Authors: Brian MacLearn
I glanced down at the For Rent sign and wasn’t surprised when I knew the phone number listed there. It was a number I had called so often before. It belonged to none other than the Dittmers. I remembered my grandma telling me that Larry’s business had been doing so well that he bought a small shop downtown and quickly outgrew it. He then moved into one of the older three-story buildings on Main Street. His new store had a display floor and plenty of room to expand his custom-built furniture and workshop. I scanned the buildings up the street and, sure enough, spotted the large sign above the display window, welcoming visitors to “Dittmer’s Fine Crafted Furniture.” I made my way across the street and headed toward Larry’s store, hoping he was there and also, at the same time, fearing that he might be.
As I approached the store, I could make out some of the furniture on exhibit in the window. He had built a complete bedroom room set and, in one corner stood a finely detailed Grandfather clock. His workmanship was extraordinary to say the least, and I could see why he had become so successful. Larry was a craftsman who befitted the acclamations of the upper echelons, yet he catered to the populace, loving his craft and enjoying the opportunity to share it with so many. I felt a great sense of pride at remembering how much he had shared with me, not just as Allison’s father, but as a mentor as well. My pride gave way to trepidation, as I reached out to open the door. I knew from the way in which he had hugged me at Grandma’s funeral that he harbored no ill feelings for me. I still felt saddened that I might have, in some way, caused him to have a lower perception of me. I valued his friendship, and I desperately wanted to have his trust again.
It took all the courage inside of me to open the door and step in. I let out my breath, and, with the possibilities of a better future, pressed the door release. It easily swung open and the bell mounted above the door began its warning tinkle. The sound of the bell let me know I had crossed the invisible barrier of no turning back. I took another deep breath and looked around the shop. At first, I didn’t see anyone and then spied some movement from behind a counter, halfway down the left side of the shop. With no other obvious course of action, I made my way toward whoever was there, without a clue as to what I was going say. Walking towards the counter, I looked around the large expanse of the store and at all of the furniture on display. It amazed me to think that Larry had built each and every impressive piece that filled his store. Knowing Mrs. Dittmer, I was certain she had played a major role in the overall growth of their business.
From behind the counter, Stacy Dittmer emerged and made her way toward me. I wasn’t quite sure how to take the expression on her face. She looked genuinely glad to see me, yet she seemed nervous, as well. I was beginning to feel that maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all, but then she smiled at me. Moving towards me, she opened her arms, offering me a hug. I took it and gladly hugged her back. We exchanged brief hellos and said, “How are you?” to each other. Trying to decipher my motive for the visit, Stacy Dittmer asked if there was anything she could do for me. I almost lost it. She could see by my face I was treading water and quickly changed the subject, asking about the band in California. I was more than happy, even grateful, to move on to other topics. I told her about the recent demo I had recorded, hoping it would be picked up by a producer sometime soon. If it did it would lead to greater opportunities down the road.
She said, “That’s wonderful,” but I noticed her heart wasn’t in her response. As we talked, I would catch the movement of her eyes, as they broke from mine to look away and over my shoulder, toward the front door. Even though she was being polite, I could sense she was preoccupied. I was beginning to wonder if she would prefer that I leave. I knew if I didn’t say something about the building for rent, now, I might not, and waste another six years floating miserably along. More than anything, I needed to have a grounded feeling again.
I was never much good at dancing around with my words and I abruptly blurted out, “Would you be open to the idea of renting me the old TV & Radio repair store?”
Stacy Dittmer’s face drained of color, and I instantly felt uneasy. I had no idea what to do or say next. My mind waited for a response, but my body was calling for me to turn around and bolt for the exit. I couldn’t shake the budding notion I’d been all wrong. I really wasn’t welcomed back here at all, and I should have never dreamed it would have even been possible. Everyone had just put up a façade to help me through the tough spot, but I shouldn’t plan on hanging around or making any long-term plans.
