Him

I tried to identify what his scent was. 

It smelled like Axe body spray or maybe it was the mousse in his curly, brown hair. 

In either case, the smell was pleasant and just sitting there in his presence had a calming effect. I leaned a little further back into the couch, my knees now pressing up against him. He was laying back, brow furrowed as he flicked through his Instagram feed. I held still. I noted the rise and fall of his stomach with each breath. The mumbling he did every so often. The warmth of being so close. 

The day was winding to a close. He had set me up on a blind date and I had just asked the girl out earlier that day. He and another girl were waiting for any details I might divulge. I was trying to remain silent as long as I could. 

He was the only person I had ever let be that physically close to me. Not even my sisters were allowed to sit on the same couch as me without me scooting over a cushion. I just am not that into physical touch - definitely not one of my love languages. But this was different for some reason…

It was the previous Sunday and he was sitting next to me at church. These were those individual hard plastic chairs and not the softer pews I was familiar with from my congregation's building back home. We had switched gears from the main sacrament portion of church to a Sunday school lesson. The topic was kind of heavy - suicide. A couple years earlier I had lost my own father to such a horror and it was extremely tough on my family. The anxiety over his disappearance settled thick over our home. I received the news through my local church leader who sat us down and offered his condolences. I grew up in my later teenage years being the protector of the house and only finding comfort in random male role models that passed through my life. I went on a mission, came back for a couple months and now I’m back out in the world again off at college. My family was once more without me. I didn’t think…

I sniffled. My eyes moistened a little from reliving the kaleidoscope of emotions. They still felt a little raw. I looked over and saw him sitting there, leaning forward a little with his head in his hands. I silently prayed he would put a comforting arm around me but I had kind of rebuffed previous attempts by anybody else. 

The speaker went on about warning signs and ways to help those who may be struggling. A little late for me, isn’t it? I was being cynical again. My mind tended to drift to more negative thoughts when I was uncomfortable and had trouble focusing. 

I looked over again and this time he was practically drooping in his seat. His strong back arched over from exhaustion. 

I casually put an arm around the back of his chair. Nothing happened. The meeting continued. He stayed put in a slumped position. My arm was simply no longer at my side. It was an unfamiliar position for me, something my dad would do when he sat next to us in church and wasn’t up on the stand because of his calling. He was a tall man and his long arm could easily reach around all three of us siblings when we were small. 

Now, he leaned back and his back nestled comfortably into my arm. I almost recoiled at the physical contact. But I didn’t. I chose to put my arm around his chair in the first place. He didn’t seem to look over but stared intently at the speaker. I tuned back in as she answered questions from the congregation. I nodded agreement to most of what she said. A whisper at my right ear brought me out of focus. I turned my head and saw his giant grin and the soft wrinkles around his eyes mere inches from my own face. 

I made a confused face indicating I hadn’t heard what he said. 

“The guy writing on the board is kind of slow,” he whispered. 

I looked at the whiteboard that had been wheeled into the room. The man writing in a dying marker deliberately created each letter. He was a point or two behind what the speaker was saying. 

I chuckled lightly. “You should’ve gone up there!” I remarked remembering when he had volunteered when asked but the speaker noticed the current scribe before him. 

“Exactly!” he agreed. He leaned back a little bit more, now a little smug that he was validated. “I mean my handwriting isn't the best but I love writing on whiteboards and I’m definitely probably faster than him…” he gestured to the man who had now caught up to the current speaking point. “...and I would’ve written a lot bigger…” he continued. I found it hilarious the way he sometimes went on long tangents when he spoke. It took forever to talk from point A to point B in his storytelling and reasonings. Most likely it was because of the ADHD. 

The speaker ended with her testimony and the congregation echoed “amen.” The Bishop thanked her and called on someone to give the closing prayer. With that final amen, the congregation all broke loose, some immediately stretching themselves, others turning around in their seats to gossip or others still, heading swiftly for the exit doors. 

My arm had come away from the chair and into a reverent folded position before the prayer. He now walked off and I was called away to attend to my calling as ward financial clerk. I walked home afterward in the cooler fall air alone. 

We all nodded and agreed. “That sounds like a good goal,” someone muttered. I leaned back into my pile of pillows that had all somehow migrated to my side of the couch. I had kind of built a protective wall around myself preventing anybody from moving too close. 

The girl leading the discussion thanked everybody and ended with a testimony. My pillow fort toppled as I adjusted. I unclipped my keys from my belt loop and tossed them onto the ottoman. I didn’t like them digging into my thigh. The girl giggled a little during her testimony as she noticed the struggle on my side of the couch. 

“Amen,” we all repeated as she finished. We all then knelt around the altar of the ottoman for a “family” prayer. Another successful home study had finished. We college kids being without nearby family banded together to share our thoughts and insights to that week’s lesson in the church manual Come, Follow Me. 

