Jazz Festival

You'll notice today's is written much differently. I wrote this months ago because I was needing to write, but not sure of what to write. The whole idea for this week is really based on today's part of the story. I have been wanting to fill in around it and it's our anniversary week so: tada! An idea is born. This is how I actually write. I'm having so much fun on this walk down memory lane. I had coffee with Heather yesterday and told her about this and how fun it's been to look back. Thanks for riding this journey with me!

Jazz Fetival
I heard a stifled giggle behind me and tried to cover a smile. Nonchalantly, I grabbed a file from the desk in front of me and began to roll my chair backward toward the file cabinet. The small blond behind my chair let out a mighty yelp and quickly dashed around the corner and away from the lobby. I laughed softly and went back to my filing.

I had been working at the Boys' and Girls' Club for six months and couldn't be happier. The pay was minimal but the rewards immeasurable. To supplement my income, I also worked mornings at Starbucks. Summer was in full swing, which meant the club was packed and open much longer hours. Which made my mornings much earlier. But I didn't mind. After working at a bank for nearly five years, my present situation had benefits that had nothing to do with money. Free coffee throughout my shift at Starbucks as well as lively banter with my usual customers. Free hugs and laughs all day at the club. Skirts and dress suits had been switched out for jeans and bright colored T-shirts. Knowing that I was making a difference, even if I was just the front desk clerk at the club topped the list. I took both of my jobs seriously despite the criticism I had received for taking such a step "backward" in life. I had never been much for the business world, just very good at counting money fast and making customers at the bank feel welcome. Now I made lattes faster than most in the shop and made each child and parent here feel as if the club were made just for them. I was really going to miss working and living here.

I had finally made the decision to move to Seaside, Oregon. In fact, I was going this weekend to check out possible jobs and living conditions. Tomorrow night I would be at Kathy's house and Joe would be there in person to tell me what he really wanted. Dreams I had secretly whirled through my heart were about to take shape. So why couldn't I get Richard's face when I told him I was moving out of my mind? With a sigh and a firm shake of my head, I decided to focus on enjoying this day with the kids and on getting some work done. There were only a few hours left of this Friday, then Richard would be here and we would have a fun picnic. Possibly our last evening together. I had only known him a month or so compared to the six years I had been friends with Joe. So why did the thought of leaving Richard behind make me feel so sick to my stomach?

* * *

"Okay, how about that guy, I bet you know him, too, " I followed Richard's gaze across the busy street and tried not to let him see the look of recognition that I was sure passed over my features. Unfortunately, Richard was quick and unbelievably observant.
"Ha! I knew it! What is that, fifteen people now? Okay, who is he?"
I buried my face in my hands so he couldn't hear my muffled response.
"What was that?" he asked with a gleam in his eye.
I sighed and looked again across the street and back at Richard.
"He's "quad-venti-six-pump-hazelnut-breve-carmel-drizzle-no-foam-latte," I answered. While Richard basked in his victory, I feigned indifference and turned to watch the saxophonist across the street dip and sway to "that swingin' beat".

After Richard had picked me up from the club, we had grabbed Burger King and headed to Camel's Back Park to have a picnic. After rolling down the grassy hill a few times, we decided to walk around Hyde Park and get some ice cream at Goodies. Once we entered the quaint neighborhood, we found ourselves in the middle of a summer Jazz festival and had been sitting on a curb for about an hour laughing and playing this Starbucks customer game. Richard found it quite entertaining. I just thought it was amazing.

I had never noticed how many people I served coffee to on a daily basis that never changed their habits. It intrigued me to think that people could find a drink they liked and commit to it like that. Not only did these true blue Bucksers (as I called them in my head) commit to their drink of choice, but also most had a routine they followed each morning down to the minute. I couldn't imagine ordering the same thing longer than a week or having the same routine each day. I could hardly commit to a favorite song or cereal. Richard must have been having similar thoughts.
"If I ever got to the point that my barista could make my drink before I even got to the counter to order, I would be changing my drink!" He said. He's be disgusted if he knew how many of my customers have their steaming mugs waiting for them on the counter! I thought with a private smile.

Richard glanced around again in his observant way and continued to listen to the band play. I studied his features, strong and handsome, and did what I promised myself earlier this evening I wouldn't do, but kept finding myself doing anyway: compared him to Joe. They were different in so many ways. Joe said that when he married he wanted to go to a coffee shop every weekend so that the baristas would know he and his wife and their drinks. The differences didn't end there. Richard was tall and solid with broad shoulders. His thick copper colored hair had a slight wave to it that any girl would die for. He walked confidently through a crowd with warm brown eyes that were constantly moving, always aware of his surroundings. Joe, on the other hand was tall, but long and lean. His blond hair was different every time I saw him, sometimes long and scruffy, other times cropped short and neat. I couldn't remember what color his eyes were at the moment. Hazel, I guessed, like mine. He seemed to be intimidated by his own height and would slump his shoulders a bit when he walked. Last time I saw him he had gained some muscle in his arms from his construction job, but even still he came across softer than Richard.
Richard was a police officer in training with a social work degree. He had spent four years working with handicapped adults and problem kids. Joe had a degree in psychology and was working for his masters, but in the meantime had started a construction company with his brother. Richard was direct and uncomplicated, a man in every sense of the word. Joe was wordy and often joked about being metro sexual. Richard loved to rock climb; Joe loved to surf. Richard loved football and baseball. Joe hated sports and often called them "barbaric". How could I be attracted to such different men? And how could they both be so understanding about the other?
It doesn't matter, I thought to myself, tomorrow I will be in Seaside and my life will be there. Richard looked over and my breath caught at the hurt look in his eyes. How could this man, whom I had only known for a month, look at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking? Unnerved by his probing stare, I jumped up and grabbed his arm.
"Come, on, I need sugar. All this Starbucks gazing has worn me out," I joked.
We fought through the crowds milling about the street and found our way to the ice cream parlor. No more comparing, I thought, no more thinking, just have fun with Richard tonight. Fun was something I always had with Richard. It amazed me how quickly we had become friends and playmates. My roommate had even commented on how often she heard us laughing together. Despite my earlier promise about making comparisons, I couldn't help but realize that I didn't have any memories of Joe and myself having such fun. I shook my head and laughed loud and strong at something Richard had said, Seaside and Joe forgotten for the moment.

