(no subject)
I wonder where this one went...
Here's a re-post:
Day One: The Arrival
The bungalows were very spacious at the ‘Mountain Elk Lodge’-Comedy Central didn’t skimp. The network had organized a business retreat for the staff at The Daily Show; it was one of those team-building exercises that were supposed to bring associates together.
Jon Stewart and Ben Carlin, although reluctant at first, agreed to take the crew out for a week in the ‘Smokey Mountains’ of North Carolina. It was meant to be a great opportunity for the newest members of the team to integrate with the veterans, and for the old timers to re-connect once again-away from the busy whirlwind of the office. Jon felt they should have been more inclusive, however. It was only the writers, producers and cast members who had been sequestered for this exercise (yes, as far as Jon was concerned, in the end it had been more an order than a request), leaving the rest of the crew members and interns pouting in New York.
“Think of it as a ‘thank you’ from all of us at Comedy Central for the latest spike in ratings” Doug Herzog had told them with a broad smile regarding Jon and Ben through his glasses at his penthouse office in the city. “Signed up seven more accounts this year thanks to you, geniuses.”
Jon faked a smile that turned into a smirk. He didn’t appreciate being forced into wasting his time in such activities. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy spending time with his team, but a nice round of beers at O’Maley’s on a Thursday after work would’ve done the trick. These organized retreats always felt like total corporate bullshit to him.
With a tired sigh, he dropped his duffle bag on the floor and walked over to the sliding door. The view was truly breathtaking. A range of mountains towered over the silvery surface of a lake where small boats could be discerned in the distance. They looked like small shadows moving at dusk, retreating back to the serenity of the shore. Small yellow dots of light revealed the location of small cabins and motels in which people were most likely kicking back after a full day of aquatic activities. As he slid the glass door to the side, a waft of fresh air assaulted him, dizzying him with an overload of pure oxygen. He inhaled deeply, leaning over the verandah, as he watched the first stars of the night timidly peeking from a moonless sky.
There was a knock on the door, “Jon? Are you there?” he heard from the other side.
Exhaling, he walked back into the room. The oak and pine furnishings gave the place a cozy mountain look and the stone fireplace in the corner made it quite the romantic getaway. Maybe if things were a little different right now… He pushed the bitter thoughts to the back of his mind and strolled to the door catching a glimpse of his tired self in the dresser mirror. He tried not to think about the extra grays he had noticed or the dark circles that had taken residence under his eyes and opened the door. Stephen stood right outside beaming at him.
“This place is gorgeous!” he praised grinning like a child. “I could definitely invest in real estate in this area. Have you checked out the view? It is absolutely magnificent…” he paused, “…what?” he inquired at the bemused glance Jon was sending his way.
“Nothing it’s just…” Jon began, “your joy is contagious” he finished opting for the safer answer.
“Anyway, I was just coming to get you for dinner. Ben said we need to get sorted into teams,” Stephen informed absentmindedly browsing through a brochure of the area.
Jon gave his friend’s blatant debonair major points. It was as if he did not have a care in the world-unburdened by the myriad of decisions and possibilities that usually plagued Jon’s own mind. He envied that: Stephen’s ability to appear so laid back-professional, yet relaxed. It made him take notice of his own fidgeting and forced himself still.
Bothered by his inability to just kick back, Jon grabbed his keycard and followed Stephen quietly into the hallway while his friend kept praising the place excitedly.
**********
Everybody gathered around a large table at the resort’s main restaurant. It was late and most other patrons had already retired, leaving the rowdy crowd to their planning and organizing.
“So, it’s set then. Cast, you will be the ‘blue’ team” Ben Carlin said handing Jon six blue t-shirts. “Writers, you’ll be the ‘red’ team and us, Producers are the mighty ‘yellow’ team” he was really trying to sound excited about the competition, but as his eyes flashed over Jon’s they both sighed imperceptibly in resignation. They were just too old for this shit.
The younger members of the crew, however, seemed to be excited-including Rob and Ed who were joking with two of the writers about whipping their collective ass. Sam and Stephen had their noses buried in a pamphlet of the area, pointing at the different pictures and ‘ooh-ing’ and ‘aah-ing’ at the turn of every page. Bob and some producers exploded into a roar of laughter at the punch line of the latest joke.
