Pipe smoke trailed out over the water, evaporating into nothing as it spiraled through the light breeze. The hustle and bustle of the harbor was slowing down, as slow as the sun descended toward the black ripples of the ocean. Salt and pepper hair flapped in the gentle salt air as he stared at the gorgeous sight. Another puff of smoke flew over the dock and vanished and with his pipe tucked at the corner of his mouth, Gilbert’s deep baritone voice rumbled low as he strummed his guitar. He was drunk as a skunk and singing aloud for the world to hear his woes; something he rarely shows.
Velma joined the houndmaster for a trip to the city to gather up supplies for the Ludlow stables. Once everything was gathered and loaded, she made her way to the pub to have a couple of drinks and catch up with a couple of her friends. The sun was about go down and she bid farewell to her peers and made her way to find Gilbert at the harbor where he said he would be. The older woman saw his silhouette in the orange sunlight, the hat atop of his head making him unmistakable. With quiet steps along the boards that made up the dock, she made her way closer and stopped as she heard his voice singing low. Velma crossed her arms and leaned against one of the large pillars and listened.
Once the last note was strummed and all went silent, but the faint remaining vibrations of brass strings, Gilbert took in a deep breath and exhaled it long and slow. Velma began walking toward him with her boots clanking and cleared her throat to announce her presence. The woman did her best to make it seem as if she had just arrived, but the mist in her eyes was hard for any woman to hide. She sat next to her old friend and put and looped an arm around his back. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head and then looked to her, “I still can’t believe she’s gone, Vel.” He slurred and stumbled with his words, “I mean, I mean I’m glad Sarah’s back an safe, but Shirley...” The pain in his soul stole away the grin that never seemed to leave the man’s face. Velma leaned her head against his shoulder and hugged her dear friend, “Gil, I know you loved her and I know you missed her, but I have ta say it’s time you still remember you have got some time left. I think anyone would want you to--” The houndmaster interrupted, “Yeah well, ya see I’ma thinkin I’m never gonna stop missin her til I’m dead and buried. I’ll never know if Sarah’s mine er not, but I s’pose that don’t matter. She’s Shirley’s flesh an blood an I can fuckin pretend.” Tired, sapphire eyes turned to Velma, “Ya think she’s mine, Vel? All I ever wanted was ta have a family, but Shirley never came back an I missed my chance. I gave it all up, waiting and thinkin she loved me enough ta come back ta me. I was waitin round fer a ghost and now it’s too late fer me. I pissed away my life an I sit here and know I’d do it all over again just fer five more minutes with that woman.” Storms brewed in the older man’s eyes and Velma’s followed suit. She pushed his guitar to the side and hugged her friend as his head fell to her shoulder. The fifty-one year old man sobbed like a baby. Quivered lips spilled out shaky, baritone words, “I loved her, Vel. I love her still. I gotta--” He exhaled a shuttering breath, “I gotta let her go or I’m not gonna make it. I just don’t, I just don’t know what I’m gonna do. How do I let go, Vel? How do I let go of her after all these years?” Velma did her best to sooth her old friend, “Just gotta try, Gil. Just gotta try. I’m here for ya, ya know this.” She patted his back and held the broken man in her arms as the sun slipped down into the waves like flames doused in blackstrap molasses.
