Only the radiance of his smile overpowered the brilliant red
of his sweater. There was nowhere I would have rather been than sitting across
from him at the Outback Steakhouse that night. Our conversation was wonderfully
different. We were away from class and the crowded halls of our high school
where everyone stood, often making jokes at our expense.
This was private and personal.
Though in a crowded restaurant, we felt isolated. We sat at
an island booth floating in the white noise waves of others’ distant background
conversations. So focused on the bright light hitting his face from above just
so, and the occasional glint being reflected in his brown eyes, I found nothing
of importance outside of our two beating hearts, haloed in the light and perfumed
by the kitchens. Everything smelled faintly of grill-seared steak and the
leather of boots and jackets.
It was
Valentine’s Day, and the night was cold.
He taught me how to curl long noodles on my fork, and even
though I kept messing up and ended up cutting most of my pasta, he grinned like
a gold medalist. How he smiled at me. I thought by the end of the night my face
could crack like tested glass and shatter into several irreparable pieces
should I change my expression. I was smiling so hard and for so long that my
face muscles learned they were unused to being so happy.
Our waiter came by about six or seven times. “Would you like
anything else? Here is our dessert menu,” he said, asking us in various kindly
ways if we would like to either order something else or clear out. We even
received coupons for our very pointed “next visit”.
We were seated at the restaurant for two and a half hours.
We didn’t want the night to be over, so when he finally
answered his mom’s phone calls, we left with her and his younger sister, only
to drive one shopping center over for dessert at Chik-fil-a. There we also met
his older sister, her husband, and their daughter. It was nearly overwhelming
to accidentally meet almost all of his immediate family on our first date, but
this didn’t affect the night’s outcome.
“I had a really good time,” I told him when we finally had to
part ways, as we shared a hug while my mother looked on. We wouldn’t share our
first kiss for another year. I had sworn that I was not going to have my first
kiss while burdened with braces. It was going to be better than that, and it
eventually was. He was warm and gentle and smelled just like his worn oversized
jacket, which he always gave me to wear in class, sometimes sneaking into the
inside pockets my favorite candy and chocolates.
Thankfully, he was as patient and gracious through our first
few years together as he was the day he tried to teach me to twirl my pasta,
and remains so to this day. He waited years for me, and followed after whenever
I ran off on some ill-advised high school pursuit. He cautioned without
restraining, and encouraged me to make and follow my own choices instead of
blindly following in those of others.
“Be yourself. I love you for you,” he
would say.
JT is a fitting name for him. It is short for Jeffery Thomas,
and the name Jeffery means “peace”. He brought peace into my life. JT is the
sun to my moon and every day I thank God that he is in my life. If I ever begin
to slip into monotony or take for granted his involvement in my life, I think
back to our first date and all of the dates that followed. I recall all of the
roses, little love notes in my high school locker, dates at Panda Express, the
look in his eyes when he laughs, his steady heartbeat, the days he helps me put
up art shows, the scent and texture of his gently curled hair, and long texts
and even longer talks that kept us up at night.
I remember that I am loved.
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