Earl Duggin’s Song

                                                         Chapter One

Earl Duggin guided his car into the gravel driveway of St. Andrew’s Christian Church. It was mid-morning on Thursday and the overcast skies seemed to suggest rain showers later.  As he reached the parking area, he swung around and pulled up by a group of six cars parked in the spaces near the entrance to the fellowship hall. Shutting off his motor, he stared stoically at the glass door just ahead of him.

Earl knew he had two choices. He could restart his car, drive quickly out of the parking lot, and head back home. Of course, if he did that, he knew he would get a call two hours later from Mary Margaret Primroy hounding him about why he hadn’t come. She had been pestering him the entire week with calls reminding him of this meeting and urging him to “come join the fun.” Those thirty-minute daily harangues were enough to make a member of the Coldstream guards scream in frustration.

The other choice was to muster his courage, get out of the car, and go inside. He knew what he would be facing if he did and it would not be good. Mary Margaret had told him about the “wonderful agenda” she had planned for the meeting which appealed to him as much as standing in front of his third grade class during a spelling bee. If his wife Rena were here, it might not be so bad. But if Rena were here, they would be five-hundred miles away enjoying retirement in their new Air-Stream.
Earl tapped his hand on the steering wheel as he weighed his options. At least if he went just this once, he thought, it would get Mary Margaret off his back. He was really beginning to dread hearing his cell phone ring now. With a resigning sigh, he climbed out of the car, straightened his shirt and tie, and trudged forlornly toward the entrance to the fellowship hall.
“Well, well, look who’s joined us today,” exclaimed Lora Leigh Armstrong as Earl came through the door. The woman, dressed to the nines in a smart black and white ensemble, had all the subtlety of a speeding locomotive. Before the man could tender a simple greeting, she turned and waved anxiously to the others in the hall. “Ladies, it looks like we have a strong, handsome man in our midst!” The six silver and white-haired women turned and shared denture-laden smiles as they waved their wrinkly hands.
Earl was now dying a thousand deaths.
“It’s just so good to see you, Earl,” she chirped. “Now, let me get your nametag here and we’ll be all set.”
“I don’t really think I need a nametag. I figure everybody here knows me.”
“Oh, it’s one of our rules in case someone new comes in.” she insisted as she quickly wrote his name on a sticker that said ‘Hello! My Name is …’ and attached it to the pocket of his shirt. “There you go. Now, why don’t you just go over have a seat beside one of those attractive ladies? We’ll be starting our meeting soon.” Earl thanked her and strolled over to where the others were sitting.
The group was seated on the far side of the room near the kitchen doors. They were all dressed either in dark-toned dresses or smartly designed blouses and skirts. In truth they all looked as if they had just returned from a funeral.
“Come on over and sit by me, sugar,” cackled Michaela McCaffery as she patted the folding chair on her right. “I always so love to flirt with a good-looking man, don’t you know.” Earl knew that all too well. As he slipped into the seat, Virginia Grimm, who was seated across the table, gave him a crinkly smile and a wink.
“You look mighty dapper today, Earl,” she observed. “Mary Margaret said you were coming.” Earl nodded pensively.
“You doing okay, Ginny?”
“Oh, I’m doing fine,” she chimed loudly, “if the Lord is willing and the creek don’t rise!” As she chuckled at her witticism, Earl plaintively nodded.
He sat listening as the six women continued to chitchat. Glancing down toward the far end of the table, he saw Richard Long seated in a wheelchair beside his wife Deanna. His expressionless eyes stared blankly forward as his wife spoke with the woman across the table.

