dmseay

he looked at the dipstick…a quart low…he was always a quart low…seemed like the old truck was burnin’ oil…every time he stopped to fill the tank he’d check it…put washer fluid in her too…cleaned the windsheild…filled the tires with air…his dad taught him how to do all this…nowadays they got tires you can’t put air into…what a strange world it had become he thought…next thing cars’ll fly down the street…have wings that spread on ’em…look like some kind of spaceship…he shook his head as he took one more look at the dipstick…cleanin’ it with a cloth…yessir these were strange times indeed…

the pickup was pretty beat up…rust had started formin’ on the bottom of the bed..paint was chippin’ away on the doors…passanger side mirror had a crack in it…one night a jealous boyfriend took a swing at it with a baseball bat…drove off fast as he could…peeled out leavin’ a cloud of dust behind…could see outlines of their bodies in the rearview mirror…men in jeans and cowboy hats…a neon Budweiser sign blinked in the distance…he kept drivin’…

and he figured that man had a right to take a swing at his truck…guess technically they were still married when he messed ’round with her…the short blonde said they were seperated…not divorced yet…but it was just a matter of time…he remembered when he was goin’ through his divorce…used to say the same thing…we’re seperated…in his mind he was never really married anyway…he didn’t really love her…never really loved no-one…thought he had…but he never did…just ran from one woman to the next…one town to another…never slowed down…

at night he’d sleep in the back of the truck witha sleepin’ bag stretched out and an old pillow he’d had since his younger days…it was good and broken in…he’d look up at the night sky and wonder where he was gonna head to next…Nebraska…Oklahoma…head further out West to Montana or maybe Utah…could end up in Las Vegas…spendin’ what was left from the last job…just like towns and women he’d go through jobs like a shot gunned beer on a Saturday night…nothin’ stuck to this guy…nothin’..

so…he’d lay there and wonder what his next move would be and then fall into a dream like state there at the rest area under blue lights shinin’ down…dreamt of bein’ a movie star…like Steve McQueen or Lee Marvin…hangin’ out in Hollywood with other movie stars…parties every night…women approachin’ him for a change…for a change…dreamed of the good life only to wake up in the mornin’ early sun with diesels comin’ in off the ramps…

he looked at the dipstick…a quart low…he was always a quart low…

And he watched the traffic go by on State Street…saw a city bus stop and pick up people…standing in the cold with hats and coats on…gloves …smokin’ cigarettes…suckin’ ’em down to the filter before steppin’ up and placin’ their dollar in the slot…he liked watchin’ people…

The therapist asked him what the opposite of lonelyness was…he continued lookin’ out the big window at bare trees and white snow on the ground…rusted out pickups drivin’ by…cop cars too…and he thought to himself…what’s the opposite of lonely…

In the corner of the office was a small sandbox for kids to play in…conjure up thoughts while their hands dug in the grains…he walked over to it and put his hands in it…moving fingers all over…throughout the sand…burying one hand with the other…forming letters…she asked him again…what’s the opposite of lonelyness…

He breathed in deep…lookin’ at books lined up on her shelves…everything from Freud and Jung to Maurice Sendak’s, Where The Wild Things Are…he took his hands out of the sand and ran ’em through his black and gray hair…adjusted his glasses…and said…,I don’t know what the opposite is…to not be lonely…to have someone in your life…, the young therapist nodded her head…

Sometimes I think I’m better off by myself…,the patient said…,I’ve been alone for so long I don’t know…Even when I was married I felt alone…,she took a drink of coffee and asked him why that was…he went back to playin’ in the sand…back to where there was comfort…

I do get lonely…,he said…,I do…and you never get used to it…you think you do but you don’t…just a constant state of wanting…just wanting…,he wiped the sand onto his pants…,I don’t know if that’ll ever stop…bein’ lonely…Is time up yet…I need to go…

The therapist walked the patient to the front door…he asked her…,do you ever get lonely…,she just smiled…

She sat on the bed in a cream colored slip waitin’ on her man to come home…cigarette burnin’ in an ashtray…glass of gin sweatin’ …photos on the nightstand …Kodak snapshots of the boys when they were younger…summer camps…holdin’ up a fish or two…her old man wearin’ a John Deere cap…smilin’ from ear to ear…proud of his family…

There were pictures of her too…buildin’ snowmen with carrots and sticks…her first car…slicin’ into a wedding cake with her hands wrapped ’round by his…sippin’ on a can of Budweiser up at the lake…she thumbed through ’em under a yellow lampshade…inspectin’ each one and rememberin’ back awhile when they were younger…drivin’ ’round town in that old Dodge Dart with the two kids in the back…takin’ ’em to drive-in movies…Burt Reynolds up on a screen…talkin’ through a tinny speaker attached to their window…talkin’ to Sally Field ’bout love…they were talkin’ ’bout love…

