Page 29 of Finding Parker

“The sandwich. Shove it in your mouth. All that’s left,” she grinned.

“Why would I want to do that?” I asked.

“Because it’s fun?” she responded as she cocked her head slightly to the side.

I raised the sandwich to my mouth and studied it. Without a doubt, I could inhale what still lingered in one bite. To prove to myself I could physically do it, and to ensure I could also act in a manner other than what was proper – at least for a moment – I shoved the entire sandwich into my mouth. What followed took a matter of seconds, but will remain with me for a lifetime.

As I chewed the sandwich, or at least attempted to do so, some of the lettuce became separated from what was in my mouth, and fell into my throat. The small shredded pieces of lettuce tickled my throat, causing me to cough. The fact that I didn’t care to spit my sandwich out onto the table combined with the fact that at least generally I attempt to act in a gentlemanly manner caused me to close my mouth tighter.

A combination of my forcing my lips closed and inhaling what was a required amount of oxygen to keep me alive naturally forced what little loose lettuce that remained into my already sensitive throat. That small amount of lettuce caused me to cough again, forcing another natural inhale, and the subsequent choking.

Upon inhaling, some meat matter became lodged in my throat. Although multiple times as a child I claimed to be choking, and I have seen many people make the same claim, I now knew what it felt like to choke to death. Attempts to cough and or breathe became completely unsuccessful. I was not able to do anything which required the use of my lungs. As I waived my arms frantically, my eyesight became blurred. Hearing, after a few short seconds, became quite difficult and eventually faded to being total deaf. Total blindness soon followed. At some point in time during the process, I must have stood, because I now felt my weakened oxygen starved knees give way to the earth’s gravitational pull. As I felt myself collapse onto the floor, I was certain I would die on my first date with Victoria. A mouth full of sandwich and a piece of salami lodged in my throat, the paramedics would announce my death upon arrival.

Parker Bale. Dead at twenty-three, a victim of being a stupid sandwich eating fool.

After an amount of time I had no means of measuring, I felt my body being lifted to the heavens. Although blind and deaf, I could feel myself slowly and steadily being raised from the floor. Thoughts of Victoria left me as visions of finally being with my parents and grandmother filled my mind. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my chest.

The fatal blow.

A heart attack.

Simultaneously, I coughed, spit the contents of my mouth onto the table, and regained my vision and hearing. And then, the chest pain hit me again. I looked down. Two small hands, one clenched into a fist, pressed sharply into my chest. I looked up and across the table. Although my vision remained blurred, I could see Victoria was gone. I coughed again. As my eyes watered and I gasped for another breath, I looked over my shoulder. Despite my being embarrassed, I felt compelled to thank my savior.

And the angel of life who stood behind me – her arms wrapped tightly around my midriff – was the same angel of death who coerced me to attempt to eat an entire sandwich in one bite.

Because it would be fun.

Victoria.

VICTORIA. Life’s greatest treasures will never be held, purchased, or bartered for. They will only be felt.

Having the ability to feel is the greatest gift God has ever given.

Parker causes me to feel.

When we feel a particular way, we may not like it or agree with it, but the feeling exists within us regardless. Changing how or what we think is a relatively easy task. I compare changing how we feel, however, to lighting a fire and placing our hand in it, then and convincing our self it doesn’t burn. It’s impossible. I don’t have a tremendous amount of experience socially, and although I don’t know this to be true, it’s possible Parker and I actually connect with each other on many different levels. When I am with him, I feel courageous and inquisitive. These aren’t feelings I am necessarily comfortable with, but I feel them nonetheless. In the presence of men in the past, I felt skeptical and distrustful. With Parker, I find myself saying and doing things so far beyond what I would normally be comfortable with, but oddly enough I am comfortable.

It felt as if I was blossoming.

Parker and I have had experiences and exposures in life which mirror one another. Considering this one aspect of him alone, it would stand to reason he would understand how and why I feel a particular way more accurately than any other person who doesn’t have the experience or exposure he has.

As time passes he’ll eventually become who he truly is. If it so happens and he is who he appears to be, I could spend a lifetime enjoying our time together. If he eventually materializes as a different person, and his true self emerges in contrast to what I believe him to be, I’ll be forced to make a decision. For now, my decision is to give him the benefit of the doubt. Based on how he makes me feel, I’d be a fool to do otherwise.

And a fool I am not.

“It’s like magic. Magical. Whatever. I love it,” I slowed my pace of walking slightly and inhaled deeply.

“I think part of it is the smell,” Parker said, his arm trailing behind him with my hand still in his.

“I agree. I have always loved the smell. It’s soothing. Sometimes a really shitty day for me is turned into a peaceful night if I get a whiff before I go to bed,” I smiled and took a long step to attempt to catch up to him.

The smell of the beach was peaceful to me. It was almost as if it cleansed me as I breathed it in. Although I lived in a coastal city, it was not always easy for me to find the time to make it to the beach. I’ve often wished I could just plop a home down in the sand and stay there forever, going to sleep and waking with the scent and the sounds it brings. As we walked along the edge of where the ocean meets the sand, I pressed my toes into the sand with each step, leaving my best impression of our existence.

My mark.

Victoria’s beach, stay away.

As he lightly held my hand in his, he turned and smiled. I looked down at his pants, which were cuffed to mid-calf. He looked cute. Knowing his dress shoes were in trunk of his car – because they wouldn’t fit in his blazer pocket – made him just a little bit cuter. He didn’t need much help in the looks department. His facial expression was generally one of someone in the middle of a business negotiation, but he was beyond handsome. His brown hair was always perfectly cut, as if it were trimmed daily. He kept it short on the sides, close to the length of the Marines stationed along the coast. The top was long enough to fall into his face if he’d allow it to.