Just A Hint

     "This.  This is full on desperation.”  Said my sister.  “I could smell it from the parking lot."

     "I don't know if I would go that far," I replied from the hospital bed.  “Maybe it’s just a hint.”

     It had been a rough night.

     Normally when I was stressed out I would go for a run.  Lately going for a bicycle ride had replaced running.  It was easier on the back and knees.  Biking allowed me to go further faster.  Normally I could hammer out a 4-5 mile run in just under 45 minutes when I was in peak shape.  

     I had found a nice little trail just up the street from my house.  On a basic day I could blast out a 5-7 mile ride in 30 minutes.  It was a quick left-right, left-right, left and I was on my way.

     The road was just busy enough to make you think twice about riding on it.  I know most bikers and runners are supposed to be given some clearance but you wouldn't know it.

     I have, what I'd like to think, is a rational fear of being hit by a car while riding.  Between people talking on cell phones, radio rockstars who sing along to their favorite songs with their eyes closed, and various other distracted douchebags, cars become missiles on a mission of mayhem.

     All I had to do was get passed this little section of road and I was on my way to a stress relieving ride.  Unfortunately that night a curb, the sidewalk, and gravity had a different idea.  I was thrown over the handle bars when I miscalculated the height of the curb.  I was so concerned about being killed by a distracted douchebag that I got hurt trying to get out of the road on to the sidewalk.

     I tumbled over and got up so quickly most of the cars that drove by possibly thought I was only shaken up.  I don't remember getting back to the house and parking the bike in my kitchen.  I do remember repeating to myself 'Don't pass out.  Don't pass out.  Whatever you do don't pass out.'

     I apparently got my phone, keys, wallet, and made the decision to drive myself to the hospital rather than call an ambulance.  There was something about paying $800-$1200 that I, even in the fog of pain, wanted no part of.  Ironically, due to the blinding pain, I was one of the distracted douchebags in a missile on a mission of mayhem.

     What I initially thought was a broken collarbone and cracked ribs turned out to be deep muscle contusions and shock.  My helmet was cracked just above the right ear.  Because of my age and the nature of the pain tests were run to make sure I wasn't in the process of having a heart attack.

     "What would you call it then?"  My sister asked, standing next to the hospital bed.  "Going for a night bike ride with all those cars on a busy road.  What would you call it?"

     "Time."  I said quietly.  “I think it’s catching up with me.

     "I've been running and biking to stay ahead of it - to keep my head clear.  I have this feeling if I go further faster time will slow down.  Let me live longer.  But this,” I said motioning to the road rash on my arm, “this is a setback.  Maybe something is telling me to stop running and face shit head on."

     "I don't know if I would go that far," she said.  "This could just be the pain talking."

     "You're right.  Maybe it’s the pain.  Maybe it’s the desperation.  It could just be a hint of both."

     

What Type Of Man (Part IV) - Freedom

     Drinks and dinner led to shots and laughter.  Tabby was enjoying a night of freedom.  There was no pressure.  There were no questions.  There was only the moment.

     It was the first time that the only thing that mattered was the moment.  I still didn't know what was going on in her world.  My dad was just diagnosed and I think I needed this moment, this freedom, as much as she did.

     There was the occasional look of sadness on both sides but that was washed away with a smile, a wink about the motel, a gentle touch of the shoulder, or a jokingly condescending pat on the knee.  I wasn't expecting her to tell me what was going on in her world and I had no plans of telling her what was going on in mine, initially.

     Young nights age quickly.  They start with the ability to go anywhere.  As night falls choices are made and there are only so many directions those choices lead.

     The plan of a quick drink, pleasant conversation, and an early exit had changed.  It was almost closing time.  My confidence was waning.  A blast of late winter weather would bring me back to life. 

     I stepped outside for a quick cigarette.  The March air was crisp.  The smoke quietly rolled across the parking lot along the tree line.  The moonlight was clean and bright.  There was a sense of purity.

     The door to the bar opened.  Jules and Tabby stepped out and headed to Julie's car.

     "Have a good night, ladies," I said surprised that the young night had, for them, gotten so old so quickly.  Was I over confident?  Had I tried too hard to not seem like I was trying too hard?