In the turmoil, nobody noticed a tall, lanky figure crossing over to their table until he grabbed a chair and placed it between Ben and Jon straddling it and resting his elbows on its backrest.
“We were wondering where you were hiding” Jon smiled.
“My plane was delayed” Mo shrugged seemingly unbothered returning the smile. “Let me tell you something: Newark should build a couple of extra runways…”
“Can I have your attention, please” Jon called standing up and addressing the table. The room gradually quieted down, allowing Jon to speak without screaming. “This is Mo Rocca, as most of you probably know.” Mo nodded his head towards the group of people staring at him.
“Yo! Mo!” a writer screamed from the back. “Long time no see, man!”
“I’ve been hiding in my Y2K bunker” he replied in his usual stoic way.
“Is that right?” Jon chuckled at the joke. “Well, he’s given up his life of luxury at the bunker to be our… moderator? Is that what you’ll be?”
“Yes, although if you give me a whip you can call me master” he replied cocking his head.
“Settle down” Jon suppressed a giggle at the visual.
Ben turned to Mo trying to sort out all the last minute details for the team building exercises. Jon was glad they had chosen him as the moderator. Mo Rocca had an uncanny ability to make him smile at the most unexpected things and he missed his brand of humor at the show. He could always see certain perspectives in given stories that were so out of the mainstream, it often left his mind spinning only to draw a hysterical laugh at the conclusion.
He glanced around the table, were everybody had gone back to mind their own business after the brief introduction, and caught Stephen’s eye. They exchanged a friendly smile and a wink before Sam’s gasp drew Colbert back to the pamphlet.
**********
Day Two: The Relay
It was a warm summer day in the mountains. The three teams were clad in shorts and their respective colored t-shirts. Three captains had been assigned making Jon head of the blue team, Ben head of the yellow team and David head of the red team. They all gathered around a clearing, sun beating down hard even a couple of hours before noon.
Mo was explaining the rules for the first task: a relay. His body looked even lankier in shorts and a white polo shirt. He squinted at the sun using his hand as a visor over his paste-rimmed glasses. The slight lisp in his speech was even more pronounced as he projected his voice.
“As you can see, the hiking trail is about five miles” he stated pointing at the glossy map he was holding. “You’ll need five players for this particular task. Each will be covering one mile of the designated path carrying a key. The first player will hand the key to the next one who’ll be waiting at his or her post, and so on and so forth. You will notice the race will end right here where it started. In front of me are three chests. Each key opens one of them. It is very important that the last player…”
Jon was looking down at the ground, arms folded, with a somber expression on his face. Taking a sip from his bottled water, his mind began to wander back to New York and the office-work. It was going to be hard to keep things interesting during the summer when everything seemed to be at a standstill domestically and internationally. Maybe Hollywood’d come up with a juicy scandal to latch on to. Of course turning The Daily Show into E! News Live was not an option he was willing to take, but if the 24 hour news channels were only interested in the goings on of Jacko and little else…
“I’m sitting this one out, Cap!” Samantha said patting his shoulder and effectively interrupting his musings. “I’m really not up to running today and I’m not nearly as athletic as Sharon. You guys are gonna have a hard time beating her.”
“Huh?” Jon’s mind was on its way back from the city as his teammates gathered around him. “Um, sure ok. So, who…?”
“That leaves you, Rob, Stephen, Bob and me” Ed pointed swatting at a mosquito. “Where do you want us?”
“Ok, I’ll cover the first mile” Jon began easily falling into the role of a leader, “Rob, since you’re a runner I think it’ll be to our advantage if you went after me (just in case I’m left in the dust). Bob you go next, then Ed and finally Stephen.”
By eleven, everybody was ready in their posts. Mo stood at the clearing with his arm raised and holding a whistle.
“On your marks!” he hollered. “Get set!”
At the shrieking sound of the whistle, the three captains sprinted forward following the dirt path that would lead them to the next member of their team. Jon was not used to running anymore. His soccer days were a distant memory, as to his body, well… he was not twenty anymore.
