Last Friday I was doing a staff training at one of the restaurants where I sell wine. I had to drive from the office (South of town) to downtown which involves freeways and exits. I was coming off an exit where a homeless Vietnam vet usually walks back and forth with a sign asking for money. Sometimes his wife (?) patrols the other side. I can't quite decide which is more appropriate, the friendly but I-don't-give-money-out look with a small smile, or the I-can't-move-my-head-and-don't-see-your-sign.
On this day the man was there as usual but over on the right side there was a dude in a suit and sunglasses. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, early forties. People who walked by him started laughing and I was craning my neck to get a good glance at his sign. He finally turned my way and I motioned for him to hold his sign higher as the guard rail was blocking my view. The sign said, "HAVE JOB, HAVE APARTMENT, HAVE JOB, NEED DATE 555-1212" Ok, so I made the phone number up, so to speak. When he saw that I was paying attention, he held up his other hand with another smaller sign. "STRAIGHT."
I got a good laugh and went on my way. After the staff training I was walking out of the restaurant towards my car and across the street I saw a lady in a regular wheelchair. She had a standard size poodle on a leash and that poodle was HAULING ASS down the street. She was probably travelling about 20 miles per hour on the sidewalk.
Apparently, I need to be carrying a digital camera around with me at all times.
When she was younger, her parents fought all the time. Occasionally it escalated to where one or the other of them would storm out declaring, “I just have to get out of here!” Then there would be the sound of the car door, the engine, and finally, the tires squealing out the drive. She sat there in the dark, in her bedroom, alone and afraid. “Would he (she) come back?” she wondered. Inevitably the car, and life, returned.
She grew up, moved away, went to college, fell in love. They moved in together into a cute little apartment. It was only natural that there would be disagreements and when they reached that point where nothing was being accomplished but yelling she felt this need, this urge to get her keys and take a walk. He would always try to get her to stay.
“Please don’t go.”
She never realized he thought she was leaving, never to return. The feeling just burst up inside her, have to get away, got to GO. So she went. As she was storming around the neighborhood she kept waiting for the relief, for the clear head, the thing that always brought the parent back. Instead she rolled around and argued in her head, getting more and more pent up; more pissed off. She kept waiting for an idea to come from above with clarity. A place to head to, a thing to do. That feeling remained elusive and she always returned to finish the fight. They always made up afterwards. Taking a walk was never the answer.
Later, when she got a car she would drive away, only to wonder where in the world would she go? It was too boring to go to a restaurant alone, bars were too depressing, and all the coffee shops were already closed. In less than five minutes she returned home.
When they argued at night they had no recourse but to make up, since there wasn’t a spare bed for anyone to sleep in. They achieved that luxury when, after a year, they moved into a house. She could storm off and sleep in the spare. It felt so good when he came to get her in the middle of the night, not that she was hoping for that reaction. At least she didn’t think so. However, she couldn’t describe the sting she felt when he didn’t go downstairs and try to coax her back to bed. The first time she slept the whole night in the spare bedroom, she woke up all discombobulated and then terribly sad when she realized where she was.
They fought horribly that weekend. Every old grudge and all sorts of new wrinkles thrown in. For the first time ever he said, “That’s it, I have to get out of this house. I am going for a walk.” She went to him, she sat down, took his hands, looked him in the eyes and said, “Don’t go.”
Not because she didn’t want him to go and cool off, or that she didn’t want a little time to herself, but rather because she knew how it felt to have a loved one ask you to stay. There was also the terrible feeling when they didn't ask. Maybe he knew she didn’t really care if he stayed or took a walk because the fighting escalated again and he finally left.
When he was gone she wondered if he was discovering that leaving offered no solace. As she washed the dishes she thought about where she might go if this relationship was over. Probably she could go stay at a cousin’s house. While these thoughts were going through her head she also considered who they might invite over for dinner tomorrow for the meal she worked so hard preparing that day. “Is it crazy to prepare for the future both with and without your mate at the exact same time?” she wondered.
She heard the door open and he came in from his walk. No words were spoken, he just came up to her and hugged her. She hugged him back in the same light as when she begged him not to go. She did it because he needed it, rather than because she was apologetic. He hugged her for ages, she started to worry about her neck being all turned sideways. Then she held him a little away and looked him in the face. She kissed him and then held him tight again. She needed it, she pulled him even closer and started to cry. She felt healed, this thing she did for him ended up being very much for her.