Elmer and Earl

Every day at three pm throughout the month of June, the sprawling oak cast the perfect shadow over the bench at the far end of Winslow Park. Both men knew this, and it was always a race to see who could first lay claim to it. Arrive too soon, and you had to sit under a judging sun, punishing you for your greed. Arrive too late, and you had to endure the ridicule of your rival.

It was a slow race, both men now in their mid-eighties; a walker-aided, creaking conquest of prime bird-feeding space.

And though the contest lacked the athletic prowess brought to the arena by younger men, it never lacked the fire.

Elmer rounded the corner at precisely 2:57 pm, and found Earl already there, feeding pigeons with a look of smug satisfaction.

“Dang it, Earl! That’s three days in a row!”

Earl kept his eyes fixed on the hungry birds, a sly grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “The early bird gets my breadcrumbs, because I always beat you here.”

“That’s because you, sir, are a cheater.”

“How in the Sam Hill do you cheat at this, Elmer?”

“I don’t know. But I know you do. Just like you do at everything.”

Earl rolled his eyes and shook his head. “There IS room for two on the bench, you old fool.”

“Like I would share a bench with you!”

“Suit yourself.”

Elmer stood in fuming silence, imagining all the ways he could knock Earl off the bench.

But his legs were tired, his back ached, and he had a whole bag of birdseed in his pocket. He had gotten too old, it seemed, to make a stand on principle. With a sigh of surrender, he sat down on the park bench, as far from Earl as he could manage.

The two men sat in silence, alternately  tossing their offerings to the waiting pigeons. The birds ran back and forth, rushing first to the breadcrumbs, and then back to the seed as it fell. 

Cutting his eyes over at Earl, Elmer threw his next handful of birdseed off to the side, pulling the birds away from the front of the bench. Earl suddenly had no birds.

“Hey! Quit stealing the birds!”

“Doesn’t feel so good when someone steals from you, does it?” Elmer mumbled.

“Oh, for the love of Pete, Elmer! Are we really going to do this again?”

“You bet your sweet bippy we are, you old horse thief!”

“It’s been 60 years! Surely we can move on!”

“I’m sure you’d be happy to move on! You weren’t robbed!”

“Neither were you!”

“You know dang well I was, and you know dang well who did the robbing!”

Earl shook his head in disbelief. “5 parks in this town,” he said under his breath, “and I gotta share this one with you.”

“Well, Lord knows you don’t like sharing. You just take what you want and leave the rest of us with our hands in our pockets.”

“I’ll tell you what I’d like to do, Elmer.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“I’d like to throw your walker in the duck pond over there and go find another bench where you couldn’t follow me.”

Elmer gasped, red-faced. He took a heaping handful of the birdseed and threw it in the face of Earl. Earl retaliated with a barrage of breadcrumbs all over Elmer.

Both were immediately swarmed by the flock of pigeons. Birds sat on their heads and laps, contentedly eating away at the aftermath of the assault. The men sat stoically, staring forward.

“It’s been 60 years, Elmer.”

Elmer sighed. “And that is supposed to be long enough?”

“If it’s not, then how much longer do you need?”

“I guess at least one more day.”

“She was never yours, Elmer.”

“She could have been.”

“You were THINKING about asking her to the harvest dance. I DID ask her to the harvest dance.”

“You knew I was thinking about asking her to the harvest dance, and you slithered in like the snake you are and stole her away before I could get up my gumption.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t have the courage to ask a girl to the dance.”

“YOU CALL THAT AN APOLOGY?”

“You call that a reason to hold a grudge for 60 years?”

“Emma was supposed to be MY date!”

“Evidently not. Because she went with me.”

“Because you, sir, are a date stealer. You are a girl thief.”

“You do realize that she is also my wife, don’t you? For the last 57 years?”

“Because you stole her. You absconded with her in the dark of night like a cat burglar.”

Earl turned toward his accuser. “Elmer. Who did you take to that dance?”

“You know who I took.”

“Who did you take?”

“Phyllis.”

“And how long have you and Phyllis been married?”

“55 years this September.”

“How many kids do y’all have?”

“Three girls, two boys. Nine grandchildren.”

“Are y’all still happily married?”

“She’s a better woman than I deserve.”

“Don’t you think all of that might possibly mean you took the right girl to the dance?”

“That’s not the point.”

“That’s EXACTLY the point! You ended up taking the love of your miserable life to the harvest dance. For some reason, known only to Phyllis and Jesus, she decided to build a life with you. A life that you continue to enjoy to this day. And yet you continue to torment me on a daily basis because I took MY FUTURE WIFE to a dance 60 years ago, when you should be sending me a thank-you note once a week for dragging you, kicking and screaming, toward your amazing life!” 

Elmer sat with his arms crossed, a bird still feeding atop his hat.

“You might be right.”

“Might.”

They sat in silence as the birds picked the last of the crumbs and seed off of them. No food remaining, one by one, the pigeons flew away.

Elmer pulled his walker in front him, gathered his energy, and harrumphed himself up off the bench. He turned to head out of the park.

Without looking at Earl, Elmer mumbled, “See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

“Tell Emma I said hello.”

“Give Phyllis my best.”