“I was born rejecting people,” the gruffly old man sitting next to me at the bar said.
I looked over at him, he wasn’t talking to me. He was looking at a young man who was probably in his early twenties.
“You really should open up to someone, Nick,” the man said.
“Leave me alone, Grandpa,” Nick grunted. “I already have Mom on my case.”
Nick pushed away his bar stool and stormed out of the bar. I looked at the man. He looked hurt and angry at the same time.
The old man was wearing an old, ragged leather coat, faded blue jeans, boots, and a weathered cowboy hat. His eyes were icy blue. His face had deep lines that looked as if he had been staring at the sun his whole life, and wore a frown longer than that. He was staring down into the Jack Daniels in his glass. He must have felt my eyes on him because he looked up and met my eyes.
“What are you looking at?” he huffed.
“I…uh… nothing. I’m sorry,” I stammered.
“That fool thinks he knows everything and won’t listen to anyone,” the man said. “My name is David.”
“Kevin,” I said as we shook hands.
“Well, Kevin, what is a clean cut boy like yourself doing in a place like this?” David asked me.
“Just thinking,” I coolly replied.
“Likely story,” David said, looking right through me.
We talked about the weather, the Yankees, and the happenings all around Dallas. All the while, my curiosity was growing about the boy that stormed out on David. But, I dared not ask for fear of offending this stranger. As David talked, I could hear the strength in his voice and knew that he had truly seen the war. He kept his hands clamped tightly together the whole time we were talking and sat very rigid in his seat. I finally mustered up the courage to ask him about the boy.
“So… that boy was your grandson?” I innocently asked.
“Yes,” David answered. “He’s making the same mistakes I did when I was his age. It kills me to see him that way.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. I was dying to know more, but I didn’t want to be running around burning bridges.
“The kid thinks he can do everything himself. He says he doesn’t need anyone to help him, and he doesn’t have anyone that he talks to,” David said with a glazed-over look.
I didn’t want him to stop talking. Something about the way this man spoke had me hanging on to every word.
“I left home when I was 17,” David started, “I went to work in the oilfield. My mother tried to stop me, but I wouldn't listen to her. I thought that she didn't know anything. I worked on the oil rigs until I was 25. I quit because I saw one of my buddies fall off and be paralyzed from the waist down. I was the only one to see the fear in his eyes as he was falling.
“I left the oilfield the next week and never went back. But I couldn’t go back home and tell my mother she was right. I spent the next few years in and out of work. I had a heavy drinking problem and I was in deep depression. I never went to anyone for help because I thought I could handle it. Stupid, stupid mistake. The breaking point was when I was 45. I passed out at three A.M. in my living room and had a dream of what my life would be like if I kept this up. I was alone and sad. And now Nick is going down that same road. I can’t bear it. I wasted so much of my time on something that was worthless and stupid. I have found out the hard way; those calamities we inflict upon ourselves are those which cause the most pain.” David took a swig from his glass and paid for both of our drinks. He said he needed to find Nick and left.
His words still rattled in my brain. I left the bar in a daze and got in my car. Little did David know that I was running away from home that night. I got in a fight with my dad and said he was an idiot. I drove home and apologized to my father. David saved my life that night and he didn't even know it. David’s words will forever be engraved in my head.
“Those calamities we inflict on ourselves are those which cause the most pain.”