It happened before reaching the quarter mile, though. As endorphins started pumping through his bloodstream, his legs seemed to rekindle the exhilaration of those college days and, to his surprise, his muscles began responding to the challenge. He was not a long distance runner-he was a sprinter. Knowing he would need a burst of energy to complete the mile before the others, he slowed down his pace allowing the other two men to pass him. Clutching the key in his hand, he could see the half mile marker just ahead. Just a little longer. His feet hit the ground rhythmically and unrushed, just keeping the pace and conserving energy.
Soon, his lungs began to protest and breathing became more and more difficult-fucking cigarettes! It’s just a mile for godsake! The moment he reached the three quarter mile marker he forced the chest discomfort aside and ordered his legs to pick up the pace, increasing his speed to a sprint. He quickly caught up to the other two players breezing past them in long strides. Rob stood ahead, waiting for him to reach his post with his knees bent and ready to receive the key. With his heart beating inside his chest like a sledge hammer, Jon determinedly pushed himself to cover the last few yards. His legs finally closed the short distance between him and Rob and he roughly thrust the key into the correspondent’s hand with a panty ‘go!
Mission accomplished, he bent down clasping his knees with his hands as he gulped in much needed air. He could feel the droplets of sweat trickling down his temples, making their lazy way to his neck. Hurried footsteps could be heard seconds later as the other teams passed on their keys.
“Where (pant)… the hell (pant)… did you come out of (pant)…?” Ben asked strolling toward him.
Jon smiled as his heart rate steadily decreased. Straightening, he turned to the other two with a smirk.
“I might not be able to dunk” he replied slightly out of breath, “but getting the shit beat outta ya all through Middle School makes you one helluva runner.”
“You’d give Speedy Gonzales a run for his money, my friend” David chuckled wiping his face.
The three of them headed to the clearing, moving from joking to business as they made their trek back. It truly was a beautiful day, not even a cloud in the sky and a yellow sun reigning high above at the noon hour. Birds chirped their happy song and the mountain air remained crisp and fresh. As they reached the top of a short hill, they could already see the start/finish line and the three last team members in the distance, ready to finish the race and patiently waiting for the handing of the key.
Stephen was saying something to Sharon that had her laughing loudly while Mike stretched his legs in a halfhearted warm up. They could faintly hear Sharon’s cackles carried uphill by the wind as Stephen articulated with his hands and arms in a very familiar motion. Jon smiled wondering which ‘This Week in God’ anecdote Colbert might be telling her.
The view was magnificent. Enjoying a spot under the shade of a tall pine tree, they decided to sit on a large rock and watch the end of the race from there. It didn’t take long for the approaching team members to appear from the top of the opposite hill and begin their descent for the last exchange. The red team was ahead, followed by a very flustered Ed trying to catch up on the downhill. Jon saw Stephen get into position, ready to take off as soon as his teammate reached him. Ed’s speed kept increasing, his legs unsteady as they trotted down faster and faster until he was just mere feet away.
“Slow down” Jon muttered.
Ed, however, showed no signs of stopping. His feet tripped and slid out of control over the dirt path, his own weight pulling him down until he was almost face to face with Stephen, who in an attempt to help his friend from falling flat on his face, stood in front of him placing both arms on his shoulders. But momentum was too strong and the collision happened despite both men’s efforts to prevent the fall. In an agonizing instant, Ed held onto Stephen for support, Stephen was thrown backwards and their legs tangled making both of them loose their footing and fall hard to the ground.
As fate would have it, most of Ed’s weight fell over Stephen who let out a loud, painful howl.
“Oh, Jesus!” Jon breathed as he watched the sequence in horror.
Jumping to his feet, he ran down the hill to where Stephen was lying clutching his leg in pain. He was followed by Ben and David who once again had trouble keeping up.
“I’m so sorry, man!” Ed kept repeating with obvious chagrin. He was lying next to Stephen who was not speaking, but kept holding his knee panting heavily.
“Stephen…” Jon called rushing toward them. “Are you injured? Where…?”
