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This Man Paul

RF Thomas

    Every man has a breaking point, and this man Paul was within an inch of that dark and razor-thin line. He wasn’t near a tearful collapse, or the so-called nervous breakdown, but right at the actual edge of giving up. For real and for keeps.
    Just now he stood in front of a hallway mirror, a body-length one with good lighting that he always preferred because it made him look a little slimmer than he knew he really was. A frowning face of disapproval reflected back, for all he could see was ugly and wrong. A balding head atop a body turning to early middle-age softness.
    “You have no friends. No job. No prospects.” He watched the man in the mirror tick off these points on his fingers. The face scowled. “And you are almost $200,000 in debt.” His wife had finally lost her long battle with cancer and he dreaded the years ahead of climbing from the pit of medical debt. The thought was nearly unbearable. His scowl grew into a glower of abnegation. “You are alone and without help.”
    Paul was very near a final decision. He took a deep breath, turned sharply and went to the telephone.
    “Barb? Paul. I know it’s short notice but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind having JoJo for the night. I just had a call from an old buddy whose wife is in the hospital. Up near Milwaukee. I’d like to drive up there this afternoon, probably be back tomorrow before dark.” The lie came easily, out of nowhere. He suddenly felt confident and inspired.
    His mother-in-law said of course she wouldn’t mind, as he knew she would. Barb jumped at any chance to spend time with her only granddaughter.
    Josephine was six and had Down syndrome. Everyone called her JoJo. She was blonde, roly-poly, and her innocent, slightly drooly smile was contagious everywhere it shined.
    Paul drove blankly through the busy afternoon traffic, his daughter buckled safely into the back. He didn’t have to check the mirror to know she was staring out at the early December drizzle with cheerful interest. He was keeping a tight grip on his thoughts, not allowing himself to go in any direction very far. Keeping it very superficial. I will think it out after I drop JoJo off, he promised himself. But he was beginning to feel very grim indeed. Is this the last time you will ever see your daughter? Of course not! But what if it is? No. But it could be. No.
    It was a strain maintaining normal appearances during his goodbyes—Paul felt like an unconvincing actor in a bad play. He drove south after leaving JoJo at her grandmother’s and headed towards the Skyway and its High Bridge. It was the tallest bridge around, and even though he wasn’t having any sort of clear inner dialogue, his vague notions were taking form. He began muttering to himself. “Has to be maybe ten stories high. High enough.” He drove faster, sensing the approach of something that would matter. Heading towards some sort of resolution, maybe even some sort of relief.
    Lost within himself, he not only failed to notice the thickening drizzle on his windshield turning to ice, he was also late seeing the red light. He hit the brakes much too hard, causing the car to slew around. That’s the moment everything changed for this man Paul, because his slide carried him into the intersection, where a garbage truck traveling at nearly 40 mph slammed his car into a violent, spinning, glass-shattering stop.
    Sirens, flashing lights, an ambulance, chaos in the emergency room, phone calls, a tense race to the hospital, the waiting, the worrying, the confusion. And finally, the conversation. Broken ribs, broken arm, internal bruising, concussion, possibly severe. Worst of all: unconscious and unresponsive.
***
    This man Paul stood at the side of a road that descended into a long, green valley. He had no memory of how he had come to be here, nor did it seem strange. The valley went on as far as he could see, and the road ran straight along its bottom. Looking down, he noticed an ancient, weathered road marker with faded chiseled letters. He bent for a closer look.
    “Damascus?” His voice was a dry whisper. Feeling self-conscious, as if he were being watched, he said in a louder, stronger voice, “What is this place?”
    He didn’t expect an answer of course, and so when a voice spoke from behind, he jerked around in surprise.
    “This is a place to lay down one’s burdens.” The voice belonged to a tall man with long, dark hair, a brilliant white smile, and sparkling eyes. He exuded a confidence that was almost otherworldly. Paul felt the absurd urge to bow, but resisted it.
    The tall man gestured to the thick grass at the side of the road. “Why not lay aside your burdens and rest awhile?”
    Paul nodded, it sounded like a wonderful idea. He became aware of a balmy breeze, and insects buzzing, and the sun was warm and it felt like a lazy spring day. Why not rest here? His limbs were heavy and so he took a step into the grass, then another, and lay down and closed his eyes.
    When he woke, he was without a sense of time or place, but then he remembered the tall man. He stood up, and saw the road, and felt drawn to it.
