When Love Forgot to Play

“You can really feel winter in the air today, can’t you?” Scott said, turning up the collar on his jacket as he looked over at Dan. 

His words hung there like desperation in the still, cool air of the park on that Sunday morning, still damp from the autumn rain that had fallen the night before. He was trying for something – anything – to break the spell of silence draped over them like a heavy shroud. Even though they were walking side by side down the path, it felt like they were continents apart.

October had come, but the days were still clutching onto the last remnants of summer. A final, brilliant display of colour before the light gradually fades with the inevitable tilt of the earth and the spectre of winter begins to cast its long, dark shadow on the world. And in a way, it felt as if the twilight of their relationship was approaching, too. 

Scott was usually good with words. Being a screenwriter, he spent his days using them to weave worlds that sprung out of his imagination. But with their story, the usual signposts weren’t there to guide him, and his words just stumbled and fell. He was well aware of the urgency that was clouding every word that came out of his mouth. All of them fuelled by that sinking feeling – like watching the air gradually seep out of a ruptured tire. He was sure that there was something that needed fixing, but he had no idea where the defect was. And the more that he tried to write a happy ending, the more Dan seemed to retreat into silence. And the more silence that crept in, the more that Scott clung to the dreams in his head.

Dan kicked away the leaves at his feet, clinging heavy and wet on the path around them.

“Mm-hmm,” he said flatly. 

To Dan, the realm of words seemed untrustworthy in his more realistic outlook on life. He took much more comfort in the straight lines and solid foundations that the world of architecture afforded him. So when he first met Scott, he fell in love with his ability to use them. But lately, those words started to create a picture that wasn’t quite real. One that was more in love with the idea of being in love than what was actually there. A picture that painted them into a future that they hadn’t even evolved into yet, and he was terrified that it was a world that he could never live up to. An unsound structure that could come crashing down at any moment. In Dan’s mind, he was guarding their truth by keeping them grounded in reality. 

He heard a sound coming from behind one of the massive chestnut trees that stood like dark pillars amongst the blanket of fallen leaves. Slowly, an old merry-go-round came into view, creaking back and forth in the gentle breeze. Intrigued, he strayed off the path towards it. Scott stopped, and his eyes followed Dan as he walked down the slope. 

“What are you doing?” he said.

Dan didn’t look back, hugging himself tightly as he walked. The merry-go-round looked like it had seen better days. The wooden platform was slightly warped and frayed at the sides, and the once-vibrant coat of yellow was now faded and chipped. He grabbed one of the metal bars, but he didn’t give the merry-go-round a spin. He just gently rocked it back and forth, listening to the odd noise, almost like a strange lullaby.

Scott stood silently behind him. He really didn’t know what to say now. Or maybe it was the fear that anything that he would say would unleash something that would spin out of control. Silence prevailed once again.

He looked across the playground and noticed a pair of red metal seesaws, tilted at opposite angles, making a large X shape amongst the trees. With a slight hint of a grin, he started walking over to them, slowly at first but then picking up his pace.

He turned back to Dan and said, “C’mon.”

“Let’s just keep going.”

“Just….come on,” he said, almost in a whisper, as if not wanting to shatter the fragile moment. He thought that maybe this was a chance to breathe some life into all of this. 

He got to one of the ends of a seesaw and grabbed the handle that was slightly above his head. He eased the metal plank down, hoisted a leg over to straddle it, and stood there silently waiting. He gave Dan a motioning gesture to get on.

Dan gave him a puzzled, slightly annoyed look. A look that flattened Scott’s smile into a paper-thin line. 

“Humour me.”

Dan rolled his eyes and approached. He was shorter than Scott, so he pushed the plank down slightly and threw one leg around it, making Scott wobble precariously up a few inches, gripping the handle tighter and adjusting his balance. This awkwardness just seemed to highlight the fact that they had lost their rhythm. Two people who had once danced in harmony were now taking awkward baby steps all over again.

“Easyyyy,” Scott said, slightly unnerved. 

Dan gently straightened his legs and gave them a little push with his feet. As he glided up, Scott slid down in the opposite direction towards the ground. The seesaw gave an awkward groan. Soon enough, they had established a slow, gentle rhythm, and Scott started to feel slightly more hopeful, almost as if, with every up-and-down motion, they were pumping some sort of new life into this dying moment. But even though Scott was directly in front of him, Dan just wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“See? This is great, isn’t it?” 

Dan shot a glance over to him. The remark felt condescending – like how a parent talks to a petulant child. Insinuating that the silence that haunted them was his fault and his fault alone. 

“It’s fine, just relax,” he answered coldly.