“I think I fell on his knee” Ed offered running a hand through his hair nervously.
“I’m fine…” Stephen finally grunted between clenched teeth. Swallowing hard, he assured them, “I… I’m ok…”
Jon saw Sharon and her yellow teammate approaching with a worried expression on their faces.
“He’ll be fine” he told them not wanting to be crowded by everybody and their mother. “Go on, finish the race!” Then, turning to Stephen he added, “Can you move your leg?”
Stephen nodded weakly, biting his lower lip as he tried to get up.
“Let’s take him back to the room” Ben said, helping Stephen up. “Can you walk?”
“I…” Stephen stumbled, hissing sharply when he tried to lean some of his weight on his right leg. Jon was beside him in an instant, holding his waist and helping him walk back to the bungalow along with Ben.
**********
Despite Jon’s and Ben’s nagging, Stephen refused to be taken to the hospital claiming all he needed was some rest. As a compromise, Jon insisted on driving to the store to get some first aid supplies while Ben returned to the field to tell the teams they could take the afternoon off.
Back in the room, Jon had placed an iced pack delicately on the already swelling muscle above Stephen’s knee. A tight gasp escaped the injured man’s lips as he watched his friend tend to his injury.
“Does it hurt?” Jon asked, lifting the pressure slightly.
“It’s just cold” Stephen replied with a reassuring smile.
“We really should take you to a clinic. You could’ve torn a ligament, or...”
“I’ll be fine” Stephen interrupted, “it’s just… Aahh! Damn, that’s cold!”
“Can you bend your knee?”
Jon could not keep the worry out of his voice. He watched in apprehension how the joint moved slowly, drawing a moan of pain from Stephen whose head fell against the headboard. He bit back a growl and squeezed his eyes shut.
“I knew this whole retreat was a bad idea” Jon confessed placing the iced pack once again on the afflicted knee.
“Why did you think that?” Stephen’s voice sounded strained.
Jon shrugged. In an effort to avoid answering the question he quickly changed the subject. “Want me to get you something to eat? You shouldn’t take these on an empty stomach” he said perusing the label in the Tylenol bottle.
Operation ‘change the subject’ failed miserably.
“Really Jon, what’s the matter?” Stephen insisted adjusting the pillow behind his back. His tone was dead serious complementing his dire expression.
“Nothing’s the matter!” Jon said defensively a little too quickly without meeting his eyes. “Turkey on rye ok?”
Stephen stared at him for a moment before giving up with a sigh, “Sure.”
“I’ll be back soon” Jon said strolling out of Stephen’s cabin.
He was grateful to have lunch as an excuse to leave the room. The truth was he wasn’t ready to talk about his troubles at the moment, even if Stephen was the one person in whom he could probably confide. Walking to the deli he decided he had some issues he needed to sort out before he could even admit to himself what was bothering him.
Stephen must have dozed off in Jon’s absence because he appeared startled when the door opened again in his return. Jon walked in with a paper bag and two sodas. He placed the items on the night stand and sat back on the bed inspecting the swollen knee and reaching for the first aid kit lying on the floor.
“Bengay… This should help” Jon suggested sheepishly holding up a plastic tube and removing the already melted iced pack from Stephen’s leg.
Unscrewing the top, he squeezed a generous amount of gel over the swelling and began rubbing the area in circular motions. He covered the lower thigh, delicately spreading the medicated substance steadily absorbing into the sore muscle. When Stephen let out a faint gasp he simply asked, “Cold?”
“No…” was Stephen’s quiet response after a beat.
Jon looked up and met Stephen’s intense stare. Shyly, he removed his hand from Stephen’s thigh.
“Er… maybe you should…” he stammered blushing slightly.
“It’s…”
Whatever Stephen was going to say was never voiced. He slowly nodded instead and rubbed some more Bengay over the area Jon had been working on moments before.
Jon retrieved the sandwiches from the paper bag and un-wrapped them. He checked which one had the Dijon mustard and handed it to Stephen. Clicking the television on, they ate in companionable silence watching an old movie neither of them had any interest in.
(To Be Continued...)
