My Louise

For as long as I can remember, my Louise has been my whole life. She is a complicated and difficult woman who makes up for it with her intelligence and beauty and the most magical charm. This charm wins her many adoring friends, but she repeatedly chases them away with her conflicting actions and her temper. Through it all, I am by her side, shocked that I haven’t been chased away myself.

Odd as it seems, I have never experienced the brunt of her sour scorn. I was born to be a listener and that is all she needs. I feel that my ultimate purpose on earth is to listen and my Louise allows me to to fulfill this purpose. In this way, we complete each other. Out of this fulfillment of purpose comes a real adoration or even worship of this other half of my existence. I live and breathe this woman, knowing her better than I know myself. This feeling is a dangerous one. One that leads to dangerous decisions and actions. What would I do for this woman, what wouldn’t I do for this woman?

My Louise is a curvy woman of average height. Her poetic curves are a source of one of her many internal conflicts. She feels comfortable alone, in her own skin, but comments made by others have started many conversations between us and often ends seemingly harmonious relationships. Her raven black hair is soft and wild. Somehow this turbulent mane never appears to cause concern. She revels in its wild nature and is even envious of its confidence to be who it was born to be. These long locks sooth her poisonous fixation on her bewitching body. They transmit a confidence that is seen as either intoxicating or repulsive.

She works at the local grocery store, the setting of many heart to heart conversations between us. The most emotional of our interactions. I swoop in when needed. Always eager to lend an ear, especially for her. She has good relationships with her co-workers, mostly due to the lack of interaction with them beyond a smile. She doesn’t get a chance for her overactive mind to work against her charming self, sabotaging the connection. Customers on the other hand are cruel. Emboldened by the knowledge that they never have to see you again, they use the interaction as an outlet for any bad thoughts and feelings to come out and assault their cashier. Or the hard workers stocking shelves. Or the poor soul who has to clean up their spill on aisle whatever. These people torment my Louise. I am here to build her back up, to help her work through her wounds and realize what she already knew and what these monsters pushing metal carts try to make her forget daily.

This afternoon, my Louise rushed to me after work. She was flushed and breathless as she struggled to calm herself and tell me the news. Her favorite customer, Georgiette, had a very interesting conversation with my Louise as she was stocking the canned corn. Over the years, I have been told all about this Georgiette, the pleasant older woman who was always alone. She never shared details about her personal life with my Louise, but she always brightened her day with a comforting smile and cheerful greetings. Georgette is about 148 years old and doesn’t look a day younger. She talks painfully slow and walks even slower. She has so many wrinkles, that her skin looks a few shades darker because of all the shadows.

On this day, Georgiette told my Louise that her mere existence has brightened her day for years. She even spaced out her grocery shopping just to see my Louise and ask her how she was doing or how her day was going. Georgette felt that she was the happiest she has ever been and will ever be right now. She handed my Louise a thick white envelope and told her to open it only once she arrived home. Then she was gone.

For the rest of her shift, the envelope burned a whole in her pocket. My Louise was dying to take a peak. Was it old articles revealing the true identity of Georgiette? Was it a treasure hunt to millions of jewels hidden in the hills? Was it the world’s longest letter? Who was she? My Louise hurried to clock out and race home after work was finished and just sat in the parking lot of our apartment holding the envelope. She finally opened it. A small piece of paper flew out of the envelope and fluttered to the floor of the car. My Louise scrunched down and rooted around until she found it.

Happiness is the jewel of life. Thank you for mine, now go get yours.

Tears were forming in my Louise’s eyes. She was touched. She knew that their interactions were mutually appreciated and enjoyed, but this much? It made her sad that she forgot most of their interactions. She set the paper down on the passenger seat and pried open the envelope revealing the fattest stack of cash she had ever seen in her life. She immediately closed the envelope, grabbed the paper and her purse and ran inside to safety. My Louise counted for what seemed to be hours until she finally finished. $20,000. She couldn’t believe it. It was the perfect amount, not too much to be tempted to throw money around, but enough for her freedom and the chance to think about her path in life.

With stars and dollar signs in her eyes, my Louise ran to me and told me what had happened. In a stream of consciousness, she outlined her hopes and dreams. Something she had never thought of doing. With a smile on her face and weight lifted off her shoulders, she closed my soft black cover, stuffed me safely in her purse and walked out the front door.