Grandma Sue

He’s an asshole.
He broke her heart.
He lied to her, and he cheated on her. She put up with it for years.
They say a leopard doesn’t change his spots. He was her best friend’s husband some 20 years ago.
That didn’t stop her.
She lied and she cheated, not only to her friend but to her own husband. Why would she be surprised when he did it to her…
Again…. And again… and again….
Grandma Sue was the best Grandparent my children had.
She taught Savanna to ride a horse, took her to shows…. She held the back of my sons bike seat and promised not to let him fall when he was learning to ride. She cuddled and read them bedtime stories, she told them how special they were, she told them she loved them.
I felt bad for what happened to her. Even if maybe she had it coming…. (Karma’s a bitch)
And my kids love her.
Today my daughter sat in a car waiting for her father to help her grandfather stock hay at his barn. My little girl screamed her lungs out for Grandma Sue… Grandma Sue walked past that little girl. She didn’t look at her, didn’t knock a hello on the window.
Grandma Sue broke my baby’s heart today.
Savanna sat on my lap in tears this afternoon. She whispered in my ear, “Mommy, do you want to know why I’m sad?”
I already knew the answer.
“Why baby?”
She looked down at her little fists and tears dripped down her cheeks, “Grandma Sue doesn’t want to see me anymore.”
I tried not to cry as I held her little body against mine and rocked.
Sad brown eyes looked up at me. “Why doesn’t Grandma Sue love me anymore Mommy?”
I wanted to lie to her… tell her anything but the truth.
I choked. I didn’t say anything. I hugged her again and asked if she wanted to help make dinner….
We all get to be selfish sometimes.
My little girl did nothing wrong to that woman.
It wasn’t Sue’s turn to be selfish.

Damn mosquitoes

"I'd been in the bush for almost 28 days... You can't even begin to understand what that is like..."

I love when he tells me stories... He sits at the edge of the bar. A pitcher of Miller lite in front of him. His gray hair is cropped close. He still wears the crew cut from his youth. A purple and gold Vikings jacket rests on the back of his bar stool. We sit in comfortable silence for moments on end.... The Packers play in the background.

"We hadn't showered for a month. The fire play during Vietnam was hot. When we were finally pulled out by by helicopter, my guys couldn't wait to shit on a real toilet. You don't even understand..."

He paused to take a long swig of beer... he tossed back a few olives... I lit a smoke and hoped he'd continue his story.

"The guys cheered as the LZ area.... you know... the drop site... a friendly area...Came into view... We were all looking forward to showers... a hot meal.... a pillow...

As we piled off the plane, the base commander met our plane. I greeted him with my troops.

"we're looking forward to a rest commander." I told him as he approached my group.

"Just because you're back doesn't mean you're entitled to special treatment Sargent. You're troop will take guard duty tonight." He responded.

I didn't have words to respond.... I almost spit in his face. "My guys haven't had a warm meal or a nights rest in almost a month commander... We're tired... and we're worn out..."

I get hot just thinking about it.... I was really about to get in his face when my corporal *Joe Sminickski stepped in.... I'll never forget that guy... young kid outta Alabama... redneck to the core and as good a guy as them come...

"S'okay Sarge.... I'll take first duty... You guys go get showered... It's okay..."

He actually pushed me back...

Mike* took another long swig of beer and was lost in his mind for a few moments... drifting between now and then maybe....

"We returned to the barracks to shower...."

~a smile lit his face~

"You don't even know what it's like hun.... You can't even imagine... A warm shower... and a movie... OH!!! Hun... it doesn't sound like much... but a movie was... Oh... it was such a treat.... a real treat...."

"We watched some movie... for the life of me I don't know what it was... Then we piled into our beds... Beds which were cots under shit... just piles of shit... and all of us were thankful for the cots under our sore bodies...

The gun fire erupted just after 21:00... My troop shot from their beds like the soldiers they were.... We grabbed our rifles and took cover positions.... My first thought was shit they're here... they located our position and they're here.... My mind goes blank mostly at that point... It's a function only mode.... I was ready to lead my guys back into the bush... even if the bush was right outside our barracks...."

Lights we're coming on all over the camp as we left our barracks in formation... I saw Joe lighting off rounds into the dark on top of the barracks. I shouted to him, "Joe where's the target...."

"S'Okay Sarge... go back to bed...." He called to me...

I could see the rest of the platoon coming alive for battle.. ready to die to protect their brothers....

"Sarge," He hollered over the cover fire of emerging soldiers....

"Go back to bed sarge... S'okay.... I was just killin fucking mosquitoes...."

~Mike chuckles to himself... poor kid... didn't realize he'd almost gotted shot... or that he'd woken the whole base up with his gun fire....

He was just 'killin fuckin mosquitoes' ... damn.... Joe got himself killed the next time we met some gooks.... got his neck shot through...."

