Wine, Women, and Song
So, on the morning of the twenty third of April, in the two thousand and seventh year of our Lord; when Paul left his apartment only to find his car had been towed, he was not visibly frustrated. Although his mind raged, he calmly took five sips from his coffee mug, and then made his way over to the sign posted by his apartment complex concerning the location of all the towed cars. Paul was shocked that his car would be taken from his personal covered spot, but he quickly resolved the matter in his mind, deciding to call a cab so that he could arrive at work on time.
The cab driver pulled up to his apartment building twelve minutes later than it had been promised, and Paul schemed of ways to steal the time back. None of them came to fruition; however, as the cab driver swiftly carried him to his office, and was gone before Paul could count out the change for a tip. Paul ascended the stairs to his third floor office in the governmental building, which had been around for almost as many years as elevators had been invented, because he did not trust the rickety contraption so often referred to as, “Ol’ Reliable.”
Sitting down behind his desk, covered ever so lightly by pictures and personal affects, Paul picked up the receiver and dialed the number for the towing company.
“Sal’s Towing,” a female voice said softly.
“Hi. Uh, Hello. My name is Paul Smith, and I believe that you falsely towed my car this morning, or last night. Sometime in the past twelve hours.”
“I didn’t tow your car,” she said playfully.
“Well, of course you probably didn’t, you answer the phones, I assume.”
“Yes, I do.”
“All the same, I would like to get my car back, free of charge.”
“I’m not gonna be able to do that,” she said.
“Why not?” Paul asked.
“Well, I only run the phones. Here, let me get Sal for you,” she said. Paul could hear the phone rustle, then her delicate voice shout with untold power, “Sal!”
“What?” Sal said.
“Phone,” She said.
“Sheila, don’t I pay you for that?” Sal asked.
“Not nearly enough,” Sheila said under her breath, which allowed Paul to hear her. In his mind, he felt a connection with her, as if they had been sharing deep intimate secrets. Paul did not realize this, because he was far too busy being confused and frustrated with the whole situation, but the thought was there. Waiting.
“This is Sal, what do you need?” Sal said.
“What?” Paul replied.
“What’d you call for?”
“Uh, you towed my car.”
“That is a probability, this is my business.”
“I mean, you towed my car falsely. It was parked under the awning in my spot last night, but this morning it’s gone,” Paul said.
“Did you think about the fact it might be stolen?”
“What might be stolen?”
“Your car.”
“No, it’s far too old for someone to steal.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a Chrysler LeBaron. Gray,” Paul said.
“Oh, people steal those all the time,” Sal said.
“Can you at least look and see if you have it there?”
“Sure, no problem,” Sal said.
Paul shifted nervously in his seat; the idea had not even occurred to him that his car might be stolen. He listened intently, hoping that he might somehow learn the information from the way he heard Sal shuffling through the papers. Then, he heard her voice again, and he shivered. His brain tickled, and it took him a minute to realize that Sal was speaking to him again.
“Hey, buddy, I got your car,” Sal said.
“Good. Now, can I get it back at no cost? I can prove to you that I live at those apartments, and that the spot you took it from is my spot,” Paul said trying to sound forceful.
“Listen, I spent gas going and picking up that car. Someone called it in, and I went to pick it up. I stored it for, five hours, and will continue to store it until you come and get it. I’m not going to give up my time and gas for nothing.”
“What if I pay you for the gas?” Paul asked.
“Buddy, it’d be cheaper just to pay the cost to get it out of my impound. If you want though, you can pay my gas,” Sal said.
“I’ll be there on my lunch break. Do you take checks?”
“If they didn’t bounce, you could pay me in rubber balls.”
Paul waited for his lunch hour to arrive. He stared at his computer screen, and thought about working. He wanted to work. It was a tiny island that he had complete control of, in his otherwise empty sea of a life. Not that Paul often imagined himself lost in the empty sea of his life; he just felt more in control of things when he had something to do. Unfortunately for him, he had left his briefcase in the car the night before, so he wouldn’t forget it, and he was without any of his important papers.
Paul watched the clock, listening to the creak of his chair, and then comparing that creak to the squeak of his patent leather shoes. He listened to the tapping of the keyboards in all the other cubicles, and imagined himself in a hail storm. He imagined himself wrapped up in many blankets, sitting on a couch in front of a fire, in a stereotypical log cabin, while the weather outside was so frightful. Paul looked to his left, and he saw that he was not alone in his flight of fancy. A beautiful woman was seated next to him, and they were sharing the blankets. She smiled at him, and his heart began to race. She opened her mouth, and he heard his name in the deepest voice he had ever imagined a woman to have.
“Paul,” Henry said. “Paul, where you at buddy?”
“Huh?”
“Where were you just then?”
“Here.”
“You didn’t look like it,” Henry said.
“Well I was. What do you need Henry?” Paul said.
“I was just walking by, wanted to know if you heard about Eric.”
“What happened?”
“Apparently he got fired for fooling around with the boss’s daughter.”
“Mr. Fincher?”
