing in the way of support but my aching feet are not my focus. James is and whatever has taken him from me.

He walks with purpose through the wide path, spine straight and full of confidence as he passes by other people. I'm like a mouse, following in his wake, meek and timid and scurrying after.

He zeros in on a woman, tugging at the back of a wheelchair, an elderly man with a knit hat on even though it's warm today. He's bundled up with a blanket wrapped around his legs. James reaches them first, drawing the woman's attention. She smiles tightly, looking worn and frustrated.

"Need some help?" James asks, I can hear the warmth in his voice, devoid of judgement.

I come up beside James and it's then I realize the man sitting in the chair isn't elderly, he's young. With sunken features, gray skin. A frail body hidden beneath layers and layers of clothes that swallow him.

"That would be great." The woman breathes, her eyes glimmering with tears and I catch the slightest tremble of her lower lip as she says "thank you".

Her eyes meet mine and I smile but it's James that responds with "no problem".

The chair's tires have sunk in the soft grass, leaving the man leaning crookedly in his chair. His head is bent low, eyes closed and I wonder if he's sleeping through this all.

"I was trying to do something nice." The woman tells us as James wraps his hands around the wheelchair handles. "This is where we met, I was sitting on a bench reading a Jane Austen novel that I've read a thousand times. For some reason I looked up when he passed and our eyes met and he smiled." Her voice hitches.

I move to the front of the wheelchair after James glances at me, instructing me silently. The man doesn't move but I hear the breath that blows out of him. It's one of defeat and my heart aches for him.

"Count of three." James says, I nod agreeing.

"I just wanted to do something nice." The woman says again.

It's mostly James who dislodges the chair, my converses slipping in the grass. I feel like a blundering idiot compared to James, who always seems to know what to do and what to say. His body always cooperating with his intentions.

But the chair tilts even more the one back tire sinking lower, sending it and the man even more askew and for a moment I think we're going to lose it. That we're about to make everything so much worse. The man must feel it too because his eyes snap open, locking with mine and the only present emotion I can pick out of them is fear.

Fear so deep it hits my core like a train and even though I don't know what he's necessarily afraid of, I'm suddenly afraid for it too.

I mean to offer him reassurances but everything gets lodged in my throat, James though, he's under control as always.

"Oh we got this." He says full of optimism.

He has this. I'm still staring at the man and his sunken features and gray skin and the light that's only but a flicker in his eyes. I want to ask him what it is. What it is that's taking its time killing him.

But James dislodges the wheelchair, my hands slipping from the cool metal and I stumble forward, lacking grace.

"Thank you so much." The woman the cries, tending to the man. "Are you okay Jonah?"

The man mumbles soft words, things I miss as I right myself and feel heat creep along my neck. James smiles at me, his hand finding mine as he pulls me close. My instinct is to pull away, to put distance between us and I stiffen beside me as we stand amongst the trees and the flowers.

I want to slip away, disappear back into the throngs of people to be forgotten because now that we're standing here, having interacted with these people for longer than just a passing glance I feel unease double in gut.

My head fills with all the things they might think, the words they might say, the things they might do when the woman finally turns to see us. James standing their happily with his arm wrapped around my shoulders. Me with my side pressed into his, both of us too close, too intimate.

I watch in horror as the woman's attention begins to shift from the man, presumably Jonah, to us, and I can't stand it. I have to add distance. James' arm falls from my shoulders and I avoid the look I know he's giving me as I stare at anything but James or the woman.

"Thank you again. I can't tell you.."

"It was no problem really." James interrupts her thank you. "Our pleasure."

Her hair is piled on her head, exhaustion clinging to her features but lingering at the tips is relief. And it feels good to know that we helped make that happen, even if it's fleeting.

James reaches for my hand and even though I know he wants mine I don't give him it. I stuff it in my jeans instead and don't look at him.

"I don't want to take up anymore of your time." She says. But really thank you."

James starts in on another string of "no problems" and "don't worry about it" but he never gets to finish as the woman turns to me and says "hold on to this one, he's got a good heart".

And then she turns back to the man, happiness dancing in his eyes as he looks at the woman. Her hand falls on his frail shoulders gently, his boney hand raising to rest on hers and the gravity of her words hit me like a semi truck.

As they head down to the sidewalk and James stands beside me, I know she's right. So I teach my hand out to his that hangs limply by his side after being shut down by me previously and I lace my fingers with his.

"Sorry". I apologize, hoping that one word will forever fix my increasing insecurities.

But right now, mostly I hope she gets to hang on to him too.

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What's everyone up to? Ya'll so quiet.