Lou

Lou won’t crack a smile for shit. We’ve been attached at the hip for twenty-plus years and I’ve seen it maybe ten times. He’s not depressed or anything, that’s just the way he’s always been.

I spent some time early on trying to figure him out, but that investigative intrigue fell away quick. Lou didn’t make me guess who he was or what he was about, he showed me.

See, with most people you gotta read their expressions to find out who they are and what they like. You need a sense of their emotional state, where y’all are, who else is around, and a million other things just to capture a partial truth. Not Lou, though.

Since me and Lou been tight I’ve realized most people don’t know who they are or what they want. Their words don’t tell me a thing. People don’t understand themselves, so whatever comes out of their mouth only amplifies the never-ending facade. I walk away from most conversations feeling like I just got to know a character better.

Lou, though? That man doesn’t ever hide a goddamn thing or spend a single second wondering how people see him. That’s probably why his ass only smiles on a crazy-exclusive basis. He’ll smile if he feels a smile. Not to make you happy, not to ease the tension, not to sell you anything, and not for any reason the rest of us find to fake it everyday.He’s not trying to be tough or hide something, he just does as he feels and that’s that. 

Describing him like this probably renders a stoic, low-energy guy who reminds you of a phone charging at 1%, but shiiit. Lou is like some exotic, non-smiling condensed marble of energy defying physics and bouncing around like a rubber ball. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, Lou might not be stoic, but he’s not talkative either. He’s not shy nor outgoing. He’ll line that ass up if you talk wild and he’ll praise you if you act right. Lou isn’t insecure nor overconfident. He’ll only talk about himself if people ask, never looking for outside validation of his identity. Lou stays busy without telling everybody he's busy.

People who been around Lou long enough got nothing but love, but he’s always had a problem with strangers. I think people get on edge when they meet new faces, subconsciously using smiles and mirroring to build some acceptable level of comfort. Nervous people want reassurance, so when they see Lou’s still demeanor, they feel rejected. Rejected people are erratic and fueled by their flight/fight response, and well, Lou wasn’t born with wings. He sure gets in a lot of fights for never being the antagonist. 

He’s a crazy good fighter, too. I’ve asked him before to show me a couple moves, but he just told me experience is the best teacher. He said I have to learn what works for me when it comes to confrontation; everybody is different. I think that was his gentle way of telling me I should probably just avoid fights. Lou always said standing up is the hard part, the actual fight doesn’t hold much weight. Spoken like a person who probably won’t lose another fight in his lifetime if you ask me. 

Before I met Lou, I was drawn to the idea of raw, over-powering violence. I could spend hours at a time watching fights on WorldStar and still want more. I fantasized about being one of those guys fighting off an attack and embarrassing my enemy with a single shot to the jaw. I wanted to be IP Man; fighting the bad guys a dozen at a time. I fantasized about being the employee who body-slammed his overconfident boss in the middle of the store. But Lou taught me that people who fantasize about stuff like this aren’t the fighters; they’re the people who’ve never caught a punch. They’re weenies--

“Lou, what in the sugar and sprinkles is going on here?,” my boss said, “You just wasted a dollop of delicious dairy. My word.”

I looked down and found a tiny cone trying to hold up a gallon of chocolate ice cream. My hand was covered and dripping into a pool of chocolate melt rising against my brand new white shoes. 

Shit, I did it again.

I tossed the cone and fumbled an apology to my boss as he strode toward me with open arms. He cocked his head back with a cheese-dick smile, holding his index finger up to the customer to let her know he was handling the situation. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and snugged me next to him. I bet that lady is saying “aww” in her head right now.

“You are fucking pathetic, Lou,” he whispered, “Now make her a new cone, comp it--obviously, and clean this shit up. All this shit is coming out of your paycheck, so lick it up for all I care. Now do what I said and go sing for the lady you little bitch.”

He switched back to character as he pulled away with care, softly patting my upper back twice and turning me toward him. He grasped my shoulders and made eye contact with my forehead, because he didn’t want to look me in the eyes, and mouthed “It’s okay” before turning away. He mouthed it slow enough to make sure the customer could see. He gave the customer a shrug and a “what can I say?” smirk as he headed to the back, snapping his fingers along the way. 

I ran my hands through the sink and scurried back to the dispenser. I grabbed the largest cone we have and hooked it up. 

Before turning around I wiggled my bow-tie and centered my banana-split sundae hat. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. I lowered my shoulder into a smile as I dipped and spun around to face the customer as I jingled, “Smiles go for miles and last longer than just a little while,” pausing to show my pearlies, “Enjoy the cone and have a terrific trip home.”

“Thanks, honey,” the customer said with a gaze vibrating with pulled heart strings, “You know you don’t always have to be happy, right? We can’t always smile-- It’s okay.”

“Maybe in another life.”