I let this thought fester and take root, ready to leave the town far behind me, once more…and then Stacy Dittmer spoke softly, “I could think of no one I would be any happier in renting that old store to.” When I had the courage to look into her eyes, they were full
compassion
and her top lip had begun to quiver. As quick as my doubt had risen, it was now replaced by shame. I had expected everyone to treat me the way I felt about myself, and the reaction from Stacy Dittmer was not an easy pill to swallow.
A small amount of hope began to erode the ice around my inner spirit,
and I smiled. Mrs. Dittmer
returned my smile
and we started talking about the plans I had in mind for the store. I shared my inspiration and she nodded in agreement and offered an opinion here and there. It began to feel like I was home again. I had deliberately avoided asking anything about Allison. Inside, every part of me wanted to know where she was and what she was doing…or hopefully, not doing. I asked her if Larry was around so I could say hi. She got that look on her face again and her eyes strayed to the front door. Sometimes, destiny hits you smack in the face when you’re the least prepared for it. I had barely gotten the words out, when the bell tolled behind me, announcing the arrival of someone entering the store.
With the sound of the bell, I instinctively turned to see who it was that had entered. A woman wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap, with a little boy in tow, stood next to Larry Dittmer. The woman started walking toward us then stopped. I was about to address Mr. Dittmer when I noticed the look on his face. His eyes had gotten large and his expression conveyed he was in uncharted territory. He searched his wife’s eyes behind me. Nothing else needed to be said; his look had told me everything I needed to know.
Sometimes, when you think life is turning for the better, it sneaks up and bites you from behind. The person I had most wanted to see stood in front of me, yet she might as well have been a thousand miles away. In this unexpected encounter, all the questions and hopes I harbored were answered in the bright eyes of a small boy. I had left the world of my youth and the possibilities it once held for me to live in a future full of emptiness and denial. At this moment, I would have gladly embraced the unknown and the sad comfort of that life, rather than watch the last remaining hope I clung to disappear before my eyes.
Neither of us moved nor spoke, the chasm between us seemingly insurmountable. Mr. and Mrs. Dittmer were unsure of what to do, so they let the moment play out between Allison and me, all on its own. What could I say that wouldn’t be misconstrued or hopelessly inadequate by mere words alone? I had all the proof I would ever need, in the happy face of a young boy, to know that Allison had moved well beyond me and us.
To punctuate my thought, the little boy turned to Mr. Dittmer and said, “Grandpa, you said I could have a root beer! Can we get one now? You said so!”
For an instant, Mr. Dittmer didn’t move his eyes, still locked with his wife’s, but when the little boy tugged on his pant leg, he reached down and picked him up, telling him, “sure Zachary, let’s go in back and get you that root beer.”
Larry Dittmer moved towards me and did his best to give me a sincere smile. He kindly offered me a warm, “nice to see you, Jason,” as he made his way past. I could hear the sound of Mrs. Dittmer’s footsteps fall in with those of her husband, and for the moment, Allison and I were left with each other. She made no effort to come toward me, and I stood my ground as well. I fought the emotions within me and the feeling I should just walk past her and out the door. I no longer knew what I would say or could say. Seeing her with her son took away all the aspirations I had formed in my mind of the two of us magically coming back together. I was already hanging by a single thread, and the hope that once glimmered within me toppled into the realm of fantasy, rather than reality. Now my last strand of thread broke away, and I felt a sincere sadness for all my lost opportunities.
It had been nearly six years, since I had last seen Allison, and I suddenly felt extremely guilty that I had so completely abandoned our once unbreakable relationship. I had no other excuse other than one of stupidity and youthfulness. Even that wouldn’t cut it now. She was someone I should have fought for and been willing to change for. Looking at her now, made the pain twist and stab deeper within me. Even with all that had transpired between us, I still acknowledged her love as the greatest gift I had ever received. Allison had blossomed in her motherhood and was even more stunning than she had been in high school. I felt the pull of those old memories of us together trying to capture my mind. I took a tentative step forward, towards her. She reacted by taking a step back, and I nearly lost my nerve. Whatever words we would exchange between us would be done so from a cavernous distance.
