The Grandfather Clock by Jonathan Kile Page A

slept with someone
else.”
    “ Oh, man,” Erin moaned,
shaking her head.
    “ I’m almost glad she did
that.”
    “ Really? Are you?” she
asked.
    “ I am! I think
so.”
    “ Okay.”
    “ What? Okay what?” I
probed.
    “ Just that, I could see
how it might hurt to find out she moved on so quickly.”
    “ I can honestly say that
I’m relieved I won’t have to deal with convincing her it’s really
over.”
    “ Okay.”
    “ Are you psychoanalyzing
me?” I asked playfully.
    “ Yes. I was a psych major,
which is how I came to advertising.”
    “ Here it
comes...”
    “ So, you broke off your
engagement with brutal suddenness. You feel bad about it, but not
bad enough not to do it. So, to make up for it, you decide to
rescue an old clock because it will seem like an altruistic act.
But in reality, you are worried that people will realize you are
just using it as an excuse to avoid dealing with the reality of
your life.”
    “ I think I need another
drink.”
    “ See... there. You avoid
the subject. You’re not only afraid that people think you’re a
jerk, you are afraid that you are a jerk. You can’t even convince
yourself of your own value.”
    “ That’s pretty deep,
Erin.”
    “ Shut up.”
    “ I mean it,” I said.
“Honestly. The other day, I was hanging out with this girl from
high school. I barely know her, but we connected. At one point, she
was ready to join me on the trip.”
    “ So you’ve, uh, moved on
too. Now I see why you weren’t mad when Christie screwed someone
else.”
    “ No, nothing like that
happened. At the last minute, she said she wasn’t coming. Didn’t
give a reason and I didn’t ask. A part of me was relieved. I mean,
if you’re going to drive three thousand miles with someone, you’re
going to have to give the other person your life story. I wasn’t
ready to hear to hear me tell my life story.”
    “ Why not?”
    “ I don’t know.”
    “ Because,” she said,
answering her own question, “you haven’t done anything yet. Your
life doesn’t mean anything. The biggest moment of your life is
breaking off an engagement.”
    “ Wow. Don’t sugar coat it.
Thanks.”
    “ Michael,” she said,
getting animated. “Do you know how many people dream of having the
courage to make the right choice, even when it’s hard? Even when it
hurts? Man, Michael, maybe you made some bad choices because they
were the easy choices. But when push came to shove, you had the
balls to do something about it.”
    “ Gee, thanks,” I said,
feigning bashfulness.
    “ There are millions of
people who would cut off an arm to go back and make that decision.
Instead they end up miserable, or divorced. Or both.”
    “ Well, I appreciate your
encouragement,” I said. Accepting her analysis. “I’m not sure if
it’s the sort of thing that I can put on my resume. My next
girlfriend can introduce me, ‘Dad, I’d like you meet Michael. His
greatest accomplishment is backing out of a marriage before it was
too late.’”
    “ Own it.” Erin jumped from
her seat. “Okay, I’m ready to have some fun now. It’s New
Orleans!”
    Erin held on to my arm as we wandered
quickly through the quarter. We camped out on the balcony of
Tropical Isle and put away Hand Grenades that looked like
antifreeze. Before we knew it, it was eight o’clock and we saw
Brian and Erin’s three friends making their way up the
street.
    A typical night on Bourbon Street is a
blur at best, and this one was no different. We dined at an oyster
bar, and hit the requisite tourist spots. Brian’s girlfriend never
materialized. As it got late, Brian lead us to another French
Quarter bar that tended to get the after-work crowd, along with a
few tourists. Ol’ Toons Saloon had a corny name, but it had a pool
table and a good bartender named Dan. With the House of Blues
around the corner, good bands tended to hang out smoking and
playing pool before and after gigs. I’d been there many times, and
every single time,