Let me know if Part Two is also MIA. ;)
Here's a re-post:
Day One: The Arrival
The bungalows were very spacious at the ‘Mountain Elk Lodge’-Comedy Central didn’t skimp. The network had organized a business retreat for the staff at The Daily Show; it was one of those team-building exercises that were supposed to bring associates together.
Jon Stewart and Ben Carlin, although reluctant at first, agreed to take the crew out for a week in the ‘Smokey Mountains’ of North Carolina. It was meant to be a great opportunity for the newest members of the team to integrate with the veterans, and for the old timers to re-connect once again-away from the busy whirlwind of the office. Jon felt they should have been more inclusive, however. It was only the writers, producers and cast members who had been sequestered for this exercise (yes, as far as Jon was concerned, in the end it had been more an order than a request), leaving the rest of the crew members and interns pouting in New York.
“Think of it as a ‘thank you’ from all of us at Comedy Central for the latest spike in ratings” Doug Herzog had told them with a broad smile regarding Jon and Ben through his glasses at his penthouse office in the city. “Signed up seven more accounts this year thanks to you, geniuses.”
Jon faked a smile that turned into a smirk. He didn’t appreciate being forced into wasting his time in such activities. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy spending time with his team, but a nice round of beers at O’Maley’s on a Thursday after work would’ve done the trick. These organized retreats always felt like total corporate bullshit to him.
With a tired sigh, he dropped his duffle bag on the floor and walked over to the sliding door. The view was truly breathtaking. A range of mountains towered over the silvery surface of a lake where small boats could be discerned in the distance. They looked like small shadows moving at dusk, retreating back to the serenity of the shore. Small yellow dots of light revealed the location of small cabins and motels in which people were most likely kicking back after a full day of aquatic activities. As he slid the glass door to the side, a waft of fresh air assaulted him, dizzying him with an overload of pure oxygen. He inhaled deeply, leaning over the verandah, as he watched the first stars of the night timidly peeking from a moonless sky.
There was a knock on the door, “Jon? Are you there?” he heard from the other side.
Exhaling, he walked back into the room. The oak and pine furnishings gave the place a cozy mountain look and the stone fireplace in the corner made it quite the romantic getaway. Maybe if things were a little different right now… He pushed the bitter thoughts to the back of his mind and strolled to the door catching a glimpse of his tired self in the dresser mirror. He tried not to think about the extra grays he had noticed or the dark circles that had taken residence under his eyes and opened the door. Stephen stood right outside beaming at him.
“This place is gorgeous!” he praised grinning like a child. “I could definitely invest in real estate in this area. Have you checked out the view? It is absolutely magnificent…” he paused, “…what?” he inquired at the bemused glance Jon was sending his way.
“Nothing it’s just…” Jon began, “your joy is contagious” he finished opting for the safer answer.
“Anyway, I was just coming to get you for dinner. Ben said we need to get sorted into teams,” Stephen informed absentmindedly browsing through a brochure of the area.
Jon gave his friend’s blatant debonair major points. It was as if he did not have a care in the world-unburdened by the myriad of decisions and possibilities that usually plagued Jon’s own mind. He envied that: Stephen’s ability to appear so laid back-professional, yet relaxed. It made him take notice of his own fidgeting and forced himself still.
Bothered by his inability to just kick back, Jon grabbed his keycard and followed Stephen quietly into the hallway while his friend kept praising the place excitedly.
**********
Everybody gathered around a large table at the resort’s main restaurant. It was late and most other patrons had already retired, leaving the rowdy crowd to their planning and organizing.
“So, it’s set then. Cast, you will be the ‘blue’ team” Ben Carlin said handing Jon six blue t-shirts. “Writers, you’ll be the ‘red’ team and us, Producers are the mighty ‘yellow’ team” he was really trying to sound excited about the competition, but as his eyes flashed over Jon’s they both sighed imperceptibly in resignation. They were just too old for this shit.
The younger members of the crew, however, seemed to be excited-including Rob and Ed who were joking with two of the writers about whipping their collective ass. Sam and Stephen had their noses buried in a pamphlet of the area, pointing at the different pictures and ‘ooh-ing’ and ‘aah-ing’ at the turn of every page. Bob and some producers exploded into a roar of laughter at the punch line of the latest joke.