Before I could stop my brain from speaking the words of my heart, I heard my own voice declare, “I’m sorry and I hope someday you will be able to forgive me for the way I handled things back then. I have no excuses and deserve nothing from you, but for too long now, I’ve needed to tell you how I really felt!” Allison became rigid, and I could see her struggling to maintain her composure. “I see you have a son. He looks a lot like you. I bet he’s a great kid.” Allison continued her silence and gave no indication she would speak to me.
I went on, terrified of the silence. “I’m happy you found someone to share your life and start a family with! I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to you when I finally got the chance, but I knew I needed to apologize. It might sound hollow, but there hasn’t been a day gone by that I didn’t think of you or wish we’d…I’d done things differently. I know it probably doesn’t mean anything to you now, but you are the only one I hold a special place in my heart for. I...I…” the words wouldn’t come anymore, and I let my eyes drop to the floor.
We stood in silence, and when I raised my head, Allison was looking away, back towards the room where her parents and Zachary had gone. She had her arms tightly wrapped around herself and was gently rocking back and forth. Seeing it as my clue to end our encounter, I moved towards the door, careful to keep the distance between us. I didn’t want to make things any more difficult than I already had.
Before my hand grasped the handle on the door, she called out from behind me, “Jason! I am truly sorry about your grandpa and grandma. They were wonderful people.” I couldn’t turn around and just opened the door. I walked out, not wanting her to see the tears that had started to run down my cheeks, even before she had called out to me.
The sound of her voice touched the very core of my soul. The loss I felt was total, and the tears came more freely. I let them roll down my face, as I stepped into the sunshine of the street. I turned back towards home or what used to be home a lifetime ago. When I was out of sight of the store, I used my shirtsleeve to wipe my eyes and lowered the sunglasses that were resting on top of my head.
I followed my feet, and they guided me into the Last Spot tavern. The inside hadn’t changed much. It still had the same hard wood and alcohol smells, mixed with wood polish and cigarette smoke. I headed for one of the back booths, as far away from the main traffic as I could get. I didn’t need to worry about other people infringing on my need for solitude; there were only a couple of other people in the place. I didn’t recognize either one of them and slowly began to recover from my intense moment with Allison. I sat in the booth, so I could face the back wall rather than looking toward the entrance and the center of the bar.
I was looking for some solace and I was smart enough to know that it didn’t come in the form of a bottle. Having seen my dad go through his bout with alcohol had made me more cautious in my life, and I established my own personal guidelines for consumption. What I wanted was to just sit here and think. I wanted time to analyze what had just transpired with Allison and hopefully make some sense of the feelings churning inside of me. On the wall facing me was a picture of a mountain stream and cabin. It was somewhere far away from Cedar Junction, Iowa, and a place I would love to have been holed up in. I felt the presence of someone standing, just behind my shoulder. Still wearing my sunglasses, it made it more difficult to see in the dimly lit bar. I didn’t want to remove them and allow my red eyes to be seen. I turned to look at who it was. Standing there was a girl, maybe my age or older, looking down at me. I didn’t recognize her at first, but had the feeling I should know who she was.
The looks may have changed, but when she asked me what I’d like to drink, I knew her voice in an instant, Melissa Chambers. To say that she looked tough and worn would be an understatement. I smiled and said, “Hey, Melissa, nice to see you! Why don’t you bring me a draw of whatever light beer you have on tap.” She smiled back at me, happy I remembered her. She said she’d be back in a jiffy. Spinning around and heading back to the main bar, she climbed up on the foot rail. She reached over the countertop and grabbed a glass, filling it under the tap. She brought it over and placed a napkin down, before setting the beer glass on it.