“You see that couple over there?” Stanley pointed.
“Yes, sir,” the boy mumbled.
“I had them in my class twenty years ago,” Stanley sipped his coffee. “Sophia’s father committed suicide. Marcus was there every step of the way. There was always deep sadness in her. Even as she laughs, I see that tinge of despair. I knew it all too well before the phantom visited. I always wanted what was best for her.”
The boy played with a napkin in front of him.
“Marcus has his fair share of tragedies too,” Stanley went on. “Never graduated college because of a learning disability. Not sure what. He was always a bright kid. He didn’t know what to do or where to go. But he knew how to love. Sophia explained to me once that he was abused by a neighbor a long time ago.
“When the tornado went through Oak Lawn earlier this year, he lost everything. His father, his childhood home. They were starting another business there. Now, it’s all gone. It’s such a shame to see tragedy like that when folks are still in their youth.
“Good-hearted people like that don’t deserve pain. What kind of world allows this to happen to decent, kind people? People who don’t deserve it?”
The boy nodded solemnly, “Do you think they are deserving of that gift you have?”
“Yes,” Stanley nodded. “Yes. They deserve to remember only good things in their life.”
The boy traced his finger around the table as Stanely finished his coffee.
Sophia made eye contact with Stanley and walked over to him, smiling.
“You want a warm-up?” Sophia held up her coffee.
Stanley went and touched her hand and felt a spark of electricity go through him.
Sophia flinched and jumped back, startled.
Stanley stood up, “I’m so sorry.”
Sophia blinked for a few seconds, “For what?”
The Gift Given
It took Stanley a second or two to realize that his gift was received by Sophia.
“Oh,” he said. “Nothing.”
“Would you like a refill, mister?” Sophia asked.
“What do you mean ‘mister’?” Stanley laughed.
She looked at him blankly.
A sinking feeling hit Stanely’s chest – was he a part of her pain and her trauma?
“Yes,” Stanley forced out. “I’d like some more coffee.”
After Sophia refilled his cup, she turned around and started walking towards Marcus. The warm smile was replaced by a confused glance.
“Are you okay, babe?” asked Marcus.
“I’m not sure,” Sophia replied. “Just something funny going on with me is all.”
Stanley accepted it as it was. She was healed, and she could move further with her life.
“Our job here is done,” Stanley whispered as he stood up and left a tip.
“Yes, sir,” the boy said.
***
Stanley and the boy stood outside a storefront window showing the news. It showed clips of Vietnam and race riots as a year in review. A church choir, “Silent Night” in the background.
Stanley stared stoically.
“What are you thinking, mister?” asked the boy.
“I’m thinking about… nothing,” said Stanley. “I’m not feeling anything. Cognitively I see these horrific things happening, but there’s nothing there. I get this distant feeling of… sadness. Anger, maybe. From my former self.”
“It’s tragic, isn’t it?” asked the boy. “The world the way it is.”
“Yes, very tragic,” Stanley said matter-of-factly. “Very sad too, I suppose. But we go on, right? We can’t dwell too much on it. Not much good it would do.”
“I heard that a lot where I came from,” the boy shrugged. “I think they were right, because poor people look the same here as they did back then. Nothing really got solved in the past hundred years!”
“Hundred years?” Stanley asked. “Huh.”
“Yes, sir! Poor people are the same everywhere!”
“What is the mirror realm, exactly?”
“It’s just a reflection of us, sir. That’s all. We echo what others see and say in their most pure form.”
“That makes no sense,” Stanley shook his head. “But okay.”
***
Stanley and the boy stood across the street from the house he used to live in with Ashley. In the living room window, he could see his former best friend and his ex-wife embracing and kissing. It was a few blocks down from the university.
“Who was that?” asked the boy.
“That’s my ex-wife,” Stanley said. “And my ex-best friend.”
They continued watching the couple embrace each other.
“Why did she leave you?” the boy scratched his head.
