To My Heart's Call

Author's Note: This story borrows lyrics from the 1968 Glen Campbell song "Wichita Lineman". I don't own rights to this song or its lyrics (That would be Jimmy Webb who does. He's brilliant.).

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“Glenn, you may now say your vows to Lucy.”

Lucy, my light….

Oh gosh! I’m so nervous, I’m shaking like an overhead cable in the breeze. Sorry about that. Yes, my love, for all the brawn I use to climb up those thirty-five foot poles, for all the steel I inject into my nerves as I dangle on the flimsiest of wires above long and winding stretches of asphalt, my brain can’t help just sputtering out in Morse code right now at the end of this flower-covered altar before all our family and friends, before you. You know very well I’m not so good with words; try as I might, I’m no poet, just a lineman for the county. However, I hope that in its simplicity, you would see that these promises come from the depths of my heart and that there would be no interference to you understanding how much you mean to me.

Right, here I go.

Lucy, the day I met you at your high school friend Billie’s birthday party, I heard a ringing tone in my ear, almost as if to alert my soul of finding its home. I already told you this, but even at that exact moment I saw your deep, cornflower blue eyes that remind me of the endless skies I often see at work and your long, blonde waves that take me back to the acres of Kansan wheat fields I pray not to tumble to when I’m up and searching for overloads, I felt as if you were calling me. Just one stolen glance as I was chatting with my buddy Jim, and I knew I wanted to glue my eyes to your sunshine smile as much as a screen. However, as much as my mind sent signals to my feet to move towards you, seated on the tan-colored couch on the other side of the room, somehow, my legs wanted to stay rooted to the floor like those hunks of wood I scaled for my job. As my nerves were bogged down by the blizzard of fear, I watched you stand up from the couch and disappear.

“That’s it,” I berated to myself. “You have cut down the lines of anything happening between you two before it even started. You’ve screwed it up, Glenn Rinner.”

Little did I know that you would sneak up behind me and tap me on the shoulder with a gentle swipe of your long, delicate fingers. Just as I turned around, you were biting your mulberry-painted bow lip and twirling a strand of your curls like it were a bit of telephone cord. To my surprise, you admitted that you had been casting sidelong looks at me as Jim and I were deep in conversation, that you secretly wished you had a party line just so you could hear my voice. We talked for two hours straight. I just couldn’t leave you, hang up --- so to speak --- when I was drowning in the heavens of your eyes and the melody of your laughter. That same night, as soon as I got back home, I whipped out my mobile phone, slammed on the voice recorder application, and began piecing together these vows I will declare to you right now.

Lucy, I promise that I will always be your cheerleader, the man who will practically yell into a megaphone how proud I am to have you. I vow to you that every time you grab that microphone to fill smoky bars with your bell-like voice, I will be the first to clap for you.

I still remember the very first time I sat at one of your gigs. I had just finished a long, brutal day precariously suspended over some back road, my energy reserves as thinner than a single strand of copper wire. When I pushed open the glass doors, a bouquet of large pink tulips in hand, and listened to that silky, angelic voice, I didn’t expect that somehow, you’d recharge my batteries. Immediately, I was swept up in a dialogue between me and those soulful blue orbs. With every note, every intimate vibrato that seemed like it were pumped through a receiver, I found myself free falling in love with you. As I handed you the flowers I’d carried all the way from the other side of town and you enveloped me in your warm embrace, I knew I’d gladly be the one who calls out your name the loudest as I applaud you. I guarantee you that yours will always be the voice that gladly plays in my head in the whine of everyday.

I promise to do everything for you to let out that tinkling, mellifluous laugh that always resounds in my head, even in the deafening quiet above the plains, even as strong gusts sometimes threaten to topple me from my perch on a ladder. You can be assured that I won’t ever shy away from making you smile. How can I not when hearing you chuckle is even more addictive to me than some social media app?

Do you still recall that Friday night? Yes, that one. You were putting on your make-up in front of the lightbulb-covered mirror of The Sunflower Inn. Billie told me that you were audibly sighing, your gently-formed hands shaking as you painted your eyelids a rich amethyst. That hotel general manager from St. Louis was coming to watch you perform that day; word of mouth about your enthralling music spread faster than electrical pulses surging through a cable, after all. Oh, I knew you were a ball of nerves. There was only one thing to do.