“Yeah,” Henry said.
“Henry, Mr. Fincher doesn’t have a daughter. He has three sons,” Paul said.
“Really?” Henry asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, then Lauren has some explaining to do. She really needs to stop telling such lies.”
“You go get her Henry.”
“Oh, I will,” Henry said walking down the row of cubicles, “Lauren, I need to talk to you.”
Paul watched Henry walk off, and decided to call a cab. He gathered his things, which was much less than usual, because of the lack of his briefcase, and went to wait for the taxi feeling the slightest bit off.
The taxi ride to the impound lot that was run by Sal’s Towing was uneventful, except for the sudden burst of multiculturalism that was sprung upon the unsuspecting Paul. The driver was adamant on listening to his native music loud over the speakers, and declined to turn it down when Paul asked with a simple shake of the head. When Paul offered him five dollars to turn it down, the man only changed the station to something much more noxious to Paul, country music. All through this, Paul maintained his composure; in fact, some observers might have thought he was enjoying himself.
Paul arrived at Sal’s Towing in one piece, with a sheepish smile on his face. He walked up the sidewalk to the glass door, which read Al Toin, the other letter having peeled off of the sign. When he opened the door, the bell above it rang, signaling the desk clerk that someone had entered the building. She turned around and faced him, and Paul was speechless. She had beautiful brown hair, that framed her face perfectly, and gorgeous eyes.
“Hello, welcome to Sal’s Towing, my name is Sheila. How can I help you?” she asked.
“Hi.” Paul smiled, “My name’s Paul. I called earlier about my car.”
“So you’re the I don’t want to pay guy.”
“Guilty. I wasn’t rude over the phone was I?”
“Not at all. Compared to half the people who call up here, you were a sweetheart.”
“Thanks. All the same, I apologize for my behavior, I’ve had an, interesting day,” Paul said.
“I understand,” Sheila said. “It says here that you owe a hundred and twenty bucks.”
“Who should I make the check out to?” Paul asked.
“Sal’s Towing.”
“What’s today’s date?”
“April 23rd, 2007.”
“Thanks,” Paul said.
“No problem. I’ll just go tell Sal to bring your car around,” Sheila said.
“Thanks.”
Paul finished filling out the check with his hand, but his eyes and mind followed Sheila out of the room, watching her curvaceous figure until it disappeared. When she was gone, Paul shook his head, and felt like a pervert. He had never been one for ogling a woman, even those as beautiful as her. By the time he had finished annotating the check number and amount in his checkbook’s ledger, Sheila had come back. Paul felt like he had when he first walked in, like someone had given him the gift of sight for this reason alone.
“Check all filled out?” Sheila asked.
“Yes, it is,” Paul said.
“Alright, let me just see your driver’s license to make sure this is really you, and if I could get your phone number.”
Paul handed her his I.D. and smiled saying, “Is the phone number for business or pleasure?”
Sheila looked up at him, her beautiful eyes meeting his, and she laughed. “Strictly business, Mr. Smith.”
“So you’re playing hard to get then?” Paul said, a confidence within him like he had never felt before.
“I suppose you could think that.” Sheila smiled. “Or I could be just trying to do my job.”
“Which is?”
“To butter people up so they don’t feel so bad about paying so much to get their car back.”
“Either way, I’d say you are going to fall prey to my charm,” Paul said.
“Oh really?” Sheila asked.
“You don’t really have much choice. It’s okay though, I’ll be gentle,” Paul said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his card. “This is for you, so you don’t have to go rooting through all the checks to find my number.”
“Thanks,” Sheila said, smiling. “Here’s your receipt.”
Paul took his receipt and walked out the glass door, into the bright morning light. He felt better than he had ever felt before, and he actually knew why. He knew that within a week, Sheila would call him and they would go out on a date, and he was right. Only, her timing surprised him, by the time he had gotten back to work, she had already left a message on his voicemail.
Paul awoke subtly, his light snores changing into normal breathing without missing a beat. He opened his eyes to find the sun slipping through the slits in the blinds. He wondered where exactly he was, not confused, he was curious. The previous night seeped into his conscious thought, and he smiled. It was a slight turning up of the corners of his mouth, but it was there. He looked over at the beautiful woman who lay next to him, her delicate back turned towards him, and he sighed. She was there, the night before had happened. Paul laid there for two hours before Sheila woke up, and it was the happiest two hours of his entire life.
“Are you awake?” Sheila asked, turning over to face him, stretching like a cat waking from a nap.
“Yes,” Paul said, “You’re very beautiful.”
Sheila looked at him sideways, then smiled and brightened the room more than the sun ever could. “You’re sweet,” she said.
“I’ve been called many things; sweet has never been one of them. Thanks,” Paul said.
“About last night,” Sheila said.
“Yeah?” Paul asked.
“It was, amazing,” she said, nuzzling close to him, and putting her head on his chest.
“I hoped it was for you. I’ve never had that much fun.”
“Your heart is beating really fast,” she said.
“I’m sorry. It’s not often I’m sharing a bed with a woman.”
