My brother Harry and I had just returned from three months in Colorado. What a blast we had (and I already knew I was going back). There were hiking adventures, bar fights, girls, and payphones (which led to more girls). It's amazing the trouble two boys can get into!
We arrived back in Atlanta around noon on Friday. His old girlfriend Brenda had agreed to let us couch-surf at her place for a few days... well, I was couch-surfing, he was sleeping in her bed.
On Saturday morning I awoke to the sound of pots and pans clattering in the kitchen and the smell of coffee. Brenda fixed us a big ol country breakfast with homemade biscuits, gravy, ham steaks, pancakes, and fried eggs. We devoured it all.
Brenda was an ER nurse at Kennestone Hospital and, before leaving for work had made us promise to stay out of trouble. She was laughing as she elicited the promise from us (probably knowing there was a fat chance of that happening) and reminded us that her younger sister was coming over on Sunday after church. The rest of the day Harry teased me about it being a "setup" and it would be a "family affair."
It was around 7p when Harry and I decided to hit the Buckboard, a country bar in Marietta (it's still around but now it's a concert hall vs the bar it was back then). Harry figured as long as we were home before 11p then all would be okay. I had enough experience to know that one or both of us was not going to be home by 11p.
Anyway, arriving at the Buckboard we took a seat at the bar with our backs toward the dance floor. That was our favorite station in any bar as it gave us the most "options." It didn't take long and I was asked to dance by a lovely young lady. We had a few dances but, honestly, I didn't feel a click with her so before the slow dance I walked her back to her table and wished her well.
I sat out the rest of that set but kept my eye on the crowd. There was someone I found my gaze returning to over and over and her gaze was on me as well. Once the band started back up, I waited two songs and walked towards this lovely lady. When I asked her to dance she just looked at me and asked "What took you so long?" Seeing my rather shy and surprised look, she laughed and stood up. I took her hand and we walked down the few stairs and onto the dance floor.
One song led to the next and then the next. She was a great dancer and very in tune with her partner's moves. When the band announced a slow song with the inevitable "We're going to slow things down for a song or two" she said, "We don't have to if you don't want." I was struck by her attentiveness and when I looked into her eyes no words came so I followed my heart and pulled her into my arms and we danced. During band breaks, she joined me at the bar where we guzzled a beer and had a shot of tequila.
Around 10:45, Harry was ready to leave and told me to call him when I was ready and he'd come pick me up. She looked at me quizzically and I told her we were just back from Colorado, he had a curfew and we'd come to the Buckboard in one car. She offered to take me home and I was okay with that.
When the band took the stage, we were back on the dance floor. The cycle repeated, during breaks, we guzzled a beer, had a shot of tequila, held hands a lot. We danced to every song the rest of that night. It was very nice and, in that moment, I considered not going back to Colorado.
The band finished their last set with two songs: Conway Twitty's "I'd Love To Lay You Down" and a slow song recorded by Anne Murray called "Could I Have This Dance." She sang every word to me as we stared into each other's eyes.
We were two of the last people out the door and we sat in her car in the parking lot talking for another hour. She married when she was 17. She was a mother before she turned 18. Her husband had an affair and left her for his mistress whom he married. He got custody because she was unemployed. That saddened me. We made plans to meet at 9a (6 hours from that moment) at the Kennesaw National Battlefield Park. There was just something magical about walking among the old Civil War battlefield in the early mornings. Soldiers from both sides were buried there, each fighting for their own reasons and their own beliefs.
I didn't bother sleeping. I knew I wouldn't wake up in time and I didn't want to miss this date. I left Brenda's at 7:30. I needed to find a place to buy coffee and donuts and I needed to time the route so I arrived just in time with hot coffee (yes ladies, guys do this kind of stuff). Having figured everything out I waited at Dunkin Donuts until the calculated time (giving myself an extra 5 minutes because A) that's how I roll for everything and B) I didn't want to be late and have her think I wasn't coming).
I was the first to arrive and she pulled in looking as bleary-eyed as I was. She smiled seeing me leaning on the side of my car and started laughing when she saw the coffee and donuts. I had several creams, several sugars, a dozen mixed donuts. Basically, I took no chances. Whatever this remarkable woman wanted, I had.
She told me she hadn't slept because she was afraid she'd miss our date. I laughed and told her I had
done the same, I even confessed to my trial run. She smiled a sweet smile as she gazed at me over the top of her coffee cup.
After we'd had a donut or two and drank about 1/2 a cup each we, started walking. In one hand, we had our coffee cups and with the other, we held each other's hand as we strolled casually back towards Noses Creek and then eventually meandered NW along the creek up towards the fork. We talked. The conversation was amazing. She was very expressive and I tried to capture every word.
We returned to our cars just a little past noon that Sunday... July 6th, 1980. We had made a date for the following Friday night.
On Thursday I awoke to the sound of dishes in the kitchen. After a few grunts and groans I pried myself off the couch and joined Brenda and Harry for coffee. After I'd had a few sips, Harry slid the Marietta Daily Journal across to me. It was open to a specific story. A woman had been found dead. She had committed suicide. It was my date, Susan.
A few years later, in August 1983, Alabama came out with their hit single "Lady Down on Love" and I have never heard that song without thinking of Susan. I have no idea what signs I missed or what I could have done differently. For decades, every time I hear Lady Down on Love I have questioned every moment of the night we met and our walk the next morning. Somehow I feel bad for not touching her heart and soul in a way that would have given her hope.
Harry and I attended her graveside service and, afterward, I made my plans to return to Colorado. I left the following Monday.