Talking to the Wall

I was in line at a grocery store, waiting for customer service.

The man in front of me was filthy. His clothes were dirty, his baseball cap was torn and covered in sweat. In his hand was a $30 scratch-off lottery ticket.

“That a good one?” I asked.

“$500,” he said. “God knows I need it.”

He was mumbling a little and looking down at his feet.

“I’m not a bum,” he said. “I just look like one. I’m a union plumber.”

“That’s hard work,” I said.

He kept talking.

“I don’t drive anymore,” he said. “And have you ever been without the company of a good woman?”

I was caught off-guard by every word.

“Nah, I don’t mean to bug you,” he said. “Just making conversation. I spend a lot of time talking to the wall.”

“No bother,” I said. “And to answer your question, I’ve been married for a long time.”

“Me too,” he said, “but not anymore.”

We were still three people away from the front of the line so I figured I was going to hear the whole story.

“I bought a fancy car,” he said. “Worked hard all my life, and figured I earned it. Anyway, bought a Camaro. It was fast.”

I’m not a car guy but I told him that was a great car.

“Wish I never bought it. I drove it to the bar after work. I only had a few, and I fell asleep on the way home. Ran a stop sign.”

He stopped talking as we moved up one.

“My wife is beautiful, man, but she had enough of me, I guess.”

It wasn’t going well, and I didn’t know how to comfort him.

“So, now I mostly talk to the wall. Go to work, go home. I’m a half ass cook and never did a load of laundry until I was on my own.”

He was now on deck to cash in his lottery ticket, and he turned away.

“Thanks for listening to me,” he said. His eyes fixed on his feet again.

“I wish you the best,” I said.

It sounded lame to my own ears. 

He nodded.

He collected his money and jammed it into the front pocket of his greasy jeans.

I stepped up to buy a book of stamps. I wasn’t sure how I felt, or what I should’ve said.

I got another chance because he was waiting for me at the front door.

“Didn’t mean to bring you down,” he said. “I have three grand babies too, and they’re the best. I’m going to see them in July.”

“Oh, that’s great,” I said.

“They call me pop-pop. They’re beautiful. My wife is gonna’ be there too. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” I said, without missing a beat.

He nodded.

Turned away.

“Better than talking to the wall,” he said.

Glad I was there for him.

I do wish him luck.