“It’s cute.”
“My lack of experience?”
“Experience isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Sheila said, rolling away and gathering the sheets around her. “Care for some coffee?”
“I’d love some.”
Paul’s life had never been rough. He got by easily, because he was great with numbers, but smart enough to know that he couldn’t let that show. School had never been tough for him, but he strove to make B’s, because the top of the middle of the pack was safe. He had never really known a woman’s touch in his life. One morning, a few weeks after that eventful first night, he realized that his life had become smoother. It was as if Sheila had greased the wheels of his life. He was more confident, worked harder, played harder, and could feel an inexplicable sense of purpose in his meager little life.
Paul had never been noticed around the office. His supervisors would often forget that they had assigned him tasks, until he produced the results on time. After Sheila entered his life, he would finish his tasks and turn them in weeks before they were due. His name began to get tossed around the halls as the go to guy. Within three months, he got a promotion.
“Paul. Paul-y Boy. How’s it going?” Henry asked, popping his head into Paul’s new office.
“Just fine Henry, what’s going on?” Paul said, looking up from some papers he had been concentrating on.
“You want to catch lunch today?” he asked.
“I’m cutting out of here early, how about Wednesday instead?”
“Sounds good to me, catch you later, boss.”
“Hey, I told you not to call me that,” Paul said.
“I know, but I just think it’s too funny. Paul Smith, my boss.” Henry said laughing as he walked away.
Paul hurried through the work day, deciding to give himself the afternoon off. He had things to do, and very little time to do them in. It had been three months since they had started dating, and Paul was making a big deal of it.
He hurried to his apartment, which was spotless because he had cleaned it the night before, and began to clean it again. He whistled a tune he had picked up from Sheila, one of the country songs she was fond of. He made a mad dash to the store to buy some candles. He wanted to make sure that everything would be perfect.
Sheila arrived at seven thirty, and Paul let her in.
“Dinner’s not ready yet, I wasn’t expecting you until sometime after seven forty five, sorry.” Paul said.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make myself comfortable in the living room if you don’t mind,” Sheila said.
“Go right ahead, I’ll be in there shortly.”
Paul hurried and got the chicken breast into the oven, cleaned a few of the dishes, took off his apron and joined her in the living room.
“Your place looks really nice. New candles?” she asked.
“Do you like them?”
“Yes, they’re beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” he said smiling broadly.
“Thank you Paul.”
“I have something for you, Sheila,” he said getting up from the couch and making his way to his bedroom.
“What is it?” she asked, with a smile gracing its way across her beautiful face.
“Open it and see,” Paul said returning from his room and handing her a black leather box.
Sheila opened the box and gasped. She had never seen anything like it before. It was a necklace, made from white gold, with sapphires and rubies set in a complex pattern at the base.
“This must have cost a fortune.”
“Money is nothing,” he said, “All I care for is your happiness.”
“This is too much.”
“No, I think it’s just right. I’d like to see it on you,” Paul said.
Sheila put on the necklace, which contrasted sharply with her casual blouse and jeans.
“It looks perfect.”
“It is, but I don’t have anything to wear with it,” she said.
“Why don’t you go into my room and open the box on the bed, I need to go check on the food,” Paul said getting up and going into the kitchen. Sheila made her way into his room, and found the box on his bed like he said it would be. She opened it, and was taken aback. In the box was the most beautiful blue black dress he had ever seen. Paul came up behind her quietly, a grin spread thick on his face.
“Go ahead, try it on, I’ll leave the room.”
“Paul, this is too much. I really can’t accept it.”
“Well, I don’t have anyone else to give it to. Please, see if it fits,” Paul said turning to leave the room.
Sheila reached out to him. “Stay.” She pulled her blouse over her head, and then shimmied out of her jeans. She looked him in the eyes and smiled. His mouth was slightly agape. She turned away from him and grabbed the dress from the box, unzipped the zipper, and slid it over her head. As the dress rested on her shoulders, she looked back at Paul and said, “Will you zip me up?”
Paul walked over to her, and zipped her up. She kissed his hand lightly when he was finished. She turned to look at herself in the mirror, while Paul stepped back to see how the dress looked.
“It’s beautiful,” they both said.
Sheila turned back to Paul, and walked over to him. They embraced, and then Sheila asked him one of the most important questions he had ever heard in his entire life.
“Why?” she said.
“Why what?” Paul asked, and kissed her on the forehead.
“Why did you buy me all of this,” she sighed pulling back slightly from their embrace to look him in the eyes.
“Because I wanted to,” he said pulling her into a kiss.
“But why did you want to?” Sheila asked pulling away from him and sitting on his bed.
“Why does it matter?” Paul asked sitting down next to her and holding her hand.
“Because it does. Why did you do it Paul?”
“Because I did,” Paul said, turning away from her slightly. “Because I love you.”
“You what?” Sheila asked, turning his face towards her.
“I love you Sheila. I do. I know it seems sudden, but I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. This feeling,” Paul said, putting his hand on her face ever so lightly. “I’ve never been a very impressive man, I’ve never tried to do great things. But when I look at your face, your smile, the way you look at me, I want to move mountains. And I can. Simply put, I love you.”