     They both laughed and walked to the driver's side of the car.  My concern turned to curiosity.  Tabby grabbed a small bag from the backseat.  Just then it hit me that there were only four cars in the parking lot.  One was broken down.  One belonged to Jules.  One was the bartender's and the last one was mine.

     Tabby walked back towards the bar with her bag over her shoulder and her hands in her pockets.  The bright moonlight danced in her eyes.

     The car drove up to the curb where we were standing.  The driver's side window slowly rolled down.

     "Are you sure?" Jules asked Tabby.

     "Yes," she said with that infectious smile.

     "I swear to god if you hurt her," she said pointing to me.

     "I know, Jules, I know."  I flicked my cigarette into the sewer.  She rolled up her window and slowly drove off.

     "So where is your car?"  I asked feeling the slick smile cut across my face.

     "I had a friend drop me off.  I knew I would get a ride from Jules if I needed it."

     Her eyes lit up under the outside light of the bar.  Her energy brought a warmth to the crisp March air.  Her kiss was like a bolt of electricity that brought my soul back to life.

     "You know," I said feeling strangely honest, "I'm not the best guy on the planet.  I think you deserve something good, something better than good.  I hope I can be that guy for you."

     "Trust me I know what bad is," she said looking at me with those beautiful brown eyes, "and this doesn't feel bad."

     The night had aged perfectly.  There was no pressure.  There were no more questions.  There was only the moment.

What Type Of Man (Part III) - Foundation

     From the moment she smiled the ground beneath my feet felt more stable.  

     "Tabitha, this is..." started Jules.

     "You can call me Tabby," she pleasantly interrupted.  "Jules told me about you.  I like your suit."

     "Thank you," I said feeling a strange rush of blood to my face.  I couldn't figure what was throwing me off.  Was it her brown eyes?  Was it the infectious smile?  Was it the curls?

     Montreal seemed to be moving further away as we spoke.  

     "Shots!!"  Yelled an unrelated voice in the background.

     "Sounds like a good idea...for later...before we go to the motel."  I motioned between Tabitha and myself.  The slick smile cut across my face as I shot a quick look at Jules.  "But, seriously, do either of you want a drink?"  I asked getting my footing back.

     Before Jules could open her mouth to scold me Tabitha laughed.  I smiled back and walked to the bar.  Jules followed.

     "I thought you were going to be nice," she said through her teeth, "not asshole nice."

     Her green eyes were burning through my skull trying to light my soul on fire.

     "Jules," I said taking a deep breath and leaning on the bar, "if I treat her like something gentle that might break then she might just break.  She doesn't want to be treated different.  She doesn't want to be treated special.  She wants to be treated like everybody else.

     "I don't even know what is going on in her world.  You said it yourself, if she trusts me she'll tell me.  I could be some cardboard cutout of a human being or I could be me.  I think I can make her smile for a little while and forget what the world is putting on her.  I don't know if some cardboard cutout could that."

     "If you hurt her..."

     "That is not the type of man I want to be, Jules."

     "May I help you?" Asked the bartender.

     "Three kamikazes please.  Drinks not shots."

     "Coming right up," she said walking away.

     "She won't break," said Jules staring at the bar.

     "I know she won't, Jules."  I said trying to figure how I knew.  Was it the brown eyes or was it the infectious smile?

