Then, Now, Me

Chapter 5: Now

The instant I step through the door of Jem"s tiny house, I feel home.

I have a sudden and profound urge to clean up for bed and get into my pajamas. I even consider breaking out my unflattering glasses that add an additional layer of I"m-not-interested-in-anything-other-than-friendship protection. Whether or not that"s actually my truth, I can"t really say at this point. All I know is what Jem has said, and after everything that"s happened in my life, I have no interest in setting myself up for disappointment.

"So, I need to make myself something to eat," Jem starts, as he puts his backpack down by the front door. "Are you hungry at all?" He asks, already making his way back to what I presume is the kitchen.

"Nope," I say, putting down my own bag and rummaging around for my not-cute-at-all pajamas. "Do you mind if I change, though? I need to get out of these clothes."

He pauses a second, but answers with a brief, "No problem. The bathroom is right around the corner here."

I throw on my cut-off sweat pants and my college t-shirt. I even follow my instincts of breaking out my glasses. Hell, if we are watching movies all night, I"ll need them to see the screen anyway. After I quickly brush my teeth and organize some of my toiletries, I emerge from the bathroom in time to see Jem position himself on the floor in front of the TV - Funny, not on the couch, I think - with his food. The coffee table provides an extra buffer between his seat on the floor and where I eyeball my spot on the couch.

"Hey," he says with a smile and a mouth full of food, "Sorry. I eat a lot and have some leftovers from yesterday in the fridge." He smirks at my attire, "You look… comfortable."

"Yeah, it"s strange," I say, flopping down on his massive, beige couch, "I feel weirdly comfortable here." I look up at him, over the rim of my glasses, "I hope you don"t mind."

He laughs, seeming to be entertained at this particular moment, "Yeah, of course. Whatever works."

I smile, and check my phone, mostly out of habit. I already talked to Tristan before he went to bed on the way over to Jem"s house, so there"s really no need for me to be anywhere near my phone tonight.

"So, I hope you don"t think this is odd," Jem starts to say, "but I really want to show you one of my favorite movies. I don"t really do this with people I just meet, but I have a feeling you may like it."

"Sure, that sounds great. What movie?"

"How about I just put it in, and you can see for yourself?" He says, devouring his food. "I hate hearing about movies before watching them. It kills the suspense. Is that okay?" He looks up at me as he shovels in his last bite.

"Yeah, fine by me," I answer. Honestly, nothing is bothering me tonight, and for someone with anxiety, that"s definitely saying something. "Do whatever you think."

"Alright, sweet," Jem says, getting up off of the floor with his now empty plate. "I think I"m going to put on pajama pants, too. Seeing you like that is making me jealous." He winks. "Are you hot? I actually think we need a fan out here while we watch this." He looks around and back in my direction, "Can I start the DVD? By the time I get back, I"m sure the previews will be over."

Again, I answer with an easy, "Sure, go for it."

As the movie previews start, I"m hit momentarily with a kind of other-worldly - dare I say, spiritual - presence that is unexplainable. Each preview has vague Christian undertones, but that isn"t what startles me the most. It"s that every preview, in one way or another, is like a comment about my life.

One movie preview is about a struggling marriage and shows the husband shouting borderline obscenities at his wife in a terrifying rage.

And another movie shows an Amish daughter being shunned by her family, after telling them the truth about what she wants from her life.

Somehow, these movies and more, speak to me so much that by the time Jem reappears from the bedroom in black sweatpants, I"m already close to tears and shocked at what is transpiring before my eyes. After he arranges the fan pointing toward the couch, he smiles at me and, of course, eases himself down on the opposite end of the large couch. Throughout all of this, his eyes are on me, and I feel like he knows exactly what I"m thinking. It"s unnerving, but comforting all at the same time.

What is happening? I wonder to myself.

OOOOO

"Wow," I say quietly, trying to subtly wipe tears from my eyes. "That was so moving, actually. I"ve never watched a movie like that, and I didn"t think it"d be that good."

Jem looks over at me and explains, "Yeah, I watch this movie every once in awhile to remind me what really matters."

The movie, made by a couple of southern guys, definitely is based on Christian ideals, but more than that, is just a good story about unconditional love, family, and friendship. In another life, before all of the events of the past several months, I might have found the movie cheesy. In actuality, I found it more true than anything I"ve seen in a long time.

And on another note, it feels like I"ve passed some sort of silent test because Jem seems much closer to me, both physically and emotionally.

"You thirsty?" He says, again getting up. "I live on Poland Spring bottled water, so I don"t have much else in the house. That okay?"

"Yeah, of course," I say, somewhat subdued from the heavy themes in the movie. "Water is perfect."

He smiles, looking at me a little longer than I anticipate, and turns around toward the kitchen.

Feeling more introverted now than when the night began, I make some silent observations of the living room. The two large couches take up the majority of the small space, but it doesn"t feel cramped. There are strands of white Christmas lights around the TV and large window, warming the dark room in a soft glow. Now that I look around more closely, I see hints of his Christian faith in a couple of places: in the wooden decorative piece with a scripture quote on it and the titles on the spines of books piled on the side table. Wow, this guy is pretty serious about this, I think. I"m not weirded out, though. I actually feel a little more at ease, knowing about his faith. It doesn"t seem to make Jem seem strangely separate from the rest of the world, like some Christians. It almost makes him seem more grounded. Calm.

Bringing back a bottle of water, he says to me, "How do you feel about Grumpy Old Men?"

OOOOO

We"re about halfway into the movie, when I feel myself desperately clinging to consciousness.

Despite the fact that I"ve always loved this movie, I"m having a hard time staying awake. It"s a great choice for a movie after the intense - but still good - movie from before. Jem and I are laughing at similar places, even the dirty old man jokes. It"s reassuring that someone with these Christian values can still laugh at a raunchy joke.

I can definitely appreciate that.

It also hasn"t escaped my attention that when I laid my head down in the middle of the couch, he decided to do the same. So, at this moment, we are literally head-to-head lying down on the couch. As someone who doesn"t normally get too close to someone so soon, it"s another weird moment for me because it doesn"t feel weird to be close.

I lean my cheek on the couch cushion and bring my hand up near my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jem do the same.

Hmm, I think.

And it"s just at that point in the movie where one of the grumpy men is cozying up to his main love interest. I feel as though she is speaking to me when she says to him, "I also know the only thing in life that you regret are the risks that you don"t take."

It seems as if that moment might have spoken to Jem, too, because he reaches his fingers toward mine and touches them slightly. It feels like an invitation.

So, in a leap of faith, I nudge my hand closer, and that"s all it takes for Jem to cover my hand with his. He begins caressing my hand softly and I can"t remember when I ever felt such a pull toward another person.

He begins tracing his fingers up my wrist and arm, sometimes adding more pressure as if to send me some kind of message. "I"m glad you"re here," his hand seems to say to me. I pull my hand up in response and run my fingers up his forearm as if to say back, "I"m glad I"m here, too."

Before I know it, we are in each other"s arms and for the second time that night, I find myself wondering, What is happening?