WITH LOVE, BEAU
I park my car and pop the trunk. I grab my always there blanket and a book I had quickly snatched from home as I headed back to the park. I see Beau in the distance standing next to a beat up old truck, tailgate indeed missing. He heads towards me and is genuinely happy to see me even though it’s only been an hour since the first half of our date. I hand him the book “Dharma Bums” and he seems touched and stammers a bewildered thank you. He looks like he needs a hug and I wonder if he’s ever enjoyed the kindness of a friend who happens to be a woman and who doesn’t want to sleep with him. We walk for a bit and I notice he has changed his cowboy boots for what looks like brand new slings, more appropriate for a walk in the park. It dawns on me that he took my earlier comment of ‘Who wears boots in the middle of summer and for a stroll in the park?’ to heart and has just bought shoes he can ill afford. He stops under a beautiful tree and picks a spot to spread the blanket. As we get comfortable, he hands me a slightly melted chocolate bar, the fancy organic kind, from his back pocket. I look around and realize this is the same tree Grant and I were under when we decided to try again.
Beau, seemingly never at a loss for words, starts right in and shares his views on religion, politics, and sex. The three no-no’s for polite conversation. But I don’t mind. Some of his beliefs and ideas are refreshing and he certainly is smarter and more mature than one would expect given his youth. Other comments leave me baffled and glad for the chocolate I can pop into my open mouth. He is a grand lover and respecter of women. He is angry how our society degrades, devalues, objectifies, and rapes women. He believes they are the most amazing creatures God has put on this Earth and should be worshipped. I say bravo but ask why does the Bible claim, after God created man, the gardens, explained about the fruit, and even created the animals, that he finally made woman out of man’s rib in order that Adam would have a suitable helper. Gee, thanks. Did it dawn on anyone that we are the ones who actually give birth?
He ponders this, has no answer, and pops a piece of chocolate into his mouth. I change the subject back to sex, a word he seems to have a hard time even saying. Given his looks, I assume he gets laid left, right, up and down. He tells me he ‘enjoyed the company of a lady’ in high school, but that they never had IT. Then another girlfriend a few years later and they tried IT once but IT wasn’t a good experience. He is now waiting for the one true love who will be his wife. I choke a little on the chocolate. He says it is difficult and his hardest challenge. He does not believe in masturbation and will remain celibate until he marries and asks me if I would be ok with this. I choke a lot on the chocolate.
Darkness comes and the heat dissipates. A full moon blazes overhead, stars blanket the sky, we are the only ones left in the park. Such a romantic setting, such a beautiful evening, but I am here with a sweet and earnest man child who I am not sexually attracted to. I think of Grant. I steer my thoughts and the conversation away from the topic of sex which is obviously disturbing him and instead encourage him to chase his dreams and he will find his love. That she’s out there somewhere, chasing her dreams and looking for him too. She will be young and pretty and kind. He counters that I am. I gently offer that I am a bit more mature than he might be expecting, ahem, and that he needs to spread his wings and fly, see and experience this world, soak it all in as I already have. And I believe he will and am happy for him. He is full of curiosity, hope, and optimism. Almost getting killed twice might do that to you. Or brain damage.
My body is stiff, the chocolate is too rich, and I find I have no more energy for the conversation. I feel a bit melancholic. He would have been a lovely train wreck to meet 20 years ago. I get up, we fold the blanket, he walks me to my car. He tells me he is now pained by the desire to kiss me but that it would put him at a crossroads to love, a grand conflict for him. I don’t know if I am more intrigued or perplexed by him, this lovely lune. He says he is strong and a warrior and will accept whatever happens when our lips touch. I say I wouldn’t want to be the cause of such unnecessary angst and that perhaps we should shake hands. I grab his hand and shake, say goodnight, but he lingers. He asks if he can see me again. I ask if he needs a ride to his car. He says no so I give him a quick hug and say go on now lil’ doggie, get. Well, I didn’t actually say that. I said I would be out of town for the next several weeks and that it would be best to just say goodbye. I again say goodnight and all the best and thank you for a lovely time, that I won’t soon forget him but we must go our separate ways. I make a mental note to audition for a soap opera at some point in my life. Beau then gives me another killer smile, says ‘thank you my lady’, turns on his heel and starts running away. I watch him pick up speed in the open field as he then begins to run in wide circles on the way back to his truck in the distant darkness.
Three weeks later, out of the blue, a text.
Hi Olivia,
I hope you have been well and you had a very nice time in Mexico. You may have not wanted to hear from me again and that is fair and understandable as I don't take you lightly and if that makes me wrong then I accept. I was just thinking about you while I connected the dots and I am no longer conflicted about it all. It all makes sense now. I just wanted to offer to be some pleasant and fun company tonight, if you were just going to be at home and desired something to do. Regardless you are very sweet, beautiful, and valuable. You are an unfortunate casualty of the sins of our predecessors and times and my heart goes out to you.
With love, Beau
And with love, I silently wish him well and delete his text and number. I kept the letter though. I might frame it.