The Heart of Harold

He sat in a little cafe`. The inside chair at the second table on the left. That's where they would meet. Harold never gave her up.
I first met Harold when I came to town about two years ago when my fiancée, Stephanie, and I came back to her hometown for the big day. Her mother, Leah, had planned everything thing right down to the type of paper that the invitations would be printed on. Off white with gold trim, recycled of course. The dress, however, was a very “personal and intimate” affair. The first time they went to the boutique, I went to the Sandhill café. And there he sat. A tall and slender, older man, sitting on the inside chair at the second table on the left. He smiled at me and I said hello. That was best hello I ever said.
Harold was a gentle soul. He was eighty-seven and very intelligent. He never went to college, but in his words, "I never met a wise college student." Harold was wise. I would meet Harold at the Sandhill Cafe'. He and I would talk for hours while Stephanie and her mother sized for her dress and shopped for “they gotta be last minute” items. I’d walk in, we’d give a boisterous hello, and I’d get us both a coffee. We would discuss politics, religion, music, you name it.
There was only one thing we wouldn't talk about. Romance. "I can't speak of things I don't know about yet," he would say. It was the "yet" That stood out in my mind the most. He would always say yet. Whenever I'd ask about his use of that word, he would always change the subject.
One day I asked the owner of the cafe`, "How long has Harold sat in that chair?" "As long as I can remember, "he answered. The owner continued, telling me that his father had owned the cafe` before him, and that Harold had been sitting there when his dad ran the place.
When I inquired as to why he was sitting there, the owner replied, "My dad told me that he was waiting for his girlfriend. Turns out that they made a pact. He would meet her here as soon as she could. She never showed up, but he's been here every day. I suppose he thinks she'll still turn up." "Do you think she'll turn up?" I asked. "Nah," he said calmly, "but then again, love makes people do odd things so, I guess it wouldn't surprise me if she did." I looked at Harold. His face, worn with age, seemed to still emit a light of hope. I sat down next to him. He knew what I’d asked and he said nothing. Neither did I. We just sat, looking out into the world, hoping that a woman would walk through the door asking for Harold.
The next day I met Harold at our usual time. Our hello was still loud and our coffee was still hot. I took my place next to him and sipped my coffee saying nothing. “You want to know why, don’t you?” he asked me in his smooth voice. “No, it’s what you need to do. I’m not going to say anything.” I told him.
“Miriam was a wonderful woman,” he said. “I just couldn’t bring myself to give up on someone who wouldn’t give up on me.”
“Miriam. That’s a pretty name.”
“She was pretty, my boy. She had the kind of eyes a man could get lost in. Her voice was more beautiful than the angels’.” Harold allowed himself to be immersed in his memory of her. “Her touch felt like roses. Not the thorns though.” He chuckled. “I couldn’t give that up.”
“So you’ve been here for how long?”
“Sixty-two years. I first sat down when I was twenty-five.”
“You didn’t work?”
“I did. I worked at night from six to two in the morning. Slept from two-thirty to eight and made it here by eight thirty and stayed until six.”
By now the entire café was hanging on Harold’s every word.
“That must’ve been tough,” I said.
“Anything worth having is.” Harold was wise.
I heard a knock on the window in front of us. There stood Stephanie and her mother. I motioned for them to come inside. I introduced Harold to the two of them as we stood. Harold held out his hand and all at once looked at Leah. “Pardon me, but have we met once before?”
“No,” she replied, “I don’t think we have. I’d remember a man as polite as you.”
“You must be right. Please, have a seat.”
As I pulled a chair out for Stephanie and her mother, Stephanie spoke. “I don’t think we can, we have to get to the church remember?”
I’d completely forgotten. I turned to Harold, who simply nodded, and said my good-byes. We agreed to meet the following day and continue our conversation.
Later that night Stephanie and I went to dinner with her family. Everyone was there, including her grand parents who I was meeting for the first time tonight. The table we’d reserved was large enough to seat fifteen people. I was having a hard time remembering everyone’s name, much less uncles and aunts, but I made the best of it. Mid-dinner I looked around the table, saying each person’s name in my mind, trying to commit them to memory. I got to the end of the table when I noticed that there were two empty chairs. I asked Leah about them. She looked at them both and then looked around the restaurant. “Oh,” She sighed, “Those are for my mother and her date. They told me they’d be late but I didn’t think it would be this late.” As she finished her statement, two elderly people walked through the door. “There they are. Let me go get them.”
I turned to Stephanie, “Her date?”
“My grandfather died about five years ago.” She quickly said, still maintaining a separate dialogue with one of her cousins.
Leah returned with two more people whose names I’d surely forget. The woman was elegant and obviously sure of herself. The older man was a perfect compliment to her. He was a real gentleman. Leah introduced us, “Aaron, I’d like you to meet my mother and her date Darren.”