Sheila sat there for a moment, then looked him in the eyes and said, “I love you too.”
Their embrace was interrupted by the sound of the fire alarm, and they decided to order Chinese. He told her how much he loved her, and most of the time she responded in kind. They made love more passionately than they had the first time, and Paul fell asleep in her arms.
He awoke the next morning with her still wrapped around him and snuck away as quietly as he could. She didn’t stir, and he made his way to work. As soon as he got to work, he yearned to be back home in her arms. The day dragged on, and he hoped that she would still be at his apartment when he got off work. When the day finally ended, he hurried home.
As soon as his feet touched the threshold of his apartment, he called out her name. She didn’t answer, and he sighed. I guess her being here was a fool’s dream, he thought. He phoned her and she didn’t answer, so he left her a message.
“Hey Love, this is Paul. I was just calling because I wanted to hear your voice. Let me know if you are free later, I’d love to see you tonight. You know, stay in, and enjoy each other’s company. Love you.”
Paul changed out of his work clothes, and saw a note lying on his bed. He opened it up to read its contents.
Hey Paul, I’m sorry I had to leave. I had some things I needed to figure out, work stuff. Don’t worry; I’ll call you later tonight. Love, Sheila.
Paul put down the note and smiled. Love, Sheila. He shook his head, amazed at his luck. He fixed himself some dinner, then sat down and watched some television. The hours creeped by, and he fell asleep on the couch. He slept fitfully, and awoke at three in the morning to his phone ringing. He stumbled about his apartment, trying to find the receiver, until his answering machine picked up.
“Hello, this is Paul Smith. You know what to do.”
“Paul, this is Sheila. I really wanted to do this in person, but I couldn’t. I decided to do this over the phone, but I guess the machine will have to work. I’m leaving Paul. I left your gifts in your closet. This just isn’t working anymore. I’m sorry. I do love you. I just can’t-“
Paul stood in the darkness. He felt his heart beating in his chest. Loud. Too loud. His legs felt numb and the blinking number one on his answering machine taunted him. He ran to it, and pressed play. Her words echoed in his empty apartment. He picked up his phone and tried to call her.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
“Hello, this is Sheila, Leave me a message after the beep.”
Paul’s legs gave way. He kneeled on his floor, in the middle of his living room. All the possible words that could have followed the phrase, I just can’t ran through his mind. His head felt heavy, and he let it drop. His chest felt tight, and his breath was shallow then deep, shallow then deep. His body was wracked by sobs. Tears began to cover his cheeks, and he fell backwards. He lay on his floor, crying, until he fell asleep.
He didn’t go to work the next day.
Or the next.
His answering machine caught all of his calls, all from his work. Then, on July twenty seventh, there was a knock at his door. He pulled himself out of bed, grabbed his robe, and answered the door, bleary eyed and broken. It was Henry.
“Jesus man, what the hell happened?” he asked.
“She broke up with me,” Paul said, wracked by sobs, “over the answering machine.”
“Can I hear it?” Henry asked, in all seriousness.
After Henry listened to the message, he went to the fridge and grabbed himself a beer. He offered one to Paul, and then he sat down beside him. They sat in silence, until Henry asked Paul a question.
“Did you ever treat her badly?”
“No.”
“Did you treat her well?”
“What’s the difference,” Paul asked.
“A lot.”
“Yes.”
“Did she say she loved you?”
“Yes.”
“Before or after you did?”
“After.”
Henry took another drink from his beer. “When you look deep down inside, did you love her, or were you just attached to her?”
Paul looked at Henry, with spite embedded on his features. “Where are you going with this?”
“Humor me.”
“I loved her,” Paul said taking a drink from his beer, “I loved her from the depths of my heart. From right where it hurts so badly right now,” Paul said, pointing at his chest.
“You’re lucky.”
“What?”
“You’re lucky. You loved a woman from the depth of your being. Not just anyone can do that. I never have.”
“So I should be happy that it hurts so bad?”
“No, the pain sucks. But it’ll heal. You should be grateful that you got such a chance,” Henry said, looking Paul in the eyes. “Love is the greatest and worst thing you can ever have. In the good times it’s great, and in the bad times it’s terrible. But when all the chips are down, I’ve always believed that it’s the amount of love you gave that counts. Jobs, money, promotions, none of it matters. What does matter is how you love.” Henry said, a grave look on his face.
“What am I supposed to do now?” Paul asked.
“There’s only one thing I’ve ever found that works on a broken heart.”
“And that is?”
“Time.”
“That’s the one thing I didn’t want to hear,” Paul said.
They sat in the silence of Paul’s apartment, Paul feeling sorry for himself, and Henry trying to figure out what to do about the situation. Then, and idea struck Henry.
“Have you ever been to a wake?”
“No,” Paul said, “why?”
“We need to mourn your relationship with her, you know, the death of all that potential, and all those good times. That’s what you’re doing right now, but ineffectively. You need to do it like a wake.”
