11.7.00
10:29 am
Attention K-Mart Talkers
Sunday on the way home from church, I went about preparing for my afternoon of majoring in the mundane, by stopping by Kmart to pick up a new element for our gas grill. Of course don't expect to find a seasonal item more than one second after midnight!; but they had plenty of Christmas ornaments. Trying to salvage my trip to the Big K, I ambled over to the boys' clothing department to unearth some new jeans for Slater. Nearly there, I see a lady's head and shoulders behind a rack of kiddy clothes. We make eye contact. In a spilt second my eyes squint a little and I ask myself, "Is that." and my thought is interrupted by the knowing look on her face that I am indeed who she thinks I am. We exchange the warm yet awkward hellos of people who knew each other seventeen years ago. We were good friends in high school. She was the captain of the guard. I was the drum major. We were co-editors of the yearbook, spending a plutonic week together at I.U. journalism camp in the summer of 1982.
Gwen was the kind of girl in high school that was pretty much "sweet incarnate." She seemed a bother to none and a friend to most, with rarely anything harsh to offer. In a mayberrian way, she was "true blue." It seemed soon after high school she married a man whom we all knew and of whom we all said behind her back, "Why in the world is she marrying HIM?!" That was one of those things that happens after high school that separates people, draws an unintentional boundary. None of the gang that she was apart of, myself included, really talked to her much after that. He wasn't horrible, he was just the kind of guy that was hard not to speak ill of---all of us had, including Gwen. So when she accepted his proposal, we were stunned and the invisible line drawn. Over the years, like one does in a small town, I heard rumors of their troubled marriage and his infidelity. From the very little unsubstantiated talk I heard, they had an "on and off again" marriage.
Between the maze of tiny clothes, we talked. Seemingly only seconds into it, she mentioned her boyfriend. Searching for the right words I said, "So, you and...aren't.?" Her answer drove us down Divorce Avenue. She told me of how she was "let go" by him without warning soon after her bout with depression that followed a string of corporate downsized job eliminations. Being let go was becoming an unwanted theme. It was then a string of barb-pricked stories the likes of which hang in the divorce hall of shame. Hearing the heinous exploits of divorce from her was like hearing a news story of kids who found sharp objects in their Halloween candy; it made me whence and ask how things like this can even happen. And below the surface of all that she shared, laid the fresh emotions of hurt, pain and sadness. They had never had children and just recently her Dr. gave her the line I've only heard in movies, certainly not from anyone my age, "Your biological clock is ticking. You shouldn't wait much longer" She also went on to tell me the new love of her ex's life, only ten years our senior, has grandchildren.
About this time, I was beginning to feel I was becoming cocooned with emotions. First I was about ready to hug her and go into a mutual cry-fest. How could it be someone I know, so sweet, is facing 36 wondering if she'll ever have her own child? Weren't we just kids?! His family was her family; but it was lost in the settlement too. And how is it grandparenthood could be seen so closely from here? I was about ready to call for assistance in isle 32 to ask how and why all this could be possible? I felt heaps of compassion for her. But I felt at the same time mortality was hanging there in Kmart hitting me about the head. I honestly had no idea I would ever feel such intense & complex emotions that close to a blue light special. And what's more, to stand there and exchange stares and conversation for the first time since high school was sobering. I quickly realized that all she knew of me first-hand were images and remembrances of an 18 year old me; it was amazing how the power of her gaze put me in touch with that young version of myself. I was so capable of being a butt then. (OK, I am still very capable.) It was easy to be arrogant then. Easy to be selfish. Although she and I had gotten along well, I wanted to apologize to her for how I ended a relationship with her good friend nearly 2 decades ago. I didn't. I felt stunned by this stew of emotions and feelings. After the longest discussion I ever had in a Kmart, she reached out to hug me. I easily reached back.
On the way home, I couldn't stop thinking about her and me and our lives. It hurt to think of being 36 and having to restart your life. It didn't seem fair. Being the father of four (gulp), it was hard to imagine wondering if you would even have one to call your own; to face the second half of your life without a son or daughter to call you, visit, or send cards. And it hurt to see someone so sweet, become so unsweetened. And I couldn't stop wondering why we talked today. And to make it more odd, two of our common friends, part of the "gang" called me just days before on my birthday. None of us had talked for years. And now, within days, I have touched base and even a soul with all of them. I came home from Kmart different from how I went. Now my personal inventory looked rich; whereas it can sometimes feel "less than" compared to the Jones'. No one can tell me how good I have it and make me appreciate it. But we can share stories. "I'll show you my life if you show me yours." Even though I didn't find any pants for Slater, I've never before left Kmart with so much to take home.
