Two lonely young men trip over fate and find friendship.
January, 2009
He stands before his little stove, stirring the soup. Looking up at the window, he sees his reflection and thinks to himself, I’m too young to look this damned old.
Looking back, he tries to find what joy he’d had in his twenty-two years.
He remembers moving from apartment to apartment, changing schools, never having a real friend, no father, no siblings, just his mother who worked when she could and ran off with men when she couldn’t.
In desperation, he had married too young to a wife who wanted more than he could give and accused him of “unmanly” things.
Loneliness is his primary companion, but he has his plants and feels gratified when they bloom and grow under his attention.
A movement across the courtyard catches his eye. Another window, another apartment, another man, mirroring himself.
He smiles hesitantly, then thinks he must be intruding and turns away, taking his soup.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.
*~*~*
He stands before his little stove, stirring the soup. Looking up at the window, he sees his reflection and thinks to himself, I look like my dad in that old picture of him on the wall at Ma’s house.
Looking back, he remembers the joy of living in a close family, until his father died.
He remembers birthday gifts hidden under beds, warm cookies after school, baseball games and sledding down hills. Hugs and kisses and hot cocoa or cold milk, the comforting feel of slipping into his parents’ bed after a nightmare.
When his father died, he came out here, started a new life with his uncle, and remembers that those were good days, too, being a teenager in southern California.
But Vietnam’s horrors hardened him, along with the wanton needs of other men.
Now he’s on his own, and loneliness is his primary companion.
A movement across the courtyard catches his eye. Another window, another apartment, another man, mirroring himself.
He smiles hesitantly, then thinks he must be intruding and turns away, taking his soup.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.
*~*~*
In the morning two men find themselves at the entrance to their apartment complex. They greet each other with a nod and begin walking in the same direction.
Amused by this, they both realize that each man was the other he’d seen through the window, and that they were both walking to the Police Academy.
Loneliness left them at the corner, and friendship picked them up.
“I’m Dave Starsky.”
“Ken Hutchinson. Nice to meet you.”
~end
January 5, 2009
Chapter End Notes:
Notes: With thanks to Marion.
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