C O N V E R G E

I got a lovely email from Elyse today reminding me of a short story I wrote in 2003. I’d been shuffling for hours in my livejournal account for it, I was almost sure I wasn’t going to find it but I did. I actually forgot I wrote this. It’s nice to forget that I wrote it though as I could be completely objective about it. Anyway I’m going to repost it for shits.

——–

so a man walks up to me in a diner while I sit there quietly enjoying my maybe third or fourth cup of coffee. he sits on the stool next to me near the counter and I’m about to light my cigarette.

the man says, “hey kid, could you do me a favor and allow me to bum one of those off ya?”

and I say, “sure, but maybe you can do me the favor of not calling me ‘kid’ eh?”

“my apologies kind sir”, he says as I pull out another cigarette.

“so, what’s a young–guy like you doing around here?” says the man as he takes a drag.
without looking at him, “oh, you know, site seeing maybe perhaps a little writing”

“I see, but you don’t seem to fit around ‘ere ya know what I mean?” he exhales a plume of smoke.

“it’s just, I come into this diner pretty much every morning. I know all these tired faces and each and every day they dont look a bit younger, or happier, or even like its going to be their last day. they’ve become somewhat apart of this place, as if they have no choice but to come here and order their same meals.”

I look at him with little concern, “and what about yourself?”

“ha ha, me? shit son. you got me there. perhaps I’m too busy noticing everyone else, I’ve forgotten how it feels to take a good look at my sorry hide for a chance. so how do I look?” he asks.

“like a million bucks?”

“good, thanks for humoring me, but a man like me gets to that point where, humor only comes in tiny moments of sadness. when something becomes so depressing, you can’t help but chuckle to yourself and realize where the time went, where you could laugh without crying. Oh, but listen to me, I’m babbling again… Say, you never answered my quesiton, is it alright if I ask? I mean it’s just I’ve never seen you hear before”

“Well I usually only come here when I’m on business. I don’t even know the name of this town, but that hardly matters. But I like to take a little time to notice faces. People are just so fascinating, as you said they’re always here in the mornings ordering the same things, not looking a day happier or younger. and its true. You’re definately on to something.”

“You say that as if you hardly get out, what kind of business are you in anyway?” the old man asked.

I felt he was asking a bit too many questions and I felt I needed to change the subject.

“You see that lady over there?” I pointed behind us.

“Yeh, that’s Mrs. Polina shes always in here by herself and always sits in the same booth. every goddamn day and you know when she comes in the waiter asks how many and she says-get this-two! I’m guessing shes still hung over an old man of hers, she’s probably a windower, or maybe just kooky, i guess now that I think about it that way, I feel kind of bad.”

“Yes, she still sets her dinner table at home for two as well. and she still cooks just before six, just about the time he used to come back from work. He has been gone for ten years, but the human mind has the amazing capacity to convince itself of certain realities. but, humans are prone to routine and comfort. it is comfortable to ignore change and not accept it.”

“eh, what are you? followin her around or somethin? how do you know all those things?”

“I know a lot of things Harold” I said.

“Wha.. wait wait a second, how do you know my name?!” he screamed.

“Now now, settle down. Let’s think about this now” I asked,
“I asked you Harold, why are you here? Have you asked yourself this? while you’re going over everyones faces? Have you any idea why Mrs. Polina comes here every afternoon? Is there some kind of reason you’re always the first one here and the last one to leave?”

“What?! What is this?–” he studdered

“Think Harold”

“I-I-Dont know, I just come here for breakfast and I’m out of the job and I-”

Sometimes, in a moment of brief realization, you feel that chill down your back and the hairs on your body raise from your skin. As currents pulsate through those nerve endings, our friend Harold has come to the conclusion of why he exists and why these people are the way they are and just exactly why I am here and why he’s here every day and every night. I guess it’s only somewhat funny to me, but then again, I’ve seen this hundreds upon hundreds of times. I guess it’s just like Harold said, sometimes in those tiny moments of sadness, you’ll find yourself laughing, not because it’s funny, but that there is really nothing else to feel, and laughter feels better. Like a warm blanket being tossed over your body, we have our own defense mechanisms, to help us deal. But our pal Harold here, he isn’t laughing. Neither is anyone in the diner.

Without a word, Harold gets up and walks slowly over to the booth where Mrs. Polina sits. His old liver spot marked hands are shaking violently as his jaw seems to have lost function. He sits down next to Mrs. Polina to have a good view of something shes been staring at the entire time. It is an old military photograph of a stern looking man in his late forties. Harold smiles, and says to me,

“..why.. I haven’t.. I haven’t seen this photo in years..”

I turned my stool around, “I know Harold, you were quite handsome then”

“..I.. was.. wasn’t..I..” his voice drifted off into a mumble.

He began to sob. Covering his face in his old brittle hands and wept genuine tears. I hated to interrupt but, my time here had made its purpose.

“it’s time to go Harold.” I said quietly, with my hand on his shoulder.

“but, but what about Dianne?? Oh god, what have I done? What will happen to her? Can I speak to her one last time? Please??! OH GOD, WHAT IS HAPPENING?!” he shouted.

“You never came home Harold, it’s been several years, and you’ve been here all this time”.

“Can’t you do something about this?” he pleaded.

“I’m sorry Harold, old pal, I’m just here to get you out of this place, you belong somewhere else”.

I never said I liked my job or that I really hated it. But I find that everyday, people surprize me. When out of the blue, their mortality comes by to smack them a good one across the face. I’m not laughing at them when this happens either, I do feel some pity, but afterall, I am only here to pick up those occassionally lost souls who manage to never get anywhere. I don’t really call it limbo, but sometimes people are convinced of certain things, to a point where they ignore every realistic event and hide in some sort of dream or fiction novel. Even though, Harold has been gone from Dianne’s life for several years, she’ll get by, and some day she won’t set the table for two and Harold won’t always be at the diner looking over all the old faces. People don’t forget because they want to, but because they have to sometimes, to get by. That goes for Dianne and that goes the same for Harold, but it all seems pretty trivial to you and I.

I put out my cigarette in the amber ashtray on the counter. Took Harold by the hand and left the diner.

Harold looked up at me and sniffled, “So, kid where am I going now?”

“Ha ha Harold, you were always a funny guy.”

I guess Harold was right, even in the saddest moments I find myself smiling. For no reason at all.