    Almost against his will, he went to the road and began walking. The going was downhill and easy at first. But he noticed a peculiar thing as he went. The sky darkened from blue to gray, and the air grew thick, and it became hard to breathe. Paul soon became weary.
    He stopped, and stood dumbly. What was he even doing here? And then he heard a tiny, almost imagined whisper that seemed to come from inside his mind. You must go on. It sounded stern, that tiny whisper.
    But it was too hard. He didn’t want to walk anymore. He didn’t even want to think. He stumbled off the road, and was grateful once again for the thick, soft grass. He went down into it and slumber took him.
***
    Paul’s first day in the hospital came to an end. Nothing had changed. Vital signs stabilized. Unconscious, inert, tubes and monitors, clean sheets and bandages and a hospital bed.
***
    Paul woke up to another sunny day, and wasn’t surprised to see the tall man standing nearby, watching him intently. Then the man smiled his confident smile. “Stay here Paul. No more worries, no more weariness. It’s your choice.”
    Paul didn’t answer. He went to the road and began walking. He didn’t know why. He didn’t particularly want to walk it. He wanted to just curl up and forget. Yet something pulled him along, just enough to put one step in front of the last.
    He was on the valley floor, flat and level. And as before, the sky darkened as he went. But now the valley narrowed and closed in around him. The ground grew rocky and he stumbled often. His limbs were heavy and his breathing labored. What was the point? Why go on at all?
    Then the stern whisper again, a little louder this time. You must go on. Soon it will be time to make your choice.
    His world had shrunken to a dim, grey place. Just the rocky road and him. Sweat rolled down his face, his legs burned, his heart was heavy, and he just wanted to close his eyes and forget.
    Paul shook his head in denial. “I don’t have to do anything.” He staggered to the edge of the road and there was the thick, soft grass waiting. He closed his eyes and forgetfulness washed over him.
***
    The end of Paul’s second day in the hospital saw no change. His mother-in-law wanted to bring JoJo to visit. She told the doctors that might make a difference and help Paul recover. The doctors didn’t think that was a good idea yet.
***
    Paul opened his eyes to the blue sky above. He rose from the grass and saw he was almost across the valley now. In the distance the road rose sharply and disappeared over the top. The tall man was there of course, smiling and confident.
    “Have you had enough yet Paul? Ready to give in?”
    Paul felt troubled. It was difficult to look the tall man in the face, and so he dropped his eyes and for a split second he caught something wrong with the man’s feet. Paul blinked, and saw only normal feet again. He shook his head, but did not answer the man. A fear descended over him.
    “Why not decide just this once to do what you want? Do what is good for you. Why go on, when there is only suffering ahead?”
    Before he could stop himself, Paul blurted a question, even as he feared the answer. “Who are you?”
    The tall man’s smile grew. It went from you can trust me to you finally caught me.
    “In this place my name is The Morning Star.”
    An appalling rush of confirmation surged through Paul’s mind. He tried to raise his eyes but was unable to. “You’re the Devil, aren’t you?”
    And then everything changed. The figure next to him shimmered and darkened and grew in stature. Terrified, Paul dropped to his knees and as the thing next to him faded away, Paul’s last image was of two feet blurring and becoming enormous cloven hooves.
    A horror grew in Paul, threatening to overwhelm his senses. But then all thought was completely swept away because all around him the valley and the grass and the breeze and the sunlight disappeared. The truth was revealed now, and behind him a vast plain stretched to infinity. All around were countless figures, pathetic, cringing, anguished, on their knees, or crawling, or lying sobbing. The road was still there ahead of him, a short, steep section. The darkness grew.
***
    Barb brought JoJo with her on day three, convinced the staff to allow her to bring the child into her father’s room. At first JoJo was subdued, her eyes big and solemn. She didn’t know what to think when she saw her father in his hospital bed. But Barb encouraged JoJo to talk to daddy, to hold his hand and just talk to him.
***
    Paul stood paralyzed, numb, afraid to move and be noticed, and become a permanent part of this place. Then the stern voice came, and filled his mind.
    “It is time to make your choice Paul. Choose for yourself, or for another.”
    Paul swallowed. “Another?”
    “The child.”
    “The child? What child?”
    “You have a daughter Paul. And she is very special.”
    Paul was dumbfounded. Amazed, “Special. How?”
    “All children are special.”