“You know, Mildred Hopkins is going in for surgery next week,” declared Pamela Oldston. “She has those polyps on her intestine, you know. They did a lower GI on her Tuesday I believe. She hopes they can get them removed.”
“I had to have surgery for those two years ago,” announced Lora Leigh as she took a seat across the table from Pamela. “I have never been in so much pain in all my life. I just know what she’s going through. I suffered every day with those things.”
“Well, I had to have a DNC done five years ago,” asserted Dorothy Pinner, a small, gray haired woman seated on Earl’s side of the table. “I’ve had my share of aches and pains, but I’ve never known a worse pain than that!”
“Honey, let me tell you,” attested Lora Leigh firmly, “there is nothing more painful than polyps. I’ve had them and I should know.”
As the women continued to compare descriptive notes on their innumerable aches and pains, Earl sat there with a stoic expression on his face. He was extremely tempted to interject some juicy tidbits about a certain operation he had had on one of his anatomical extensions, but wisely decided not to spoil the conversation. While he continued to endure the gaggle of women, Mary Margaret excused herself and went into the kitchen. In a few minutes, she returned and stepped before the group.
“Ladies …” she said with measure, “and gentlemen, we are so happy to have everyone here today for our monthly meeting of the Golden Oldies Senior Adult group. We will begin our meeting with a devotion led by Pamela Oldston.”
Pamela thanked Mary Margaret and stepped before the group. “I’m reading from the Open Door devotional magazine’s devotion for the day- ‘Our Life as a Blessing.’” Clearing her throat, she began.
“Is our life truly a blessing to others?” she asked imploringly. “Do we truly do our best to let Jesus shine forth from us …” Earl listened tepidly as Pamela continued. She had such a sing-songy way of reading. It was as if she were a kindergarten teacher reciting a passage from Dr. Seuss to a group of preschoolers. She also enunciated every word with measure and articulation like she was speaking to a group of foreign nationals who had only a cursory understanding of English. Fortunately, he knew the Open Door homilies were short; he would only have to endure it a moment more.
“I’d like to finish my devotion with a poem I recently penned entitled Serving the Lord as a Senior,” she announced with a smile. Earl cringed. The last thing he needed to hear was a poem like that!

Serving the Lord as a senior
In all of the things that I do;
To give of my best to the Master,
Faithful in service and true.

Earl wriggled nervously in his chair. No one had told him he would have to endure a poem written and recited by Pamela Oldston. Chinese water torture was less horrific than this.

Helping my friends and my neighbors,
Extending a hand to the poor;
Telling the hope everlasting,
Ever more sharing His call.

Poor, call – those words don’t rhyme, Earl thought, but it didn’t matter. On and on the poem droned all rendered in Pamela’s inimitable fashion. Finally, after twenty eight rousing and inspirational stanzas, she concluded her poem as the ladies applauded her lyrical effort. Earl only smiled and sighed in relief as Pamela took her seat and Mary Margaret stood up.
“And now, let us say a blessing for the meal so kindly prepared by members of our church’s kitchen committee. Let us pray.” As the woman prayed, Earl prayed, too. He prayed that whatever was served, it would be edible.
                                         Chapter Two