A wave of hot irritation flushed through Scott’s cheeks.

“Would it kill you to say something?” he snapped back.

The seesaw continued, now feeling more like a knife slicing through the tension. Dan couldn’t help but think that this was a metaphor for what their relationship had become. In motion but going nowhere. Always repeating these scripted and predictable moments, like a scene in a bad movie. 

“I’m getting off,” Dan said. 

As he neared the ground, Dan grabbed the handles and abruptly dismounted. Scott came down with a thud, hard enough that his mouth slammed shut.

Dan started to walk over to the jungle gym, leaving Scott kneeling on the ground in the pool of his own frustration. Another attempt to build something that had come tumbling down. 

The jungle gym was a simple, horizontal, long ladder suspended above his head by four posts. Dan slightly smiled. This felt more like him. A challenge. A chance to feel something and the freedom to go at his own pace. With a jump, he gripped the first bar tightly with both hands. The metal felt cool and wet to the touch.

Scott, meanwhile, got off the seesaw. He shoved the plank upward in exasperation. It flew up, and the other side, where Dan had been sitting, banged on the ground. The sound startled Dan as he hung there. And then he started to traverse the rungs one by one, letting out grunts of exertion as he went. Scott stomped through the leaves and stood on the other end of the jungle gym, glaring at him. If he couldn’t get Dan to look at him before, he certainly wasn’t going to let that happen this time.

“You know, your attitude totally sucks lately,” he fumed.

Dan continued, hand over hand, gradually towards him. He felt like his body was waking up. Finally using muscles that he had all but forgotten.

“Yeah? Why’s that, Scott?” he said sarcastically.

Scott hated it when he used his name. Another razor-thin wedge of separation pushing this already precarious situation even closer to the edge.

“Everything I try….everything I try to do to take care of us lately – you just shut it down.”

He could feel a tremble in his voice now, just like the anxiety that was coming to a rolling boil in the pit of his stomach.

Now halfway across, Dan started to do some chin-ups, gritting his teeth in frustration.

“Well, maybe you should just…stop...trying,” he said, forcing out each individual word as he reached the top of the bar.

And there it was. The knife had sliced a large gash in the tire now. The truth was seeping out all around them in a forceful hiss. 

Scott’s anger propelled him to leap up and grab the rung at the other end of the jungle gym. Panting and lurching violently, flailing his legs, he slowly approached him. 

“Then who’s gonna do it, Dan? You? I feel like you’ve said nothing in months! You’re just…quiet all the time!” 

“Just say something, for Christ’s sake! Open your mouth and fucking say something!”

Dan stopped doing his chin-ups, and now, once again, they were face to face, both hanging from the bars with the air pulsing heavily out of their mouths in great puffs that were visible in the cool air. Once again, on a ladder going nowhere. Dan slowly reversed his grip, making his whole body turn in the other direction. He was going to go back the way he came at first, but then, with a quick impulse, he hoisted his lower legs up over the bars and let his hands go. He hung there in exasperation, with the world turned totally upside down.

“We don’t have to say anything, Scott. Stop trying so hard! Jesus, just let it go!”

Scott slowly released his grip and slowly dropped down to the ground. Besides a slight breeze that gently wafted through the playground, there was silence. He stood there looking at Dan’s face. The reverse image of the man he once knew. And then suddenly, with a final purge of energy – that final piece of the energy he had kept on reserve for when this day would come – rushed out of him like an exorcised phantom.

“UhhhhhAHHH!” he screamed. 

He gave Dan a big shove and stormed off toward the small wooden castle turret where the slide was. Dan teetered for a second and then crashed down to the ground. He sat there wide-eyed, his hair matted with wet mud.

“Maybe I don’t say anything ‘cause it’s never what you want to hear. You’ve thrown us into some…fantasy of yours. It’s just never enough. You always want more.”

The words were flying out of him now.

“You’ve written us into a corner, Scott! You’ve…cast me in a part that I don’t want to play! Whatever happened to just…being free?”

“Oh, I know you want to be free, Dan. You’re…you’re always…running out the door like the house is on fire. Like I’m the goddamn plague! Like…I’m slowly…killing you day in and day out.”

“Well, you know what? I’m done looking after us. I am DONE!”

“What is us, Scott? Where is it, exactly?” Dan shot back. “Is it up there? Or…or maybe it’s over there? You seem to keep on looking for it, so tell me, Scott. Where exactly is it? Just stop looking, for God’s sake! There’s just you and there’s just me. And that’s it!”

Scott just stood silent at the base of the steps up to the turret. His face felt hot, and at the same time, he felt like all of the warmth was draining out of his body. Everything was finally unravelling. 