As soon as I was back on the ground, I slammed on the record button on my phone’s camera to record a short video of me attempting to croon one of your original songs. Geez, I must have looked like a headless chicken trying to catch 5G signal in the middle of nowhere, but it worked. Apparently, you filled that dressing room with the glorious, airy sound of you snickering. My light, I tell you right now that I’m never going to stop making those beautiful cornflower eyes crinkle in joy.

I promise to be the chest you could cry on, that these same arms that mount poles for a living will be the ones to hold you tight no matter what. Sweetheart, only you will have a virtual hotline to me anytime you need me, 24/7.

Every single time I think of the day the hospital rang me whilst I was replacing a worn-out piece of wire, my entire body couldn’t help vibrating violently. As soon as I saw the litany of chat messages when I finally got down, it was as if I were bound under the sea with fiber optic cords strangling at me. I rushed to the medical center, the pages for doctors drilling in my eardrum, and saw you being wheeled into surgery for the bones you broke during the car accident. I couldn’t think of anything else but to email my supervisor that I’d be taking the week off, that the only setting up I’d be doing would be a chair to be by your bedside.

Oh, the way your mouth stretched into a smile more radiant than a cloudless summer day as soon as you opened those blue eyes and noticed me. I vow to you, Lucy, whether we’re figuratively high up in the air or we have to crawl on the ground, you will always have me.

Most of all, I promise to never put our love on the line, that I will never ever take you for granted…again.

It’s so embarrassing to admit it, but yes, I didn’t always make good on that. By our fourth year together, the fields of Kansas saw me more than you did. The after-show tulips were replaced with crumbled up notes from me stating that I’d be out late from work again. Gone were the funny clips sent to your inbox of me just to make you guffaw; instead, you got curt texts simply demanding "What's for dinner"?

Then, like a thin, overstretched piece of metal, you snapped. Little did I know you had effectively disconnected yourself from me. When I came home from work, you were gone, the only indication I had, a splotchy letter you left.

Sweetheart, I vow to you that I’ve learnt. No more of that. I hope you see...

Lucy Belinda House, you and no one else are the answer to my heart’s call. I love you so very much. I really d…

“Glenn, you may now say your vows to Lucy.”

I swallow a gulp as I break out into a small grin and stare at your delicate face. Goodness, you look so resplendent in that beaded gown with a bell-shaped bodice, a veil cascading down your coiffed golden hair. From here, I could see those angelic peepers --- the same ones that remind me of the clear skies I reach out towards every single day --- fill with glistening tears. However, your gaze never leaves, only flares out to take in more of….

“I, Glenn Philip Terrence, adore you, Lucy Belinda House…”

Glenn Terrence. The other Glenn. The Glenn that approached you one evening after a gig just to tell you he loved your soulful voice, his gentle hazel eyes apparently putting your mind at ease. The Glenn that has never failed to show up to every show with the freshest of tulips. The Glenn who sneaks in video calls between court trials and legal meetings just to make you laugh. The Glenn you chose.

I don’t blame you, Lucy; in fact, I’m grateful you even let me back in your life as a friend. As much as I clung on to hope that you’d ring me back after you packed your bags, as much as I told myself that your new beau and I sharing names was a sign you still wanted me, I’ve just got to face the facts. Even more than missing the call from the HR manager of some dream job, I’ve lost my chance to be who your heart calls for. And damn does it feel like I were electrocuted.

I do promise you this, though. Lucy. I vow to always be happy for you. When you write to me about the new home you and Glenn would build, some vacation he’s taking you on, a new baby --- I will attempt to sound as giddy as I could be on screen, even if behind it, my heart is screeching. I swear to always be there for you both if ever you need me to fix up a roof or just need a chat, just give me a holler. It’s the least I could do…

…Oh, and yes, if one day, you realize you still have me in the recesses of your memory --- if you want to ask me if I still need you more than want you and if I want you for all time, the answer will always be the same: I do.