The Lighthouse

The young waitress comes by. Adam shakes his head when she asks him if he wants anything.

“So,” he says, hesitates.

I take a sip of coffee. I know how he feels. It’s like we’ve been sitting next to each other on a long plane trip; there’s a faint connection, but nothing really.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” I say lamely to fill up the silent space.

“Why’s that?”

“Well…I guess, I don’t know really. I just thought that.”

“You still live in San Pedro?”

“No. Tucson. I’m here for the week, for Christmas.” I gesture toward the peeling Christmas lights surrounding the old wooden window.

“I moved back to Pedro seven years ago.” He leans forward a little. “I love it here.”

“Back from where?” I try not to stare at him, but it’s utterly impossible. One moment, he looks like someone I remember, and then the next like a man my age, but someone I don’t even know.

Adam glances out the window, then back to me. “I lived all over. Before I came home, I moved around a lot. Never thought I’d miss this town, but I did as I got older.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, yet I understand. The last few years, I’ve missed San Pedro, too.

“I like the ocean, the small-town atmosphere. When I came back, it wasn’t exactly what I remembered, but close.”

“I just had that same experience over at the park.” The image of my dad falling off the curb by the park last night pops into my mind, and I shake my head.

“Something wrong?”

“No…yes. My dad isn’t exactly the same, either.”

“People change, too. First rule of Zen Buddhism, things change, and to negate misery we have to accept those changes.” He closes his eyes as if he’s praying, then opens them and stares at me.

“Really?” Now I remember. Adam was the weird smart guy in high school.

He shrugs, grins a little. “Yeah, well, something like that. I’ve read some books on Buddhism. It fascinates me. What kind of work do you do?”

“Realtor.”

“Great. I’m an electrical engineer.” Adam laughs. “I think everyone in high school thought I’d end up a bum.”

I laugh, too. “No. Maybe a professor, or a rocket scientist. You were so smart. But we really didn’t know each other.”

“You were the shy, pretty one.”

“High school was a long time ago.”

“Did you know I quit high school?” he asks.

“You did?”

He nods, grins again.

“As boring as it was, I wondered why I stayed.”

“Actually, I got thrown out.” He leans back, rests his right arm over the vacant chair beside him. “I think it had something to do with the principal getting tired of me harassing teachers about what they didn’t know. After that I worked graveyard shift at the Pacific Street 7-Eleven for three weeks.”

“Only three weeks?”

He leans forward again. “Yeah. One night, right before Christmas, a woman came in and right behind her two guys. The woman needed Tampax, the guys dope. They robbed us both.”

“Jesus,” I whisper.

“Yeah, that’s just what I was thinking, when the taller of the two put his Smith & Wesson to my head.”

“Thank God you weren’t killed.”

“That was my second thought. It changed me. Decided to go back to school. Plus, it made me realize I wanted to live, do something with my life to make a difference.”

“So are you doing that?”

“Every day I try to help someone.”

“That’s nice.”

“Sometimes it’s difficult to find a person who needs help.”

“It is?”

“It is. You’d be surprised.”

“So when did you go back to school?”

“I punched a cash register for eight hours, but that wasn’t very interesting, and I was a rebel without a clue. Maybe I still am.”

I laugh. “And then what happened?”

“I financed a beat-up Harley at sixteen percent, rode around the country doing a bad imitation of Easy Rider, ran out of money in central Oregon, went to work in another 7-Eleven, was robbed again, then got my GED and went to college. I was a slow learner.”

I think about how I had to learn so many lessons the hard way. About jobs, men and life in general. “At least you learned. So you’re an electrical engineer?”

“Yeah. It’s the greatest job in the world. Good money, honest work. As long as I don’t electrocute myself I’m happy.” He points toward the window, the Christmas lights, and bounces in his seat. “I bring artificial sunshine to the world.”

“Right,” I say, feeling my eyes get a little bigger. Adam is so animated.

“How about you? How are you changing the world?” He leans toward me, smiles.

I sit back, think about telling him I sell people their dreams. “I sell real estate. I enjoy it and I’ve done pretty well. It keeps me busy.”