Have you ever taken the time to really watch people? I do it every day. That’s what got me fired… again. But honestly, how could they expect me to sit there and watch as people rubbed their grimy, germ covered hands all over peaches that somebody else would eat? These were the same hands that people used to pick gunk out of their teeth with. The same hands used to push shopping cart that thousands of hands had pushed before. I’ve even seen people wipe their noses with those hands before squeezing peach after peach and spreading their germs to what would soon go in someone else’s mouth! It is absolutely revolting! I just don’t see what’s so wrong about giving the customers hand sanitizer before letting them enter the produce department. Nevertheless, it got me fired.
At least I didn’t have to be yanked from sleep by the harsh ringing of my alarm clock this morning. No, today I slept soundly until the warmth of the sun peeked into my room and gently shook me awake. I let the cloud of slumber slowly drift away and took my time opening my eyes. For once I woke up without the somber sight of my name badge staring at me from the dresser. I slid into jean shorts and a comfortable t-shirt rather than the black slacks and tan Safeway polo I was used to wearing. I left the house with nowhere to go. I drove into town, parking in the first open spot I saw, and started wandering the streets. Without a schedule or a shred o responsibility, I let my feet guide me from one store to the other.
My feet stopped outside of a small coffee shop on the corner of the street. I’m not usually keen on coffee shops, but the simple green awnings and umbrella-covered tables seemed harmless, so I ventured toward the entrance and slowly pulled the glass door open. Stepping in, I felt as though I had crossed an invisible barrier. Suddenly I left civilization and was thrown into the middle of a horror film. Jittery hostages lined the walls, imprisoned with their noses attached to the bright computer screens in front of them. Their fingers raced across the keyboard, terrified of the consequences of slowing down. The enemies stood behind the counter, thrusting cups from one hand to the next. They lifted the poison in the air and called the name of the next victim. The oblivious target rushed toward the drink, hurrying to escape the scene, unaware of their grim future. Zombies filed in through the door and lined up, waiting one-by-one to recite their ridiculous death sentences. I watched my friend, Mark, approach the counter.
“Grande, hot, triple five-pump vanilla, non-fat, no foam, whip cream, extra hot, extra caramel, caramel macchiato.” He grumbled.
Swiftly I ran to his side and pulled him into the nearest chair. “Mark, we need to talk.” I sat across from him. He looked like hell. His eyes were bloodshot and drooping.
“Hello Henry. Look, no offense, but I just can’t handle you right now. Can you wait until I’ve had my coffee?” He gazed longingly at the zombies as they rambled off their orders.
“That’s exactly what I want to talk to you about. Mark, I think you have a problem.”
“What are you talking about Henry?”
“I know this is hard to hear, but it’s time for you to face the facts. You’re killing yourself with this obsession. Do you know what coffee does to you? Not to mention you’re blowing your savings! If you keep giving into your addiction, you’ll lose your job and alienate your friends and family. If you stay on this path, you’ll lose everything.”
“Henry, it’s just coffee. I still have my job and I’m very close to my friends and family. I’m not going to lose anything.”
“Yet. Next time you crash, look around you. Any friends running to your aid then? But it’s okay Mark, because I’m going to help you get over this. Together we can move past your addiction.”
Sighing, Mark leaned back in his chair. “I’m not addicted. I don’t need help. I just need my morning cup to get myself work. There’s nothing wrong with that Henry. I swear I don’t have a problem.”
I could tell this was going to take a while. He was still in the denial stage. He’s been in the denial stage for a long time. “The first step to moving on is admitting that you have a problem.”
“Seriously Henry, I don’t have time for this. Just let me get my drink and go to work.”
“You don’t need coffee. Please, let me take you to rehab. They can help you there.”
Mark threw back his chair and jumped to his feet. Apparently he’d hit his breaking point. “Henry, go home! I don’t have a problem and I don’t need to go to rehab. You’re being ridiculous.” He stormed away, grabbing his drink on the way out.
I yelled after him, “Mark wait! I can help you!” I felt bad for Mark. He’d been fighting this addiction for years, but ever since his new job he just stopped fighting and gave in. Every morning, like clockwork, he would drag his feet to the coffee shop and cling to every last drop of his coffee. But I won’t give up on him. Eventually, I’ll help him get past this.