“How exactly do we throw a wake for my failed relationship?”
“There are three things very important to a wake. All we need is to go out and find them.”
“And what are those three things?”
“Wine, Women, and Song,”
The cab driver pulled up to his apartment building twelve minutes later than it had been promised, and Paul schemed of ways to steal the time back. None of them came to fruition; however, as the cab driver swiftly carried him to his office, and was gone before Paul could count out the change for a tip. Paul ascended the stairs to his third floor office in the governmental building, which had been around for almost as many years as elevators had been invented, because he did not trust the rickety contraption so often referred to as, “Ol’ Reliable.”
Sitting down behind his desk, covered ever so lightly by pictures and personal affects, Paul picked up the receiver and dialed the number for the towing company.
“Sal’s Towing,” a female voice said softly.
“Hi. Uh, Hello. My name is Paul Smith, and I believe that you falsely towed my car this morning, or last night. Sometime in the past twelve hours.”
“I didn’t tow your car,” she said playfully.
“Well, of course you probably didn’t, you answer the phones, I assume.”
“Yes, I do.”
“All the same, I would like to get my car back, free of charge.”
“I’m not gonna be able to do that,” she said.
“Why not?” Paul asked.
“Well, I only run the phones. Here, let me get Sal for you,” she said. Paul could hear the phone rustle, then her delicate voice shout with untold power, “Sal!”
“What?” Sal said.
“Phone,” She said.
“Sheila, don’t I pay you for that?” Sal asked.
“Not nearly enough,” Sheila said under her breath, which allowed Paul to hear her. In his mind, he felt a connection with her, as if they had been sharing deep intimate secrets. Paul did not realize this, because he was far too busy being confused and frustrated with the whole situation, but the thought was there. Waiting.
“This is Sal, what do you need?” Sal said.
“What?” Paul replied.
“What’d you call for?”
“Uh, you towed my car.”
“That is a probability, this is my business.”
“I mean, you towed my car falsely. It was parked under the awning in my spot last night, but this morning it’s gone,” Paul said.
“Did you think about the fact it might be stolen?”
“What might be stolen?”
“Your car.”
“No, it’s far too old for someone to steal.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a Chrysler LeBaron. Gray,” Paul said.
“Oh, people steal those all the time,” Sal said.
“Can you at least look and see if you have it there?”
“Sure, no problem,” Sal said.
Paul shifted nervously in his seat; the idea had not even occurred to him that his car might be stolen. He listened intently, hoping that he might somehow learn the information from the way he heard Sal shuffling through the papers. Then, he heard her voice again, and he shivered. His brain tickled, and it took him a minute to realize that Sal was speaking to him again.
“Hey, buddy, I got your car,” Sal said.
“Good. Now, can I get it back at no cost? I can prove to you that I live at those apartments, and that the spot you took it from is my spot,” Paul said trying to sound forceful.
“Listen, I spent gas going and picking up that car. Someone called it in, and I went to pick it up. I stored it for, five hours, and will continue to store it until you come and get it. I’m not going to give up my time and gas for nothing.”
“What if I pay you for the gas?” Paul asked.
“Buddy, it’d be cheaper just to pay the cost to get it out of my impound. If you want though, you can pay my gas,” Sal said.
“I’ll be there on my lunch break. Do you take checks?”
“If they didn’t bounce, you could pay me in rubber balls.”
Paul waited for his lunch hour to arrive. He stared at his computer screen, and thought about working. He wanted to work. It was a tiny island that he had complete control of, in his otherwise empty sea of a life. Not that Paul often imagined himself lost in the empty sea of his life; he just felt more in control of things when he had something to do. Unfortunately for him, he had left his briefcase in the car the night before, so he wouldn’t forget it, and he was without any of his important papers.
Paul watched the clock, listening to the creak of his chair, and then comparing that creak to the squeak of his patent leather shoes. He listened to the tapping of the keyboards in all the other cubicles, and imagined himself in a hail storm. He imagined himself wrapped up in many blankets, sitting on a couch in front of a fire, in a stereotypical log cabin, while the weather outside was so frightful. Paul looked to his left, and he saw that he was not alone in his flight of fancy. A beautiful woman was seated next to him, and they were sharing the blankets. She smiled at him, and his heart began to race. She opened her mouth, and he heard his name in the deepest voice he had ever imagined a woman to have.
“Paul,” Henry said. “Paul, where you at buddy?”
“Huh?”
“Where were you just then?”
“Here.”
“You didn’t look like it,” Henry said.
“Well I was. What do you need Henry?” Paul said.
“I was just walking by, wanted to know if you heard about Eric.”
“What happened?”
“Apparently he got fired for fooling around with the boss’s daughter.”
“Mr. Fincher?”
“Yeah,” Henry said.
“Henry, Mr. Fincher doesn’t have a daughter. He has three sons,” Paul said.
“Really?” Henry asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, then Lauren has some explaining to do. She really needs to stop telling such lies.”
“You go get her Henry.”