And she heard the pickup truck comin’ into the gravel driveway…that was the noise she waited for every night at this time…she quickly drank the gin as she walked up the hallway to the kitchen to put leftovers in the microwave…some meat loaf and mashed potatoes…little gravy poured on ’em from a jar…a can of Bud placed on the table…

Like every night when he came home he kissed her…held her in his arms a little tighter each time he saw her…asked if she’d heard from Frank or Tommy…she shook her head no…poured another glass of gin and tonic…sat next to him as he ate…proud as a bird takin’ care of her chick…

She liked pleasin’ him…had ever since high school when they started datin’…he was her first and her last…he couldn’t say the same…there were women in between the thirty-five years of marriage…he thought she never knew…women always know…

But for now he was home…he was her’s…she planned on keepin’ it that way…she wanted to die with this man by her side…wanted to be buried next to him…lay in peace forever…and ever…

This was her love…this was her love…

She sat on the sofa paintin’ her fingernails glittery red…blowin’ on ’em occassionally…watchin’ the color dry under a gold lit lamp…elbow on an arm-rest…a bottle of lavender oil sittin’ on the table next to her…she took whiffs of it off and on…made her eyes tired as she dreamt of a good night sleep…a good night sleep…

And the television was on…late night infomercials daring her to call the 1-800 number and order her very own heart…a brand new one…she was in need of a brand new heart…somethin’ that would match her deep dark blue soul on Saturday nights when she went out on the town by herself…weavin’ down Lawrence to Broadway where jazz played ’til three in the mornin’ and guys would corral ’round her like lions over a lost lamb…,hey honey could I buy you a drink…let me walk you home…what’s a fine gal like you doin’ here by yourself…bartender…hey bartender…, and on and on they would go…callin’ out into the night as she sat there takin’ it all in like a cat to milk…she never said yes…but she never said no…she’d grown cold…men do that to ya…old men young men middle aged salesmen from Rockville or Milwaukee…maybe Michigan…or Madison…anywhere from the tri-state area…they were all in town tryin’ to score ‘fore goin’ back home to wives…girlfriends…mistresses…secretaries who had roses brought to ’em on Monday morns…,two sugars and three creams please…,seated at their desks waitin’ to be served…waitin’ to be served…

Comes a time when a girl gets tired of the game…flirting game…and that’s why she sat alone at night doing her nails…tired of clowns and acrobats…grown men actin’ a fool…young sensitive artist types playin’ a role…seein’ how far they could get ‘fore she’d yell…Curtain…the end of a show…

The end of a show…

She sat on the sofa paintin’ her fingernails glittery red…

did ya see her…

yeah…couldn’t help but see her…she was standin’ right there as I walked into the joint…just waitin’…

for you…

anybody to come along with a twenty on him…

she was never too selective…

thanks…

you know what I mean…

money is money…they don’t care…

that’s true…

she looked different this time…

how so…

for one thing she went and had her hair changed to red…with purple tints to it…liked her better as a brunette…more mysterious…dark hair with those dark eyes…

it’s dark in that joint anyway…how could ya tell what color her eyes are…

when she gets up close I can tell…see all sorts of things when she’s up close…her imperfections…she’s startin’ to get lines from smokin’…told her that wasn’t any good for her…

she don’t listen…don’t none of ’em listen…

I paid for a dance…

did…

yeah…told her how beautiful she was…asked her to marry me…

you asked her to marry ya…you always ask her to marry ya…

I did…just to see what she would say…

and…

she just smiled…all these colored lights were twirlin’ down on her…she was glistinin’…she shined…

what did she say…

she didn’t…just took her money and thanked me for the dance…kind of cold like…

let that be a lesson to ya…

oh I’ll go back in a week or two and ask her again…somebody’s gonna marry her one of these days it might as well be me…

she might have a boyfriend…

I doubt it…she’s a lonely girl I can tell…she’s had a kid or two…can see that by the way her belly sticks out…

that don’t mean she’s had a kid…just means she’s got some fat on her…

‘spose…

I’d stop goin’ there if I was you…don’t ya get tired of rejection…I know I would…how many times she done turned you down…

all the time…

right…

I’m gonna marry her one day…you’ll see…you’ll see…

ever think there’s somethin’ wrong with you…that you’re just not right…barely know this woman…ever had a conversation with her…other than money exchangin’ hands…

we’ve talked…

’bout what…

’bout where she’s from…told her I went to high school here…told her I’ve lived everywhere…

you told her that…

yeah…

presentin’ a real stable situation ain’t ya…

gonna buy her a ring…a diamond…watch…you’ll see…she’ll be mine ‘ventually…she won’t be doin’ no more dancin’ that’s for sure…

you’re gonna put a stop to that huh…

yep…

women like that don’t stop…

see ’bout that…see ’bout that…

don’t be a fool…gonna wind up heart broken…

yeah…probably right…oh well…pass me another beer…

He looked at objects around him…couple of Bibles…two tangerines…some house plant an ex-girlfriend had given him years ago that he watered everyday as if it were a pet…a coffee maker whose pot he sometimes used to piss in if the bathroom down the hall was occupied …dusty old desk with bills and receipts layin’ there…never thrown away for some reason…just kept there next to a mug with a painting of a Victorian house on it…

