Can You Hear Me Now

And for a reason he still did not understand, he began to cry. Love plain, simple, and so fast it shattered him.

Toni Morrison

I was low on gas and although I probably could have made it home without refilling, I decided not to chance it and pulled into the first gas station I came to. It was not what you would call a nice part of town. As I stood at the pump filling my tank I glanced over at the woman across the island who was also filling hers. My first thought was, “This woman has known a life of hard times in her life.” Her face was deeply wrinkled from far too much sun and far too many cigarettes. Her eyes were sunken and outlined with dark, ugly rings. Everything about her had the look of someone who lived for years on the edge of life.

As I turned back to my pump and watched the dollars and gallons roll by, I suddenly realized that despite the look of someone I would not want to meet in a dark alley, there was something very familiar about her. I didn’t want to stare so I turned towards my car window and looked closely at her reflection. Yes, there was something there — something long ago.

I was approaching the 40-dollar mark when it suddenly hit me — Debbie Bridges, Coronado High School, class of 1976. I looked up from the window and directly at her face hoping that she would somehow transform into someone else, but she didn’t. Her face was scarred by years of hard living, but I knew it was Debbie.

Debbie Bridges was the most beautiful girl in my high school and I was secretly in love with her for four long and painful years. There were many times when I tried to work up the nerve to say something as simple as “Good morning,” but in all the time I knew her probably fewer than ten words passed between us. She was one of the popular girls while I was a skinny, geeky guy, and no girl of her stature dared to even acknowledge the existence of someone like me. Besides, why would she want to be with me when she could have the pick of any of the popular and cool guys? I often wondered if despite the many classes we had together she even knew my name.

Debbie was an early bloomer and girls like her were subjected to constant and unhealthy attention. Who knows, though? She may have been flattered by the advances of the older boys, but it took a toll and her innocence was stripped away long before graduation. Even I noticed the changes, but that didn’t lessen my unrequited and unspoken love.

I must have been staring a little too intensely because she suddenly noticed me and said, “What are you looking at, asshole?” I thought about telling her who I was and reminding her of our shared past, but instead I silently turned away, replaced the hose on the pump, and climbed back into my car. As I did so I heard her say under her breath, “Fucker.”

I usually have the radio on when I drive, but left it off and surrounded myself with silence. I thought about turning back for one last look, but couldn’t bring myself to even glance in the rearview mirror. Instead, I fixed my eyes on the road ahead and the home that awaited me at the end of my drive.

Patterns and habits
like old, comfortable shoes and well-worn jeans
knowing what you like and liking what you know

Call me boring or call me dull
but I’m taking the same way home tonight