Silently, I stood up and wove through the crowd of lifeless faces that stared curiously as I passed. I was starting to remember why I hated coffee shops so much. When I got outside, I let out a sigh of relief. Unlike many unfortunate souls, I had escaped the horror scene without a scratch. I started walking down the street, abandoning all control over my body and letting my feet take the reins. I let my eyes explore the world around me. It was a busy day in Los Angeles. People hustled down the streets carrying hundred dollar purses and wearing hundred dollar sunglasses. I couldn’t help but wonder if they were some kind of royalty. That or they only ate bread and water.
The traffic was even more hectic. Cars wove between lanes. I watched in terror as a convertible threw itself in front of an SUV that could easily roll over it. I wished I held a horn so I could warn them of the danger they were putting themselves in. That’s when I saw him. I froze and watched as the disaster took off in slow motion.
Suddenly, I was running. My feet were carrying me at full force to the child’s aid. He couldn’t be more than 13, and there was no way I would sit and watch him jeopardize his life. As I sprinted faster and faster, I worried I wouldn’t get there in time. The boy was oblivious to the traffic coming towards him. He was about to step into a sea of cars without knowing what his fate would be. Reaching the side of the road, I jumped on the boy and pulled him back to the sidewalk.
“Are you ok? Did you get hit?” I screamed in his ear, worried that I was too late.
“What the hell old man?” The boy sat up and stared at me, his face was brighter than the crimson blood that trickled down his knee. “Way to go asshole, you cut open my knee!” He looked at me with confused eyes, as though he was waiting for an answer.
I couldn’t understand why he seemed so angry. I’d just saved his life; the least he could do was be grateful. Still, I decided to humor him. “You were about to step into oncoming traffic. The crosswalk is at least 50 feet away! Do you know what would’ve happened to you if the cars didn’t see you? If I hadn’t stepped in, you would have a lot more than just a cut on your knee.”
Onlookers began to crowd around. Like moths to a flame they encircled us, trying to make sense of what they saw. The buzz of their whispers to one another filled my ears. I could feel them deciding what judgments to make based on the two sentences they’d heard. What was it about people and conflict? Everyone tries to avoid it, but they love nothing more than to watch other people deal with it. Like a book. We all wait anxiously for the climax of the story, but if we were the main character we would do everything in our power to sidestep it.
“Dude, are you crazy? I have eyes you know. The cars were nowhere near me.”
“Cars move fast son. If you don’t take in account the speed at which they travel you could easily miscalculate and be road kill before you have time to realize what you did wrong. There’s a reason cross-walks exist. Just because you’re young doesn’t mean you have to be ignorant.”
“And just because you’re old doesn’t mean you have to be a wise ass.” Right then a young girl came running to the boy’s side.
“What happened baby?” She looked at her boyfriend’s knee and then looked at me. Her eyes cut like daggers as she sized me up.
“This old man tackled me out of nowhere.”
“I saved your life!’
The girl helped the boy up and they pushed their way through the growing crowd. As they looked back at me I saw fear flicker in their eyes. I eyed the people surrounding me. They stood shaking their heads, walking away with their chins sadly pointed down. Why was everybody so grim? I’d just saved a boy’s life for god sake!
Scanning the crowd, I saw a beautiful young lady walking toward me. She appeared to be in her late twenties. Her black curls bounced on her shoulders and her long legs carried her my way. She wore tight sapphire jeans that reached her small black heels. A purple tank top flowed down from her shoulders and landed loosely on her hips. Her bright red lips parted and a white sea of teeth greeted me. I imagine this is what angels look like. Her deep blue eyes shone the color of Heaven and her perfume smelled like the scent of the gods.
She offered me a delicate hand. I wrapped my burly fingers around hers and felt the soft skin rub against my calluses.
“Hello. My name is Madison.” Her voice was even more perfect than her appearance. Though she spoke evenly, the words escaped like a beautiful song rolling off of a pianist’s keys.
She waited patiently for a response. I tried to force the words out of me, but all I could muster was a weak, “H-Henry.”