    Paul squeezed his eyes shut, closing out the terrible landscape. He knew who the speaker was now. And so he asked the question all of humanity would ask, had they been there.
    “What does it all mean? What am I to do?”
    “There is no secret. Love one another. Help others before yourself.”
    This man Paul, with a tremendous effort, took one step, then another, and then he was running. He lurched up the slope atop legs that felt like wooden stilts, each step sending shards of pain. He could not breathe, his vision was dimming, he could feel the powerful and growing hold the place had on him.
    And then he was at the top. He stopped, hands on knees, gasping, retching. The road ended in a narrow door-like arch. An arch that was filled with light.
    Beside it stood the outline of a man, and he knew it was the owner of the stern whisper. Paul lowered his eyes and could not speak nor move.
    “Well done, Paul. You have been given another chance.”
***
    On the third day, Paul awoke, changed. He had only a fleeting, shadowy memory of the valley. But there was something new in him. A growing sense of deep resolve.
    He opened his eyes and turned his head. There by his side sat his daughter and the girl’s grandmother. They both reacted to his movement, looking up with wide, red eyes. Then JoJo smiled and threw herself across Paul’s chest in a ferocious hug.
    “I knew the bad man wouldn’t keep you, daddy! Knew you’d come back!”
***
    Paul and JoJo were going to Whizzer’s for dinner. Whizzer’s was JoJo’s favorite place. They hadn’t often been able to afford nights out, but when they did, it was Whizzer’s pizza. Whizzer’s gave customers a free oversized cupcake on their birthdays and sang a hyped up version of Happy Birthday. Because the manager was a nice man, JoJo got the special treatment every time they went, birthday or no.
    Now, a week after coming home from the hospital, they were going to dinner. Christmas was coming soon and there would not be many presents, so Paul wanted to give his daughter a treat. She had been so excited all day she hadn’t even asked where mom was. Not even once.
***
    Kylie was 17, self-absorbed, and had tired, sore feet. This was her first full week as a waitress at Whizzer’s and she just wanted to make it to the end of her shift. She hated having to come to work five nights a week after school and she hated her friends knowing she had a job even more. Tomorrow was her first day off and at least she could hang out at the mall and not deal with all these stupid people with their loud, stupid kids.
    The worst was table 5. She knew already from experience there was no tip coming from table 5. The man was dressed in cheap, worn clothes and the little girl not much better. The man looked frail and sickly and had a homemade haircut. Plus he had what looked like food stains on his shirt. No watch, no jewelry, and now to make things worse, her manager was gathering a few of them to sing their version of Happy Birthday to the little girl and Kylie figured it probably wasn’t really her birthday.
    So they brought the little special needs girl her chocolate cupcake and sang their song and everyone thought it was the best thing ever. Except Kylie. She walked back to the counter on the edges of her feet, gingerly trying to avoid the painful spots on her heels. She rolled her eyes at her manager when she heard him say, “They look so happy.”
    Whatever. Except he was serious. “No, really. Just look at them and tell me they aren’t happy.” Her manager was a huge softie. But dutifully Kylie turned around and looked. And then something happened. For the first time all week, maybe the first time ever, she really saw people as persons. All the distractions of learning a new job, all her complaints and worries and problems fell away in an instant and the good part of Kylie, the part deep inside that her mother and perhaps one or two friends knew about, really saw the two at the table for who they were.
    And her manager was right. They were happy. There was something very moving about their faces, now that she took notice. Kylie stood there and forgot about her feet and just stared. Two people, obviously not well off, and one of them with special needs, sitting in a cheap pizza place a few days before Christmas, and they had on their faces the purest expressions of peace and happiness that she had ever seen. Their faces shone with it. Beyond what her young life had ever experienced. And her heart was changed.
    Ripple.
    Frank came home from work tired and hungry, as usual. And with a hundred things on his mind, things that needed done at work before the holiday break. He was starting to feel stressed even more than usual. At least they had gotten their Christmas bonus checks today.
    He smelled dinner as soon as he came in the house and by the time he hung up his coat and took off his shoes, his stomach was rumbling. Into the kitchen, kiss the wife, noticed the empty chair.
    “Where’s Kylie?”
    His wife smiled and her eyes twinkled. “She ate already. She is spending a few hours volunteering at the soup kitchen.”
    Frank just stared.
    “The one off Delaware.” As if that clarified anything.