Mike was quiet for a long time then... I sipped my diet Pepsi next to him...

"Girl," he finally said. " You and your generation won't ever understand..."

He didn't talk much after that... too full of thoughts I suppose...

He put on his Vikings jacket with barely a word and nodded a good bye...

all I thought was, damn mosquitoes.

Maybe

Her dads name is Ryder.
His hair is dark grey and his eyes seem almost black. Maybe they only look black to me because I know his story.

Ryder is one of the original Outlaws. He’s a hard man. He’s a fair tipper.
He drinks Coors light on tap.

The guy at the bar with her doesn’t know about her dad. Or maybe he does. It doesn’t seem to matter to him if he does know it.

His wife’s name is Brenda* Brenda is soft spoken. She’s soft and round, with a cherub face, hazel eyes and blonde curls.

She doesn’t drink much. If she does, it’s a vodka cocktail or two. I cut her off after three. She calls giggling the next day to thank me.

The girl at the bar doesn’t seem to know about Brenda though. Or maybe she does. It doesn’t seem to matter to her if she does.

The girl dances like a stripper. Slow curves and teasing glances. She licks her lips and reapplies gloss.

I’m pretty sure it’s strawberry; I can smell it over the smoke.

She could be beautiful. Eyes so blue they pierce the darkness of the smoky room, and long auburn hair that falls seductively over her eyes. It sounds to clichéd to say her skin looks like porcelain, but the description would be accurate.

She could be beautiful, but her eyes look empty.

She radiates youth and temptation. He watches her.

The bar is small, bodies pack in the doors before midnight on a Friday night. The room rings of ice hitting glass. The air pulses with the bass of the DJ’s sub woofers. Whispered conversations are shouted across brown laminated table tops.
The frenzy in the air is lost on the man.

12:45 am. Her brow is damp with heat. She’s been dancing for almost two straight hours.

Saddled up to the bar she calls me, “Lisa, back me up. Make it a double.”
I smile at her, and I call her babe, “Gotcha! Great party tonight yeah?!”

She nods. I see her scan the crowed for him. “He’s out back.” I tell her, as I mix the VO and coke.

She smiles. “I’m a whore.” She giggles. I look at her closely. “No, you’re not. Why are you doing this?”

She shrugs. One eyebrow raised she smiles and rolls her eyes.

1:30am. Draped over his arm I can see her eyes glowing foggy. I’d already cut her off.

I think maybe she’d smoked something in the parking lot.

He rubs her back.

She sits at the bar, her head in her hands. She still looks beautiful. Her blouse is half open, random guys at the bar gape openly at the cleavage that has been left exposed.

Slightly disgusted I find the excuse to come around the bar and “tidy up.” I whisper in her ear that she’s showing a bit of “downtown Cleveland.” She fumbles for the buttons for a second then gives up. To audible jeers from the crowed I help her with the top button.

That will weigh on my tips.

But she smiled a drunken thanks.

2:30am. He’s ready to go.

She puts her jacket on slowly. When he leaves to use the washroom, I touch her arm. “Mindy*, let me give you a ride home. I’m doing last call in 15mins. I’ll give you the keys to my car, you can sit there until I close up. It won’t be more than a half hour.”

She’s younger than me by a couple years, suddenly though, she looked very old. She looked very old and very tired.

She smiled a humorless grin. “What? Do you think you’re going to save me?” I shook my head. “I don’t think you need to be saved Mindy, but I think you’re better than this. And yeah, I think you need to hear that.”

Blue eyes focused on the bar. “I’m not better than this Lis.”

He emerged from the bathroom and the moment was lost.

One glance over her shoulder and they disappeared into the night.

I won’t tell Brenda. I won’t tell Ryder.

I’ve already forgotten.

I thought about Mindy for a long time that night. She’s a good girl. She’s smart. She’s funny. She’s beautiful.

I can only imagine what growing up in a family influenced by a “biker gang” could have been like. I don’t know much of Mindy’s story. I do know though that she’s broken.

She’s broken and she’s hurting.

The funny thing is, he’s a good guy too. He’s a hard worker, he’s a good friend, and he’s (mostly) honest.

Maybe they’re both just looking for something. Maybe they’re both a little lost.

Or maybe they’re both just assholes.

Maybe he’s just some guy, some guy cheating on his wife. Maybe she’s just the girl that made it possible.

Angels

* This was an old post, but I ran into Maggi* for the first time in almost a year last night. We picked up a stale conversation as if it were just yesterday. She carried sunshine with her around midnight. :) I've been at the bar now for almost 2yrs... how funny it is how life changes.