When the prayer was concluded, several younger women emerged from the kitchen carrying paper plates laden with the day’s provisions. The group rendered “oos” and “ahs” as the victuals were placed before them. Finally Earl got his plate.
“Coffee, tea, or lemonade?” asked his server.
“Oh, lemonade, I suppose,” he said. The young woman smiled and quickly went away leaving Earl to study his offerings. The meat appeared to be chicken breast. Beside it was a vegetable medley featuring broccoli, sliced carrots, and cauliflower. Topping off the dietary trio was a small cube of orange Jell-O. Yum, thought Earl.
“Here are your cup of lemonade and your utensils,” said the girl as she placed the items beside his plate. He took a sip of the lemonade; it was artificial. The utensils were white plastic. Swell!
As the remainder of the group chattered merrily, Earl took his knife and fork and began to carve his bird. The flakes of meat he created reminded him of sawdust. He cut, and cut, and cut some more, but it was like sawing through a three inch oak dowel with a pocket knife. Finally, after no small time, he succeeded in slicing off a ragged piece.
He tried to cut another slice, but in doing so he broke his trusty scabbier. Walking back toward the kitchen, he retrieved another knife and set to work again. After a herculean effort, he triumphantly produced three slices of the chicken. Stabbing one piece with his fork, he lifted the coveted prize to his mouth.
As he chewed his chunky offering, he was reminded of the tag-line joke – “tastes just like chicken.” In this case, it did not. Somehow, the celebrated chefs-de-la-jour had succeeded in removing the entire chicken flavor from the chicken. Earl wasn’t sure how that was possible, but they had done it anyway. The meat had more the flavor of a stiff, gummy paste than the barnyard fowl.
He then turned his attention to the vegetable medley. None of the vegetables were his particular favorites, but he knew they were good for his health. Unfortunately, the resident Chef Boyardees had managed to once again siphon the flavor completely from them. In truth, they tasted more like sweaty, flavorless vegetables of unknown origin than what he was looking at.
Finally, he sampled the orange Jell-O. To his surprise and amazement, the wiggly confection tasted like, well, Jell-O. There was even a hint of orange flavor in it as well. Huzzah!
“You know the Jell-O is sugar free,” explained Virginia knowingly. Earl smiled. He just knew that even the Jell-O had to have been purged of something.
While Earl struggled to finish his lunch offerings, a young woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform entered at the opposite door carrying a large tripod easel and a number of posters. Mary Margaret immediately met her and the two spoke briefly before the former returned to the group.
“Everyone, we are very pleased today to have Nurse Nancy Nicholas from the Senior Adult Care Facility at the hospital. As you all are finishing your delicious lunch, Nurse Nancy is going to present a very informative talk on blood pressure. Nurse Nancy, if you would please.”
“Good morning, everyone,” she began in a bubbly voice. “I am so happy to be here to talk with you about the importance of monitoring and maintaining good blood pressure. Let me begin by telling you exactly what blood pressure is and what those funny little numbers mean.” She placed a picture of the circulatory system on the easel for everyone to see.
For the next twenty five minutes, Earl wearily listened as the perky girl extolled the virtues of keeping blood pressure within acceptable bounds. Every section of her talk had a carefully designed poster to show exactly what she was talking about. In truth, he had heard this same pep talk many times during his own doctor’s visits. Nearly every time, his doctor would parade a fresh intern into his room to recite the same, tiresome mantra to him that he was hearing now.
When she concluded her talk, she pleasantly asked if anyone had any questions. Asking a group of women if they had a medical question, Earl thought, is like asking a tiger if it prefers meat. Pamela immediately raised her hand.
For the next fifteen minutes, the different ladies peppered the nurse with questions which she happily fielded. Earl was beginning to think that he would strangle the next person who had a question. When the plethora of inquiries finally ended, Mary Margaret stood as the nurse heartily thanked everyone for their attention and left.
“Now as our servers collect your dishes and utensils, it think it’s time for Golden Oldies’ Bingo.” As the women excitedly clapped, Earl wiped his face in frustration.
“Here are the cards for everyone. We’re going to play three games today for special prizes.” She placed a small Bingo spinning cage on the table in front of them.
“The prize for our first game is the book Heart Health by Dr. Morris Underson which was donated by our speaker today, Nurse Nancy.” Earl grimaced. Just what he needed, he thought, was more medical literature! He was getting enough in the mail as it was. Though he wasn’t a numerologist, he could clearly foretell doom in the numbers on his card.
“Okay, everyone, here we go!” exclaimed Mary Margaret as she spun the cage. “Our first number is I-19.” Great, he thought, I have that one.
“The next one is G-43!” Swell, he muttered, he had that one, too. Now he had three-in-a-row.
“B-9,” she called excitedly. Earl’s eyes widened. Now he had four-in-a-row. If she called O-64, he would win!
“I-22!” Whew, he thought, safe at last! As Mary Margaret continued to call numbers, he prayed each time it would not be O-64.”
“Bingo!” cried Michaela who sat beside him. Relief descended over Earl like a soothing balm as Mary Margaret checked her numbers. As the woman received the book, she brandished it in Earl’s face.
“Looks like I beat you to it,” she bragged. Earl smiled and nodded. He could only hope his luck would hold out.

