The Old Man III

I had no idea what to say to this strange revelation; I had never imagined that the old man had a story like that. It made anything that I would say sound insignificant and petty. It was too old of a story to offer my sorrows for his, it was too serious to brush off, and so I just stood awkwardly. The old man seemed to understand that he had put me in an embarrassing position because he muttered that he was sorry and went to go sit at his usual table until I brought him his coffee. Every once in a while I would glance over at him for the rest of the day and I thought I saw him touch the brim of his hat thoughtfully but it could have just been my imagination.

I stopped trying to start conversations after that, though I continued to be polite. I just didn’t know how to talk to the serious, dignified and now in my mind tragic, old man. My life had sucked up until now but I didn’t think I had taken it as well as the old man had dealt with the woes of his life and that made me self conscious and guilty of my own shortcomings. In his way the old man didn’t talk much to me either but one day he came in wearing a suit instead of his usual jeans, though his cowboy hat was still on his head. My curiosity got the better of me.

“Going somewhere fancy?” I asked him, as I handed him his coffee.

“I was just visiting my wife’s grave. I brought her some flowers.” I knew that I had started down another unhappy path through innocent questions but I was determined not to run away from it this time like I had last time.

“How long has she been gone?” I asked.

“Nineteen years, as of today. That’s why I was visiting her grave. I go every year. Her children are back in Hungary so I’m the only one to visit her.”

“Her children, not yours?” I asked, catching his choice of wording.

“I never met them; they have never had the money to come over, not even when she died. They are her children from her first marriage, after her first husband died, leaving her with three young children to take care of, she needed to find work.”

“So she came here to America?” I asked. This was the longest conversation I had ever had with the old man and I was determined to continue it. My manager on the other hand had different ideas.

“Go get more lids for the drink machine,” he interrupted and I was forced to leave for the back room with my question unanswered. I was kind of disappointed but it wasn’t like I would never see the old man again. There was never a day when he wasn’t in to drink coffee and look out the window and I supposed I could wait until the next day to find out more about the old man’s wife.

“Hello,” I said to my manager as I walked in. He looked at me a little oddly and I had a good guess. I was actually in a good mood and it showed in my voice and my step. It was probably the first time I had been in a good mood coming into work for the last year, but for once I had something to look forward to.

The old man set his cup for coffee on the counter for me and smiled at me. I smiled back and put some coffee on to brew. The coffee hadn’t been exactly expired yet but I had acted like it was so that I would have an excuse to talk to the old man longer while technically working. No one would notice, no one actually cared.

To be continued...