Jerry

February 19, 2019
Beasley House Bistro
Mill Street Organic
March 11, 2019
John Street Diner
Heineken

Well, I’m awake. I should sleep a little more, but I’m awake. I guess I should probably sleep a lot more, but I’m dreaming. Ha.

Oh, this house. If I put my feet on the floor, I’ll have to accept that it’s mine and that I have to deal with it. Ah well, here I go anyhow.

My knees, how they ache; not as much as my back, but still. Alright, alright, here we go… I’m up.

It’s so big. It didn’t use to be so big. It was full of so much more than just me. I look at the hooks by the front door; just my two coats there. The old one I wear to push the bins to the curb and sweep snow off the back stoop, and the good one, the one I wear to the market and the barber’s.

There used to be too many coats. Too many! “You kids!” I was always yelling, “You kids! Hang up those coats. Look at the floor. You see any coat hooks down there?” Ah, I was always saying that, you know?

Now though, just my two coats.

So, I get up. I shuffle down the hall and past the door where I see my two coats and I shrug a little deeper into my housecoat. The floor is so cold, even through my slippers, but the bills! The bills are too damn much and I will have cold feet before I give those criminals any more money.

Ah…what is this world coming to, eh?

So, I shuffle on. The kitchen used to be warm and smell like eggs and coffee and bacon and…you know…craziness. My wife, she was always making breakfast and keeping the kids from killing each other. I can see her at the stove, her pink housecoat all pulled around her, a little crooked at the waist, sleeves rolled up past her skinny elbows, a spatula in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

Ah! everybody smoked then. They smoked, and they smoked everywhere. Can you imagine that now? If I walked in here? Smoking? Ah, boy.

But. But I can see her there at the stove with her coffee and her cigarette and her spatula. So beautiful. No makeup on. I’m telling you, that woman just had her hair pulled back in a knot at the back of her head, no makeup on and she…she was beautiful.

Anyhow, anyhow.

So, I go into the bathroom and I look and yikes! There is an old guy in there, all grizzled; wrinkly cheeks and sunken old eyes and he’s staring at me! How’d he get in here, huh? Ah, yeah, he’s always in here when I am.

When? When did I get so old? I used to be quite the Dapper Dan, you know? You don’t believe me? Heh heh. I might not either, if I were you. But it’s true, you know, I was a snappy dresser, I was.

Do you know that way back then, on Friday nights, I would come home from work always, always with flowers. Always. I would finish up my day at the accounting office downtown and I would walk down James Street to this little market that had fresh fruit and vegetables and flowers out front. So nice. You know, I didn’t buy anything fancy, just a nice little bouquet that was bright and pretty. You know, just a little something. It’s nice, eh?

In the summer I would take off my suit jacket and loosen my tie; it was always so hot, you know? I would roll up my cuffs and swing my jacket over my shoulder and just thinking about getting home would make me smile. I would carry my little bouquet and whistle some old song while I walked down the sidewalk.

You know, I always like those old Louis Prima songs. Remember that lady he sang with? No, no of course you don’t, you’re way too young. Heh heh. Well, her name was Keely Smith and wow! Wow! What a voice! Oh boy, could she sing. She would make you want to just stop and stand still and listen and dance all at the same time. She had a voice like fresh air.

My wife, my Louisa; she looked like Keely Smith sounded. Every time I would see her face, I would gasp. Just take in a big deep breath and pinch myself and say, “Boy! Boy are you the luckiest guy in the world.” She stole my breath and stopped my heart every single day.

When she got those little lines around the corners of her eyes, still. When the smile she wore every day started to make permanant foot prints around her lovely mouth, still. When her ebony hair started to have some silver woven through it, still. When she would complain that her pretty, red lipstick that she saved for Saturday nights started to bleed into the lines around her smile, still.

Even when the chemotherapy took away all of her hair and put dark shadows under her chocolate brown eyes, still.

Ah, and now I have nobody to buy flowers for.

My son, my son is so busy now. He has his own beautiful wife and his own kitchen full of kids he tries to keep from killing each other over their toast and eggs every morning. He has an office to rush off to and soccer practice to coach three nights a week. And ballet recitals and school plays and band concerts to go to and maybe sometimes, a date night. That’s what they call it now, huh? Date night.

I miss date night. I miss shaving up and slapping on my best cologne; putting pomade in my hair and holding the door open for a woman so beautiful I couldn’t ever believe she was with me.

And my lovely daughter, so much like her mother. She has her own brood to look after now too. So busy, so busy. She did pretty good after the divorce, you know; better than I thought she would, anyhow. I’m not used to these women who are so strong and independant. Good for her. She makes me so proud.

My Louisa was strong. So strong, really. But we were a team. She did her part of things and I did mine. We were like book ends, you know? You take one away and all the books fall over.

I think my books have all fallen over now.

Boy those kids sure are great. I wish I could see them more, but Steven and his family, they’re in Nova Scotia; so far. I see them every other Christmas but I don’t have any soccer practices or ballet recitals to go to.

Elena and her three are in Vancouver. Vancouver! Can you believe it? All that rain and so expensive! I don’t like to fly. It scares me. So. So I don’t see them as much as I’d like to.

So, I get up. I get up and I say to that old guy in the mirror, ” Hey! Hey you old bugger, let’s have a shave and go to the market today, huh?” And he looks at me and he says, “Well, you better shave if you’re going to the market, you old goat!”

So I shave. I use one of those electric ones now so I don’t cut myself all up. I can’t see so good to shave anymore. So I do the best job I can and I put on my Aqua Velva, and my pants and my shirt. Sometimes, even a tie. It’s hard in the winter, but I know I gotta get out, or I’ll never get out. You know?

Maybe today, I’ll see if the bread guy has any day-olds. I always like the day-old loaves and do you know why? Because nobody wants them anymore and I’m sad to see them get tossed out, you know? Like they aren’t any good anymore, but they are. So I always take the old bread. I don’t care what people think. Sure, they think, here comes old Jerry, shuffling up the street with all his old bread. What’s he gonna do with all that old bread? It’s too much for me, so I’m gonna give it away, this bread. It’s still good, you know.

My memories, they’re like that. Some people would think they’re just old and stale, but to me? To me, they’re the last delicious things I have.