For Amanda

Twenty-Three

Dear Amanda,

I went to work today and saw a lot of improvements in the shop. They moved the whole couch area to the other side of the store. The beds still stayed in their original area but there were a few of them now. Mr. Gonzales had the old bed frames removed and probably donated to a charity or something. There were more space for new furniture pieces now. Another "big change" in the shop was the number of employees. Turns out, Mr. Gonzales decided to let some of the older employess have their "early retirement" and big-fat Joe was one of them. He was carrying a boxful of his stuff from his locker when I approached him to ask what happened. He told me everything. Then he sighed and said, "You know what they say, bud. Old people are useless." 

Big-fat Joe was about to get in his beat-up old car when I invited him to eat lunch with me. At first he hesistated. He said, "This isn't a pity lunch right?" and I patted him on the back and said, "Definitely not." We ate at a diner nearby and I told him to order anything he wants. Big-fat Joe was quick to order a cheesesteak burger, a tall glass of milkshake, a large basket of fries with an extra cheese dip, some onion rings, and a platter of baby back ribs with corn and mashed potato on the side. I ordered the same thing except for the baby back rips and onion rings. 

I asked him why he was absent-minded all the time. He took a sip of his milkshake and told me everything that happened to his family. His wife and daughter was killed in a car accident 3 years ago. Ever since then he lost his will to carry on with his life. Joe tried to take his own life after the accident. "I tried popping down an whole bottle of sleeping pills and I woke up in a hospital bed three days after," he took a big bite out of his cheesesteak burger, chewed, swallowed, and said, "I even tried tying a big-ass rope around my neck and jump from a tree but my neighbor saw me. I tried to slit my wrists but apparently, that didn't work."

He finished his platter of ribs and asked me things about my life. He asked if I was married and I told him the story. I told him everything that happened to us and big-fat Joe looked very concerned. When I told him that you left me without a word, he said, "Did you try asking help from the poh-lice? Bud, things like that don't just happen. Maybe she was forced to leave by a powerful druglord or something." I told him that I tried everything that I could just to know where you went. Then there was silence for about two minutes. He took another sip of his milkshake, picked five sticks of deep fried cholesterol (french fries) and popped it into his mouth. Then he said, "That's pretty harsh, bud. I don't know which hurts more; being left because of natural stuff like death or disease, or being left by choice."

Those words lingered in my head. I felt the familiar stabbing and tight pain in my chest again, thinking about how you might have packed your suitcases (did you hurriedly grabbed your stuff and dumped everything in your suitcases?) and walked away because YOU chose to not because you were pushed by another other force. It was your will (and probably my irresponsibility and mediocrity) that pushed you to leave for good.

I guess... leaving me was one of the best decisions you have ever made. 

Brian