* * *

"Oh, I love that one, " I whispered and pointed, "See how the porch wraps around? Oh! And the deck up top? That must lead to the master bedroom. They sure don't make houses like this anymore."
Richard nodded and pointed out another house down the street. The sun had set and the festival began to break up. Not ready to part quite yet, we had decided to walk down one of the oldest streets in the city. I loved this area. It was lined with houses built at least a hundred years ago. Most had been renovated and looked brand new. The structures were so inviting and different from house designs of today. I stopped at a small block on the sidewalk and pointed out the pole placed just a few feet away.
"That is where the horses would be hitched up and this block was for the ladies to step down out of the carriage. Isn't that amazing?" I stepped onto the block and pretended to be gracefully fixing a full skirt about my feet so that I wouldn't trip as a dapper young man helped me down. Richard, obviously not as impressed with my little daydream, grabbed my hand and brought me tumbling down. With a few stifled giggles so as not to wake the owners of the rambling two story house behind us, we sat on the side walk and gazed at the large trees that lined each side of the historic street. We had been having a wonderful evening, but it was time to have the discussion we had both been avoiding. Richard, in his direct way, asked, "So you leave tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"And you're coming back...?" Richard let the light summer breeze whisk his question up into the trees. The leaves rustled, with anticipation, it seemed, waiting for the answer I wasn't as sure about as I had been this morning.
"Well, I have to come back Tuesday for work. Then...I'm not sure. I need to finish out the summer at the club. They could never find someone to train in time for the summer craziness. I'll probably be back until September. Then, well...then I will have to see if I can find a job in Seaside."
Richard nodded. "I see." He leaned back on is hands and stretched his legs out in front before he settled that piercing gaze on me. "Bethany, why are you really going to Seaside?"
Knowing he would ask this question and actually having him ask it were two different things, it seemed. The answers I had been telling myself in preparation for his question flew away on the next breeze only to get tangled in the branches above and out of my reach. So, like a wayward wind, the excuses just came rushing out and tumbling every which way:
"Well, I've always wanted to live there. I love the ocean and I've missed it ever since Ecola ended. I think Seaside is a quaint little town and I can see myself living and working there. I love the church there and I miss Kathy. I want to walk on the Prom and watch the mist come in from the ocean and cover a quiet beach in the mornings. I want to sit on the sand and watch the sun set and sing praises to God. I want to write and journal with the ocean stretched out before me. I want to experience new things. I want to get a kitten and curl up in my apartment on stormy beach days and read a book and watch the rain. I want to sit in on Ecola classes. I want to smell the ocean air and be a part of that place again."
The words that came out in a rush landed flat and still at my feet. We both were aware of what, and whom, I hadn't mentioned. Richard was brave enough to mention it.
"I didn't hear you mention anything about Joe."
"Well, he's just a given." Why did that sound so dull and empty?
"Whatever you say. I just have to say something: follow your heart. If your heart is with Joe, go. If your heart is only thinking of a beach town, that's not fair to him. Or you. Or me." The last words were spoken softly and I looked at him, surprised. We both knew we were attracted to each other, but hadn't spoken much of a relationship. Was he about to complicate my decision? What was this hope that unexpectedly filled my heart?
Suddenly, a verse I had memorized earlier in the week sprang to mind: "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Now where did that verse come from? What a strange moment to think of that! Was God trying to remind me to trust Him or to be careful of my hope in Richard's next words? I tried to reign in my wayward thoughts and focus on the man next to me. Neither of us knew it then, but his next words would forever change our lives:
"If after this weekend you decide to move to Seaside, please, don't ever call me again. I cannot and will not continue our relationship. I can't just be your friend; I care about you too much. I don't want to be harsh but that's the way it is. You can't have it both ways." A look of regret clouded his handsome face. I couldn't respond past the lump that had formed in my throat. It was a perfectly reasonable request. I had been so sure of the choice to move to Seaside. What I wasn't sure of was the awful ache in my heart and this sudden feeling of emptiness at the thought of never seeing Richard again. I knew he wasn't one to play games. Neither was I. He meant what he said and at the moment I couldn't imagine anything more devastating than losing this man forever.