Over the Hill by Pep Macadoo
The Five Rules of Breaking Up
Some of the warning signs were right there on the trail and I guess I was looking the other way on purpose. The long silences during dinner with a thousand yard stare. Impatience with my stories at parties, a lot of glares and arm folding when I talked and then she stopped laughing at my jokes. Soon we were exchanging boxes of junk we had left at each other’s houses. Her pictures went into the old girlfriend picture envelope stuffed in the top of the closet. Almost a year to the day and it was as if we had never been together.
I never was one to mope around about faded love. You just have to trust the universe and know that all things move along for a reason. Uncle Tater wasn’t buying it however.
“You make me sick,” he sneered. “I thought I raised you better than this.”
I looked up from the stock tank I was plumbing.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re screwing that pipe union the wrong direction.”
I looked down and seemed to have forgotten all about old righty tighty and lefty loosie.
“You’re thinking about that little freckled face gal who threw you over,” he muttered in disgust. “Moaning around here like a love sick 15 year old boy…an old hand like you. It just makes me sick.”
I sighed. “I guess I’m wondering what to do next. Should I send her flowers, or write her a letter of apology, or just leave her alone?” I asked.
Uncle Tater snorted. “The ways you is been acting we ain’t going to get any work done today,” he said. “Let’s go back up to the house and let me get you squared away on women.”
We went up to his kitchen and he snapped open a beer. He didn’t offer me one.
“O.K. Pep,” he stated dramatically, “Uncle Tater’s School Of Breaking Up and Moving On is now in session.”
He rocked back in the kitchen chair and took his battered Stetson off.
“They’s five rules that I have always observed in breaking up with a lady.” He took a long sip of beer. “I am sure that the French have invented a few more, but these are the ones I have used over the last 50 years and they have served me well.”
I nodded and rocked back in my chair as well.
“Number One… admit to anyone who asks that it was all your fault. Don’t try to get in some licks by saying that she was lazy, or slept around or stole all your money. That will just make you look real stupid and not her.” I sighed again and stared at my boots.
“Number Two… let her know that you will respect her home and job. Don’t go driving by her house looking for strange cars or bothering her at work.” He took a long sip of beer. “That’s how fellers get their tails shot off or get the law sicced onto em.” I nodded.
“Number Three… keep your focus on the good times that you had. I am sure you and little Freckles had a lot of fun.” I nodded and then smiled. “Just remember the music, and the laughter, and the nice little dinners out in town. Don’t think about the last month or two when things started headin toward the border.” I thought this made sense and nodded again.
“Number Four… don’t even think about going out with any other women for a long while. Instead you need to get back in touch with those friends that you ignored for the last year like your Uncle Tater.” I smiled a little. “The next time I call you to come fishing or to go bird hunting, you don’t have to ask anybody except yourself.”
“Alright” I said.
“Number Five… and this one is the most important,” he looked at me over his crusty old reading glasses, “Lay off the happy sauce. Don’t hang out in bars listening to Hank Williams hunched over a beer glass.” I looked surprised. “Heart breaks and liquor don’t mix,” he said sagely. “If you feel all bluesy and low… don’t reach for the bottle of Four Roses or that six pack of Milwaukee’s Beast…instead go out and dig some post holes or split some wood…we need the chores done and you will sleep a lot better at night.” He crushed the beer can and stood up from the table looking down at me. “It’s coming on night now, you better run on home and sulk there. I can’t abide a man who can’t handle horses or women.”
I drove back to my place that night by the light of a quarter moon. I couldn’t help thinking about that sweet lady and wondering what it all had meant. I stopped my truck at the fence line and got out of the cab. The crickets were not up yet and it was completely quiet. I looked up just in time to see a shooting star arching toward the east. “I wish that she will be happy,” I said to the star. “And know that I will always save a little place for her in my heart.” I smiled at the thought of her making coffee for me in her kitchen and holding my hand at the movies. Swimming up in a mountain lake and walking through knee-deep snow to get to her house last winter. It had been a very good year and she would be missed. I trudged on up to the house in the dark and sighed one final time.
Morton “Pep” McAdoo is a graduate of the University of California and owns the Double Diamond Ranch in the California Foothills. He can talk to dogs and likes to wash dishes in his spare time.
