Captive Audience Pt. 2

I was audience to a rambling bum recently. This is part two of my recollection of the experience.

I neither asked this man to give me his name, nor shared mine. He showed me the same courtesy. In fact, I never asked him anything at all and in turn, my silence was rewarded with his life-story. In the last installment, we learned that our man wasn't always down in the dumps as he is now. He once had a job travelling the country, "bringing it" as truckers do, which allowed him to pay rent, which gave him a place to park his Class C automobiles and, among other things, his bed, which he shared with his loving wife. They were a working couple who didn't always see as much of each other as they might have liked. He couldn't tell me enough how much she meant to him. I was half expecting her to sneak out from around the corner and give him a kiss on the cheek for praising her the way he did. She didn't. I was about to find out why she never would again.

What surprised me about his story was how well it was told. Up until this point, the man had been friendly, but very timid. His actions were constrained, his speech was gentle, and his sentences were poorly constructed at times. Before I knew it, I was savoring every word the man said.

His sad tale began as he was driving home from his local thai food joint. Thai was Lisa's favorite food. Our man was joyfully about to deliver a surprise meal to his missus. He was supposed to have been driving his rig, but he'd ducked out early. He walked in the front door and set things up by the book: nice tablecloth, low lights and candles, sexy music. Then he sat down, waited for his belle, and let himself dream up a slideshow of dances shared, cherished kisses, and they joy they would share over their meal that night.

After nearly forty minutes had passed, he snuffed the candles. Worried, he paced around a bit. She should have been home by now. She wouldn't be at the office this late. Traffic was never this bad. He stepped outside to have a cigarette. What errands might she run so late? Where could she be? His neighbor approached and could see how worried he was. He bravely declined his neighbors offer for a consolatory hit of crack. Time continued to pass. He went inside and sat down for a few minutes before he heard an appropriately authoritative knock at his door. The police had arrived, and after verifying he was Lisa's husband they asked him to take a seat. They said they were sorry to have to break the news to him.

Her untimely death was caused by a drunk driver running a stop sign. It's a tragic and helpless way to go, and the news hit our poor boy hard. Though they had made funeral arrangements together, he spent extra money and sold a few possesions in order to give Lisa the best funeral he could manage. She was buried in a magnificent mahogany coffin after being honored by her friends and family.

Next: What happened next...