She failed to mention Her mother’s name so I had to search for my fiancée’s mother’s maiden name. “Ms. Williams, Darren, it’s nice to meet you.”
“It’s Williamson,” She winked, “but don’t sweat it. I’m impressed that you remember that much.” She and Darren laughed making me feel that much better. Darren and I shook hands and I showed them to their seats. Embarrassed and flustered I sat next to my bride-to-be. She held my hand and smiled. Her smile was her mother’s, and her grandmother’s. Thank God for genetics.
At the end of the night I shook hands and gave hugs to complete strangers who were soon going to be my family. The pressure to make a good impression was overwhelming. I made it through the line and made it to Stephanie’s grandmother. “Good night Ms. Williamson. It was an absolute joy.” She leaned in and hugged me as she said, “Please Aaron, we’re almost family. Call me Miriam.”
I froze. I couldn’t believe it. The woman hugging me was Harold’s Miriam. I knew it. After a second that felt like years, Miriam let me return to reality. Stephanie took my arm as we said good-bye and we all went back to our homes.
When we got to Leah’s house, Stephanie and I stayed in the car. “What’s with you?” she asked.
“You know Harold?”
“Yeah. The guy at Sandhill right?”
“That’s him. Did you know he’s been sitting there for over six decades waiting for his…I guess could call it soul mate?”
“No, you never told me that.”
“I didn’t know until today.” I turned my eyes to Stephanie. “I’m just glad I didn’t have to do the same thing.”
She smiled. We exited the car and went inside, got into bed and I stayed awake for hours until my mind finally shut down.
An hour later I woke up to the sound of three women laughing. I went down stairs and turned the corner to see the three generations of angels standing in front of me. My mind went to what Harold had said. Miriam had to be the same person. “Miriam? Can we talk?” I asked trying to keep my tone light. She looked at her granddaughter. “See, honey? I’ve still got it.” They laughed and Miriam stood and walked with me out to the patio.
I let her out in front of me. I stepped down to the patio and closed the sliding glass door behind us. I took a second and gathered my thoughts. “Miriam? I don’t know how to approach this.” I was nervous. I was shaking and she could see it, but she remained quiet allowing me to think. “Can I ask, how old are you?” I couldn’t phrase it any kinder.
“I’m eighty-five. Why do you ask?”
“I have a friend. His name is Harold. He’s been sitting at second table on the left in the Sandhill café for over six decades waiting for a woman named Miriam. He mentioned the other day that Leah looked familiar and…”
“And you think he’s been waiting for me?” I stood for a moment. She went on. “I’m not the girl you’re looking for, Aaron. When I was twenty-four I married Leah’s father. We lived very happily until he died. I’m sorry but I can’t be that woman. I know you trying to do something nice for this man, but…” We stood a second in silence. She walked toward the sliding glass door. “I also know that this is a very stressful time for you and my granddaughter. Try to focus on that, okay?”
I knew she was right. Maybe I was trying to displace my stress by involving myself in some weird mystery. I nodded and gave her a hug, all the while trying to convince my psyche that I was wrong. I resolved to see Harold that day.
I got in the car and sat for a moment. I had no idea what I was going to tell him. I had no idea what I was telling myself. I started the car, pulled out of the drive way and drove to the café. I walked into the front door, looked over to our table and saw it empty. I looked over to the owner who just looked at me and bowed his head. “Where is he?” I asked.
“He had a heart attack this morning. He sat down at the table and clutched his chest. I called the ambulance and they got here as quick as they could…I think he’s ok. You may want to go check.”
I sprang out of the door and raced to hospital. I nearly broke down the front door trying desperately to get inside. I franticly scoured the emergency room. I finally found a nurse who directed me to a room where Harold lay in a bed. I walked over to his bed and sat down. His eyes were closed. I went to the payphone and called Stephanie. I told her what had happened and she said she understood. That’s why I’m marrying her. She is always patient and kind.
I sat there a few more hours and finally left. I got back into my car, and decided to drive by the Sandhill café. I looked through the front glass to our table and I saw a woman sitting there. After closer examination I recognized her. It was Miriam. She was sitting right where I told her. I wasn’t really surprised.
We buried Harold in March of last year. Miriam, who died of heart failure in November, was placed between her late husband and Harold. I never did tell Stephanie, but I think Miriam did. After all, it was Leah’s idea to lay her between the two men that she loved. Stephanie and I are expecting our second child next month. She’ll be named Miriam, and her year old brother is named Harold.
I think of you often Harold. You taught me that anything worth having is worth the hard work you apply toward it. I only hope that I can teach your namesake as well as you taught me. Please keep the coffee hot for me. Good-night.