My father died suddenly one bleak December morning. He died during surgery, a few hours after a car accident, leaving my mother and my brothers and I floundering as we tried to make some kind of sense of it. He didn't get to say good-bye to us or say any of the things that are supposed to sustain you through your grief.
I didn't get to tell him all the things I needed to say either. Like, "Don't worry about me, I'll be all right." or "Thank you for taking care of me my whole life." That was the hardest part.
I didn't have anyone to talk to either, or maybe I just chose not to talk to anyone. Yeah, I think that was it. I had older brothers and I think I can vaguely remember a few times them trying to talk to me. I can't be sure though, because it all felt so unreal and it's hard to remember now.
I had these shocks, I guess you'd call them. I would be going to sleep and it was like my dad was there. I could see him, feel him, could sometimes smell his aftershave. I would startle from the shock of it and the realization that he was gone. This happened night after night, until I became afraid to sleep.
Sometimes in the middle of the night, when I couldn't bear to sleep, I'd walk to a bar that my dad used to go to and I'd sit quietly and observe the bartender. I'd just sit and watch him while he served drinks and chatted with the customers. His name was Carl and he was middle-aged and kind of heavy set-- husky I guess is the word. He used to be good friends with my father and he knew me too, and was always really friendly to me. Anyway, I would watch him, as he went about his work, and his cheerful smile and steadying presence just somehow sustained me through the lonely hours of early morning. my mind drifts back now, as I'm writing this, to one night in particular.
I sat down at the bar and listened to the song that was playing on the old jukebox in the corner. The song was by Bob Seger, and was was titled "Main Street". I listened to the words as I waited for Carl to come back. The tune and the lyrics haunted me as I listened.. 'Sometime even now when I'm feeling lonely and beat, I drift back in time and I find my feet...down on Main Street'. My dad had always loved that song. He once told me it reminded him of the night that he had proposed to my mom. I dipped my head as I felt tears stinging the back of my eyes. Why did I have to be tormented like this? Why couldn't I have one freaking minute of peace? I lifted my head and blinked back the tears that were forming.
"Don't do this!" I chided myself in a whisper.
"Don't do what?" Carl was suddenly behind the bar again and had obviously heard me.
I tried to smile. "Just talking to myself again," I said as I looked up at him.
"That's the first sign of madness, you know," he said with a chuckle as he squeezed my arm.
"No surprise there," I answered back lightly.
He winked at me. "So what'll it be, youngster?" he inquired as he mopped the bar with a towel. "The usual?"
I nodded and watched as he mixed a Midori sour. I noticed his hands in particular, as he made the drink. They were strong looking hands, with a rough and capable appearance. I watched how steady they were and then I looked down at my own nail-bitten fingers. There was a slight tremor as I splayed my long, thin fingers on the top of the bar and looked closely at them. 'They look like Dad's hands,' I thought to myself as I studied them. I came out of my reverie as Carl set my drink in front of me.
"On the house."
I smiled at him. "Thanks Carl," I said and then took a sip. "It's really good, thanks," I added again.
I waited for him to get back to work so I could relax and watch him from a distance, but he just stood there, looking at me. I took another sip and then looked into his face. He looked concerned about something as he gazed steadily at me. I smiled again, feeling uncomfortable. "Really good drink," I mumbled.
He cleared his throat. "So, what have you been up to lately?" he asked.
"Not too much," I said vaguely.
He put his hand on my shoulder and I startled a little.
"You know you don't look real good. Have you been sleeping okay?" I could hear genuine concern in his voice.
I nodded, afraid of where this was leading. He was going to say something about my dad. I just knew it, and I didn't want to talk about it. I turned slightly away from him on my barstool, hoping he'd take the hint. He didn't.
"You know your dad used to talk about you a lot and how proud he was of you." His voice was too gentle, and I could feel the stinging in the back of my eyes again.
"Uh huh," I said tightly as I bit at my lower lip.
He nodded and I noticed the look of remembrance in his eyes. Suddenly, I felt like I had to get out of there!
I pushed my half empty glass way from me. "Well, I guess.."
"If you ever need anyone to talk to," he interrupted, "You can always talk to me." As he said it he put his hand on my arm again. It was just pure impulse that made me shove him in the chest. I just wanted him to shut up. That's all.
He stumbled back a step and then glared at me. "What the hell are you doing!?" he roared.
I stood up quickly and put my hands up in a calming gesture. "I'm sorry," I said quickly, shocked at my own behavior.
He came out from behind the bar so fast that I didn't have a chance to do anything. Grabbing me roughly by the elbow he started dragging me toward the door to the back room. I dug my heels in but he was way stronger than me.
"Look," I said as I wildly looked around, and noticed a few people watching us, "I didn't mean to do that, Carl. I really didn't," I assured him while trying to keep my voice down.
He didn't seem to hear me though, as he opened the door to that back room and jerked me inside with him. I looked quickly around and saw a couple of kegs and some bottles and crates on the floor. It was the storage room obviously. I looked at Carl, who still looked furious. He was standing with his hands on his hips, blocking my exit, and I felt my legs begin to shake. "I'm sorry," I repeated as I edged my way toward a chair near the corner. I was afraid my legs were going to give out. I kept my eye him as made my way toward it.
"You don't shove people!" he barked at me.
I jumped at his tone. "I know," I answered as I stopped in my tracks.
