The Light in My Heart

by Jerry Rosendorn

  Sharon must have sensed my urges as she slowly eased my hold, smiled, and led us back to our own rooms.

  On Sunday morning, we had breakfast al fresco at a sidewalk café. Afterwards, we headed back to Los Angeles. While driving, I kept thinking about how much I loved our time together, yet wanting more. My mind tried to analyze why there was still a barrier, when it seemed so natural to be intimate.

  Sharon looked at me as she read my mind. “I have a few issues, Jake. I need time. Egal was the first and only man I ever made love to. Lovemaking has always been very sacred to me; I only make love when I feel love. It is not just something physical or casual for me; it’s also an emotional and spiritual experience.”

  Chapter 45

  May 1998

  That night I called Sharon, “Hi, honey. Thank you for a wonderful weekend.”

  “Jake, you make me very happy.”

  “Sharon, I want to ask you something?

  “Sure.”

  “Being with you all weekend felt so natural; I enjoyed our togetherness. When I held you Saturday night, it was wonderful. I felt so secure on one hand; so aroused on the other. There was a feeling of comfort and security knowing I was holding someone who cared for me. The natural progression from that hold would’ve been holding you in bed, but you eased my hold; directing me back to the reality of two rooms.

  “Sharon, how can I get even closer to you?”

  There was silence on the line. I wanted to hear from her; I needed some direction. If I knew we’d be intimate eventually, I’d be okay. But, if she was going to leave me in limbo, I needed to rethink my future with her.

  She responded in a timid way. “I don’t know, Jake. Egal hurt me and it’s hard for me to trust anyone. I’m worried bad things will happen if I get close. Remember the story about Benjamin and your grandmother? One minute she had everything with him; then he died.

  “I have to learn to trust.”

  After my conversation with Sharon, I wasn’t sure what to do.

  Chapter 46

  This problem kept weighing on my mind. It was a subject I’d never discussed; it was never an issue for me. But, now I needed guidance. I turned to the person I could trust, Dr. Fox.

  I called her office to set up an appointment for the following Monday at five in the afternoon.

  When I entered her reception room, the door to her office was open. As I walked in, she was seated at her desk in the corner of the room. As I approached, she looked up. “Is it a soft couch or hard chair issue?” she asked.

  “Hi, Dr. Fox. Did you miss me?” I smiled, but she didn’t. She was waiting for me to get serious; my expression changed and I said, “I think the hard chair is best for this discussion.”

  I walked over to the chair and sat upright ready for my cross-examination on the witness stand; I wasn’t comfortable.

  “Jake, I’m happy to see you, but you look pained. Remember the ocean; that feeling of floating up and down with the waves as they move toward the shore? I need you back in that relaxed state so we can make some headway on your issue. Or else, you’ll have to come back here numerous times and that will get costly.”

  I eased and my smile told her so.

  “Okay, I’ve met someone; why else would I be here?” I began to speed through the reason for my visit increasing my speed with each word. “She is a wonderful assertive woman. She’s also beautiful, kind and caring; someone I want to explore life with. As you would say, someone I’m prepared to ‘dig deep’ with.”

  “Jake, stop. Before you tell me about the ‘but’ in your story, slow down and concentrate on the good things you just told me. I’m happy for you and very encouraged you want to spend time ‘digging.’ This is much better than telling me you met someone who has no identity other than being with you. So, stay with the thought you have met a strong woman who is kind and caring. If there’s an issue, we can talk about it. Then, ultimately, the two of you can explore it. The important thing is the journey of exploring can bring you closer.”

  She paused, looking into my eyes. The message was clear; she wanted me to stay with the positive before jumping to the issue. When she saw me relax, she nodded her head to let me know I was in the right place.

  Her eyes gave me the signal we could now continue. “Now, do you have an issue with this woman?”

  My anxiety had been reduced. “Yes, Dr. Fox, but nothing you can’t fix.”

  “I’m not the fixer, you are.”

  I smiled. “Do you remember Sharon?”

  “I don’t have my notes in front of me and my memory is foggy; her name doesn’t come to mind. Can you jog my memory a bit?”

  “In the seventh grade, I saw a pretty girl in one of my classes. I followed her out to the athletic field during nutrition only to find myself in the middle of the greasers who started to come toward me. This may sound like a story line from ‘West Side Story,’ but this is one of the first things I told you about her.”

  I knew she remembered by the way she laughed. “Yes, I remember Sharon. I also remember you saw her for the last time when you graduated senior high school. How did the two of you become reacquainted?”

  “My client invited me for dinner and Sharon was the surprise guest. She’s so lovely; so easy to talk to. We’ve been spending a lot of time together. Communicating with her is very comfortable for me; we have a lot in common. One of the most important aspects of our relationship is her strong spiritual side, which she’s sharing with me. The nice thing for me is I enjoy what she shares; it brings us closer. In fact, I’m beginning to discover my own spiritual side. But, with all of the good, there’s still an important issue.”

  I paused, searching for a way to tell her without sounding selfish or superficial.