There were two empty whiskey bottles he had on a small table…polished ’em off last year…hadn’t had a drink since…he looked at the copper cup he drank Kentucky Mules in…now it was filled with orange peels and sage…

On his nightstand there were books by Chekhov…Joyce…An American Dream, by Norman Mailer…kept alternating every night…from Russia to Ireland to America…from Russia to Ireland to America…words filled his dreams…characters kept him up…thinking of Bloom’s Dublin…being a patient in Ward 6…combing the streets of New York City after committing a horrible crime…literature lives within us…it creeps inside…least it made way inside him…

And he had a pair of work gloves that he hadn’t used in years…cloth with rips in ’em from when he used to clean up ’round construction sights and roofing jobs…that was a long time ago…

Spent his days lookin’ out windows of a rented room on the city’s southside…he would just stare out at the sun…or the clouds…lookin’ at snow as it fell…or rain forming puddles in the gravel parking lot…cars movin’ in and out all day long…an old Dodge…Chevy….a couple of Ford pickup trucks…beat to hell…

The old man just looked around at all he had in his life…a wool cap…Padre Pio medallion…pages and pages of a manuscript he’d never finish…a New York City library card with a picture of a lion on it…the card reminded him of all the places he had been…New York…Boston…Philly…D.C. …Paris…Toronto…Montreal…never learned a foriegn language…spoke in a Midwestern dialect…

In the end he had more memories than stuff…more memories than stuff…and he was happy with that…

She sat there twistin’ her long blonde hair…listenin’ to his crazy talk all night long…every once in awhile the woman would check her red fingernails out…holdin’ ’em up in the lights of the diner as he continued tellin’ stories ’bout bein’ out on the road…how he didn’t have a home…lived like a vagabond out of a car…an old Dodge Dart he’d bought from a priest for $500…no rust…great condition…just like her body…

They’d sip on cherry Cokes and pour whiskey in the glasses after they’d drank ’em down a little…stirin’ the booze to the bottom with a straw…the red head waitress who took frequent smoke breaks outside saw what they were doin’…she didn’t say anything…just kept takin’ drags and lookin’ at him with his greasy pompadour and a long strand of black hair hangin’ down in front of his face…thought he was real cool lookin’…thought ’bout havin’ a shot at him when the blonde went to the bathroom…she winked at him…lettin’ him know that she would be more than interested in bein’ a second prize if things didn’t work out…he smiled back…smiled with a closed mouth…ashammed of his cigarette stained teeth…she just looked at him…just looked at him…

And he talked ’bout bein’ in New York without a dime to his name…how he’d hustle and get loot from people…fillin’ plastic sandwich bags full of different colored construction paper…sellin’ ’em at $50 a bag…people wantin’ to trip would pay it…sucker born every minute…a real P.T. Barnum act he did…sayin’ it was the best acid they’d ever have in the whole tri-state region…the blonde laughed…soon he said he had $1,000 on him and had to leave town immediately…hadn’t been back to the big apple since…people still probably cursin’ his name…

The check was presented to him by big red…she said to take your time…he said he always did…he strolled to the bathroom where he hit his face with cold water…rubbin’ it up in his green eyes…takin’ wet hands and runnin’ ’em through his hair…went back out and the blonde was gone…just gone…like she’d vanished in the night…he’d asked the waitress with the thick hips if she’d seen the lady he was sittin’ with…she just smiled and slipped him a note…

The quick letter said…,Get off at midnight…I won’t wait…,she blew him a kiss as he walked out the door…he just smiled…just smiled…

hello…

hey…

you know what time it is…

’bout two o’clock…

in the mornin’ Bill…two o’clock in the mornin’…

yes…it’s stil dark outside…

usually emergencies take place at this time…people callin’ when somethin’ has gone wrong…a car wreck…heart attack…some kind of crime committed…which one is it Bill…

just wanted to talk…

I gotta be up in three and a half hours to get ready for work…don’t ya have any consideration…

