The Loudtalker

“You don’t understand...I don’t have that much time! If I have to wait until then I’ll lose everything!”

The man’s loud and strident voice cut through the early morning calm of St. Arbuck’s with all the subtlety of a bullhorn in a library.

He was a well-dressed fellow of middle age, his clean-shaven scalp gleaming above a face marked by intelligent eyes and neatly trimmed moustache. That he was under stress was evident by the sheen of perspiration he randomly, absently, wiped from his brow.

Fingering a Bluetooth device that seemed to be uncomfortably suspended from his right ear, he continued even more loudly, “I’ve put everything I have into this business. I can’t lose it! I just can’t!”

My beloved, whose back was to the man, looked up from her morning Sudoku puzzle, arched her brows and mouthed, “Wow!”

I heard one of the young mothers at a nearby table mumble something to the effect that the man needed to learn how to use his “inside voice.”

“So, you’re telling me there’s no chance?” he inquired, his voice cracking a little on the last word.

The man’s eyes darted rapidly left and right, left and right...over and over in a crazy, stuttering rhythm as his body sought release from the terrible stress of the moment.

“Assets?” he barked. “My assets are tied up in my company!” He seemed to be listening and then said, “My house?  Oh, that’s a good one! My house is worth even less than my company which isn’t worth anything at all!”

A look of concern colored my beloved’s lovely face as she whispered, “I feel really sorry for him, but I wish he wouldn’t talk so loudly.”

I thought about that for a few moments before saying, “I know, but sometimes desperate times produce a desperate cry.”

She nodded her head thoughtfully as if considering my statement.

The man swore...an expletive relating to bovine fecal matter. “You guys are all the same! You make a big deal about being there for people, but when it comes right down to it you’re only in it to line your own pockets. Worthless bastards!”

He now leaned with his forehead resting in his right hand; index finger tap, tap, tapping almost spastically against the top of his head.

If you want to know the truth, it broke my heart to see him like that; a once proud businessman broken under the wheels of an unforeseen economy.

“What am I supposed to do now?” he muttered, seemingly as much to himself as to the individual on the other end of the call.

Slowly, very deliberately he removed the Bluetooth from his ear, his finger hovering dramatically over the cell phone before stabbing downward and ending the call while the other party was still speaking.

With a sigh torn from the depths of an obviously tortured soul he leaned his chair back on two legs; hands covering his eyes...lips moving wordlessly. Looking to his left through the window and out onto the busy streets of Ocean Beach he seemed to track the passing pedestrian traffic as if silently judging that none were as unfortunate as he, and resenting each and every one of them for it.

Letting his chair fall forward the front legs connected loudly with the tile floor causing one of the two young mothers to utter a startled yelp and glare at him in obvious offense.

He opened his laptop; closed it; opened it; closed it and then opened it again staring vacuously at the screen for a few moments before closing it for good.

The cell phone vibrated loudly on the tabletop...once, twice, three times as he sat immobile, staring in obvious indecision.

He finally picked it up, uttering a world-weary, “Hello?”

Listening in a sort of vanquished indifference he swept his eyes around the room, making contact with mine briefly and then tracking onward.

Suddenly, he was completely focused on the conversation.

“Well, sure; I could do that. I mean I have my tools in the truck and it’d be no trouble to—“

Cradling the phone between his shoulder and ear, he quickly stuffed the computer into a backpack that had been hanging off the back of his chair.

“Well, obviously I’ll have to get eyes-on to give you a definite price, but I guarantee you’ll be able to afford me.” This was accompanied by a nervous chuckle as he listened in silence for a few more seconds, nodding his head frequently before replying, “Okay. Text me your address and I’ll be there as soon as I can.” A brief pause and then, “Thank-you for this. You have no idea how much it...right. I know. He’s a good friend, and I’ll try to live up to his hype.”

When the call ended the man stared at his phone, smiled a crooked little smile, gave his head a shake and said in his loud voice, “Well, you just never know what’s gonna turn up.”

He took one last glance through the window at the living mosaic of busy people passing by, all with somewhere important to be—a purpose behind their comings and goings—and I could tell from his body language that he had flipped the switch.

He too had somewhere important to be.

Purpose.

His countenance was transformed.

Slinging the backpack over his shoulder he exited the store and was immediately solicited by a homeless youngster sitting dejectedly on the sidewalk.

He smiled and gave the kid some money.