What Type of Man (Part II) - Exchange Rate

     In March of 2003 I was a different man.  The plans had changed significantly for the first time.  I had gone from a universal know it all to a dimly lit star in the corner of the cosmos.  Everything I fundamentally believed in had been shaken.
     The path at that time was so overgrown it couldn't be seen.  Since I wasn't able to escape to Manhattan to start the life I wanted I had taken to "Doing Dirt in the Distance".  Montreal was just a short four hour drive away and the exchange rate was so very good.
     I had found six blocks in the city where I could eat, sleep, drink, meet beautiful women and lose myself.  Tomorrow didn't exist.  It didn't need to exist.  It was the getaway for when things had gotten away.  That night was different.
     I arrived at The Yard at 7:45.  The plan was to meet Jules and her friend, have a quick drink, then get home and get some sleep.  As routine as I was trying to make the night there was a tinge of excitement.  I hadn't been set up on a date in a while.
     Much to my surprise Jules was already there.  Her shift had let out early and she had stopped by for a quick dinner.
     "Hey, buddy," she said standing up to give me a hug.  "You look nice.  I like the suit."
     "Thank you.  I hope your friend likes it, too."  I said feeling the slick smile cut across my face.
     'I need you to be nice to her."
     "What do you mean?" I asked feeling a stiffening of my spine.  "I'm always nice."
     "I don't need you to be 'asshole' nice.  I need you to be 'you' nice.  If she just needed someone to be 'asshole' nice I would just introduce her to anyone here.  She needs you to be you with her and not use it against her."
     "What..." I started.
     "I need you to be good to her.  I need you to be good to her like you were good to Caitlin."
     My heart skipped a beat.
     "What happened to her?"  I whispered feeling the floor shift beneath my feet.  Caitlin's name had caught me off guard.
     "If she trusts you," she said touching my cheek, "she'll tell you."
     I felt a wave of awareness.  I realized that my home was just a short thirty minute drive away.  I was so close it would be almost impossible to lose myself.  Tomorrow needed to exist.
     I sat and thought about the last trip to Montreal while Jules finished her dinner.  I thought about the freedom it had to offer.
     "Hey, Jules," I heard a voice chime from behind me.
     "She's here," said Jules standing to hug her.
     Beneath the curly brunette hair and the beautiful eyes was the biggest, prettiest smile I had seen in years.  I felt my spine relax.  Suddenly the path didn't seem so overgrown.  Montreal seemed far away and the local exchange rate was looking pretty damn good.
   

Travel Restrictions

     "You're taking all of this pretty well," said Tony.  He had stopped by to see how I was doing.  Amber's friend Tessa had been asking about me.  He had suggested a double date.  I was flattered but I also had socks older than she was.  

     "Most of the people I know who have been let go threaten to sue.  You seem relaxed."

     "I am at peace," I said with my legs up on my ottoman.  "I knew this was coming for about a year."

     He was the second person to have stopped by my house since they let me go.  I was only leaving the house for interviews, groceries, and Mom visits.  I had set up travel restrictions.

     The restrictions were based on a thought my Dad had about funerals.  His thought process was if you don't take the time to call or write while I'm alive why bother coming to the funeral?  At that point you are just coming to hang out with friends.

     My reasoning was similar but different.  If you aren't going to take time to make time neither am I.

     A "friend"  happened to mention they were going to be in the general area.  I suggested we get together for coffee/sushi/wings.  Their response was "Oh I'm sorry.  I'm just in to see friends and family".  There was an awkward pause as we both realized what was just said.

     "Maybe next time," I suggested, knowing there would never be a next time.

     Another friend would always call just before they were leaving town.  "We can hang out," they would say, "but I only have 15 minutes.". The third time this happened I was busy.

     "Hey," I said, "let me know when you're coming in to town next time so we can plan better."  There was another awkward pause.  Up to this point there hasn't been a next time.

     My travel restrictions are more prohibitive than the TSA.

     "The firing," he said snapping me back to the moment, "you knew this was coming?"

     "Yes, yes I did."

     "How are you at peace?  After being there for 10 years how are you not angry?"

     I thought about my poor kitty.  I thought about the travel restrictions.  I thought about what it was like to no longer be in a situation where you knew you weren't wanted.  I thought of this as a step in the right direction.

     "I am at peace with myself."  I answered.  "It feels like a huge weight has been lifted from my chest.  I can breathe again.  It's like when a bad relationship ends and you realize that there is so much better out there."

     "I can put in a good word for you at my company."

     "Thanks, man," I said preparing to engage in some deep chair sitting.

     "And Tessa.  She really wants to see you again.  She keeps asking Amber when is the 'Suit Guy' coming back to the bar."

     "She's not 35 yet is she?"

     He laughed a pleasantly amused laugh.

     "Hell no."

     I smiled.  Maybe it was time to try hanging out with someone who wanted to hang out with me.