A Story I Wrote

gait^

damn.

i like that.

He smiled the entire way home. The lights of the passing motorists did not register in his brain. The ugly neon signs of the city didn’t phase him. Did she think he was weird, a bit queer? Sure, she did. Was she amused by it? He thought so. And amusement was going to be his way to the girl’s heart.
He tried to remember the first time that he met her, but he couldn’t. He knew that he had liked the girl from the first moment, but their lives were so separate from each other’s that he had never before really thought of making a move romantically.
When he reached his apartment his smile faltered a bit. It felt good to wait to be with the girl. It felt good to hold back, and let something grow. It didn’t feel good to walk into this apartment alone. It didn’t feel good to sit down, and watch his television, blankly staring at the shows that he didn’t really want to watch, simply because he didn’t think he could sleep.
He wondered how she felt. He hoped she didn’t view his passing of her invitation as a slight, as a lack of desire to be with her. He didn’t think that was the case, but he was always one to complicate a situation by over thinking it, and he always lost all objectivity where his heart was involved.
Knowing that he would just sit here and torture himself for the entire evening, he got up and put his jacket back on. He didn’t much care where he went, but he knew he needed to go somewhere, anywhere, a place that wasn’t here.
He climbed into his car and let the road take him where it would. Within a few minutes he came across Shane’s. He knew most of the guys that drank there, worked with most of them. He didn’t particularly care for them, but then he didn’t particularly care for most people. Feeling that this was as good a place as any he parked and walked in the big double doors.
It wasn’t busy, being a Wednesday night and all, but there were a few guys he knew over by the jukebox, getting ready to play a game of pool. One of them, a thin, older man looked up and saw him, smiled, and waved him over.
The fuck is this? I ain’t never seen Jim come out before. Least ways not on a work night.
Holy shit. Come play a game with us, Jim. Have a drink.
Hey, Carl. Wade. I’ll play a game or two. Looks like Steve doesn’t have a partner anyway.
Oh, Steve’s been waiting all his life for you to say that you’d be his partner. Look at how excited he is.
Steve didn’t look particularly excited. He didn’t look amused either.
Can you play this game, he grumbled.
I’ve played some.
Just don’t play like a bitch.
Yeah. Well, no promises.
Steve eyed him up, turned, and started setting up the game.
What brings you out, anyway, said Carl, putting some chalk on his cue.
Well, I met a girl, and I…
You met a girl, said Steve.
That I did.
And what? You were so excited that you couldn’t sleep?
Something like that. Yeah.
I do believe that this one is going to play like he lives.
And how would that be, Steve?
Like a bitch.
Nice.
Oh, shutup, Steve.
Whatever, Carl. You don’t have to play with him.
Sure, I do. I’m partnered with Jim. Wade’ll play with you.
Suits me.
Okay. So Jim, you met a girl.
That I did. Well, I met her a long time ago. I started falling in love with her just recently, though.
Does this girl have a name?
She does at that.
Are you going to share it?
Leah.
Steve looked up from his shot.
Leah what?
Leah Abram.
Leah Abram!
Yeah, Steve. Leah Abram.
You fell in love with Leah Abram.
Leah Abram. Yeah.
The fuck would you do that for?
I couldn’t think of a single reason not to.
That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard. Fuck the girl. Move on. You know, like everyone else did.
I don’t think I like the way you’re talking about the girl.
I don’t think I give a shit.
I think that if you keep going I might be able to find a reason for you to give a shit.
Both of you calm the fuck down, Carl exclaimed, edging between the two of them. And Steve, shut the fuck up.
Yeah, I guess I let my mouth run off with me. I’m sure Leah Abram is much prettier, interesting, and less of a whore than I remember her being.
It took James a moment to realize that he had broken his pool cue over Steve’s head. Almost as long as it took for the stunned look to leave Steve’s face, and for him to lunge clear over the table at him.