I just wanted to hear your voice…couldn’t sleep…thought ya might be tossin’ and turnin’ in bed too…just like me…two kindred spirits…

what makes ya think that…

what’s that…

said what makes ya think that…

just had a feelin’…we used to stay up late in the old days so I figured it was worth a shot…

that was a long time ago Bill…

we’d stay up and polish off a bottle or two…passin’ a joint back and forth…

was ages ago…haven’t been high in a long time…

neither have I…

ya got any sleepin’ pills…

got some Trazadone…makes me feel groggy the next day…only take it sparingly…

could ya take some tonight…I gotta get back to bed…

you’re not in bed now…

know what I mean…sleep…I need sleep…not gonna be worth a flip tomorrow…what is it ya want Bill…ya didn’t just call to hear my voice…

remember that dog we had…Norman…

yeah…

whatever happened to him…

gave him away…

after I left…

yep…

to a good home…

a big farm out in Geauga County…

they got big farms out there huh…

don’t ya remember…we used to go on drives through there when we were…

yeah that’s right…

uh-huh…

well…glad he’s got a good home…

probably dead by now Bill…been a long time…he was already gettin’ old…

yeah…everything dies…

yep…say that again…look…I’m gonna go to sleep now…you take care of yourself…hear…

you too…

alright…goodnight…

goodnight…hey…

what Bill…

ya ever think of me…maybe miss me…

sometimes Bill…sometimes…

me too…

you miss you too huh…

know what I mean…

yes…I know what ya mean…

can I call ya again sometime…

Bill…it’s been a long time…haven’t ya moved on…met some other women…lord knows you were meetin’ ’em while we were together…

‘spose so…I ‘spose so…well…I’ll let ya go…goodnight…

goodnight…

His face would change over time…boyish good looks of his twenties were gone…cigarettes and whiskey had carved lines giving him a weathered look…an old cowboy complete with a Stetson hat that he’d pull down over his dark eyes…

And he’d drive ’round town in a beat up old truck with a gun rack in the back window…always ready for huntin’ no matter what season it was…sometimes he’d just pull off to the side of the road and survey land up there on the Michigan line…lookin’ at it for hours…placed empty beer cans on fence posts and shoot at ’em…was always dead on the mark…

He felt a sense of freedom in drivin’ ’round back county roads…there was no-one at home waitin’ on him…no wife nor girlfriend…just a house with things he’d picked up over the years…an old leather chair…records he’d collected…Hank Williams…The Texas Dough Boys…Porter Wagoner…would sit and listen to ’em in the night time with nothin’ on but a lamp in the shape of a cowboy boot…he’d open a can of Spam and eat it cold along with a Coors…it filled his skinny belly…

And so he’d drive ’round all day and into the evenin’…listened to an old Gospel station…thought it was his way of stayin’ right with God…didn’t pray…didn’t read the Bible…just listened to that Gospel music everyday…he was baptized at eleven…so his soul was saved by the grace of Jesus…least that’s what he thought…

Funny thing…he’d lived in that town for sixty years and only a few folks knew him…didn’t have any friends really…stayed mostly to himself…always had…even when he worked at the factory he’d stay mostly to himself…was always scared to make relations…he figured people just come and go in your life…no need to try to hang onto anybody…they’re just gonna die anyway…his parents died when he was young…so did his kid brother…went round and round in foster care throughout his childhood…he’d take off on ’em…ran away from homes several times…they’d always find him in the next county over…walkin’ along dirt roads in the dead of winter…always talked him into comin’ back…

So…he keeps to himself…too late to change him now…this is the life he’d chosen…he was at peace with that…

It was so quiet at night…and dark…wasn’t a star in the sky…just pitch black all ’round…barely see the whiskey bottle in front of us…every once in a while cars would drive down the road with their high beams on…bright lights would shine up on the front porch where we sat…they’d go by…flippin’ cigarettes out windows…watchin’ the color orange bounce on asphault…and I’d turn to you as if to say somethin’…but there was nothin’ to talk ’bout…just an old couple sittin’ out front drinkin’ whiskey…in silence…waitin’ for the other to make the first move…or was it there was nothin’ to say anymore…

You poured another glass of Paddy for yourself…not seein’ that mine was empty…not askin’…I could hear the liquor as it slid down your throat…reached for the bottle and poured myself another…I’d gotten used to doin’ things for myself…wasn’t always that way…you’d make dinner…pick out shows for us to go to…picked up the kid at school after your shift at the plant while I was goin’ in for mine…maybe us not workin’ the same hours had somethin’ to do with it…hadn’t touched each other in years…we just sat in the midnight hours drinkin’…guess that’s what retirement is ’bout…two old souls wantin’ for the end to come soon…there was nothin’ left…

And we polished off the bottle…you grabbed your glass and I grabbed mine…walked down the hallway where you went in your room and I stretched out in the Lazy-boy…not a goodnight kiss nor a nod of the heads…quiet…these nights get shorter…