He stepped away from the door and closed it. Turning back to me he began to unbuckle his belt.
I started babbling then. "No Carl, you're not thinking right...I told you I didn't mean...You wouldn't stop...please just let me go. I'm sorry..I wasn't thinking. I just..." my voice trailed off as my mouth continued to move.
"I think I know what you need!" he spat out as he swished his belt through the loops.
I backed up, stumbling over a box. "No Carl, I don't need THAT!" I cried out, as I looked for some means of escape.
He stood there huffing and puffing and then I watched as he folded the belt over. "Tell me why you did that then!" he demanded. "Did I do anything to make you do that?!"
I shook my head quickly. "No, No! You didn't do anything. I just didn't want to talk about..." My voice trailed off again, and I felt a dead, cold feeling inside.
He strode over to me as I flinched back, and when he reached me, he took me by the back of the neck and manhandled me over to the chair.
"Your dad wouldn't have put up with that kind of behavior, and neither will I!" he said as he sat down and pulled me down with him. As I lay across his lap, staring at the wood floor, I tried to reason with him. "Carl you know this isn't right," I said as my heart pounded with fear. It was all I could do to keep my voice from shaking. "I told you already that it was purely reflex. Please let me up and I'll just go. I just didn't want to have to think about..."
"I'll give you something else to think about then!" he interrupted roughly as he brought the belt crashing down on the seat of my jeans. "You can think about this whipping and why you're getting it."
My head snapped up and I tried to twist off his lap. I felt his arm wrapping around my waist, pinning me close to his stomach. And then, I started to cry out of sheer frustration and helplessness. "It was just a reflex! I didn't mean to push you!" I yelled, and then gasped for breath when he brought the belt down again.
"Phil said you were a good boy!" he growled as he continued smacking me. I desperately needed to block the sound of his voice, and the cruel words coming from his mouth, so I lifted my palms from the floor and covered my ears. The next thing I knew, he grabbed me by the back of my coat just before my nose hit the floor. I put my hands back down
The swats from the belt stung, even through my jeans, and I tried to shift away from them. He held me tightly though so it was really no use. All of a sudden I felt tremendously sorry for myself. I hadn't meant to push him. I had just come to the bar to hang around him. 'My life sucks so bad,' I reminded myself as he continued spanking me with his belt. He didn't seem to want to stop smacking me, and after a while my butt was burning pretty bad. I couldn't think about anything else, as tears of pain began leaking from my eyes. "Please stop now Carl," I ground out through my clenched teeth.
Suddenly he stopped belting me, and the room was very quiet. Then I heard him sob. I opened my eyes wide in amazement and then heard the belt hitting the floor and the buckle clanking. I lay there panting and listened to him sobbing as tears continued to run down my face. "Don't cry," I finally choked out.
"He was my best friend," he said, his voice cracking with the words.
"He was my best friend too," I said miserably.
I felt his palm on my back and he began to rub gently. "Every time I see you I think how much you're like him," he said.
I bit my lip to keep from crying out. "I can't talk about it, Carl," I practically moaned. "Please..."
I heard him sniff and then felt his strong hands around me, as he helped me to my feet. I stood there looking at him and I saw that his eyes were red.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, and I didn't just mean for shoving him. I was sorry that he was hurting. I was sorry that it hurt me too much to talk about my dad with him. I felt like he needed to talk but I had to survive, and it hurt too much remember when I didn't absolutely have to.
He seemed to understand the meaning of my words and he nodded. "You probably won't want to come back here anymore will you?" he asked, his voice sounding gravelly."
"I like it here," I assured him. "I'd like to come back if you still want me hanging around here."
He clapped me on the back and smiled. "Yeah," he said in his friendly way, "I do."
We walked back out front and I sat down gingerly on the barstool, wincing a little. My butt was still tender, but I also felt a warmth back there, which was kind of pleasant. It was the first sensation of warmth that I'd felt in a long time.
"Finish your drink," Carl rumbled, as he pushed it back over to me. I picked my glass up and drained it quickly. "I guess I'll be going, I said as I pulled the collar of my jacket up."
He turned and nodded. "Be back tomorrow night?" he asked, sounding casual.
I nodded as I turned to go. "Probably so," I replied as I gave him a small wave.
As I opened the door to leave, the chilly night air rushed against my face and I shivered. As I was pulling the door closed behind me, I could hear the jukebox playing "Main Street" once again. I stopped the door just as it was closing and poked my head back inside. I saw Carl leaning with his hands on the jukebox, His head down, as he moved slightly with the music. I watched him for a moment and slowly began my walk home.
As I walked with my hands stuffed into the pockets of my coat, I shivered against the cold I felt. I thought about Carl and how he needed someone to talk to about his loss. And I knew that someone was me. And at that moment I felt very sad, because I wasn't capable of listening. And then I thought about the spanking he had given me. I didn't know how I felt about it, because while I was getting it, the coldness inside went away. I had been able to stop thinking for a few minutes because the sting and emotion of it, had filled my entire being. and for a moment there I had felt almost secure. Like you might feel if you didn't know that life as you knew it could end at any moment. I wanted to be around Carl--I needed to-- but I just couldn't let myself dwell in the past because even the good memories hurt me. Talking about it just made no sense.
'But maybe we can just hang around each other,' I thought, as I walked. 'And maybe that will be enough.'