The next game featured a one week free pass to the Senior Fitness Center at the hospital. The thought of that appealed to Earl about as much as a turkey looks forward to Thanksgiving. Fortunately, the numbers called only created a random pattern on his card. Lora Leigh turned out to be the lucky recipient of the free pass which provided her the opportunity to thoroughly explain to everyone how she and her husband intended to use it. What a lucky stiff, Earl thought.
The prize for the last game was a digital blood pressure machine. Once again Earl discovered he had four-in-a-row almost immediately. His number of doom was B-6. The game went on with Earl dreading every call while hoping someone would yell, “Bingo,” but nobody did.
“B-6,” called Mary Margaret. Earl shuttered. Thinking quickly, he turned his head as if distracting himself. He would pretend he hadn’t heard it.
“Earl, that’s your number, that’s your number!” trumpeted Michaela as she picked up at marker and put it on his card. Earl’s shoulders slumped. Forcing a smile, he accepted his blood pressure machine from Mary Margaret graciously.
“You better be glad I noticed your card,” Michaela fussed. “You might have missed your chance at the prize.” Earl nodded reservedly. It was just his luck to be sitting beside old “eagle-eyed” Michaela.
“We’re so glad everyone could come today, especially you, Earl,” declared Mary Margaret as she collected the Bingo cards. “Now don’t forget our meeting three weeks from today when we will be planning our special Senior Adult Sunday service. Be sure to be thinking about which of our grand old hymns you’d like to sing and how you would like to participate.”

“By the way, just so you’ll know, we’re getting someone from the church to take the little soup-can baskets we decorated with the Bible verses to the Sunset Retirement Village this week.” She held up one of the cans that had had its outside covered in flowery cloth with a Bible verse on paper pasted to the side. The one she was holding up had the sentiment ‘Be of Good Cheer’ printed on it.

“Now let’s all stand and join hands and recite our benediction blessing.”

The group stood as Earl took Michaela’s hand and reached across the table to take Virginia’s. The group recited the traditional Irish Blessing which Earl was familiar with but didn’t exactly know. As the final “amen” sounded, he quickly released the women’s hands. While the group resumed their gossiping, Earl walked around to Richard and, stooping down, patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, buddy,” he whispered above the din. The man only gazed indifferently forward. Earl rubbed his shoulder affectionately and then started to leave. Mary Margaret quickly corralled him.
“Thank you so much for coming,” she piped cheerily. “I just knew you’d have a grand time.”
“It was grand all right,” he returned through a forced, toothy smile.
“I do hope you will be here next meeting,” she said imploringly as she folded her hands together. “I have a feeling we’re going to plan the best Senior Adult Sunday we’ve ever had.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he said as he turned to go. “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

                                                Chapter Three

Earl pulled his car into his driveway. Edging it up near the garage, he shut off the engine and just sat there. He wished he’d never gone to that blasted Golden Oldie’s meeting. He’d never felt so old in all his life.
Staring blankly at his garage door, he felt as if he had no energy to get out of the car. He could almost picture a crew of strapping hospital orderlies suddenly appearing to whisk him out of his vehicle and into a wheelchair or gurney. He knew he was being overly dramatic and petty, but it was the way he felt. That Senior Adult meeting had virtually drained the life out of him. He was now so depressed.
After ten minutes of musing behind the wheel, Earl finally gathered his strength and got out of the car. The clouds he had seen earlier had begun to thicken. He imagined the predicted rain would be coming at any time. Heading down his driveway toward the mailbox, he heard a loud, nasally voice calling to him.
“Hey, Earl-man, Earl-man! Wha’cha say, wha’cha say,” called Fred Merkle as he scurried up to him. Earl sighed. If a room full of annoying senior adult women wasn’t enough, now he had to contend with friendly Freddie, his obnoxious neighbor! The man was dressed in Bermuda shorts and a garish, flowery Hawaiian shirt. Atop his balding head he sported a bright red baseball cap and wore glasses with the sunglass lens flipped up.
“Hi, Fred,” tendered Earl reservedly as he reached his mailbox. Fred slapped him firmly on the back almost causing him to lose his balance.
“Just got back from Fairystone State Park, kemo sabe!” chortled Fred as he adjusted his glasses and shared a big smile. “You won’t believe how beautiful that place is. Absolutely numero uno in my book, Earl-man. You really ought to go see it some time.”
“Yeah, I just might do that, Fred.”