Like a ghost, she floated into the bar one Wednesday night. I'll never forget meeting her.... It was one of the first nights I closed the bar by myself... She shuffled when she walked. Head down, eyes on the floor... almost as if she was counting the tiles there... She wore a black knit hat and a red wool poncho. Her converse sneakers had seen many miles and were missing their laces. Her corduroys were brown and looked as if maybe they'd come from a rummage sale. She carried a plastic grocery bag under her arm... I thought she might bite me if I touched it.

She spoke quietly. She asked what the cheapest thing to drink was. I told her draft was on sale for .75 that night.

I noticed her hand shook as she pulled a worn black Velcro wallet from her pocket. A few pennies a nickel and a couple dimes fell out onto my bar. She looked embarrassed.

I filled her beer mug and reached into my tip jar. The night had been slow, but I could spare the change more than she could. I left her change on the bar.

Her skin was weathered, a bit like old leather. I wondered at her age. She was in her fifties at least... I think maybe though her lifestyle lent years to her frame.

We talked awhile... about the town... the new development... taxes and school districts...

She stayed long enough to finish her beer.

As she pushed herself back onto her feet, she paused... she smiled at me. I noticed she was missing teeth...

Then, like the ghost that entered, she disappeared back into the night...

Her change I noticed had been pushed into my well.

I thought about her that night as I closed. Wondered if she had somewhere to go.

***

The next time I saw her was a Sunday afternoon.... She was wondering around the building peeking in windows. I poked my head out the front door and asked her if she'd be coming in.

She smiled.

Her hands were already shaking as she pulled up a bar stool. She asked if drafts were on sale. I told her they weren't.

She stood to leave. Head down.

"Wait." I said.

"Would you stay and let me buy you a cup of coffee? I never have anyone to drink my coffee with in the mornings here... I could use some company..."

She smiled and sat back down. She told me I was a good girl.

That made me smile.

That Sunday, she stayed with me for nearly an hour. I learned that she grew up on a horse farm; she had diabetes; she loved animals; she had a dog... She didn't care much for people though...

I learned that she'd been married... Her name was *Margaret... Her husband had called her *Maggi. I wondered angrily just where the hell he was now... I felt like a shit when she told me he'd passed.

She told me I could call her Maggi if I was of a mind to.

I smiled, I told her I thought I might be.

In that moment, we became friends.

...She left as she always would. Without a word, just that toothless grin.

She began to visit me every Sunday. I looked forward to seeing her. She'd stay for coffee and a chat, and that was about it... Maggi was at least my mothers age... speaking to her though was like talking to a child... She had an innocence about the way she worded things.. Maybe that was where the fierce protective feelings that grew within me came from.... I'm not sure about that though...

***

It stormed like crazy one Sunday... I was working the night shift. The night had been slow and I began closing the bar around midnight. The neon green open sign in the window was dark. Bar stools were on their tables. I was wiping down the cooler when the door opened. I hadn't seen Maggi in two or three weeks. She came into the bar dripping wet and soaked to the core.

I hadn't been expecting anymore company. Her presence stopped me for a second... For a heartbeat I thought off hand she might be there to rob me. Then she smiled.

I felt like an asshole.

"Oh no!" She said reaching for the door. "You're closed already aren't you!?"

"Yeah, sorry Mags," I said. "time for me to go home, been a long day." A good seven months pregnant, the day had been a long one and I was missing my bed.... I still had to drive to Homewood and pick up the kids...

"It's okay.. Okay... I'll see you." She turned to leave.

I couldn't let her go back out in the storm... It was cold. The rain was freezing as it hit the ground. She was dripping on the floor.

I sat her down and started some tea. I grabbed a few dry bar rags and tried to dry her off.

Maggi smiled at me. For the first time, she pulled off the knit hat.

I couldn't stop the gasp that flew from my lips.

Her head was mostly shaved... Strings of brown and grey hair from spots she'd missed covered bald patches.... Rigid purple scars covered her scalp.

What had she seen.?

Then she smiled at me again. That toothless grin I'd come to love....

For a moment I believe she showed me her soul... I've never seen a more beautiful person.

"Maggi, " I started... Uncertain what to say. "I have to close up... Where are you going tonight...?"

She patted my hand. How ironic I thought, that she'd try to comfort me in this moment.

"I'll head to the church. It'll be warm there."

As the tea finished brewing, she patted herself mostly dry and I set the alarm on the wall. We walked out together.

I walked to my Envoy, hitting the unlock button as I approached. It beeped a welcome to me. As I leaned into my truck, I looked over at Maggi. She was huddled under the parking lot light. For a moment I thought about a lost puppy.

I couldn't leave her there.

"Hey Maggi!" I called to her. "Let me give you a ride."

She almost ran to my car, shuffle, drag,shuffle, drag... Along the icy asphalt.

When she climbed into my car, I could smell the wet wool and dirty skin she wore.

She directed me out of the parking lot.

