But, as Milly said to him, he believed that hope would ultimately save them all in the end. He had to believe it. For everyone’s sake.
Stanley reached into his pocket for spare change, threw it in the donation bucket for the church choir, and walked home. He thought about the Christmas dinner that was going to be served later. He could smell the ham and the mashed potatoes. He could imagine hearing the Christmas records playing in the background gently as the fire roared.
Milly’s words about hope saving them all passed through Stanley’s head, and he remembered Ronald Swidger. Then he remembered Ashley and Jason.
***
Ashley’s eyes widened as she opened the door and saw Stanely standing on her front porch.
“What… are you doing here?” Ashley asked.
“I came here to say I forgive you,” Stanley said. “And to own my part. I wasn’t a good husband. I hope Jason’s treating you better than I ever could.”
Ashley paused, “If this is some scheme to get back together with me – ”
“No scheme. No begging. It’s Christmas, and if we can’t forgive people we once loved on Christmas… then what point is there in holding onto anything, really?”
“I guess that means I need to apologize too,” Ashley whispered. “I did you wrong. I know I did. I’ve been too stubborn to admit it. I wasn’t feeling the marriage before Jason came into the picture, and I realize I should’ve divorced you beforehand. I’m sorry.”
“I’ve forgiven you. Thank you for sharing that with me. It means a lot.”
Stanley’s heart seemed lighter, happier.
“What happened to you, Stan?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem… happy.”
Stanley shrugged, “Divine intervention, I guess.”
Jason came to the door, saw who it was, panicked, and ducked back into the house.
“You know, I can forgive you for stealing my best friend, but I’m still having troubles forgiving you for choosing such a bad writer.”
Ashley laughed.
“Yeah… you’re still the best to read to me. You might always be.”
“I’m flattered,” Stanley smiled. “Don’t tell Jason that. He wept for three days after Ernie called him up. I can’t imagine what he’d do if he found out you said that.”
“Noted.”
Stanley leaned in and hugged Ashley, kissed her on the cheek.
“I wish you nothing but the best,” he said. “If, in a few months or years, you want to establish a friendship, let me know. You deserve the best, all things considered. Thank you for helping me heal and move forward.”
Ashley nodded her head and wiped away a tear.
“Merry Christmas, Ashley.”
“Merry Christmas, Stan.”
***
Ronald smiled deviously as he handed Stanley a glass of eggnog.
“You seem cheerier than normal,” Ronald said.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” Stanley nodded his head. “Happiest day of the year, right?”
“I guess,” Ronald sat across from Stanley.
“I wanted to thank you for all the good debates we’ve had over the years. I think I’m coming around to your view about faith and hope. I don’t want to believe, but I think I’ll have to… for my own sake.”
“Ah,” Ronaled sipped his eggnog. “It’s hard to change the world when we think all is lost. Hope will save us. What a profound thing to hold on to.”
“If something happens to your flight tonight, you’re more than welcome to come spend Christmas with us.”
“I’d love that,” Ronald nodded. “But don’t you think that’s a rather bold prediction?”
“Not really. Weather’s always bad. Besides, I have a hunch and my hunches are usually right.”
“Unlike your views on life.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
***
It took Stanley a while to find the man in Lawndale who asked him for food and money in the vision before. Stanley found him sitting on the church steps of a nearby Missionary Baptist church. He took out his wallet.
“Here’s a hundred dollars,” Stanley said to the man. “I know you’re hungry and needing to feed your family. I know. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”
The man was startled, “Who are you?”
“I’m Professor Stanley Redlaw down at the University of Chicago,” Stanley held out his business card.
The man scratched his head, “Name’s Freddy.”
“Nice to meet you, Freddy. Look, I know you’re down on your luck and it’s not your fault. I want to help. Come by the university next year and we can look at employment opportunities for you. It’s not nearly what you or this community deserve, but it’s a start.”
Freddy’s eyes filled with tears, “I’ve been praying for this day.”
Stanley touched Freddy’s shoulder, “I know you have.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Stanley struggled to find the words again, and finally settled: “If I can walk past my neighbor in suffering and not feel anything, then all is lost. My fate is bound up in yours.”
“That’s all that’s been happening these past few years,” Freddy put the money in his pocket. “Folks keep walking, not giving any care to other people’s pain.”
“Well, consider this my own contribution to making things right. I’m sorry for what this country has done to your community. I will spend the rest of my days trying to make things right here, fighting where I can. I’ve ignored this too long, been selfish. We’ll figure out a way together, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t call me, sir. I’m Stanley.”
“Okay, Stanley… you’ve a very good man, you know that?”
Stanley shrugged, “I don’t think I am. Why else would I be doing this?”
***
The hospital monitors beeped as Stanley walked into the ICU ward. He saw the man he saw the day before. The man looked at Stanley and smiled.
“How are you doing?” Stanley asked.
“Have we met?” the man asked.
“In a way,” Stanley sat next to him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Something told me to visit and make things right as much as I can.”
“Ah,” the man chuckled. “Name’s Henry.”
Stanley shook it back, “Stanley.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Can I ask how you ended up here?”
“I took a bullet for my family. Someone broke into our house and I stood in front of my grandkids as the burglar shot. They all lived, and I’m still here. It caused a ton of complications though. Now, I’m dying.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not. I’ve lived a long, good life. Grandkids and all. I’m ready.”
Stanley nodded his head, “What do you think is on the other side?”
“Love, hopefully. Compassion. I mainly miss my woman. I met her during the first world war. She died a year ago. I’m looking forward to seeing her again.”
“You face death with such strength.”
“Death is one of those things you gotta face eventually, one way or another. Once you face it, it ain’t that scary.”
Stanley laughed and held Henry’s hand, “Believe me… I more than agree with you.”
“There was a time in my life when I wished for death. I was lying in a field in France after they shot my plane down. I was in such pain. Thought about killing myself. I’m glad I didn’t. The POW years were hell, but coming back made it all worthwhile.”
“Those moments of despair always bring us to the brink,” Stanly leaned back. “We’re all so close to oblivion. We need to have more compassion, I think.”
“Amen, brother,” Henry closed his eyes. “Amen.”
***
Looking at the Chicago River from the bridge brought back the numb feelings Stanley felt a few hours beforehand. He thought about how death seemed like such an inviting, tempting option to get out of his hell. He imagined what his body would look like if he had gone through with it. How painful, bloody. He grimaced and sighed.
What would’ve happened in that dream, glimpse, or whatever it was, if Stanley had gone through with it? Would he have missed Milly’s embrace? Would the pain of his recent divorce go through his head as he felt the wind against face, falling?
Stanley used to be able to disconnect from stories about suicide, whether fiction or nonfiction. He could never fathom what it must take for people to get to such a despairing point that they throw it all away.
He understood now. People don’t kill themselves easily. The numbness and despair that used to fill him showed him the reasons why someone would lose hope. Death seems great to folks with their backs against the wall.
But Stanley felt, and knew, there was another way. That with a heartbeat and a little bit of courage, people can find hope again if they dare to feel and trust. If they dare to reach out and let someone know they’re in pain or, perhaps worse, feel nothing. The vision made Stanely realize that he was never truly alone in the world. That people wanted him – no, needed him – there. Breathing, living.
One step in front of the other. Divorce and death hurt, but he could survive. He knew that hope was still there, waiting. Someday things would make sense, but he will never fully see that someday if he threw it away too soon. His purpose on earth was not yet done, and it would’ve done irreparable harm if he jumped that night.
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- A Chicago Carol - December 24, 2024
