For Ruben with Love and Respect
It was like any other rainy night in my bar, slow very slow.
I was glad to see Ruben when he walked in dripping water all over the carpet.
We’d met before, I'd figured him for just another scooter tramp down on his luck.
I had the feeling he’d bounced around a lot, trying hard not to look back.
He was an easy guy to like kinda quiet and proud, I liked that he always stood up straight.
I felt certain he’d seen better days, truer friends and more money in his pockets.
It was his eyes, there was a sparkle and a certainty to his words, yet all of it was draped with a painful edge. I poured him a coffee and asked if he’d like to play a game of pool. He nodded fishing quarters from his damp pockets.
I was curious now and since I wasn’t expecting a rush with the storm ragging outside. I wondered if there was a woman at the heart of this man. He let me break carefully watching where the balls came to rest. It was open, as he chalked his stick, walking the length of the table. “What?” he asked. Looking at me over his shot. “I was just wondering what your story was? I’ve known you a few years now and I’ve never heard you utter a single word about your life, I’m just curious. You don’t need to answer” I said feeling a bit self conscious. With that said he quickly sunk three balls with intense precision.
When he missed the fourth ball, he picked up the coffee cup and took a sip. With his back to me, as I searched for an easy shot. He said, “She was the one, the good and bad of her.
When I fell for her I never got up. I loved her more than I could ever love anyone. But we were young and wild, and after a while drugs ruled our world. The drugs became more important than the kids, the bills more import than anything. I knew it was time to go when I realized they were more important than her”.
He didn’t have to tell me I already knew. I could read it in his eyes, which clearly was a place that pain lived. It made a shiver crawl up my spine. It made me sad for him but I knew my pity was the last thing he wanted. Chalking his cue he said, “No lie ever equals the truth. I’ve done everything wrong and very little right. Now she and I are nothing more than bad company and bad news. So I packed my shit and ran. No good-bye, just gone”.
“Now it’s been five years. I’m sober two now. I tried drinking her memory to death but that didn’t happen. I tried beating her memory out of anyone that looked in my direction. I got beat up a lot, won some, the scares didn’t help my looks any” he said, laughing at his own joke. "Never was no movie star, so I gave that up too. Fighting wasn’t making me feel any better”.
He took a breath and lit another Marlboro drawing the smoke down deep. “Next I just went numb, didn’t talk much, didn’t have nothing worth saying. I stayed away from old friends and family cause I knew they’d ask questions or give advice that I’d never take. Doin what’s right was never my way or I wouldn’t be me; my family knows that all too well”.
It was his shot and after sinking two more balls he finally missed. He stroked the cue stick, then stood with his back to the wall again. Seemed like he was waiting for me to ask something but I didn’t. I missed my shot, no real surprise there, I wasn’t nearly the pool player that he was but he was patient. He told me I needed to concentrate, but I was more interested in hearing the rest of his story. As he chalked his stick walking the length of the green felt appraising the table, he quietly began talking again.
“Yea, numb beat the hell out of the drugged haze, or the tequila hangovers and it sure as hell was better than black eyes and swollen lips. It takes a while to shut it all out, the kids and her face. They kinda haunt you. Guilt cuts like a very dull knife. You beat the hell outta yourself with coulda, woulda, shoulda. I danced that one to death. Now I don't think about it, well not often anyway, I’m reconciled it’s just over plain and simple. My kids know where I am for the most part. But their not rushing to visit Daddy, can’t blame um, wouldn’t know what to say if they did show up. Sorry won’t cut it. I don’t have answers for um, it just was what it was. Cold but true, can’t lie to um. I lied to myself enough over the years. I won’t go there again. Fact is their Dad’s a loser. I couldn’t handle it but they already know that. So there would be no point in looking me up”.
He’d put three balls in and never missed a beat. He lined up on the eight ball. It slowly rolled into the side pocket with very little effort. “Good game” he said “You’ll get better if you practice enough”. I nodded knowing he was right; knowing also that I’d never spend the time. He finished his coffee then clamped the stick back into the rack. He asked “o.k. if I hang out with you a while"? I nodded refilling his cup. The coffee smelled especially good so I poured myself one sliding onto the stool next to his. I raised my cup as in a toast “to you Ruben may life be kinder and the road you travel be smooth”.
After that night Ruben stopped by most every night I worked. He’d show up right about last call. I’d pour him a coffee and he’d sit while I did my closing chores. Then he’d walk me to my truck and wait while I got her started. Then he’d fire up that custom silver bike of his and ride away.
Over the years Ruben slept on my couch a few times when he had no where else to go. He was always gone before my son and I got up. Never leaving a mess or wearing out his welcome. I loaned him twenty bucks once not ever really expecting to see it again. However, in Ruben fashion about a year later he tracked me down one Friday night bought me a drink and handed me a twenty. “I owe you” he said noting the surprised look on my face. “Your one of the few friends I’ve got, I needed to pay it back” was all he said.
Last time I saw him I picked him up for lunch. He was working at some bike shop in San Fernando. He looked good, happy actually; the sadness in his eyes seemed to have lessened. He was sporting a new tattoo on his, neck it was his girl’s name. A bit much in my opinion but he seemed happy about it and her; which made me very happy for them both. It was a good lunch, he talked a lot for him and with my usual interest I listened. His road had turned; he’d finally given himself the permission he so obviously deserved, to be happy again!
Sadly, it was just a few short years later when I heard via the rumor mill, that Ruben had passed away. I was sad to lose him, in an odd way that ole scooter tramp and I had made a real connection, although we were very different we had become friends. So now when I think of how happy he seemed the last time I saw him, it gives me a warm feeling. Happiness even for the shortest time is better than none at all. Ride on my friend, ride on.
Six Shooter Sally
05/2005