What happened to your face?
Um, I fell down?
You didn’t fall down. What happened to your face?
Leah reached out and gently touched the purple, scabbed area on the left side of his face with an almost heart breaking look of concern. James’ heart soared. A beating was worth this any day.
Yeah. I got in a fight.
She looked taken aback.
I’ve never known you to get in a fight. I mean, It’s not like I’ve been following your life too closely or anything, but you didn’t seem like the fighting type to me.
It’s been a while.
How long?
I don’t know. Eighth grade.
Eighth grade.
Yup.
And then last night.
Yeah.
After you left me.
Well, yeah.
You should’ve stayed.
I thought the same thing.
Who was it?
That’s not important.
Is it someone I know?
Could be.
Who was it?
Like I said, it’s not important.
Let me get this straight. You want to take me out on a date.
Yup.
You tell me that voices from your heart sing my name.
They surely do.
But you think that you can just answer my questions with bullshit? You think that’s the way to start this?
Well, I don’t mean to. I just don’t see how it matters.
It matters because you don’t want to say.
It was Steve Kessel.
Steve Kessel did this?
Yeah.
Did you hit him back?
Yeah! As a matter of fact, I hit him first.
I find that odd.
Honestly, I found it odd too.
Why did you hit him?
Are we going to the movie, or what? It takes longer to get to the art house theater, and I didn’t leave a ton of time for driving.
Why did you hit him?
I really don’t want to say, Leah. I really, really don’t want to say, and I promise you that I will answer any questions that you have in the future, and I will always answer honestly, but I would really like to not answer this.
They stood in silence for a moment.
Why did you hit him?
Fuck, Leah! I hit him because he said something that pissed me off.
It must have really pissed you off.
It did. Yeah.
Did you hit him in the face?
Sort of.
What does that mean?
I hit him over the head with a pool cue.
That must have really pissed him off.
It did. Yeah. Okay, now let’s go before we miss the movie.
What did he say?
He didn’t say much of anything. He just sort of turned red and dove at me.
No.
No?
No.
I don’t understand.
What did he say that pissed you off.
Well, I’m definitely not repeating it, so you can stop asking now.
Well, I’m definitely not going anywhere with you so you can just stop asking now.
Come on, Leah. Give me a break.
Some day, when you need a break, I’ll give you one. Not today.
Leah, don’t make me say it.
I’m not making you say anything. But I’m going back inside in a minute.
They stood in silence.
Okay. Have a good night.
Alright. Wait.
I’m listening.
He said something about you.
Oh?
Yeah.
What was it?
He called you a whore.
Steve Kessel called me a whore.
Yeah.
Yeah, well, fuck him.
Yeah.
That wasn’t so hard, was it?
Actually, it was pretty hard.
Well, you did it. Congratulations. Have a good night.
What do you mean?
I mean I’m not going with you. Have a good night.
But you said if I told you…
I didn’t. I didn’t say that. I told you I definitely wouldn’t go if you didn’t tell me.
I don’t understand.
No?
No.
Do you think I need you to fight my fights for me?
No. But..
But what?
It wasn’t your fight.
How’s that?
It was said to me.
So?
So, I care about you. And it was my fight.
Doesn’t matter. He was talking about me. It wasn’t your concern, and I’m not going to be worried about you getting your head caved in because of my reputation. So, have a good night.
She turned to go inside, paused, and turned back to him.
Also, if you hadn’t spouted off with some ridiculous romantic bullshit about taking me on a date then you would never have had to listen to him, right?
You’re right.
Good. Have a good night.
Okay.
You can call me tomorrow.