“Oh, I will,” Henry said walking down the row of cubicles, “Lauren, I need to talk to you.”
Paul watched Henry walk off, and decided to call a cab. He gathered his things, which was much less than usual, because of the lack of his briefcase, and went to wait for the taxi feeling the slightest bit off.
The taxi ride to the impound lot that was run by Sal’s Towing was uneventful, except for the sudden burst of multiculturalism that was sprung upon the unsuspecting Paul. The driver was adamant on listening to his native music loud over the speakers, and declined to turn it down when Paul asked with a simple shake of the head. When Paul offered him five dollars to turn it down, the man only changed the station to something much more noxious to Paul, country music. All through this, Paul maintained his composure; in fact, some observers might have thought he was enjoying himself.
Paul arrived at Sal’s Towing in one piece, with a sheepish smile on his face. He walked up the sidewalk to the glass door, which read Al Toin, the other letter having peeled off of the sign. When he opened the door, the bell above it rang, signaling the desk clerk that someone had entered the building. She turned around and faced him, and Paul was speechless. She had beautiful brown hair, that framed her face perfectly, and gorgeous eyes.
“Hello, welcome to Sal’s Towing, my name is Sheila. How can I help you?” she asked.
“Hi.” Paul smiled, “My name’s Paul. I called earlier about my car.”
“So you’re the I don’t want to pay guy.”
“Guilty. I wasn’t rude over the phone was I?”
“Not at all. Compared to half the people who call up here, you were a sweetheart.”
“Thanks. All the same, I apologize for my behavior, I’ve had an, interesting day,” Paul said.
“I understand,” Sheila said. “It says here that you owe a hundred and twenty bucks.”
“Who should I make the check out to?” Paul asked.
“Sal’s Towing.”
“What’s today’s date?”
“April 23rd, 2007.”
“Thanks,” Paul said.
“No problem. I’ll just go tell Sal to bring your car around,” Sheila said.
“Thanks.”
Paul finished filling out the check with his hand, but his eyes and mind followed Sheila out of the room, watching her curvaceous figure until it disappeared. When she was gone, Paul shook his head, and felt like a pervert. He had never been one for ogling a woman, even those as beautiful as her. By the time he had finished annotating the check number and amount in his checkbook’s ledger, Sheila had come back. Paul felt like he had when he first walked in, like someone had given him the gift of sight for this reason alone.
“Check all filled out?” Sheila asked.
“Yes, it is,” Paul said.
“Alright, let me just see your driver’s license to make sure this is really you, and if I could get your phone number.”
Paul handed her his I.D. and smiled saying, “Is the phone number for business or pleasure?”
Sheila looked up at him, her beautiful eyes meeting his, and she laughed. “Strictly business, Mr. Smith.”
“So you’re playing hard to get then?” Paul said, a confidence within him like he had never felt before.
“I suppose you could think that.” Sheila smiled. “Or I could be just trying to do my job.”
“Which is?”
“To butter people up so they don’t feel so bad about paying so much to get their car back.”
“Either way, I’d say you are going to fall prey to my charm,” Paul said.
“Oh really?” Sheila asked.
“You don’t really have much choice. It’s okay though, I’ll be gentle,” Paul said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his card. “This is for you, so you don’t have to go rooting through all the checks to find my number.”
“Thanks,” Sheila said, smiling. “Here’s your receipt.”
Paul took his receipt and walked out the glass door, into the bright morning light. He felt better than he had ever felt before, and he actually knew why. He knew that within a week, Sheila would call him and they would go out on a date, and he was right. Only, her timing surprised him, by the time he had gotten back to work, she had already left a message on his voicemail.
Paul awoke subtly, his light snores changing into normal breathing without missing a beat. He opened his eyes to find the sun slipping through the slits in the blinds. He wondered where exactly he was, not confused, he was curious. The previous night seeped into his conscious thought, and he smiled. It was a slight turning up of the corners of his mouth, but it was there. He looked over at the beautiful woman who lay next to him, her delicate back turned towards him, and he sighed. She was there, the night before had happened. Paul laid there for two hours before Sheila woke up, and it was the happiest two hours of his entire life.
“Are you awake?” Sheila asked, turning over to face him, stretching like a cat waking from a nap.
“Yes,” Paul said, “You’re very beautiful.”
Sheila looked at him sideways, then smiled and brightened the room more than the sun ever could. “You’re sweet,” she said.
“I’ve been called many things; sweet has never been one of them. Thanks,” Paul said.
“About last night,” Sheila said.
“Yeah?” Paul asked.
“It was, amazing,” she said, nuzzling close to him, and putting her head on his chest.
“I hoped it was for you. I’ve never had that much fun.”
“Your heart is beating really fast,” she said.
“I’m sorry. It’s not often I’m sharing a bed with a woman.”
“It’s cute.”
“My lack of experience?”
“Experience isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Sheila said, rolling away and gathering the sheets around her. “Care for some coffee?”
“I’d love some.”
