Goddard, Harold

Beyond the turning barber pole that rises off of the cement without actually going anywhere, lays a window that mostly reflects the pedestrians outside. Commonly, there can be found a collage of characters clashing together around the pole…passing by without seeing the short balding man behind the glass. Do they care about his dented doorway? Even the balding man himself hates to think about that dent, or to watch the pole anymore, all it ever brings him is a splitting headache.


Forever is a long time, he thinks, but not as long as these past thirty-two years. Goddard was his name. Harold Goddard, a man who had worked here for such a long time, and it seemed to him that this is where he would die. In the past three decades, he has had only a single friend, and she left ten years ago. Just the memory made him frown. Kelly was her name, not a girlfriend, just a customer who came to visit with him every Tuesday. Last time she walked through that door he laughed and smiled as many of the people outside the barbershop do nowadays. Most had thought he was crazy, or sick, or just a mean man. No one cared why he was upset, and so quiet. Oh, that was just fine with Harold, he knew Kelly would never return and he would never have to be happy again either.


Perhaps he had thought Kelly’s memory would fade, but it never seemed to leave him completely. Quietly he whispered the story back to himself, because there was no one else to tell. “Right after ’89 is when it got bad, when Kelly left – you remember her, eh? Such a sweet young thing, always visiting always smiling. Those were the days; it was only after that, that things got bad.” Unaware that a new customer had arrived, he dreamed on.


Very quietly, after that the customer waited for Goddard to reply to his comment, he whispered “crazy old man” to himself. When the barber ignored his greeting the third time he slipped out the door and almost bumped into a woman pushing a cart with an “X” painted on the side. “X” is a strange letter to paint on a cart, and Goddard wondered what it meant…it sure scared him. Yet it wasn’t simply the X which brought terror into his failing heart. Zany as it might sound, it was the woman herself that chilled the air in the room.


Although he had missed the real customer he never missed that girl with the cart. Bright blue eyes, and frizzled hair, the woman would march on by, stare through the hazy glass, and tap the old barber pole on top. Crowds of people could pass by that window at noon, but she would always manage to proceed with her routine, and Harold always looked up in time to spy the woman out. Daylight would always allow her creamy skin to be just highlighted around the edge of her perfect silhouette, how beautiful she looked. Everyone else may have overlooked the woman, but Harold always spotted her, and there was a brief moment of connection between the two. For just a second, the connection was strong, and it made him feel young again, but only for that second. Gentle, and innocent it may seem, but those strong blue eyes, and that X whispered terror in his ear; he was in for some trouble if she ever chose to enter through the dented door, instead of walking on by. Harold was frightened what her visit might mean.


Icicles gripped the awning the next morning. January was here, and Harold was just getting over a cold. Kleenex boxes were strategically placed around the store, and the tired balding man was wearing a knitted cap that he picked up last month. Lately, the cap had really grown on him, and he almost considered it a part of his life. Mostly, he just wore it to work, but recently it had kept his bald head warm at night while he slept as well. Nights without that cap seemed long and tortured. Old men needed something in their life to keep them awake, and Harold was getting as consistent as a gold fish, waiting for the next meal at the same time, watching the woman walk by on Wednesdays.


Quickly Kelly’s memory came back again. Really that last morning she came to see him, she was a little late…he should have known then that she would not be coming back. She was young, probably twenty two, maybe a little older, but she came by on the weekend just to meet with the fifty one year old man. The girl had been accepted to a medical school out of state. Until that moment, he had believed that there might be something worth living for, the “youth of the future” you might call it. Vexed at no one in particular, he became withdrawn and angry. When a month had passed his anger had died down but he was still just as lonely. Xenia, Indiana had lost a good citizen and gained a grumpy old man.
Yellow lights flickering on beyond the glass brought him back to his own time. Zero sympathy, that’s what he deserved, and that’s what he got; unless you count the fact that they let him keep his job.


Alone and alive, that was his own description of his life. Because he had lost the only person he had ever connected with; a total stranger, but for some reason, which he never knew, she would come by and talk to him.
Chimes rang, and the woman with cart walked through his door.


Damn. Even now, he wished it would just end, or improve; he thought about asking what that large X was for, but decided against it. For many people outside the glass he seemed to carry on with his withdrawn ways, but the woman with the cart saw a difference in him that day. Goddard had a quiet conversation with her and watched her smile as she left. How was it that she had passed by so many times without visiting? In a way she reminded him of Kelly, except a little older. Just as she left the shop she spun around, and quickly tapped on the barber poll before disappearing into the world beyond the glass.