Northwest Ohio ,
Friday Night, Late Summer 1992:
Sue
I hadn't seen
Sue in seventeen years. And then tonight we saw each other at one of those dive
bars down on
Now that she's gone, I'm cringing at the way I must have sounded so pompous. Giving her advice on how to escape Peurville, how to quit smoking, how to become educated. What a fun date I must be. But even while I was going on, it came to me that Sue is 34-35 years old. She's not stupid or particularly naive, although I think she struggles to maintain a certain innocence - a certain optimism - and to a good extent she succeeds at that.
But she's where she wants to be. This shocked
me a little, and now it saddens me a great deal. I'd always judged Sue to be
the type for whom Peurville - this northwest
She's stayed here all these years though. She says she needs to be with her friends and her mom. But really she just doesn't have the guts or the vision to know that she desperately - as a matter of life-and-death - needs to break free.
She seems beaten down at 35. I wonder if she really feels the security that she chose. It seems to me that she's almost as much of an outsider here as I am. It seems to me that she doesn't fit into this narrow, barren, flat place, and that she's spending her life-force, and dulling her creative gifts, in order to be "just like everyone else." Because - let's face it - around here "like everyone else" is the only way to be.
But I smiled when she told me that she's always late for her mind-numbing 6:00 a.m. shift at the factory, and that two years ago she spent some time in jail for DUI. She'd actually been sentenced to probation with community service. But she decided that scrubbing the "green stuff" from the hospital shower was just a little bit too much service for this community. So some self-righteous - yet salacious - "family values" judge tossed her in the can. She was laughing when she told me the story.
I can't help it. I've got a weak spot for rebels!
And a rebel - of sorts - she still is. She drinks and then she goes to A.A. meetings. She smokes her cigarettes wherever she likes. And make no mistake - she's got an attitude. But you won't catch her sleeping with a married man. No Mam. She believes in Jesus and in the sanctity of the institution of marriage.
She hasn't married yet though. Never felt "it" strong enough to say the "I do." And now, at her age, in this town, with her "reputation", I sense that she may never meet that charming prince who's smile will mean security for her and who'll make everything all right and cool her anxieties and quiet those fears that show in the tight lines of her pretty face.
I wish I could have reached her somehow and convinced her to fly this coop of a town. She probably thought I wanted sex. That's pretty much the level of things in Sue's world - the best anyone can give or get. Sex. Not a love affair. - A good fuck. And who knows - maybe that's more honest. It's just not my style.
Sue's still a beauty, though. And any guy
would be lucky to be with her. We were lovers once. I was back from
God I wish I could have somehow touched Sue and made her feel some of the wonder and beauty of the world beyond her town. It's not too late for her. Not quite yet. I remember now how badly I wanted her to leave with me when we were together so long ago. She's older now though. And I think she's been hurt. Been used. Maybe she likes being the victim, and maybe she always has. It's really dark in those bars and in those factories and in those bedrooms. Too dark for me to see. I'm pretty sure that I'd have died by now if I'd stayed here. My best friends have.
But anyway . . . as I was expounding on exercise, and Iggy Pop was crooning ". . . Candy, baby I can't let you go . . . " from the jukebox speaker, Sue assured me everything was fine. That she was in "really good" shape. She wasn't though. Had the lights come up I would have seen her uneven, blemished skin. She was thin, too. No muscle tone. I fear that soon she'll have the leathery dryness of a woman alcoholic.
How I hope that love - or courage - will save Sue
someday. It hasn't yet. But the waiting, the hoping, and the expectation of
that salvation is probably the only reason that there's any life left in those
dark blue eyes. Despite it all, she's still an idealist of the strongest order.
Tonight, for a moment, she entertained the notion that the Knight In Shining
Armor would be me. She glowed just a little in those dizzying minutes. We both
did. Her smile relaxed and her gaze was real and direct and we laughed
together. And then as we talked, she saw that it wasn't me. That I'm not the knight
for her. And that light inside of her flickered again.
It flickers . . . and it does still burn.
Text © 1996 Bill Frick (All Rights Reserved)
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