Paul’s life had never been rough. He got by easily, because he was great with numbers, but smart enough to know that he couldn’t let that show. School had never been tough for him, but he strove to make B’s, because the top of the middle of the pack was safe. He had never really known a woman’s touch in his life. One morning, a few weeks after that eventful first night, he realized that his life had become smoother. It was as if Sheila had greased the wheels of his life. He was more confident, worked harder, played harder, and could feel an inexplicable sense of purpose in his meager little life.
Paul had never been noticed around the office. His supervisors would often forget that they had assigned him tasks, until he produced the results on time. After Sheila entered his life, he would finish his tasks and turn them in weeks before they were due. His name began to get tossed around the halls as the go to guy. Within three months, he got a promotion.
“Paul. Paul-y Boy. How’s it going?” Henry asked, popping his head into Paul’s new office.
“Just fine Henry, what’s going on?” Paul said, looking up from some papers he had been concentrating on.
“You want to catch lunch today?” he asked.
“I’m cutting out of here early, how about Wednesday instead?”
“Sounds good to me, catch you later, boss.”
“Hey, I told you not to call me that,” Paul said.
“I know, but I just think it’s too funny. Paul Smith, my boss.” Henry said laughing as he walked away.
Paul hurried through the work day, deciding to give himself the afternoon off. He had things to do, and very little time to do them in. It had been three months since they had started dating, and Paul was making a big deal of it.
He hurried to his apartment, which was spotless because he had cleaned it the night before, and began to clean it again. He whistled a tune he had picked up from Sheila, one of the country songs she was fond of. He made a mad dash to the store to buy some candles. He wanted to make sure that everything would be perfect.
Sheila arrived at seven thirty, and Paul let her in.
“Dinner’s not ready yet, I wasn’t expecting you until sometime after seven forty five, sorry.” Paul said.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make myself comfortable in the living room if you don’t mind,” Sheila said.
“Go right ahead, I’ll be in there shortly.”
Paul hurried and got the chicken breast into the oven, cleaned a few of the dishes, took off his apron and joined her in the living room.
“Your place looks really nice. New candles?” she asked.
“Do you like them?”
“Yes, they’re beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” he said smiling broadly.
“Thank you Paul.”
“I have something for you, Sheila,” he said getting up from the couch and making his way to his bedroom.
“What is it?” she asked, with a smile gracing its way across her beautiful face.
“Open it and see,” Paul said returning from his room and handing her a black leather box.
Sheila opened the box and gasped. She had never seen anything like it before. It was a necklace, made from white gold, with sapphires and rubies set in a complex pattern at the base.
“This must have cost a fortune.”
“Money is nothing,” he said, “All I care for is your happiness.”
“This is too much.”
“No, I think it’s just right. I’d like to see it on you,” Paul said.
Sheila put on the necklace, which contrasted sharply with her casual blouse and jeans.
“It looks perfect.”
“It is, but I don’t have anything to wear with it,” she said.
“Why don’t you go into my room and open the box on the bed, I need to go check on the food,” Paul said getting up and going into the kitchen. Sheila made her way into his room, and found the box on his bed like he said it would be. She opened it, and was taken aback. In the box was the most beautiful blue black dress he had ever seen. Paul came up behind her quietly, a grin spread thick on his face.
“Go ahead, try it on, I’ll leave the room.”
“Paul, this is too much. I really can’t accept it.”
“Well, I don’t have anyone else to give it to. Please, see if it fits,” Paul said turning to leave the room.
Sheila reached out to him. “Stay.” She pulled her blouse over her head, and then shimmied out of her jeans. She looked him in the eyes and smiled. His mouth was slightly agape. She turned away from him and grabbed the dress from the box, unzipped the zipper, and slid it over her head. As the dress rested on her shoulders, she looked back at Paul and said, “Will you zip me up?”
Paul walked over to her, and zipped her up. She kissed his hand lightly when he was finished. She turned to look at herself in the mirror, while Paul stepped back to see how the dress looked.
“It’s beautiful,” they both said.
Sheila turned back to Paul, and walked over to him. They embraced, and then Sheila asked him one of the most important questions he had ever heard in his entire life.
“Why?” she said.
“Why what?” Paul asked, and kissed her on the forehead.
“Why did you buy me all of this,” she sighed pulling back slightly from their embrace to look him in the eyes.
“Because I wanted to,” he said pulling her into a kiss.
“But why did you want to?” Sheila asked pulling away from him and sitting on his bed.
“Why does it matter?” Paul asked sitting down next to her and holding her hand.
“Because it does. Why did you do it Paul?”
“Because I did,” Paul said, turning away from her slightly. “Because I love you.”
“You what?” Sheila asked, turning his face towards her.
“I love you Sheila. I do. I know it seems sudden, but I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. This feeling,” Paul said, putting his hand on her face ever so lightly. “I’ve never been a very impressive man, I’ve never tried to do great things. But when I look at your face, your smile, the way you look at me, I want to move mountains. And I can. Simply put, I love you.”
Sheila sat there for a moment, then looked him in the eyes and said, “I love you too.”
