Tom drove a truck cross-country for a small bottled water company. He liked his job; it paid well; he could take plenty of time off. Tom’s friends considered him a “happy” guy. Sometimes that’s enough for some people.
Tom had met Vivian last night at a bar outside of Reno. Vivian was a card player and a waitress, but she really wanted to sing. Their eyes first met as they’d both reached for the same glass of Budweiser.
“Sorry, ma’am,” said Tom. “S’a’right,” said Vivian.
They shared the Bud and had another, then three shots and an order of wings. Vivian told Tom of her dreams of Broadway and the curse of being the best blackjack player this side of Ohio. Tom told Vivian he drove to forget; he was running from something but didn’t know what.
They stayed up all night and talked of a new life, of a different approach to living. By three o’clock the next afternoon, Tom had called the water company and given notice, and Vivian had turned in her last deck at the Casino. “You keep the jokers, Viv. We got enough of them around here.” She winked at her manager and promised to write.
Two hours and one rented van later they were off toward L.A. Vivian was gonna start her own cabaret act, and Tom would manage her. He didn’t know much about the business, but he had a girl and a dream, and sometimes that’s enough.
Not this time.
Six months later, Vivian was back in Reno, splitting aces and breaking hearts. Tom took a part-time job as a car wash attendant and tried to sort out where he was going and why it hadn’t worked. Had he not made the right phone calls? Had Vivian just not been seen at the right clubs? Had their own relationship been too rocky? He sat and thought all day and wiped the windshields of the same trucks he used to drive. He’d figure it all out and then move on, he thought. But it never got figured out, Tom never left, and the same windshields kept coming back with fresh new bug scum.
Sometimes there isn’t a good reason. Sometimes that’s just how it happens. Sometimes a man who asks a question, or takes a chance, or makes a choice, sometimes he has to sit at home and cry in his beer and rock himself to sleep knowing that at least he asked, at least he risked it, at lease he chose. Sometimes that’s enough, and for Tom it would have to be.
Because the world is full of bugs and full of windshields, and it’s full of people driving to forget. It also has a few Vivians in it. But most of them can’t sing a lick, to tell to the truth. And the Toms in the world just can’t seem to admit it.