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All I know is that what happened here tonight and what we did together was different than the other times we’ve been together. This was gentle. Caring. This was making love to somebody you cared about. I felt his care and affection in the way he touched me. The way he kissed me. I could see it in the way he looked at me. I can still feel it in the way he’s gently running his fingers through my hair. There is something more here than just two people hooking up.
I’d like to say this complicates things. But it doesn’t. Not really. Micah and I will be parting ways soon enough. This was an unexpected and entirely pleasant diversion from reality, but I’ll be going back to my life, and he’ll be going back to his. He’s an important man running an important company and doing important things. And I’ll be going back to school to try and figure my own life out. There are a thousand reasons we can’t have more than this moment.
I’ve known that for a while now but for the first time, I feel a sharp pain in my heart knowing this moment in time is coming to an end. My vision wavers and a tear falls silently from the corner of my eye.
11
"The police may have a few follow-up questions for you, but it shouldn't be anything too invasive," I tell her. "I've given them a pretty damning statement already."
Jordan nods and looks down at top of the table. “Do you think there’s going to be a trial? Will I have to testify?”
“Probably not. I’m talking to the county DA and am pushing for them to be pleaded out. I’ve made it clear though, I want them to do some time,” I tell her. “If the boys won’t take a plea, there will be a trial though and you’ll probably have to testify.”
She shakes her head and frowns, still not raising her gaze to me. I know it’s more than the situation with her would-be rapists weighing heavily on her mind. Today is the last day. We’ve held our little graduation ceremony and all that’s left is to get on the buses and head back to their lives with what we hope are new attitudes and outlooks on life. We hope that our guests will take what they've learned here, apply it to their lives, and go on with a healthier state of mind—one that doesn’t require self-medicating with whatever their drug of choice was.
Jordan, I'm sure, is going to be a success story. She didn't have the substance abuse problem her mother believed she had, but there were a lot of issues she needed to work out. And she did. By all reports, Jordan put in the work, took her situation seriously, and had a number of breakthroughs that should allow her to live a normal, happy, and functioning life. All the counselors who worked with her came away impressed not just by her intelligence but by her willingness to be open and learn the lessons they wanted her to learn. By her willingness to not only recognize and identify her issues but to attack them head on… and defeat them.
“The charges against them are very serious though, and the sentencing would be pretty severe,” I tell her. “I have no doubt they’re going to take a plea rather than risk losing in court and having to take the full ride when they’re convicted. They’re arrogant and entitled pricks. But they’re not stupid.”
“That’s good,” she says.
I sit down across from her at the table then reach across, taking her hand, and give it a gentle squeeze. She grips my hand in return but the air between us is heavy and permeated with the odor of sadness. Over these last couple of weeks, Jordan and I have grown closer than I ever intended for us to be. I’ve found her to be an extraordinary girl. And yeah, seeing her climb aboard that bus and leave is going to be tough. But there's nothing either one of us can do about that. Nor is there anything we can do to ease the pain we're feeling.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
She shrugs. “As well as can be expected, I suppose,” she replies. “I’m glad they’re going to spend some time in prison. Maybe that will force them to grow up.”
I nod. “One can hope.”
She looks up briefly and when I see her eyes, I feel a lance of guilt stab me straight in the heart… although I don't know what I feel guilty about. We've both been clear about what this is from the start—and what it's not. Neither of us has had any illusions about the nature of our relationship. Neither of us has put any expectations on the other for what happens when camp ends and we both go back to our normal lives. And yet, despite all that, I can’t help but feel like a piece of shit. Like I’ve somehow led her on and hurt her.
I’ve never had this sort of reaction to a woman before. Never once in my life. The lines in all my relationships were always perfectly clear. They were perfectly black and white. I thought that this—whatever Jordan I want to call this brief interlude—was no different. As we spent more time together and got to know one another better though, those lines began to blur. Things weren’t as black and white as they started off being.
I know some people would call this a mid-life crisis. They’d tell me getting hung up on a woman half my age was a phase and that I’d get over it. Some would look at me like I was a child molester. Jordan had voiced some of those same concerns. Like I told her though, I really don’t care what people think of me. If they want to look askance at me because I’m with a younger woman, let them. I really couldn’t care less.
My only concern about letting myself erase those lines completely is that Jordan hasn't lived much life yet. She doesn't know what's out there. She's only now just learning who she is and what she wants. And people her age go through a lot of changes before they're finally able to truly understand themselves and figure out who they are and what they want out of life. She hasn't even decided on a college major yet, how can I reasonably expect her to know who she wants to spend the rest of her life with at this point? Especially considering I'm the first man she's ever been with sexually. She's got a lot of growing and changing to do yet.
So, I suppose it’s fair to say that I’m cutting things off right now out of fear. The idea of spending a lot of time with Jordan only to have to sit back and watch her outgrow me, to find myself obsolete when she figures out what she wants out of life—and find that it's not me—has crossed my mind on more than one occasion. I’m forty years old and I just don’t feel like I can spend ten years with somebody only to wake up one day and find out the older man/younger woman phase wasn't mine after all, but hers… and that she's over it.
It’s a complication I don’t really want or need in my life. Not when I’ve got a media empire to not only maintain but expand and grow. It’s my responsibility to build on my father’s legacy. To keep Ballard Media growing, evolving, and staying relevant. More than anything, it’s on me to never tarnish the family name and never let it slip into mediocrity. It’s on me to keep the company on the cutting edge and leading the way. It’s a role I cherish… especially after having my own troubles. I’ve learned to appreciate it so much more than when I was a kid.
“So, I guess this is it for us, huh?” Jordan finally asks.
“I guess so,” I reply softly.
“That sucks.”
“We’ve talked about this—”
“I know. It’s just… I really felt like we forged this connection. I really felt…”
Her voice trails away and she looks down at the table again, tracing the tip of her finger along the lines of the grain the same way she traced it along the skin of my chest and belly. The reality that I’m not going to feel that again, nor hear her giggle or see that mischievous sparkle in her eye sinks in and it feels like a punch to the gut. For a moment, I'm unable to speak. I'm barely even able to breathe. It just strikes me again how different this is from any other romantic entanglement I’ve found myself part of. In those others, I searched for ways to get out. In this case, with Jordan staring across the table at me, I find myself searching for ways to stay in.
I know that it’s not realistic though. Nor would it be fair to her. She has a lot of life yet to live and a lot of experiences and adventures to have. She shouldn’t be saddled with a middle-aged man who’s set in his ways and doesn’t like people very much. I’d be an albatross around Jordan’s neck, and she deserves so much more than that. She deserves so much better than that.
“I guess it doesn’t matter what I thought,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Of course, what you think matters.”
