Connecting Again
It was a blustery Sunday morning. I figured I’d be alone. I zipped up my windbreaker, feeling the weight of the Glock in my left pocket. I knew the water was deep and the current swift, especially at the end of the pier. Even though it was mid-morning, the sky was dark. The water was blue-black, mimicking my troubled soul. Seagulls lined the top rail, annoyed that I was taking up one of their coveted spots.
I’ve wasted my life—graduated summa cum laude from Virginia Tech, married Miss Alabama… then got hooked on heroine, lost my job, lost our beachfront home on Pawleys Island, lost my wife—and lost my dignity. I wound up driving the big rig for C.R. England—until I flunked my pee test. Now, no one will hire me. I have no friends. I see no point in trekking through more mistakes.
The crashing of the waves against the pier deafened any thoughts I could have had of turning back. Just as I started to pull the Glock from my pocket, I heard a voice from maybe twenty feet away. “Hey, buddy, what makes you sure that’s gonna end it?”
I turned and saw a guy in faded jeans and a Carhartt jacket, carrying a Shakespeare Ugly Stik. What? He thinks he’s gonna catch anything out here with that little freshwater rod?
He walked toward me. “End what?” I said.
“I see that gun, dude. And you sure ain’t out here fishin’.
Dangit! Why’d he have to show up?
“You know you’re makin’ a big mistake, man.” He walked up to me, stuck his hand out, “I’m D’Angelo, but you can just call me Dee.”
I stuffed the Glock to the bottom of my pocket and offered my hand. “I’m Tom— Hey!” I said. “I know you from somewhere. You a driver?”
“Naw, if you mean like a truck driver, that would be a no. Is that what you do?”
“Did.”
As soon as our hands met, I remembered where I’d seen him. “You’re that guy who pulled me out of my burning truck last year over in Dothan.”
He grinned, “You sure ‘bout that?”
“Yeah, you were saying, ‘Don’t worry, buddy. We’re getting’ you out.’” He didn’t respond, just looked out over the angry waves. “Man, I’d remember that face anywhere. You saved my life.” I realized I had a Vice-Grip hold on him and was pumping his hand up and down.
“Tom…” His eyes had turned down to our extended handshake. “Tom, let’s talk about that Glock in your pocket. Whatcha doin’ out here with that thing?”
“Well, Dee, I could ask you the same thing. That wimpy Ugly Stik ain’t gonna work on the fish out here.ˮ
His head tilted back. He looked up at the dark sky, then back at me. “Quit stallin’, Tom! This ain’t no game. You were ‘bout to blow your brains out, and you know it.”
I pulled my ball cap down. My chin started to tremble. “Okay,” I said, “you got me.”
I looked up. Our eyes met again. There was another time…
“Wait… You were also that guy in the suit and tie sitting next to me on that flight from Atlanta… the one… Yeah, the one with all that turbulence—passengers bouncing from side to side in their seats. I thought that plane was gonna break up any minute. I think you saw my knee bobbing up and down and my hands clamping down on the armrest.”
He looked away. Why wouldn’t he want to admit it? What’s he hiding? He shook his head and glanced at the sky.
“I remember. You kept tellin’ me to chill. Said you’d been through those kinds of storms before. Said we’d be okay—but I didn’t believe you.”
The guy moved closer, eyes drilling through me. He touched my shoulder. It was the oddest feeling. As soon as he did, shame hit me like a howitzer. My knees buckled. Flashbacks of all the crap I’d ever done penetrated my mind and fast forwarded through forty years of wrongs. His hand was still on my shoulder. Something was happening. I felt a powerful connection I can’t explain, almost like a warm blanket sheltering both of us. A tear oozed from my eye. I knew there would be more.
I squatted down right there in front of him. My head between my knees, crying like a two-year-old.
For the first time since I was a child, I poured my heart out silently to God. My friend was kneeling beside me, his head now resting on my shoulder. Any other time that would have been distracting, even annoying, but now… Now it was a comforting connection with a trace of deja vu.
I stood up and wiped my eyes. Suddenly the sky lightened, sun washed over us, the wind stopped, and my tense muscles relaxed. He grinned at me. I started pulling my windbreaker off, thinking I would lay it over the rail. Instead, I folded it up tightly around that Glock. With my left hand, I raised the bundle in the air and pitched it out across the waves. A seagull flew overhead.
I turned to thank my friend. I looked down that long pier to my left, then to the right.
He was gone.
Enjoy the journey
Eldon
Eldon Reed ©2015