“The little woman and I really had a great time there the past few days. We arrived there late on Monday and the park ranger took the time to give us a personal guided tour. We even gathered some fairystones!” He pulled several from his pocket and held them directly in Earl’s face. “Wha’d’ya think about that, huh? Wha’d’ya think? Wha’d’ya think?”
“Really great stuff.”

“Got a bunch of fantastic videos to share from our trip. Why don’t you drop over tonight and we can watch ‘em. Viv can throw a few steaks on the ‘barbie.’ We can grab a couple of brews, and have one grand time. Wha’d’ya say? Wha’d’ya say?” Earl grimaced.
“Well, that sounds great, Fred, but I’ve got a few things I’ve got to take care of this evening. Not sure exactly what time I’ll finish.”

“Earl-man, you’re retired now!” Fred slapped him on the back again. “You can call your time your own. No clocks to wind; no schedules to keep. We’ve got plenty of leftover fixings. Wha’d’ya say? Wha’d’ya say?”
“Well, let me think about it.” Earl tried to leave, but Fred grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Hey, I have an even better idea. Why don’t you go throw some clothes in your suitcase and tomorrow, you, me, and Viv can head down to the Tarheel state. The little woman wants to go to the outlet malls in Burlington. Hey, maybe you and I can wet our lines in some of those streams around Roanoke Rapids. Wha’d’ya say, boss? Wha’d’ya say?”
“Sounds tempting, Fred. I’ll let you know.” Earl again tried to leave, but Fred grabbed his arm. The latter was about to speak when a firm female voice called to him from the house.
“Whoops! Sounds like the little woman’s on the warpath. Better go see what this is all about! You do as I say. We’ll be leaving about eleven tomorrow.” He turned and raced toward his house. “We’ll have a great time together. You’ll see.” As Fred scurried into his garage, Earl dug the mail out of his mailbox and quickly went inside.

