Decamp 33 on Broad St
One block up from Holsteins where they filmed the last episode of The Sopranos
Across the street from Bob's
The place the real wise guys hung out
(Inside Bob's they sold The Post, Bus and Lottery tickets, The Daily News and coffee
There were always a couple of old guys just sitting there and a lady behind the counter
In the summer they'd sit out front one fella fiddling with a golf putter)
I met Henry across the street from there
He was an older gentleman
Once he was wearing a jacket that said Korea on it so I figured him for a vet
"Where do you work?" he asked
"I do theater."
"Oh," he said with a nod
He worked somewhere down in the financial district
It had a fancy name
Henry wasn't fancy though
He wore a button up and slacks but they were a little worn
His hair was cut tight and combed over with a little Brylcreem
He was clean shaven but usually missed a couple spots
Henry took a shine to me and every time we'd stand there waiting for the bus he'd strike up a conversation
I'd take off my earphones and put my book down inwardly sighing
Henry
liked to talk
specifically to me
Henry was also hard of hearing
He'd lean in and ask me to repeat myself often
I had to enunciate clearly and speak up
Here's the thing about Henry
He was a guy from another generation
He often said things that were awkward
Slightly inappropriate
Nothing too crazy
More like something a guy might say in a movie from the 50's
"Look at the gams on that broad!"
"That fella needs to lose weight."
"That guy's long hair makes him look like a girl!"
He sort of skirted that edge
Sometimes people would chuckle
I was often a little embarrassed
"He probably likes it that way." I might say
"WHAT?"
"I think he likes it that way!!"
"Huh." He might say with a shake of his head
After a couple of years he started showing up with a cane
He was a little thinner but he still loved to chat me up
I'd get on the bus skipping a few empty seats and settle somewhere in the middle
He'd amble back and sit next to me to talk
So, I started sitting closer to the front
We became bus buddies
Henry liked to tell jokes
Jokes that were sometimes funny and I'd laugh
Jokes that sometimes were a little off and I'd give a "Hmmm"
and jokes that were so out there I'd guffaw from the absurdity
He never talked about family and I pegged him for a bachelor
His limp got worse and we took to sitting in the front row
The bus driver definitely found Henry funny
I'd glance in the mirror to see responses of people behind us
But they just read the paper or looked out the window as the Meadowlands rushed by
I'd move back to a different seat if another elderly or disabled person got on
My reason being both polite and a self serving respite as well
Henry could be a bit much
But you couldn't help but like him
One year, to my surprise, he hobbled up the steep steps to my front door
"Ding Dong"
There he stood, cane stuck under his arm with a card extended
An anniversary card for Chelsea and I with 20 bucks stuffed inside
I don't know how he knew where we lived or when our anniversary was but I guess through all those conversations he'd learned them both
I watched him carefully make his way back down to an 80's Oldsmobile idling out front, slowly climb in and drive off
The gigs in NY ended and I spent some time on the road touring
Trips into Manhattan lessened
So I don't remember my last bus ride with Henry or what he said that day
And then, kind of suddenly, we moved
and it wasn't for some time till I realized
I didn't say good-bye
I wish I had
I wish I had a card with a Far side cartoon that would make him laugh or maybe say, "Huh."
I reached out to Joe (this other guy at the bus stop) hoping Joe could pass on a message or give me his address
Joe didn't know where he lived and hadn't seen Henry in over a year
This is a regret I carry
I still think about him
How he made me a little uncomfortable
How he engaged me into conversation
and how he became my friend
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