“I’m not sure I’ve got it figured out, but what I’ve got is mine,” he said.
“Was there a time when that wasn’t the case?” I asked.
In the short time I had been listening to the man, I couldn’t help but notice he spoke as if he were writing lyrics to an old country song. He even looked a little like Merle Haggard, with his steely blue eyes and an aged beard that complemented his wrinkles.
Merle was sometimes known as “the working man’s poet,” and I guess that’s just another reason why this man appeared to me like a living, bittersweet melody.
“I once had dreams that I’d planned on living, but a good girl turned my head and took my heart a long time ago. What she done with it I still haven’t figured out, but she’s long gone and I’m still searching.”
“Searching for what? Your heart?” I asked.
“Yeah, maybe. But probably more the reason why nothing I have seems to mean much without her,” he said.
“Tell me about her,” I said. “If you’re comfortable.”
“Comfortable?” he asked, laughing a little while reaching for his beer. “Hon, I can’t recall a time in my life I’ve ever been comfortable. That said, I can tell you about Laureen.”
I waited for him to take a sip of his beer and watched as he took off his straw cowboy hat, wiped his forehead, and put it back on.
“Laureen wasn’t my type, but she had me figured out within minutes of me laying eyes on her. All of my lines fell flat. She challenged me to do better and to be better. In some ways, she still does.”
“She was smarter than I was in almost every way, but she never told me so. Still, I’d have to be an idiot not to know it. After we got married, she’d catch me sometimes just staring at her. It made her nervous. Heck, I guess I made her nervous.”
“Why were you staring at her?” I asked.
“Well, that’s the same question she’d ask me. Sometimes I’d joke in my response to get her to roll her eyes, sometimes I just bore into her sweet eyes until she blushed. Each time, in my mind, my answer was the same: I was wondering how in the hell I got so lucky to have God give me a little piece of Heaven on earth.”
“She sounds lovely. What happened?” I asked.
“She left me,” he said, taking the final sip of his beer. “You got another?” he yelled at the bartender.
“What happened after she left?” I asked.
“I kept the house and the memories, both of which I can’t decide bless me or curse me.”
“What did she keep?” I asked.
“The company of Jesus. Never thought I’d be jealous of Jesus, but I sure am. Lord knows I ain’t perfect like he was on this earth, but one thing I got right more than wrong was loving her,” he said.
The bartender came with another beer, and he drank half of it before he spoke again.
“I know what you’re thinking… that I’ve turned into a lousy drunk. Hon, I’ve been that most of my adult life. Laureen took me as-is and left me better than I ever was. Guess maybe I’ve backslid a bit.”
“How long has Laureen been gone?” I asked.
“Gone? Well, that’s a stupid question. She’s right here,” he said, pointing hard to his chest. “The only thing she changed was her address. She left me, but make no mistake, she ain’t gone.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just trying to understand,” I said.
“I feel her presence in every pretty flower… flowers on the side of the road that I never gave a bit of notice to until she came into my life. I hear her laugh when I do all kinds of stupid. And if I close my eyes and put my guard down, she climbs right over my walls and rests beside me until I fall asleep. Yeah, she ain’t gone… she’s just no longer here.”
I couldn’t think of anything more to ask. I had a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. I could tell he did, too.
“See?” he said. “Now, you’ve just met her yourself. She has that effect on people. Isn’t she something?”
I smiled. “Yes. Yes, she sure is.”
“She’s always mine, but I’ve just had to come to understand that she belongs first to Jesus. You want the truth?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“I ain’t the type to back down to anyone taking what I love from me, but I’ll gladly give Laureen to the hands of Jesus because that means I’ll see her again. I know she’s taken care of and safe. I know she’s being loved even better than I showed her, and that means something, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. I know,” I said.
“Thank you,” he said, as he got up and brushed his palms on his jeans, leaving the half-empty bottle on the table.
“Thank you for what?” I asked.
“Giving me the honor of introducing you to Laureen. I’d forgotten how good it felt to hear myself talk about her… to hear me say her name aloud.”
As he started toward the door, he turned around and said quietly, “She’d like you. Maybe I’ll have the chance to introduce you to her proper one day. Thank God for Jesus.”
“Thank God for Jesus,” I said as the door closed.
This column was initially published by CherryRoad Media. ©Tiffany Kaye Chartier.