Stanley closed his eyes and sighed, “The journals say she left because of my intense grief and selfishness. I believe when the gift was given to me that they erased the memories with that. It must’ve been painful for sure. My journals tell me that it wrecked me, put me into a sinking depression all year long.
“I fell behind at work. Spent a lot of nights praying for a miracle to happen to save the marriage. It never came. I blamed God for it. I think I still do.”
“What do you feel now?”
“I feel… nothing,” Stanley cleared his throat. “No, not nothing… a bit more neutral than that. I’m not sure.”
“Do you remember anything positive about her?”
Stanley sighed and looked at the ground, then at the boy: “You ask a lot of questions. Let’s keep walking.”
***
The hospice wing of the hospital was quiet that Christmas Eve. Stanley and the boy were able to move from bed to bed, staring at the patients. He didn’t know exactly what to do or say.
“These people are close to the other side,” said the boy.
“Yeah,” Stanley nodded.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to give them the gift of no painful memories before they pass.” Stanley walked up and touched a man’s hand on his bedside. The man jolted awake with a brief flash of electricity. He made eye contact with Stanley.
“Who are you?” the man whispered.
“No one in particular,” Stanley replied.
A younger woman walked into the room.
“Who are you?” the man asked.
The woman stopped in her tracks, “Dad… it’s me, Addie.”
Tears formed in the man’s eyes as he shook his head, “I don’t have a daughter. Where am I?”
Stanley backed away slowly.
“Who are you”? Addie asked.
“He’s not in pain any more,” Stanley tried to explain.
“Did you dope him up?”
“No.”
“Why can’t he recognize me? Is it because he’s dying?”
“I’m dying?” the man asked. “What is this place?”
Stanley forced a smile and put his hand on Addie’s shoulder, “My condolences.”
***
The boy and Stanley sat at a park bench and watched the snow fall.
“Do you really think you did that man in the hospital a favor?” the boy asked.
“Yes,” Stanley nodded his head. “He’ll go to the other side with no wounds now.”
“He can’t remember his daughter though.”
“If that’s the price you have to pay then that’s the price you have to pay. It’s worth it to be free of pain and suffering.”
“Maybe this world is all about those wounds,” mumbled the boy. “I can’t remember much, but I remember that.”
Stanley looked at the boy and noticed the dirt around his face.
“Do you remember much at all?” Stanley forced another smile, an action that felt alien to him.
“Memory doesn’t work the same way when you’re out,” the boy said. “It’s all blurred together. One second.”
Stanley scoffed, “What’s that like?”
“It’s like… I’m not sure. Ever tried to remember all the details of a dream? It’s like that.”
***
Stanley and the boy visited a homeless shelter nearby. Looking at the families in line made Stanley’s stomach curl in disgust.
“Why can’t they get jobs?” Stanley whispered. “Lazy bums.”
The boy shrugged.
“Maybe it’s their pain too that’s keeping them from succeeding… yeah, maybe,” said Stanley.
Stanley walked over to a nearby woman eating a Christmas dinner. He touched her shoulder, allowing electricity to pass through him.
The woman jumped up in surprise and looked at him blankly.
They stared at each other in silence.
A single tear fell down the woman’s cheek as she raised her fork and stabbed herself in the chest. Stanley stared as she fell to the ground and convulsed. He remained still.
All the other volunteers and homeless people were screaming, trying to help her.
“What happened?” a volunteer asked Stanley.
Stanley shrugged and walked away.
“Merry Christmas,” he mumbled.
***
“Do you think you helped her?” the boy asked as they stood outside the homeless shelter.
“Whatever misery she had… it must’ve been her only way to survive,” Stanley shrugged. “Maybe I did her a favor.”
“You surely don’t believe that,” the boy said.
“If this is the cost of a world without pain, then so be it,” Stanley murmured. “Someone has to have the courage to do what’s necessary. The homeless have always been a problem. Always. Maybe a little… self-correction is needed. The world is cruel and dark, but at least there’s no pain.”
SCROLL BELOW FOR NEXT PAGE ↓
- A Chicago Carol - December 24, 2024