“Hello Henry. Would you like to have lunch with me?”
I just nodded in delight. She took my arm and led me to the nearest restaurant. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I sat across the table in awe.
“So Henry, tell me about yourself,” She glanced at the golden band encircling my ring finger, “are you married?”
“Wha – um, not anymore. My wife died a few years ago.” For the first time I looked away from her. I let my gaze fall from her flawless face as I thought of my late wife. Now there was an angel for you. She had been the best part of me, and I missed her dearly.
“I’m so sorry. Do you have any other family?”
“My son Jason lives in Orange County. But they don’t visit much anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Apparently he thinks I’m a bad influence on the children. Too honest or something like that.”
Sadness swam in Madison’s eyes as she listened to my story. After questioning me a bit more about my relatives, she abruptly jumped to a new subject. “Tell me, Henry, what happened with that boy today?”
So that was why she wanted to have lunch. She was just another cynical onlooker who couldn’t see that I had saved the boy’s life. I threw my napkin on the table and pushed my meal away. “I saved his life! That’s all I did. He was going to get run over and I pulled him out of the way. What’s so wrong about that?” Storming out of the restaurant I could feel her gaze lingering on my back. Who cares if she didn’t believe me? I knew what I did was right and that’s all that matters.
I rushed home, upset by the probing faces on every corner. When I got to my house I saw the Stephens, next door, getting out of their car. Mrs. Stephens was yelling at her daughter for coloring on the interior of the car. Had it been any other day, I would’ve gone over and told Mrs. Stephens to leave her daughter alone. I would have explained to her that a car can be replaced, but a child’s love is something you can never get back. I knew from experience. But after my lunch with Madison I was feeling defeated. I couldn’t handle another confrontation. Instead, I went inside and sat in front of the television.
I watched as the people on the screen made fools of themselves. Please remind me what’s interesting about an actress taking nude photos? It’s the same story every week. You would think people would get sick of it. I started to lose myself in the mindless drabble, but I was pulled back to reality by the stinging ding-dong of my doorbell.
It had been months since I’d heard that sound. Apprehensively, I tiptoed to the door, raking my mind for any hints of who could be waiting on the other side. Pulling the door open, Jason’s concerned face greeted me. Without a word, he shuffled me into his car. Once we were driving, I got up the courage to speak.
“Where are you taking me?”
Ignoring my question, Jason stared blankly and the road in front of him.”Jesus Dad. Making a 13-year-old boy bleed? What were you thinking?”
“I was saving his life.”
“Your friend Mark called me today. Asked me to keep you away from the coffee shop. I was going to ignore him, but then I got a call from some girl named Madison. Said she saw you tackle a kid and that you tore his knee open. You know he had to get ten stitches? They could sue if they wanted to. And Dad, you can’t afford to be sued, especially since you just got fired again. You know how hard it would be for you to get another job?”
“I’ll find work. I always do.”
“Dad, you’re not going to be working anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” He just sat in silence, refusing to take his eyes off of the endless road. “Jason, where are you taking me?”
“They say you’re crazy Dad. They say you’re a menace to society. I don’t want you to get into any more trouble. I’m just taking care of you.”
“What do you mean? Who says I’m crazy? Where are you taking me?!” I saw the image of a black suitcase lingering in the rearview mirror. The truth started to dawn on me, but I refused to believe it.
“Everyone Dad. Everyone says you’re crazy.”
“Well to hell with everyone! Maybe everyone else is crazy, but I sure as hell am not.”
“Dad please, you’re going to be happy here. The kids and I will visit, I promise.” I was shocked. How could this be happening? I try to save a kid’s life and now people think I’m crazy?!
I didn’t say a word for the rest of the ride. Jason kept glancing at me as though he wanted to say something, but he seemed to know that nothing he said could say would make up for what he was doing. He was giving up on me. Just like that he was sending me out of his life and into the confined walls of the Sunny Side’s Home for the Mentally Ill.
Jason parked in the deserted lot and turned toward me, his face full of disappointment. “You know Jason, I’m not crazy. I don’t care what they think. I’m really not.”
“I know Dad. You’ve told me before. Everyone’s crazy, but not you, right?”
“Right.”
