Writing Intimacy with Reverence: A Scene from ‘Comings and Goings’

🛋️ Writing Intimacy with Reverence: A Scene from Comings and Goings

There’s a scene in Comings and Goings that still lingers with me—not because it’s dramatic, but because it’s quiet. It’s Jim Garraty, nineteen, sitting in Kelly’s apartment in Mission Hill, letting the world slow down long enough to feel something real. It’s a moment of intimacy, yes—but more than that, it’s a moment of emotional sanctuary.

Jim arrives with memory trailing behind him: the soft rattle of Kelly’s old Corolla, the flickering neon of a corner deli, the scent of rice and lemon cleaner in the hallway. And then there’s the Heineken—just a bottle, but also a portal.

“Cold. Crisp. It tasted steadier now, like the beer had learned something, or maybe I had.”

That line came to me as I was revising, and I knew it was the heartbeat of the scene. Jim isn’t just tasting beer—he’s tasting growth. Regret. The memory of Mark’s grin and Marty’s kiss and the tears that followed. And yet, he doesn’t retreat. He stays. That’s the emotional arc I wanted to honor.

Kelly’s apartment is full of small truths: mismatched pillows, crooked lamps, lavender by the stereo. And when she puts on Billy Joel’s “This Night,” the room shifts. The music isn’t just background—it’s emotional architecture.

“Romantic and aching, like it had dressed up for something it was afraid to say out loud.”

Then comes the kiss. And the offering. And the moment Jim doesn’t run.

“Because tonight, I didn’t need to run. I didn’t need to explain. I just needed to be here. And I was.”

What follows is one of the most intimate scenes I’ve ever written—not because of what happens, but because of how it happens. Kelly undresses Jim not with urgency, but with grace. Her touch is gentle. Her voice is steady. She doesn’t ask for anything. She makes it easy to stay.

“She wasn’t watching me like she expected anything. Kelly was just there. Present. Assured. Like she’d already made peace with the pause in my breathing.”

Jim’s hesitation isn’t weakness—it’s reverence. And Kelly’s response isn’t pity—it’s understanding. She sees him. All of him. And she stays.

“Her fingers undoing buttons not like she was undressing me, but like she was offering something.”

This is what I mean when I talk about writing intimacy with reverence. It’s not about spectacle. It’s about sanctuary. About letting silence breathe. About letting a kiss be a promise, not a plot point.

---

🎶 Why “This Night”?

Billy Joel borrowed the melody from Beethoven’s Pathétique, second movement. It’s romantic, aching, and slightly theatrical—perfect for a moment that’s trying to be brave without being loud. Kelly’s choice to fast-forward to that track says everything about her emotional intelligence. She doesn’t crowd silence. She lets it breathe.

---

🧠 Memory as Undercurrent

Jim’s flashback to Mark and Marty isn’t there to complicate the scene—it’s there to deepen it. That’s how memory works in the Garratyverse. It’s not a detour. It’s a layer. A way to show how the past doesn’t vanish—it evolves.

---

💬 For Readers

If you’ve ever felt like intimacy in fiction is too fast, too loud, too performative—I hope this scene offers something different. A moment of emotional fluency. A kiss that doesn’t ask for anything but somehow gives you everything.