  Dr. Fox inquired, “Your spiritual side? Is there a woman’s body in your spiritual side? This doesn’t sound like you, Jake.”

  For once, I got frustrated with her and started to raise my voice, “Dr. Fox, please take me seriously. This is very important to me.”

  Her sorrowful look told me she understood. “Okay Jake, what is it? You’re not in the courtroom; you don’t have to choose your words.”

  Now, I felt a little embarrassed telling her, but I had to share it. “Sharon won’t have sex with me. We recently took a trip to Palm Springs; I had to get two rooms. She tells me it’s hard for her to trust anyone because her ex-husband was unfaithful to her. Yet, here I am, nice, loving, we communicate well; I think she’d want to be satisfied by me.”

  “Jake, does this bother your ego?”

  I paused to think about her question. Do I say “Yes,” which is the truth, or do I say “No,” showing her I’ve matured? I opted for honesty.

  “Yes. You know I have been physical with many women and have always pleasured them. It seems to go hand-in-hand with my sexuality. I’m not being conceited, but it seemed to be the natural state of affairs when I made love to a woman. We both enjoyed it; we got closer and closer.”

  Dr. Fox looked down and said sarcastically, “I’m very pleased to hear this. Though I remember one of your young ladies was an actress.” When her eyes came up, she refocused her stare. “So Jake, let’s explore this question: How would you feel if your sexual partner wasn’t satisfied with you?”

  At first, I was stunned by her comment about the actress, then hoping it was just humor, I focused on her question. “That has never happened.”

  “What if it did?”

  “That would bother me.”

  “What if your partner understood and told you not to worry because what mattered most was having good communication?”

  “It doesn’t seem complete. I never thought about this before because everything always worked for me and my partners.”

  “Jake, as you get older your sexual prowess may diminish. But, if you’re in love, you’ll discover other ways to be satisfied.
That’s one of the reasons I told you when you find the right person, you’ll need to ‘dig’ into the emotional layers of you and your partner’s inner beings.

  “Let’s shift to the issue at hand. Tell me about Sharon.”

  I carefully told Dr. Fox about our short history.

  “Jake, she sounds very nice. She’s a quality person, someone you could build a strong relationship with. But, you’re putting too much emphasis on the physical acts of love at a time when you need to build a strong emotional bond with her. She has trust issues and faith has become very important to her. The chance for you to get closer lies with the emotional bond you create and build with her. She’s not telling you she doesn’t want to make love to you; she’s telling you she’s not ready to make love to you.

  “This is all part of the process of talking to each other about feelings and respecting the state of your beings. You’ll have to wait until she’s ready. If you force the issue, you’ll destroy the trust. Therefore, relax and continue building your emotional bond. Even though she’s delaying the physical act, this doesn’t take away from her kindness and caring. Take the challenge and discover more about her, so you can find the key to building that emotional bond. When you establish that bond; when she is ready to make love, my guess is the love you’ll experience will touch your heart deeply.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying? This is just an example of the tools we talked about. People come in so many varieties, shapes, sizes, likes, and abilities. Relationships are not about changing someone. If you need someone who is willing to have sex with you now, then find someone else. Jake, relationships are all about learning, sharing, accepting, and growing closer.”

  She paused and looked at me hoping her words sunk in. With a half a smile, she said, “I know you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t care. Good luck, Jake.”

  Chapter 47

  May 1998

  As our relationship continued to grow, I was learning more and more about Sharon. What she liked or disliked, her moods and inner feelings, and what made her laugh or cry. Most of all, I finally felt that Sharon was starting to trust me; she became more loving and affectionate, yet she still wasn’t ready to be intimate. We both craved time together using every opportunity to be together.

  When I spent an evening at Sharon’s condo, she’d prepared dinner for us. I loved her cooking; my favorite was her Greek Salad made from fresh lettuce and tomatoes, cucumbers, black and green olives, feta cheese, with a huge touch of ‘love.’

  “Sharon, you should know there are a few foods I won’t eat,” I said between delicious bites.

  “Does my handsome man have a sensitive stomach? He can’t digest some foods? What might those foods be?”

  “Well, first is goat cheese, next is lamb, followed by mushrooms, raisins, and apricots.”

  “Why don’t you like goat cheese?”

  “Honey, I don’t want to be too graphic, but the taste is so tangy I don’t think it’s made from the goat’s milk.” As I told her about goat cheese, I was making an awful face.

  “Sharon, I read somewhere that feta cheese is really goat cheese. Even though your Greek Salad is great, I’m going to keep eating around the cheese.”

  “Jake, some cheese makers use goat’s or sheep’s milk, others use cow’s milk. Honestly, I don’t know which milk was used to make the cheese in my Greek Salad.”

  “Sharon, except for the cheese, I love this salad; could you substitute the feta cheese with something else? I won’t eat the feta cheese if there’s a chance it is goat’s milk. Sheep’s milk is probably just as tangy. Please?”

  “Okay, Jake. If the thought of goat cheese causes you to make such a funny face, I’ll substitute the cheese.” she laughed.

