The house was dark. Couldn’t see his hand in front of him. Stumbled to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. Kept the door open. A mouse scurried across the kitchen floor. He did not scream, or laugh. Did not eek. Just opened his Old Style and downed it. Grabbed another. Found some cheese in the corner. Sprinkled bits under the counter. Lit a cigarette. Smiled.
He sat down in his favorite chair. Stared into dark space. Looked outside. Streetlights were out again. They’d been flickering the past few nights. Diesels ran up and down 30. Semis carrying heavy loads. He heard them racing, but, could not see them. They were loud. Some applied air brakes. Others just rolled through the dark intersection. Passing up a stop sign. Ignoring it. Or, just couldn’t see it. He turned the television on.
Sound was turned down low. The late show was on. Some local station that played movies at midnight. Some Like It Hot was on. Tony Curtis and Jack Lemon were wearing dresses. Marilyn Monroe played a small guitar. She fell for Curtis. Lemon got stuck with an old man. Well, nobody’s perfect.
Infomercials played after that. The old man grabbed another beer. And, another one. He watched a man cutting meat with incredibly sharp knives. Then he cut through a soda can. Finally he cut through an empty can of corn. Only $19.99 if you act now, the man said. Plus they were throwing in a cutting board. Absolutely free. He snored. Couldn’t keep his eyes open.
Had dreams about her. The one that got away. Thoughts of her walking towards him. Wearing a blue dress. Her blonde hair was long and curly. Blue eyes that looked into his soul. She didn’t talk in these dreams. Just looked at him. And, he looked at her. They stood there with a brilliant light shining on them. They were about to embrace when the sound of a truck woke him. A warm beer was on the table beside him. A full ashtray had cigarette butts with a little bit of tobacco left. He lit a bent one. Swigged down the beer. And just sat there. Thinking. He was alone. He was truly alone. Always had been.
Morning news came on. The weather girl was wearing a blue dress. The old man smiled.
*Well, nobody’s perfect. Is the last line in Some Like It Hot.