In the turmoil, nobody noticed a tall, lanky figure crossing over to their table until he grabbed a chair and placed it between Ben and Jon straddling it and resting his elbows on its backrest.
“We were wondering where you were hiding” Jon smiled.
“My plane was delayed” Mo shrugged seemingly unbothered returning the smile. “Let me tell you something: Newark should build a couple of extra runways…”
“Can I have your attention, please” Jon called standing up and addressing the table. The room gradually quieted down, allowing Jon to speak without screaming. “This is Mo Rocca, as most of you probably know.” Mo nodded his head towards the group of people staring at him.
“Yo! Mo!” a writer screamed from the back. “Long time no see, man!”
“I’ve been hiding in my Y2K bunker” he replied in his usual stoic way.
“Is that right?” Jon chuckled at the joke. “Well, he’s given up his life of luxury at the bunker to be our… moderator? Is that what you’ll be?”
“Yes, although if you give me a whip you can call me master” he replied cocking his head.
“Settle down” Jon suppressed a giggle at the visual.
Ben turned to Mo trying to sort out all the last minute details for the team building exercises. Jon was glad they had chosen him as the moderator. Mo Rocca had an uncanny ability to make him smile at the most unexpected things and he missed his brand of humor at the show. He could always see certain perspectives in given stories that were so out of the mainstream, it often left his mind spinning only to draw a hysterical laugh at the conclusion.
He glanced around the table, were everybody had gone back to mind their own business after the brief introduction, and caught Stephen’s eye. They exchanged a friendly smile and a wink before Sam’s gasp drew Colbert back to the pamphlet.
**********
Day Two: The Relay
It was a warm summer day in the mountains. The three teams were clad in shorts and their respective colored t-shirts. Three captains had been assigned making Jon head of the blue team, Ben head of the yellow team and David head of the red team. They all gathered around a clearing, sun beating down hard even a couple of hours before noon.
Mo was explaining the rules for the first task: a relay. His body looked even lankier in shorts and a white polo shirt. He squinted at the sun using his hand as a visor over his paste-rimmed glasses. The slight lisp in his speech was even more pronounced as he projected his voice.
“As you can see, the hiking trail is about five miles” he stated pointing at the glossy map he was holding. “You’ll need five players for this particular task. Each will be covering one mile of the designated path carrying a key. The first player will hand the key to the next one who’ll be waiting at his or her post, and so on and so forth. You will notice the race will end right here where it started. In front of me are three chests. Each key opens one of them. It is very important that the last player…”
Jon was looking down at the ground, arms folded, with a somber expression on his face. Taking a sip from his bottled water, his mind began to wander back to New York and the office-work. It was going to be hard to keep things interesting during the summer when everything seemed to be at a standstill domestically and internationally. Maybe Hollywood’d come up with a juicy scandal to latch on to. Of course turning The Daily Show into E! News Live was not an option he was willing to take, but if the 24 hour news channels were only interested in the goings on of Jacko and little else…
“I’m sitting this one out, Cap!” Samantha said patting his shoulder and effectively interrupting his musings. “I’m really not up to running today and I’m not nearly as athletic as Sharon. You guys are gonna have a hard time beating her.”
“Huh?” Jon’s mind was on its way back from the city as his teammates gathered around him. “Um, sure ok. So, who…?”
“That leaves you, Rob, Stephen, Bob and me” Ed pointed swatting at a mosquito. “Where do you want us?”
“Ok, I’ll cover the first mile” Jon began easily falling into the role of a leader, “Rob, since you’re a runner I think it’ll be to our advantage if you went after me (just in case I’m left in the dust). Bob you go next, then Ed and finally Stephen.”
By eleven, everybody was ready in their posts. Mo stood at the clearing with his arm raised and holding a whistle.
“On your marks!” he hollered. “Get set!”
At the shrieking sound of the whistle, the three captains sprinted forward following the dirt path that would lead them to the next member of their team. Jon was not used to running anymore. His soccer days were a distant memory, as to his body, well… he was not twenty anymore.