  “Sharon, if you’ll just stay away from these foods, I’ll be happy.”

  “My love, do you remember the chicken and rice dish you were going on and on about last week?”

  “Yes.”

  “It had mushrooms and you loved it.”

  I made another funny face.

  “Remember the vegetable and rice dish I gave you two weeks ago?”

  “Yes.”

  “It had some raisins and you loved it.”

  I made another funny face.

  After that conversation, when Sharon talked about certain things that made me uncomfortable and I made the same funny face, she called it the “goat cheese effect.”

  I loved Sharon’s playful side. She was so full of life; she made me feel like a teenager again. One Wednesday, Sharon called me and said, “Let’s play hooky.”

  Since I’d already planned to be with Sharon that evening, I accepted her invitation; leaving my office at noon. When I arrived at her condo, there was a new blue robe waiting for me along with olive soap.

  “Your skin’s dry. Every other day, I want you to use this olive soap instead of the shower gel.” Then, she summoned me over and started grooming my eyebrows, nose, and ears.

  When I thought she was done, I started to get up and she said, “Not so fast,” as she continued to check me from head to toe. “Two things must be perfect in my life, my man and my home. You need to know you’re being cared for; you deserve it.”

  One morning, I received an e-mail from Sharon.

  “Here is something from the heart!

  For years I watched people walk hand-in-hand sharing their love through their intertwined fingers.

  Watching them grow old and share what life offered them.

  Read about them in stories or watched them in movies. All seemed so far from reality in my life.

  I learned to believe these are all fantasies we try so hard to include in our daily life. But, soon I learned it’s not something you try; it’s either there or it’s not.

  I decided to put it to rest, which I did.

  Then, you came into my life.

  Your hands talk to me for hours without using any words; your fingers intertwine with mine.

  Your eyes say those words one can only imagine to hear in a fantasy.

  You share your life as we grow closer together.

  You say things that make me feel like I’m the main character of my own fantasy.

  You care so much about me that I now know my fantasy is real.

  When you touch me, I know it’s real.

  Your feelings travel throughout my body as your touches confirm those feelings.

  You whisper into my ear all I desire to hear, only then,

  I know you’re real, you make me feel real.

  You make it all to be real, and I don’t even have to try!

  Now, I know fantasies can come true with the right person.”

  I kept reading her email over and over before I called her.

  “Darling, your words are beautiful; they touched me deeply. Thank you.”

  “I used to write a lot of prose and poetry,” she explained. “It takes a lot to bring me to this point of being able to express myself. I was up late last night thinking of you; I felt inspired to write. I’m so glad you like it. Now you know I don’t like you just because you’re six foot two.

  “There’s a saying ‘the branches of a tree filled with fruit hang closest to the ground.’ Jake, you’re like those branches; you’re down to earth. You don’t walk around with your nose in the air. You’re honest and you’re real. The caring you show me is genuine. I can feel it in my inner being; right to the bottom of my heart.

  “It’s one of the reasons I feel close to you.”

  The following Wednesday after work, I followed Sharon to her condo while we talked about our day. Sharon was telling me about a difficult client, when she suddenly switched gears.

  “I need tomatoes for tonight’s dinner.”

  “Sharon, that’s easy, you go on home; I’ll get the tomatoes.”

  “Thanks for offering,
but you won’t know which ones to buy until I show you. Besides, I need a few other items as well. Let’s go to Jon’s Market; follow me.”

  Jon’s Market is located in the middle of the Hispanic community along Van Nuys Boulevard where I rode my bike on Saturdays to see movies at the old Fox Theater; it’s on the same block as the store where I bought the necklace for Terry Jane.

  I followed Sharon into Jon’s parking lot.

  “This is a great market,” she said as we walked in. “I come here several times a month; their vegetables and fruit are always fresh. I’ll show you how I shop, so if I ever send you to pick up something, you’ll know what to get.”

  Sharon was a marvel of discernment and efficiency in the grocery store. As she pointed to a cart, I grabbed it and followed her toward the fresh vegetables. She went directly to the plastic bag dispenser where she unraveled ten bags and put them in the cart, ready to be filled. We found the eggplants; she picked one up, smelled it, knocking on it twice. When she was convinced it was ripe, she took six.

  “Jake honey, I want ones that smell fresh and feel firm. When I shop, I also pick up food for my mother. Smell this one. After giving it the smell test, she directed me to give it two thumps in the center. What do you think?”

  I puckered my lips and nodded.

  Next, picking up a handful of cilantro and parsley, she checked their color and gave them the smell test. In my entire life of shopping, I’ve never bought cilantro or parsley.

  “Sharon, why are you buying these things?”

  “These are not things; they’re important ingredients. Remember the stew you raved about last week? When you ate and loved the dish, you wanted to know the ingredients. Well, these are two important ones.”

  When I made my now famous funny face, Sharon started laughing.

  From these items, we whizzed past the tomatoes, potatoes, tangerines, grapefruit, oranges, cactus fruit, apples, and blueberries. As we passed each one, she performed her tests, picking the best of the lot, bagging them and then motioning me on to the next station.