Homeless

I sleep around. A lot.

Wait, not like that. I’m on the road for a good chunk of the year, sleeping in tents for work and crashing on couches or guest rooms for fun. So far in 2014, I’ve slept in over 40 different places. But I always found home saddling up to the bar with my favorite bartenders working.

There was Roxie, Jess and Josie at the Come Back In, Mary at the Great Dane and Andura, my favorite, who worked at a couple different places but lastly at the Brass Ring.

Josie was a quirky artist. I have a drawing of hers hanging at the office. Jess was a math nerd who didn’t take shit from anyone. Mary was always nice with a beautiful wry smile. Andura was everything. And they all moved on. The biggest hit was Andura leaving. I’ve never felt so homeless in my life.

Friday nights would find me at the Brass Ring. It was usually crowded, but I’d find a seat at the bar and spend the next few hours writing at my laptop and conversing with Andura. I’d finish a beer and know that even though she was busy, a beer was coming my way. Andura knew what my tastes were, and I’d let her pick my beers, trusting her judgment.

My favorite part, though, was when her shift was over. She would come to my side of the bar and have a drink or two with me. Some nights we’d head to another bar for a nightcap. Conversation was always easy. I picked on her for being from Iowa (I had to, right?), and she would ask about my travels.

Andura worked the day shift Saturday and Sunday, and I always found an excuse to head down and have a bloody or a beer (or both). I loved the Bloody Marys she would make. There was never much of a crowd during the day, enabling us to talk at length. It made my weekends.

We didn’t hang out much outside of her bar, but I thought I was still special. I thought I was more than just another patron. I know, I know, that’s what bartenders do - make every sorry sap feel welcome. But I felt the interactions were different with Andura and me. If there were a person at the bar being inappropriate toward her, I would try and calm things down to take the pressure off her. On slow days, I’d be there to talk to her and keep her busy.

Some of my fondest afternoons and evenings of the past few years have involved Andura. One that sticks out is the afternoon we hiked the Montrose Segment of the Ice Age Trail near Belleville. The June sun was shining and the prairie flowers were ready for a showcase – and they delivered. The afternoon continued when we hiked through the Stewart Tunnel on the Ice Age Trail/Badger State Trail. The tunnel is damp and dark, but I showed a brave face even as I was put on edge by the demons lurking in the darkness. We safely made it out and headed into Belleville for a bite to eat and a beer to drink. A few bars later, we headed back to Madison.

Eventually I dropped off Andura back at her apartment and came up for a final beer. Her apartment overlooked Lake Monona. I was jealous of the view she enjoyed everyday from her home. After good conversation, it was time for me to head out. While saying goodbye at the door, I wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss her. I was too chicken and headed home.

Earlier this year, Andura announced she was moving away from Madison.

Fuck.

What was I going to do on weekends now? Who would be the go to friend that listened to my ramblings? Where was I going to go for Packer games? Who was I going to adore and be too chickenshit to ask out? What the hell was I doing? I was homeless.

I never worked up the courage to ask Andura out. After the failed relationships of my mid twenties, I was scared to go after what I loved. I was scared of failure. I didn’t want to lose a friend, a bright spot in my life, so I never. Made. A move. I stayed adrift. I kept coming to Andura’s bar, knowing that however crappy I felt, she would turn it around and put a smile on my face and in my heart.

I have no idea if Andura would’ve gone for it, but that’s it, I have no idea. To not chase one’s dreams is a surefire way to live a life of discontent. I guess I’ll stay homeless for a while.