After I'd answered all his questions, we'd fallen into the comfort of us. I kissed him, then gently asked if he was taking care of himself, and B recited all the recent precautions he'd been taking health wise. He never really minded my questions, and always seemed particularly proud of reporting his activities for my approval and satisfaction. It was a sign of respect, of some sense of him wanting me to be proud of him.
Maybe because in the last year we'd known each other, I'd been there through his moves, his promotions and transfers, through soccer training, through the illness of a parent, the death of a relative, through the ups and downs of living in LA, and now, through two birthdays. I'd been present for him with or without words. And he had missed me.
He once told me he was contemplating finding work with travel, there was both restlessness and disappointment in his voice. The LA he knew could not be it, is what he was thinking. I'd encouraged him, saying this would be the best time of any other, that he was young and free, and the world was just there, waiting for him. I couldn't help myself from adding, rather baldly at the time, how I'd still hate the thought of him not being around. I did. I do.
My summer with B the year before is always marked in my mind, by the return of hope. Of laughing and innocence, and of fun. Our first night together was practically scripted, a full moon had cast its light against the dark trees creating a pattern of shadows on the floor, it lit us with a glow we both giggled at disbelievingly. The bubble thought was, "Seriously??" We felt lucky. So I think I'll always feel protective of B, and after Mr. X, I'd come to him for shelter and yes, without much words, he'd welcomed me.
B was excited, in fact, thrilled that it escaped his notice completely that he was telling me, a now erstwhile lover of his unmitigated happiness at having found someone he was THAT tickled about. I raised an eyebrow at this but I felt no resentment at all.
I smiled. If B felt for this someone anything close to what I'd felt with Mr. X, then I was deeply happy for him. Sure, it choked me up a bit but one of us had it, even if it wasn't with each other. I wished him luck, I thanked him for being honest and I told him not to worry.
I hoped it would work out for B, and it was then that I understood exactly what Area 51 and my introduction to his best friends' was all about. All B wanted all this time was to belong. He wanted to be claimed by someone he felt was right for him. I had been the closest thing, and he needed to let his people know that. He needed to let them know that someone found him worthy enough, great enough to be called theirs.
Was there some kind of Olympic Torch of Love being passed on? It never fails to astound me how every one of my Rotational seemed to get a clue precisely to the second of each parting. I shook my head, aware of the little window in my heart B had taken off from. There he went, up and away. Now Kentucky. Again? This was going to be interesting.