Incongruence and Coincidence Meet

The eleventh of April and the mountainous communities of Northern New Mexico are being drenched in a wet snow that melts as it hits the ground. It’s a frozen drizzle if you ask me. Go ahead.

Cynthia Colby Dodge

I pulled up the Boothbay Register page a few minutes ago and the second thing I turn to are the obituaries. Older folks do that. Sort a measuring device that either freaks us or assures us, not sure which on any given morning. This morning I read the one for a lovely woman in her sixties. Something about the name made me focus fast. She is one of the characters in a story I wrote last year. Her husband was the protagonist and a good friend of mine. Her husband Wayne Dodge died a while ago from lung cancer. Her name is Cynthia Colby Dodge. I met her just a few times with Wayne. Any way, the story is true and you can read it below. Cynthia is represented in this story as “Lisa”.

I hope you have opportunity to improve your lot in life today. If not, hang in there. Maybe it’s just one of the up/down types of days. Peace out.

INCONGRUENCE

Wayne sat watching Lisa mixing the two cocktails. She was moving efficiently and her motions were swift and accurate. Ice, bitters, sugar, whiskey, lemon twist, stir, pour. He marveled at her coordination. Wayne took a pull on his cigarette and then took a sip of his scotch. He settled deeper onto the stool at the bar, leaned a bit more onto his left elbow and sighed a sigh of contentment. His face relaxed and the voice of Willie Nelson soothed his soul as he smoked and drank his scotch and thought about the day and the job and then let things slip out of his mind.

Two seats away another man was also observing Lisa. He’d been drinking draft beer for a few hours and had removed his jacket which was hanging on the back of the stool where he sat. The man was dressed neatly and certainly looked like he belonged right where he sat. After Lisa had delivered the drinks to a waitress she came back along the bar toward Wayne. As she passed in front of the other man he commented.

Do you like cocktails? He asked.

Lisa didn’t stop as she answered, I can take them or leave them. Why?

Would you like to hear one? The man said with a smirk on his face.

Wayne shook his head and turned his face slightly away from the other man. Lisa came down to where Wayne was sitting. She made an exaggerated laughing sound to satisfy the customer. Wayne thought, Oh, shit, here we go. Wayne regularly met Lisa after work and his hours spent at this bar were filled with various activities and experiences with other patrons. This was not a typical encounter with the man with the cocktail joke but it certainly was not the first time Wayne had run into this; nor the first time he’d heard this lame joke at a bar.

Here’s another if you liked that one: said the man at the bar. Without pausing the man launched into another joke much like the bomb he’d just laid on Lisa and Wayne. Wayne stared into his scotch and half listened to the man at the bar. Lisa lazily leaned back against the counter where the bottles of whiskey and the glasses were stacked. She had her arms folded in front and held the man’s gaze during the whole time. The man was finishing the story: I’m not shaving my legs, said the woman, I’m using this on my Schnauzer. Lisa gave a soft chuckle which seemed to encourage the man at the bar.

Wayne was grateful that the joke had been short and for the most part sort of harmless. When he heard Lisa chuckle Wayne felt a twinge of jealousy and he searched his mind for a joke he could tell. Before he could though the man at the bar began telling another. The bar was empty except for the three of them. Lisa was not busy and couldn’t escape the situation without insulting the customer.

Wayne was searching his brain for a good joke but by now the man at the bar was hitting the punch line: The blind man said, they gave me a Chihuahua? Lisa grinned and gave a more genuine laugh. Wayne looked from her to the man at the bar. The man was grinning and taking a sip of his beer with a look of deep self satisfaction. Wayne gave a little laugh to join in but it was forced and he felt like shit.

Wayne was trying to remember that great joke that one of the apprentices at the ship yard had told him at lunch yesterday. It was a pisser and would take the grand prize of all jokes, if he could remember how it started. How did it go? Some guy was going to church and met a beautiful young woman and …crap! No, some guy was leaving a church and he saw a young woman sitting in a car…yeah that’s it. By now the man at the bar was really warmed up and he was telling one of those lame knock-knock jokes. Lisa was saying: Irene who? And the man at the bar responded with: Irene and Irene but no one answers the door. Lisa choked on her cigarette trying to laugh and Wayne couldn’t believe this! What a lame joke. Jesus. Come on, he thought, how does this goddam joke start…a guy meets this pretty girl at church in a car and they make a date…damn, goddammit!

The man at the bar was giggling and smiling and Lisa was pouring him another beer. Wayne was sitting there with a tight smile on his face and half listening. Inside he was a mess. He was going over his joke line by line but it didn’t make any sense. He held out his glass for Lisa to give him a refill. He had to speak her name to get her attention. The man at the bar was animated and telling another joke. Wayne was almost certain he had his joke in hand and under control. He heard Lisa roar with laughter when the man at the bar said: What’s wrong? he asks. She answers, Do you really think I’m going to fire up this big-ass grill for one little weenie? Oh, God! Thought Wayne.

Lisa came over to Wayne and poured the scotch into his glass. How you doing, Honey? She asked. Wayne pulled another camel from his pack and lit it with his lighter. The smoke spewed from his nose and lips before he said: Good. Good. Lisa was already turning away as he spoke. Wayne by now had remembered the joke he was attempting to bring up but something was terrible wrong. The joke did not fit the situation. The man at the bar was telling these cute, short, funny jokes. The joke Wayne had in his head was over the top raunchy and would be out of place anywhere but in the shop at work with a crew of crude men eating lunch in front of the wood stove. Wayne sat on his bar stool miserable. He sat there and thought how he was going to find that apprentice and tell him how fucked up it was that he would tell a joke that could never be told in polite society at a bar in a good neighborhood. Wayne would tell that apprentice just what he thought of him and his rotten joke.

G. M. Goodwin

16 August 2015