It was hot working on the asphalt, but the breeze was nice enough when standing off of the road to make the day bearable, if not pleasant. James and Carl stood beside the work truck, eating sandwiches, and drinking water from shining metal thermoses.
I see Steve came back in today.
Yup. I saw that too.
He say anything to you?
Not a word.
You say anything to him?
Not a word.
James took another bite of his sandwich. The wind gusted, making the sycamore tree behind the truck bend over them, almost as if the break in conversation was too much for it to bear, and it waited expectantly for it to resume.
Not much to talk about.
Well, I’m sorry, Jim. I don’t mean to bore you.
Meant with Steve.
Ah.
You married, Carl?
I ain’t.
Ever been?
Nope.
Ever wanted to be?
I did, yes.
Carl looked up into the blue sky, looked back at his food, and put it away.
I was a young man then. Had a sweetheart. Sweetheart. That don’t say it. That don’t say it no way. I had a girl that I would have died for. She was too good for me, and she was smart enough to know it, but she loved me enough to not care.
What happened?
She died.
I’m sorry.
Me too. We’d been together for three years when we found out that she had the cancer. I had already bought the ring to ask her to marry me. I didn’t care if she was sick, that was for damn sure. I wanted that girl to be my wife. I took her out shortly after the doctors told us, and I got down on my knees, and I asked that beautiful creature to be my wife.
What did she say?
She told me no.
No.
She did. She looked at me, and I saw a great deal of color come into her face, reds the like that a sunset might produce, just as all the color fell out of mine. She told me to get out. She told me she wouldn’t marry me. She told me that she never wanted to see me again. You see, that woman knew things that I didn’t. She knew she wasn’t going to live, and she wouldn’t saddle me with that. She wouldn’t saddle me with a dead wife, and the sorrow that that brings with it.
Jesus Christ.
Jesus ain’t had nothin’ to do with it. God neither. And if he did he had best watch the fuck out.
Carl sighed and leaned back against the truck. His eyes look tired, they looked like the eyes of a man who has carried his tired with him for a long time, but hidden it deep, cherished it, made it his and his alone, something that he returns to every night in the quiet of his home.
The thing about a woman is this. She’s a practical creature. She figures a thing needs to be done, so a thing needs to be done. Least ways that’s how it was with this particular woman. She figured that letting me off the hook was going to save me pain, that I would find another woman, and love her as fiercely as I did her.
It wasn’t like that.
No, sir. It wasn’t like that at all. The thing about a man is that he only has so much love to give. Sure, he’s got lust to give a plenty, and he may take comfort in the company of another woman for a time, but he will never be able to love a woman so deeply, so completely as he did with that woman who he truly gave his whole heart to. And he will never truly be able to be happy without her. Least ways that’s how it was with this particular man.
Did you ever date after her?
Some. But it wasn’t worth it. Some of those women were terribly good people, some of them even beautiful, but not a single one of them could compare to the woman who wouldn’t marry me. Why are you asking about marriage, anyway? You even been with this girl long enough to think such thoughts?
Not really. But I think I could be. I think if she’d have me I’d be to that place rather quick. Quicker than she’d like, probably. I’d have to hide those thoughts for a while so as not to scare her away.
It’s a hard thing for a man in love to hide it.
That it is.
I think it’s harder for a woman to be sure than it is for a man. Men are very singular in their thoughts. With a man he says, I love her and that’s enough. That’s all anyone could really need. A woman needs more than that. She needs to see it in action. Needs to know that the love is not only real but good for the lovers. That can sometimes be hard to prove, especially if the man don’t know he’s supposed to be provin’ it. But then if the man knows he’s supposed to be provin’ it then he tries too hard, and the woman says, this ain’t real. This is a show. Of course, it ain’t no show. The man knows that he can’t keep up the pace of it forever, but he also means every damn bit of it, every damn gesture, every damn moment of it. It’s hard to be in love.
That it is.
But it’s also glorious, and the only damn thing in the world worth doing.
That it is also.
I wouldn’t trade the love I had even though it left me in the worst pain that a man could ever imagine. Not a second of it.
I think you and I are of a mind on that. I ain’t sayin’ that I experienced what you have. God, no. But I would. For the love of this woman I’d experience any pain necessary.
That’s a start, my friend. Come on. Let’s get some holes dug.
I believe that’s a plan.

i like that.

I don't get it.