Their embrace was interrupted by the sound of the fire alarm, and they decided to order Chinese. He told her how much he loved her, and most of the time she responded in kind. They made love more passionately than they had the first time, and Paul fell asleep in her arms.
He awoke the next morning with her still wrapped around him and snuck away as quietly as he could. She didn’t stir, and he made his way to work. As soon as he got to work, he yearned to be back home in her arms. The day dragged on, and he hoped that she would still be at his apartment when he got off work. When the day finally ended, he hurried home.
As soon as his feet touched the threshold of his apartment, he called out her name. She didn’t answer, and he sighed. I guess her being here was a fool’s dream, he thought. He phoned her and she didn’t answer, so he left her a message.
“Hey Love, this is Paul. I was just calling because I wanted to hear your voice. Let me know if you are free later, I’d love to see you tonight. You know, stay in, and enjoy each other’s company. Love you.”
Paul changed out of his work clothes, and saw a note lying on his bed. He opened it up to read its contents.
Hey Paul, I’m sorry I had to leave. I had some things I needed to figure out, work stuff. Don’t worry; I’ll call you later tonight. Love, Sheila.
Paul put down the note and smiled. Love, Sheila. He shook his head, amazed at his luck. He fixed himself some dinner, then sat down and watched some television. The hours creeped by, and he fell asleep on the couch. He slept fitfully, and awoke at three in the morning to his phone ringing. He stumbled about his apartment, trying to find the receiver, until his answering machine picked up.
“Hello, this is Paul Smith. You know what to do.”
“Paul, this is Sheila. I really wanted to do this in person, but I couldn’t. I decided to do this over the phone, but I guess the machine will have to work. I’m leaving Paul. I left your gifts in your closet. This just isn’t working anymore. I’m sorry. I do love you. I just can’t-“
Paul stood in the darkness. He felt his heart beating in his chest. Loud. Too loud. His legs felt numb and the blinking number one on his answering machine taunted him. He ran to it, and pressed play. Her words echoed in his empty apartment. He picked up his phone and tried to call her.
It rang.
And rang.
And rang.
“Hello, this is Sheila, Leave me a message after the beep.”
Paul’s legs gave way. He kneeled on his floor, in the middle of his living room. All the possible words that could have followed the phrase, I just can’t ran through his mind. His head felt heavy, and he let it drop. His chest felt tight, and his breath was shallow then deep, shallow then deep. His body was wracked by sobs. Tears began to cover his cheeks, and he fell backwards. He lay on his floor, crying, until he fell asleep.
He didn’t go to work the next day.
Or the next.
His answering machine caught all of his calls, all from his work. Then, on July twenty seventh, there was a knock at his door. He pulled himself out of bed, grabbed his robe, and answered the door, bleary eyed and broken. It was Henry.
“Jesus man, what the hell happened?” he asked.
“She broke up with me,” Paul said, wracked by sobs, “over the answering machine.”
“Can I hear it?” Henry asked, in all seriousness.
After Henry listened to the message, he went to the fridge and grabbed himself a beer. He offered one to Paul, and then he sat down beside him. They sat in silence, until Henry asked Paul a question.
“Did you ever treat her badly?”
“No.”
“Did you treat her well?”
“What’s the difference,” Paul asked.
“A lot.”
“Yes.”
“Did she say she loved you?”
“Yes.”
“Before or after you did?”
“After.”
Henry took another drink from his beer. “When you look deep down inside, did you love her, or were you just attached to her?”
Paul looked at Henry, with spite embedded on his features. “Where are you going with this?”
“Humor me.”
“I loved her,” Paul said taking a drink from his beer, “I loved her from the depths of my heart. From right where it hurts so badly right now,” Paul said, pointing at his chest.
“You’re lucky.”
“What?”
“You’re lucky. You loved a woman from the depth of your being. Not just anyone can do that. I never have.”
“So I should be happy that it hurts so bad?”
“No, the pain sucks. But it’ll heal. You should be grateful that you got such a chance,” Henry said, looking Paul in the eyes. “Love is the greatest and worst thing you can ever have. In the good times it’s great, and in the bad times it’s terrible. But when all the chips are down, I’ve always believed that it’s the amount of love you gave that counts. Jobs, money, promotions, none of it matters. What does matter is how you love.” Henry said, a grave look on his face.
“What am I supposed to do now?” Paul asked.
“There’s only one thing I’ve ever found that works on a broken heart.”
“And that is?”
“Time.”
“That’s the one thing I didn’t want to hear,” Paul said.
They sat in the silence of Paul’s apartment, Paul feeling sorry for himself, and Henry trying to figure out what to do about the situation. Then, and idea struck Henry.
“Have you ever been to a wake?”
“No,” Paul said, “why?”
“We need to mourn your relationship with her, you know, the death of all that potential, and all those good times. That’s what you’re doing right now, but ineffectively. You need to do it like a wake.”
“How exactly do we throw a wake for my failed relationship?”
“There are three things very important to a wake. All we need is to go out and find them.”
“And what are those three things?”
“Wine, Women, and Song,”