It happened before reaching the quarter mile, though. As endorphins started pumping through his bloodstream, his legs seemed to rekindle the exhilaration of those college days and, to his surprise, his muscles began responding to the challenge. He was not a long distance runner-he was a sprinter. Knowing he would need a burst of energy to complete the mile before the others, he slowed down his pace allowing the other two men to pass him. Clutching the key in his hand, he could see the half mile marker just ahead. Just a little longer. His feet hit the ground rhythmically and unrushed, just keeping the pace and conserving energy.
Soon, his lungs began to protest and breathing became more and more difficult-fucking cigarettes! It’s just a mile for godsake! The moment he reached the three quarter mile marker he forced the chest discomfort aside and ordered his legs to pick up the pace, increasing his speed to a sprint. He quickly caught up to the other two players breezing past them in long strides. Rob stood ahead, waiting for him to reach his post with his knees bent and ready to receive the key. With his heart beating inside his chest like a sledge hammer, Jon determinedly pushed himself to cover the last few yards. His legs finally closed the short distance between him and Rob and he roughly thrust the key into the correspondent’s hand with a panty ‘go!
Mission accomplished, he bent down clasping his knees with his hands as he gulped in much needed air. He could feel the droplets of sweat trickling down his temples, making their lazy way to his neck. Hurried footsteps could be heard seconds later as the other teams passed on their keys.
“Where (pant)… the hell (pant)… did you come out of (pant)…?” Ben asked strolling toward him.
Jon smiled as his heart rate steadily decreased. Straightening, he turned to the other two with a smirk.
“I might not be able to dunk” he replied slightly out of breath, “but getting the shit beat outta ya all through Middle School makes you one helluva runner.”
“You’d give Speedy Gonzales a run for his money, my friend” David chuckled wiping his face.
The three of them headed to the clearing, moving from joking to business as they made their trek back. It truly was a beautiful day, not even a cloud in the sky and a yellow sun reigning high above at the noon hour. Birds chirped their happy song and the mountain air remained crisp and fresh. As they reached the top of a short hill, they could already see the start/finish line and the three last team members in the distance, ready to finish the race and patiently waiting for the handing of the key.
Stephen was saying something to Sharon that had her laughing loudly while Mike stretched his legs in a halfhearted warm up. They could faintly hear Sharon’s cackles carried uphill by the wind as Stephen articulated with his hands and arms in a very familiar motion. Jon smiled wondering which ‘This Week in God’ anecdote Colbert might be telling her.
The view was magnificent. Enjoying a spot under the shade of a tall pine tree, they decided to sit on a large rock and watch the end of the race from there. It didn’t take long for the approaching team members to appear from the top of the opposite hill and begin their descent for the last exchange. The red team was ahead, followed by a very flustered Ed trying to catch up on the downhill. Jon saw Stephen get into position, ready to take off as soon as his teammate reached him. Ed’s speed kept increasing, his legs unsteady as they trotted down faster and faster until he was just mere feet away.
“Slow down” Jon muttered.
Ed, however, showed no signs of stopping. His feet tripped and slid out of control over the dirt path, his own weight pulling him down until he was almost face to face with Stephen, who in an attempt to help his friend from falling flat on his face, stood in front of him placing both arms on his shoulders. But momentum was too strong and the collision happened despite both men’s efforts to prevent the fall. In an agonizing instant, Ed held onto Stephen for support, Stephen was thrown backwards and their legs tangled making both of them loose their footing and fall hard to the ground.
As fate would have it, most of Ed’s weight fell over Stephen who let out a loud, painful howl.
“Oh, Jesus!” Jon breathed as he watched the sequence in horror.
Jumping to his feet, he ran down the hill to where Stephen was lying clutching his leg in pain. He was followed by Ben and David who once again had trouble keeping up.
“I’m so sorry, man!” Ed kept repeating with obvious chagrin. He was lying next to Stephen who was not speaking, but kept holding his knee panting heavily.
“Stephen…” Jon called rushing toward them. “Are you injured? Where…?”