I was vaguely aware of his arm touching mine as we knelt in prayer. It was a brief but sincere prayer and we all stood up as the mood shifted to searching for our next activity. I leaned back into the ruins of my pillow fort. I ended up ditching some of them as it was hard to find a comfortable lounging position with so many. He ended up on the cushion next to me. Idle chatter began which I only passively noted as I grew more comfortable in my spot. There was something about favorite music. Somebody requested the thick, fluffy blanket to share. He resorted to his Facebook feed. 

I felt myself drifting toward him. He was leaning haphazardly on the couch, his body taking up multiple cushions. I scooted a little closer to him. Someone hummed some line from a song and he identified it as Kanye West. His eyes lit up. Facebook disappeared from his screen, replaced with Spotify. Then, some scrolling and tapping until he found the song. 

“Have you heard this song?” He turned to me. I realized I had gotten a lot closer. Close enough to feel his breath with every h. 

I shook my head. He leaned even closer toward me as he pressed the play button. Our arms were touching now and we were both leaning into each other. Some sort of rap song played. Some heavy beat and then some fast sing-talking. Near the end of the song was the quoted lyric. He laughed at the ridiculousness of the gibberish. 

“What’d you think?” he whispered because his lips were right near my ear. 

“I guess it was alright,” I replied. 

He looked satisfied with my reply and went back to scrolling. I looked over and noticed his shoulder was pressed up against mine. From the angle he was leaning, his head was turned away. 

A colder breeze drifted in from the open sliding glass door. He was warm, however, and the subdued atmosphere in the room relaxed me. 

I lowered my head onto his shoulder. 

For a moment, I almost pulled my head back. I’ve gone too far, I thought. I shouldn’t have done that. 

I felt a subtle shift in his body. He adjusted to a more comfortable position and my head rested on his shoulder. 

The weirdness of the situation took a while to melt away. I couldn’t remember the last time I cozied up to somebody. A situation in high school came to mind when a good friend gave me a thoughtful gift for Christmas. I didn’t know how to thank her for such a meaningful present so I gave her a hug. That was the most memorable time I had physical contact with someone other than family. Come to think of it, the last time I remember deep physical contact with a member of my family was with my dad. 

I was a scared eighth-grader. I was a week away from a two-week trip to Germany. A two week trip away from my family - from everything that seemed familiar. I started whimpering which turned into strangled sobs. My dad came into my room, opening the bedroom door and spilling light into my darkened room from the hallway. He came over to sit on my bed and put a hand on my forehead. He brushed my hair up and put his other hand on my back. My dad wasn’t a man big on emotions, his soothing words at times fell awkwardly to my irrational mind. What I do remember was him being there, comforting me. It was contact. 

I was sitting next to him. My mind grew accustomed to having my head rest against his body. There was a rhythmic in...out...in...out of his breathing. Our bare arms were in direct contact. I felt...at peace. I felt safe. Here was someone who broke down the barriers that went up with my dad’s passing. Here was a real friend. 

I felt a shift in the couch as the three roommates of the apartment stood up. They announced something about needing to leave for a dinner. He sat up and I fell back from his warmth. The dinner attendees allowed us to remain in their apartment on the condition we lock up after we leave. 

“So you all can continue cuddling.” 

That killed the mood. I stood up and went to the other side of the couch. He blushed and spread out on the couch to prevent people from sitting next to him. I threw a blanket over myself as added protection against any unsolicited physical contact. 

The door closed as the three women left. 

The crowd, now diminished, switched moods again. Another friend came and sat near me on the ground. I cringed under his touch as his sleeved arm pressed against my leg. I was confused. I craved his touch. I settled deeper into the couch, away from anybody near me. 

I didn’t grow up being an emotional guy. I think I got that from my dad. I remembered distinctly three times in my life I cried before his death. Once, for that trip to Germany. Another was for a snap in mental health during high school. The last time was...well, I can’t remember it too well. My grandpa’s funeral? I did, however, become attached very easily to people. This lead to an unsavory friend group in middle school which was replaced by an intelligent and uplifting friend group in high school. The thing was that I never grew attached to just one person. I could never hang out with just one friend. 

On my mission, that kind of changed. I opened up more to certain people and developed a good bond. First, with Elder Moon, the first person who heard me tell my dad’s story. The next was Elder Larsen. All it took was a personal chat in the car before heading out into freezing temperatures to meet someone. He even hugged me after I presented him with a handmade bookmark featuring my artwork. Then there was Elder Lockwood, with whom I never shared my dad’s story but shared everything else and it felt so good. 

So here was Michael. A returned missionary from Chicago going to BYU to become a mechanical engineer. I never had any personal moments with him. He’d be in the same friend group when we hung out but I never talked with him a whole lot. One time I came home at the same time he did and he waved to me. His cousin/ roommate invited me over for a birthday dinner for me and Michael joined us. Small moments. 

Now, we were back at his apartment. I was still pressed against his body. He was still flicking through his Instagram feed. There were no worries, no problems at that moment. He looked over at me and smiled - that big cheesy grin. 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever let get this physically close to me,” I confessed. 

“Really?” he asked excitedly. He squealed with delight. “That makes me so happy!” 

Me too, I thought. I didn’t know what it was about Michael but he made me happy, too.