The mail was the usual stuff. Besides a couple of bills, there was a colorful flyer heralding something called the “Senior Sensation” being sponsored by the local hospital. That sounded thrilling. He also spied a newsletter from a Dr. Horance Windsor with the banner headline reading STRAIGHT TALK TO SENIORS. The remaining two envelopes both promised special savings available through reverse mortgages. He carefully placed the bills in the “in” box on his desk and ceremoniously dropped the other correspondence in the circular file for later disposal.
Earl stood in his living room gazing out the picture window. The sky had gradually darkened and he was beginning to see rain drops peppering the sidewalk. In a few minutes, a gentle shower began. He looked at his car to be sure he had rolled up the passenger side window before walking over to his easy chair and dropping lazily into it.
He looked up over the fireplace mantle at the picture of him and Rena taken just two years before. He remembered that day so vividly. He had wanted a casual photograph taken, but she insisted he wear his blue suit and red tie. They had gone to do some shopping that morning and then went to their favorite Italian restaurant for lunch. During the meal he had spilled some marinara sauce on his tie. He didn’t think it would show, but Rena maintained that it would and demanded he go by Sears and pick out a new one. Afterwards they went to their appointment at Olan Mills where they waited forty five minutes past their time while the photographer wrestled with three very precocious four year olds. Little did he know then that the photograph taken of them that day would be the last one of him and Rena together.
It was on a Saturday just two months prior to his retirement. She was going to do some laundry that morning while he went to town to pick up some supplies. When he returned and came into the house, he could tell something was not right. There was an eerie stillness that pervaded everything. He called her name, but she did not answer. He went to the bedroom and even checked the laundry room, but she was not there. Stepping into the kitchen, he found her on the floor curled up in a fetal position, her hands clutching her chest, her mouth half open as her eyes staring blankly forward. He called 911, but it was too late.
While Rena’s death brought Earl loneliness and heartache, it had also dashed their wonderful dreams. When they were first married, Rena had established a savings account for their retirement. Each week they put anything they had left over into it, be it pocket change, tax refunds, or some other windfall. As time went on, the little account grew and grew. Their dream was to buy an Air Stream camper or RV and spend their waning years touring the back roads of the country. They had sacrificed much, but, with Rena’s death, the dream had vanished like a whiff of smoke in a breeze.
He glanced at the two pictures of his children which flanked theirs. On the left was their daughter Kasey. She was nearly twenty-eight now and lived in Illinois. Earl never heard much from her. She and her mother had become estranged over the years and she had moved half the country away so she could “be her own woman.” Occasionally she called him on Father’s Day or his birthday, but they never said much. Other than hearing a quick “everything’s fine” or “I’m doing okay,” there was little else shared.
On the right was a picture of his son Michael. He lived not too far away in the neighboring city of South Fork and worked as a Systems Administrator in the school system there. Unlike Kasey, Michael usually called once a week and occasionally dropped by to enjoy supper with him.
Now Earl was surrounded by a big, empty house, a house that exuded bittersweet memories from every corner. In his mind he could still hear the laugher of his children playing in the hallway or Rena calling everyone to supper. In his mind’s eye he could see everyone gathered around the television set watching a favorite movie or desired show. He recalled how he and Rena would fuss at the kids to take their baths and get ready for bed. He thought about how he would sit with Rena when the kids were asleep and, taking his guitar, sing to her one of those old Beatles’ love songs she loved so much.
But now Earl was alone. He felt as if he were slowly drowning in a sea of silence. The warmth that had once surrounded him had been reduced to cold, lifeless embers. Everything was, as the old song declared, a hazy shade of winter.
At that moment, Earl Duggin felt so abandoned and so old.
                                                                 Chapter Four

It was Friday morning and Earl lay in his bed studying the plaster swirls on his bedroom ceiling. He knew he should get up, but what was the point? It was just another day in the doldrums for him. If it wasn’t for the fact he needed to go to the bathroom, he probably would have stayed there.
Finishing up his necessities, he trudged back into his bedroom and changed clothes. Moseying outside, he gathered a copy of the daily news which had been conveniently tossed in the flowerbed in the center of the yard. Returning to the house, he meandering toward the kitchen where he emptied some Cheerios into a bowl, doused them with milk, grabbed a small plastic container of orange juice from the refrigerator, and settled down to breakfast. After crunching his way through two heaping bowls of cereal while studying the paper, he shuffled over to the counter to get his medicine bag and take his morning dose.
He always took six pills in the morning. One was for his diabetes, three were for his blood pressure, one was for his water, and one was to keep his arteries clear. As he emptied them into a tray, he discovered he was now out of his artery medication. He set the empty pill bottle to the side as he took the rest of his medicine with the last swig of orange juice. He would have to pick up some more medication at the store that morning.
After washing up the cereal bowl, he went into the living room and clicked on the television to see what the weather would be like that day. It had rained the previous evening, but now it appeared simply overcast and a little breezy. The mild temperatures suggested he wouldn’t need a sweater.
He flipped through the channels catching bits of news here and a program there. By now it was just past nine and the pharmacy would be open. Grabbing his wallet and keys from the stand near the door, he decided to go ahead and do his shopping. After all, Friday was Senior’s Day at ValuSave!
Soon he was driving into the parking lot of the ValuSave Supermarket in town. He decided to park near the pharmacy entrance to save time later. Strolling into the store, he approached the pharmacy counter where a perky receptionist smiled and greeted him.
“Picking up a prescription, Mr. Duggin,” she asked.
“No, no, just need my Lipitor refilled,” he replied as he placed the empty bottle on the counter. The woman inspected it carefully.
“We’ll have it ready in about twenty minutes if you’d care to wait.”
“I’ll be doing some shopping for a while anyway,” he explained before turning and heading into the store.
For the next thirty minutes, Earl ambled through ValuSave picking up various items he needed. As always, he had to weave his way past a host of other seniors who were seeking out their own special bargains. Finally satisfied with what he had gotten, he entered a checkout line just behind a woman who was chattering nervously over her cell phone. His checkout was delayed as the poor woman desperately tried to carry on a conversation while attempting to write a check. Apparently she had never heard of a debit card.
When Earl finally checked out, he placed the bags in his cart and started back toward the pharmacy area. As he did, he walked past the service desk where he spotted a fashionably dressed woman about his age talking with the manager and one of the CSRs. For an instant their eyes met. For some reason, Earl thought he recognized her, but quickly passed it off and went on. As he headed around a candle display, he heard a female voice calling to him.
“Sir, excuse me! Excuse me, sir!” Earl turned around. It was the woman he had just seen with the manager. She nervously smiled at him as she toyed with her fingers.
“Excuse me, I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but would your first name happen to be Earl?”
“Yes, it is,” he replied with measure. As the woman beamed and batted her eyes, he studied her inquisitively. There was something familiar about her.
“Do you remember me?” she wondered with a big smile. “I’m Connie, Connie Loriane.”