“Maybe that’s the point, Dan. Admitting that you’re with me makes you so afraid. Like you’re going to….vanish into thin air.”

And suddenly, Scott felt a sense of relief in his body, finally washing the fear away. Like he was looking at Dan with his real eyes and the words of truth finally came to him. 

“It’s right here, Dan. It’s right here,” he said, thumping his chest with a fist.

And then, Dan finally understood. He finally saw the Scott that he loved, unmasked from the fear and doubt that had kept him from him. Standing right there. Right here with him.

He hoisted himself up and walked towards Scott, who was beginning to slowly climb up to the turret. Dan reached out and touched his shoulder, but he shrugged it away. 

Scott slowly turned around. Tears finally escaped out of his eyes and drew two long lines down his face. And then, after a long pause, he shrugged and said: “But if you can’t see it too…then I guess it’s…nowhere.”

“Poof!” he said and let out a chuckle. “Show’s over.”

And with that, he turned his back on him this time and rushed up the rest of the steps. When he got to the top, Dan reached out for him again but only managed to grab his ankle. This made Scott lose his balance, slightly twisting as he fell backwards. His body came down onto the top of the slide with a bang, and before he could stop himself, he was hurtling down it towards the ground.

Dan rushed up the steps after him. He hit his head on the roof and winced in slight pain, but dashed across the floor anyway. Without a second thought, he lunged toward the slide and slid down. He hadn’t noticed that Scott had already arrived at the bottom, grasping the two sides of the slide with his hands for support, with the tears streaming out of his eyes.

Dan continued barrelling downwards, and Scott, suddenly realizing what was coming his way, tried for a split second to get up out of the way. But in his rush, he lost his balance, tipped backwards and fell into Dan’s lap just as he arrived at the bottom.

And for the first time in what seemed like forever, Dan grabbed him tightly with his arms and didn’t let go. So tight that it was almost as if he was squeezing out the last remnant of pain and sadness and worry. Scott started to cry harder now, and Dan just buried his face in Scott’s neck. He could feel his love for him rushing out of his body now, enveloping Scott in its healing power. The love that had been held under lock and key for so long now had finally been released.

He started softly kissing Scott’s neck and whispered.

“I’ve got you.”

“I see you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I just…felt like we got all tangled up in what we’re supposed to be. And I…I just couldn’t breathe. I just couldn’t…fly anymore.”

Scott turned slightly and buried his head and body into Dan’s warm chest. For the first time in ages, he felt that there were no more words to say. And it was perfect.

Time finally stood still, and their two worlds finally came together.

Scott got up and turned to Dan. He reached out his hand. Dan grabbed it and hoisted himself up. They started to walk across the playground in the direction of the swings that weren’t far away. Dan let his hand go and sat down on one of them. He held on to the chains with both hands and gently moved himself back and forth with his feet, looking down to the ground. When he looked up, Scott was standing there, relaxed and strong and real. He walked towards him and cupped his face with his hands. He leaned forward nuzzling his face, and gave him a long kiss.

“I love you,” he said.

Dan grabbed his wrists and pulled him even closer, feeling his warmth.

“I love you, too,” he whispered.

Scott walked behind him and grabbed the chains of the swing. He stood there and pulled him with all of his strength towards his chest, lifting him off the ground. He paused for a moment and then let him go. He flew forward on the swing, and when he swung back, Scott gave him another gentle push.

And finally, Dan felt like he could fly again. 

After a few more pushes, Scott walked over to the other swing next to him, sat down and slowly started to gain his own momentum. Each push of energy taking him higher and higher, no longer robbed from him to keep an ideal alive that doesn’t exist. 

Dan looked over at him and said: “Now this is great.”

Scott had finally gotten the answer that he had wanted to hear all along, but it didn’t matter so much now. He could feel it instead. With a huge leap, Dan flew out of the swing and landed with a jolt of energy. Of new life. Of a new playfulness. He took in deep breaths of the fresh morning air and then turned back to look at Scott.

“Race you back to the car!” he said, as he bolted across the park in the direction that they had come.

In a flash, Scott also flew off his seat and landed on the ground in a crouch. He paused for a moment and glanced up at Dan, running free and happy, and he felt it, too. No longer fuelled by the fear of losing him. No longer seeing only what’s missing, but instead simply seeing what’s right here, right now with him. He smiled and then bolted after him, across the playground and out of sight.

High above them, a flock of Canada geese trumpeted their song as they began the long journey south for the winter, each separately making their way, but in a common formation – away from their safe haven and into the unknown, but driven by the shared hope of warmer days that lay ahead.