“I think I fell on his knee” Ed offered running a hand through his hair nervously.
“I’m fine…” Stephen finally grunted between clenched teeth. Swallowing hard, he assured them, “I… I’m ok…”
Jon saw Sharon and her yellow teammate approaching with a worried expression on their faces.
“He’ll be fine” he told them not wanting to be crowded by everybody and their mother. “Go on, finish the race!” Then, turning to Stephen he added, “Can you move your leg?”
Stephen nodded weakly, biting his lower lip as he tried to get up.
“Let’s take him back to the room” Ben said, helping Stephen up. “Can you walk?”
“I…” Stephen stumbled, hissing sharply when he tried to lean some of his weight on his right leg. Jon was beside him in an instant, holding his waist and helping him walk back to the bungalow along with Ben.
**********
Despite Jon’s and Ben’s nagging, Stephen refused to be taken to the hospital claiming all he needed was some rest. As a compromise, Jon insisted on driving to the store to get some first aid supplies while Ben returned to the field to tell the teams they could take the afternoon off.
Back in the room, Jon had placed an iced pack delicately on the already swelling muscle above Stephen’s knee. A tight gasp escaped the injured man’s lips as he watched his friend tend to his injury.
“Does it hurt?” Jon asked, lifting the pressure slightly.
“It’s just cold” Stephen replied with a reassuring smile.
“We really should take you to a clinic. You could’ve torn a ligament, or...”
“I’ll be fine” Stephen interrupted, “it’s just… Aahh! Damn, that’s cold!”
“Can you bend your knee?”
Jon could not keep the worry out of his voice. He watched in apprehension how the joint moved slowly, drawing a moan of pain from Stephen whose head fell against the headboard. He bit back a growl and squeezed his eyes shut.
“I knew this whole retreat was a bad idea” Jon confessed placing the iced pack once again on the afflicted knee.
“Why did you think that?” Stephen’s voice sounded strained.
Jon shrugged. In an effort to avoid answering the question he quickly changed the subject. “Want me to get you something to eat? You shouldn’t take these on an empty stomach” he said perusing the label in the Tylenol bottle.
Operation ‘change the subject’ failed miserably.
“Really Jon, what’s the matter?” Stephen insisted adjusting the pillow behind his back. His tone was dead serious complementing his dire expression.
“Nothing’s the matter!” Jon said defensively a little too quickly without meeting his eyes. “Turkey on rye ok?”
Stephen stared at him for a moment before giving up with a sigh, “Sure.”
“I’ll be back soon” Jon said strolling out of Stephen’s cabin.
He was grateful to have lunch as an excuse to leave the room. The truth was he wasn’t ready to talk about his troubles at the moment, even if Stephen was the one person in whom he could probably confide. Walking to the deli he decided he had some issues he needed to sort out before he could even admit to himself what was bothering him.
Stephen must have dozed off in Jon’s absence because he appeared startled when the door opened again in his return. Jon walked in with a paper bag and two sodas. He placed the items on the night stand and sat back on the bed inspecting the swollen knee and reaching for the first aid kit lying on the floor.
“Bengay… This should help” Jon suggested sheepishly holding up a plastic tube and removing the already melted iced pack from Stephen’s leg.
Unscrewing the top, he squeezed a generous amount of gel over the swelling and began rubbing the area in circular motions. He covered the lower thigh, delicately spreading the medicated substance steadily absorbing into the sore muscle. When Stephen let out a faint gasp he simply asked, “Cold?”
“No…” was Stephen’s quiet response after a beat.
Jon looked up and met Stephen’s intense stare. Shyly, he removed his hand from Stephen’s thigh.
“Er… maybe you should…” he stammered blushing slightly.
“It’s…”
Whatever Stephen was going to say was never voiced. He slowly nodded instead and rubbed some more Bengay over the area Jon had been working on moments before.
Jon retrieved the sandwiches from the paper bag and un-wrapped them. He checked which one had the Dijon mustard and handed it to Stephen. Clicking the television on, they ate in companionable silence watching an old movie neither of them had any interest in.
(To Be Continued...)
Let me know if Part Two is also MIA. ;)