sludgo’s Mile Markers: Mile 207

It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and we’d gotten early release from school and I was walking home trying to catch snowflakes on my tongue. The day was cold and grey and still and the flakes were big and floaty and fluffy and filled my mouth with a cold splash of wet each time I caught one, making me smile bigger than I already was. It was going to be a great holiday break—four full days far removed from the drudgery of sixth grade at St. Marten’s Elementary. And as I shuffled through the ankle-high snow I gave myself a smug little chuckle. I was captain of the Nerd Patrol back then so I’d gotten all my homework done beforehand and had nothing to do over the break except whatever I wanted to do whenever I wanted to do it. And mostly what I wanted to do was spend time with Charlie, my girlfriend.

We’d been steadies ever since school started that fall and even though she was two grades ahead of me and went to sludgoville Junior High we saw each other almost every day—easy to do since she lived right next door with her folks and her brother Doug. And things between us were getting romantic. We were regularly holding each other’s hands until they were sweaty during the Saturday afternoon fifty-cent matinees at the Downtown Theater and stealing soft kisses when we’d say goodnight under her flickering front porch light. We’d even started using the L-word. Made us giggle and blush whenever we’d say it. So when I rounded the corner of my block that snowy Wednesday afternoon and saw her standing on our front stoop my heart soared but then quickly lost airspeed and altitude. Even from the street I could see that she’d been crying.

Looking back at it now, that particular Thanksgiving was still pretty good. We had The Feast, of course—the meal the Beehive had spent a week preparing and that we devoured in twenty-five minutes. Burp. And I’d had oodles of time to laze around on my bed and read—my favorite thing to do. I’d practiced my juggling skills in front of the mirror and my magic tricks in front of the dog and played game-after-game of Scrabble and Yahtzee and Monopoly with Big Sis. But the whole time my heart was heavy. Hurting. Because the reason Charlie had been crying was that she’d just found out her Dad had taken a job somewhere up in Alaska and that the day after New Years they were moving away and after that she and I would never see each other again.

When she told me the news my heart ripped itself in two. Then four, then six, and then eight. I’d never known such pain before.

My eldest got married last week. After seven years of courting a wonderful gal he stood waiting nervously at the altar while she walked regally up the aisle looking like a fairy-tale princess. He took her hand and she took his and they said their vows then their ‘I do’s’. Exchanged shiny gold rings and the bride was kissed and cheers were cheered and rice was thrown. Then they merrily roared off to Honeymoonland in my old white MGB to share their love forever and ever and ever. Amen.

Hm.

My ex was at the wedding too. His mother. The Redhead. Didn’t think she wouldn’t be, but we’d hardly talked at all since the Big D four years ago so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect—how things would go. Turned out I needn’t have worried. Was pleasantly surprised when she met me at the doorway of the chapel with a smile.

She looked beautiful as ever. Petite and fit, her deep auburn hair glowing in the midday sun and her chocolate-brown eyes flashing warmly at me. She opened her arms wide and pulled me in for a hug and I hugged her back. Tightly. Just like we used to.

During the day’s festivities we caught each other here and there to chat for a few about this and that and the other thing. Make each other laugh. And after a few hours when things were winding down and I’d found her to tell her I was leaving we’d hugged once more. Lingered in the embrace. Separated after a count or three but kept holding on to each other’s hands. Tightly. Just like we used to. Then we gave each other a goofy grin. Leaned in and congratulated ourselves for raising such a fine son. Promised we’d keep in touch. That we’d make sure to get together if we were ever in the same town. And then we said our see-ya-laters and I turned to leave but she pulled back on my hand to stop me. Reached up and gave me a quick and tender kiss on the cheek and I got goosebumps.

Uh oh.

Love. I’ve heard it makes the world go ‘round. The Beatles told us it’s all we need. Love, love, love. But the J. Geils Band said it stinks and, honestly, I’ve been in that camp for a while now. My argument for my case is simple, Your Honor. You see, every single ooey-gooey lovey-dovey gig I’ve ever worked has ended in a dark-blue broken-hearted tear-stained mess, starting with Charlie. Then continuing with Maxine. Then Anne. Then the Blonde. Then Carly, and finally the Redhead. Fifty-five years of of my life spent on hopes and dreams that started out sky-high but sooner than later became heart-shaped Hindenburgs. Well, my momma didn’t raise no dummy and after the Redhead and I split I pulled a Lili Von Shtupp. Vowed to be done with love, from below and above, once and for all. To contentedly assume my new role as Dashing Bachelor Dad for the third act of the sludgo show. And I’d been doing pretty good playing the part. Was beginning to think I had this love thing licked. But after the wedding when me and the TT hit the freeway heading back home to New Sludgoville I couldn’t get the Redhead out of my mind no matter what. Couldn’t stop thinking about how good it had been to see her again. How wonderful it felt being near her again. How wonderful it felt to hold her in my arms and be held in hers. I could still smell her perfume lightly wafting up from the lapel of my suit coat and was surprised how the scent made my heart pound. And I began wondering if there was still something left to all this Love stuff.

Suddenly I needed a soundtrack. Snicked on the streamer and an old favorite of mine from the Gin Blossoms was playing. “Hey Jealousy.” I started singing along with the chorus.

“Tomorrow we can drive around this town…Let the cops chase us around…The past is gone but something might be found to take its place…”

I laughed out loud. Then cranked it up to 11.

A couple months ago I was back in sludgoville and ran into Jack, an old grade-school pal. It was a nice morning and he was cruising around town in his Dad’s ancient blue Square Bird and saw me walking down the sidewalk. Blipped his horn to nab my attention then slowed in the street to a near-stop. Dropped his window and barked out my name. Yelled that it had been too long and that I needed to hop in and we’d go snag a cup at Kenny’s Korner Kitchen and catch up. Ten minutes later we were tucked into a corner booth, sipping our steaming black coffee, yakking about what everyone from the old gang had been up to. Where they were living and what they were doing and if they were still above ground or not. And when Jack casually mentioned he’d heard Charlie had recently passed my heart gave an unexpected but all-too-familiar twist. Like it did once more just now as I wrote this.

Forever and ever and ever, Charlie. Amen.