The ride was no more than fifteen minutes... She marveled at my truck... the radio quality and comfortable seats... I thought about how Garrick and I can't wait to trade it in for a new one.... One with leather upholstery and blue tooth equipment.... I was ashamed.

She quickly disappeared behind the church when we arrived. One glance and a wave as the night engulfed her...

Garrick was angry with me when I told him I'd given her a ride... More worried about what might have happened... He's probably right, I suppose... You never know these days....

I couldn't leave her there.

I'd do it again.

***

I didn't see her the weeks before I had the baby... Or for the month I was off...

She showed up a week or two after I was back. I was happy to see her...

She was angry with me.

"You didn't tell me you were leaving!" She accused. " I came to see you... You were gone! I didn't know where you were!"

"Mags, You weren't up here, I'm sorry." I replied as I set her coffee in front of her.

She calmed down. Hands shaking she held the Styrofoam cup. She wouldn't look at me. She stared at the bar.

"I didn't have anything for the baby..." she whispered.

"Maggi. I don't need anything." I smiled. I tried to hold her hand. She pulled it away.

She looked at me, her eyes I noticed were filled with tears.

"That's not the point and you know it. That's not the point."

I didn't know what to say.

She then reached into her plastic Wilco bag, the one I imagined was filled with her treasures. She pulled out a small yellow fleece prayer shawl... The kind Catholic churches give patients...

"It's not much... " She whispered handing me the piece of fabric.

"I want you to give this to your baby from me... Please..."

It meant more to me than gold.

"We're friends right?" She smiled...

She was so beautiful.

***

I see Maggi every now and again. The weather is warmer now and I imagine there are other places she haunts... I look forward to her visits now and again..

I think maybe there are angels in this dark world of ours. Angels here to teach us something... Angels here to test our character...

I think maybe it's easy to pass them by everyday, easy to look the other way, easy to do nothing... I think maybe we mostly do...

I know Maggi is an angel.

I'm proud to call her my friend.

Anti Climatic

Da Bears.

Some things I DON'T understand about professional football:

1.) Why can't Cutler complete a pass?

2.) Why can't Chicago score from the half yard line at first and goal?

3.) Why don't the Bears fall on a fumbled ball instead of trying to run with it?

4.) Why doesn't someone rip Hesters dreads out of his head to stop a play? (He's one of the only Bears that showed up to play tonight though... so I'm not going to hate.)

5.) Dang Brad Maynard is one hellova kicker.

(I know that doesn't fit in w/ the scope of the blog here... bear with me.)

In the words of the Bad News Bears, "I guess we suck again this year..."

Life's a Beach

The kids and I spent yesterday at the beach. Amidst laundry and dishes and stacks of both homework and Workman's comp. print outs, We left it all behind us as we ventured to Indiana Dunes State park.

The beach was full of people. A rainbow of bikinis and board shorts at every glance.

Caiden and Savanna dutifully pushed their arms into the restricting swim wings. Mommy only has so many hands... Conner played at the waters breaking point.

Sandcastles and moats filled the next few hours as we played in the surf... Never thinking about the world that awaited us...

I watched as Savanna made friends with a beautiful blond girl. Pink bathing suit and blue eyes. She looked like an American doll... I wondered where her mom was... Savanna and American girl built castle after castle as I brought them shells and rocks to pave their imaginary driveways... Every few minutes I looked around... wondering where her mom was... wondering why she was missing this...

She found her mom about an hour later. Sitting perhaps 30ft from us... Her mom was writing in a notebook. For a second I wondered if it was a journal... Then I saw the bills float from the dividers.... I guess for a second I'd hoped she'd simply been capturing the moment in prose... I guess not... I guess there was something more important than the sandcastles that were now little more than a memory...

For a second, I was reminded of all the things waiting for me at home... the bills and the housework... the job and the investments....

Savanna smiled at me and tossed a hand full of sand towards my lap... I grinned.

Racing full speed toward my angel, I threw her in the air and tossed her into the waves. She came up sputtering and laughing, "Again Mommy!!! Again!!!"

The bills will still be there when I get home.

Glass Houses

"Those in glass houses dare not cast stones."

No one understands the truth of this statement as well as a bartender. One of my job requirements is that of a secret keeper. I know more about most of my regulars than their wives, lovers, family and friends. People talk to me.... I listen... Then, for the sake of all arguments, I forget.... No one really forgets though....

The blurry tear filled eyes of a man who's lost it all.... The whispers of regret that a desperate woman shares with the only stranger willing to listen.... The confessions of infidelity... Lies... Betrayal. I could write a novel about all of the things I've conveniently "forgotten" over the years....

It's easy, this life I've chosen... These people are my friends, and I love them.... they're easy to love... and they love me... As long as I smile... as long as I'm optimistic.... As long as I lie.... As long as I don't expect them to be the shoulder for me....

.... After all, it's all business when it comes right down to it...