“Connie?” he asked as much as said. His heart leaped in his throat. For a moment the two studied one another before the woman raced forward and threw her arms around him. Earl tentatively embraced her.
“Well, isn’t this a small world,” she declared as she released him. “How long has it been?”
“Forty five years, I’d say.”
“Seems like only yesterday. So do you live around here now?”
“Well, I have been for the past thirty-five years. Worked over at the St. Joe’s Paper Mill as a chemist. Just retired a few months ago.”
“My goodness, I didn’t know that. I’ve been working for ValuSave for the past ten years as a Human Resources Manager. Plan to retire in December if everything goes according to plan. I had been working over at the stores in South Fork, but they moved me over to the stores in this area last week. Maybe we’ll get to see each other sometime.” She batted her eyes flirtatiously at Earl.
“Maybe we will,” he replied. There was an awkward pause.
“Well, I guess I’d better get back to work. It was sure nice seeing you, Earl. Hope we can meet again sometime soon.” As Connie brandished an engaging smile and a wink and headed away, Earl slowly turned and proceeded to the pharmacy counter.
Earl felt a burning sensation deep in the pit of his stomach. To paraphrase Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca­ – of all the supermarkets in all the world, why did she have to show up in mine!
Connie had been his high school sweetheart. Although he had dated several other girls before her, she was the one who had truly stolen his heart. They had dated steadily their last three years of high school and then, three weeks after graduation, she had dropped him like a hot potato! The wound still festered.
He remembered the day vividly. She had wondered if they might have lunch at a nearby Chinese restaurant. As they enjoyed the meal, he sensed that there was something wrong, but the girl deflected his inquiries. When the meal was finally over and they had returned to his car, she finally told him she had met someone else. She had cried crocodile tears, but it was all just for show. He recalled how angry he became – he felt utterly betrayed. Besides that, she had bilked him out of an entire dinner before she told him. How selfish! And then, to top it all off, she did the absolutely unimaginable – she begged him to take her downtown to meet her new beau. The whole thing had been nothing more than a set-up!
Then Earl did something that even after forty-five years made him cower in shame – he condescended to take her to meet him. What was he thinking? What was he thinking?
He thought he had put all this behind him, but meeting Connie again had stirred a cauldron of emotions within. What galled him most was that she had greeted him as if they had parted the best of friends. Her perky voice, flashing eyes, and winning smile seemed designed to only drive the blade in deeper. She was the kind who would do something like that.
Earl paid for his medicine, dropped the pill bottle in his shopping bag, and slowly headed out of the store. He felt like he had aged ten more years since he had come in.