He Doesn't Dance Anymore

Here is a chapter from my book I've Been Thinkin'. I hope you'll take a few minutes and read it:

He Doesn't Dance Any More
By Terry Beck

I saw a man across the room who favored someone I used to know, someone I used to call friend. He sat there alone, in the corner of the room, picking at the label on his bottle of beer. He looked older than he would be if he were my friend and he was alone, something I couldn't imagine if he was my old buddy. Not only would he always be in a crowd, he generally would be one of the leaders or a focal point of the group. No, I didn't think that was him, as he put out his cigarette in an ashtray already three fourths full of stale cigarette butts. He always thought of his body as a temple and was well aware he was a healthy good looking man and did what he could to stay that way.

He stood and limped across the room to the jukebox. He was at least fifty pounds heavier than he should be, was bald, wore khaki pants and a wrinkled white shirt with green stripes. No, this couldn't be the long haired, athletic person who was always the first to wear 'the style' in clothes. As he slowly walked back to his table, I convinced myself that this was not my old friend, while he might be his older brother, it just wasn't him.

As I stood to leave, a song came on the jukebox that stopped me in my tracks. It was a Tommy James song, one of many of his songs that were a mainstay in every eight track player making the drag for years back home. I turned and looked at the old man in the corner as he hollered to the waitress, "Another beer!" and nodded his head to the beat of the rocking sweet music. Could it be a coincidence, too many things said maybe not. I couldn't leave without knowing for sure.

I turned and walked slowly toward him, doubt still dominant in my mind. As I approached, still five or six steps from him, he looked up at me. For a moment there was only a empty stare, then there was a smile, a smile that lit up his face, a smile I had seen before. The doubt was gone, it was indeed him, my buddy, my old friend. As I approached with my hand extended, he stood, pushed my hand aside and wrapped both his arms around me. We stood in a man hug for a while before he finally said as he patted my back, "Terry Don, you old fart, it's so good to see you".

We stepped back, I placed my hand on the back of his neck and told him how good it was to see him. He motioned to me and told me to have a seat. As we sat, I heard him groan and saw his face twitch in pain. He asked if I wanted a beer and when I told him no, that I was just leaving, he ordered me one anyway. We sat and talked of yesteryear with all its wonderful times and days of glory. As he talked, his face would light up and I could see the friend that had once been like a brother.

We talked about all the good times and all the firsts that we had done together. We relived the dances, the parties, the games, the girls, the close calls and things nobody but us would ever know about. Several times he would talk of things he said we did and laugh and slap the table, and I too would laugh even though the person he talked about was not me.

He asked me about my family and what I had been up to all these years. I told him of my loving family, my semi-successful career and my terrific retirement. As I spoke, he kept the smile on his face, but his eyes looked empty and his mind seemed to be elsewhere. I hesitantly asked him about his family and happenings. He looked down, picked up his beer, swirled the last couple of sips around in the bottle and said, "Been married four times, got two kids running around somewhere, and I sell stuff, by golly I can sell just about anything". With that said, he chugged the last of his beer, raised it into the air and hollered, "Bring us another beer Sweetheart!".

I motioned to the gal and told her to just bring one that I needed to go. He reached over and slapped the back of my hand and said, "You don't have to go Bro!". I paid for the beer and told him that I needed to get back home but we should get together again. We stood, hugged again and then I took his hand and asked, "Are you alright Bro? Are you sure you are OK?".

He put his other hand on top of mine, cleared his throat and said, "I'm doing fine old friend, I just don't dance any more".