The Phone Call

I was sitting out on my back patio reading All the King’s Men for at least the tenth time.  It was a warm January day with the sun shining brightly through a north Florida blue sky.  There was a slightly cool winter wind gently blowing.  I got up to go into the house to get some iced tea when my cell phone rang.  I initially thought of calling the person back until I saw it was Bruce.   “Hey Bruce!”

“Hey Cliff!  How the hell are you?”  Bruce and I had known each other since grade school and were inseparable with several other boyhood friends.  We endured small town life: little league baseball, junior high, high school football and baseball, sleepovers at each other’s houses, campouts, spending summer days at the pool talking about girls, learning to drive, double dates to the drive-in theatre, prom, tasting our first beer together, tasting our first whiskey together, and Christmas parties at his parent’s house where we first drank moonshine.  I even had the audacity to nominate him and John to be Student Council President and Vice-President.  Of course, they lost the election.  We worked together part time at a local beer distributor and survived college.  Bruce lived with me and two other fraternity brothers on Buffington Street where our Friday night parties and card games were legendary.  I later moved to Texas seeking my own dreams.  Bruce stayed home.  He came with other close friends to my wedding.  After that I didn’t see Bruce and my other friends very often.  Life and distance seemed to get in the way.  When I made it back home, I loved it.  Catching up with each other, telling old war stories, and making fun of each other as if time had somehow stopped.  It had been a couple of years since I had been back home to see a Thundering Herd football game or play golf with my friends.  The phone call with Bruce was special and I knew that he was not one to talk to people on the phone very often.

“I’m doing great.  It’s so good to hear from you.  To what do I owe this very rare phone call?”  I asked laughing out loud.

“I just felt the need to call and talk to you.”

“You need to talk to me?”  I laughed, not realizing until later that he was serious.

“How is Shan?

  “She is doing great, working hard at FSU.  She will probably retire next year.”

“Be sure and tell her hello for me and give her a hug.  So, how are things going with you?”  He asked.

“I’m pretty good.  Physically I'm ok for someone about to turn 71 next month.”

“You old man!”

“Hey, you turn 70 next month!  Anyway, I stay busy volunteering with a few local groups and writing on my blog.  I’m also currently writing a second edition of one of my books.  So, how are you doing?”

“I’m doing OK.  I don’t get out much but some of our high school friends and fraternity brothers come over and we play cards and drink.  I know you never liked to play cards, but you played in a couple of those games when you’ve been here over that last several years.  You know me, I just want everyone to have a good time.  I just wanted to talk to you.”

I paused, thinking that he wanted to say something.  “Is everything OK Bruce?”  There was a short silence.

“Well, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

His statement really surprised me.  “For what?”

“You know I like to tease you because of your political beliefs and sometimes I go too far.  I just felt the need to tell you I’m sorry.”

“Bruce, I don’t worry about your politics.  That has never affected our friendship.”

“Well, I know we differ, and I just want you to believe that it’s not personal, no matter what I say.  So, I really want to apologize.”

In the back of my mind, I honestly couldn’t remember Bruce ever commenting on my politics at all, unlike others with whom I had grown up.  In fact, he was rarely on social media.  “Bruce, don’t worry about it.  It doesn’t affect our friendship at all.  I promise.”

“That’s good to hear.  I needed to hear that.”

I asked again, “Are you really OK?”

“I’m doing fine now.”  Changing the subject he asked, “When are you coming in again?”

“I’m not sure.  I’d like to come in this summer to play golf with everyone, but I can’t commit now.  Are all the guys getting together to play golf sometime again this summer?”

“Yes, I think Ronnie is setting it up.”  He paused, “Well, I hope to see you then.”  He paused again and then said, “I’ve got to go.  You take care, don’t be a stranger, and call me.”

“Take care buddy.”  I was so happy to hear from him, but I wasn’t sure what to make of the phone call.  I thought about it for several days.  What prompted his apology to me?  Bruce never talked about politics to me.  Was there something else he was trying to say?  It bothered me and I made a promise to myself to call him back next week.  I knew that I should stay in touch with him more often.  I knew that I should stay in touch with all my friends more often for that matter, but time just seems to fly by, and you look up and realize you haven’t spoken to your friends in a year or more.

Less than a week after my phone call with Bruce, Ronnie called.  “Hey Cliff, I don’t know if you heard but, well…”  Ronnie cleared his throat, “Bruce passed away today.”

There was nothing but silence between us.

Finally, I asked, “How?”

“They don’t know.  I’ll call you back when I get more information.  I just wanted you to hear it from a friend.  Take care buddy.  Hope to see you soon.  I miss you.”

"I miss you too."

I sat in the chair and cried.  I once again thought about our conversation the week before.  Was he trying to tell me something?  I will never know, but I cherish that he reached out to me before he passed away.  Keep up with your friends.  Call them.  Talk to them. A phone call can be more meaningful than you ever imagine.

For my lifelong friend, Bruce Bellomy...