    Frank shook his head. “Our Kylie?”
    “Yes dear. Our Kylie.”
    “Volunteering. At a soup kitchen.”
    “She said she saw some poor people at work today that inspired her.”
    Frank sat down at the table and his wife went to the stove to dish out dinner. He cocked his head and turned to look at her. “Huh.”
    Later that night, lying in bed, Frank and his wife discussed Christmas, gifts to buy, and how to spend his bonus. They also discussed Kylie.
    The next day at lunch, Frank went to the bank and withdrew three one hundred dollar bills and then drove to the nearest Mega Box store.
    He hung out near the cash registers, pressed in the crush of the Christmas crowd, holding a single pack of gum, looking for a target. And then he spotted one coming. A cart full of toys and clothes, pushed by a harried, young woman with two small kids trailing her. She was dressed in cheap clothes and so were the kids. They all looked thin, but the children were smiling and excited.
    Frank pushed his way towards her and just as she got in one of the long lines to check out, he put a hand on her shoulder.
    “Excuse me, mind if I cut in quick?” He held up his pack of gum, and looked down at her cart, packed full and over the top.
    The woman nodded and Frank murmured his thanks. After a long wait, he got to the cashier and as he paid for his gum, he leaned in close and whispered, “This is for the lady behind me. I want to pay for her cart. Put whatever is left over in the charity bucket outside.” He slid the three one hundred dollar bills into the startled clerk’s hand.
    Ripple.
    Angie was tired. And stressed. And to be honest, kind of depressed. She knew there were a ton of single moms out there just like her, scrimping to make ends meet and somehow come up with Christmas gifts for the kids. She had gone over her list as she shopped; mostly buying things they needed, clothes and such, and was sure she would be cutting it very close. She had no credit card and knew to the penny what was in her debit account. And had the electric bill to pay before her next check too.
    When the big burly man asked to cut in front, she just nodded with weariness. One more thing. She was used to not mattering. No one cared about anyone else’s problems. The man had something to say to the clerk, but Angie didn’t pay any attention. She was mentally adding up the total again as she laid each item on the checkout conveyor belt.
    She watched the digital numbers rise and climb and sighed with relief when the total was just under what she had calculated. And then her mouth dropped open as she reached out her debit card because the smiling clerk said, “Put that away, the man in front of you already paid for it.”
    Ripple.
    Another twelve hour shift standing at the cash register. This time of year was a killer. But there were good moments too, even during the mad holiday rush. Mariah saw a lot of greed and impatience and intolerance and outright ugliness from the never-ending line of customers. But she also was witness to bright moments of human kindness. Today, right before her shift ended, a man had paid $300 for a complete stranger’s cart of gifts for her kids. And if Mariah was any judge, the woman needed all the help she could get.
    She handed the register off to the next shift, and with the leftover money in her hand, started towards the doors and the bell ringers outside. But then she paused. One act of kindness from a complete stranger had started an idea in her head. With what she held, and her employee discount, she figured she could buy three of those heavy winter coats on sale in the children’s section. She turned around and went towards the apparel aisle. Her church was putting on a coats for kids drive and she could drop them off in the morning on the way to work.
    Ripple.
    Now that Mrs. Hamilton was retired, she tried to find things to keep herself busy, things that mattered. Her husband worked in a downtown office, and she was on her own much of the day. She loved Christmas because there were all sorts of things to do. Just now, she was boxing up cookies to take to the church bake sale. She felt good about helping out in this small way. The Hamiltons didn’t go to church often, but this time of year they liked to put in an appearance.
    The church was walking distance, and as she approached the parking lot, she saw a woman she recognized getting out of an old, somewhat beat up car and go around to the trunk.
    Coming closer, Mrs. Hamilton recognized the girl as a member of the church. She couldn’t remember her name but thought she was a cashier and not very well off at all. The girl took a handful of coats from the trunk and turned to carry them inside.
    The coats reminded Mrs. Hamilton there was a drive for children in need. Suddenly the plate of cookies in her hand didn’t feel very important. Then, she had an idea. Something to talk about with her husband tonight.
    Ripple.
    Pastor Tom sat in his office, wondering what the Hamiltons wanted on such short notice. It was the busiest time of year and he had several irons in the fire, but the phone call had sounded urgent and so he agreed to meet them right away.
    “I won’t waste your time, Pastor Tom.” Mr. Hamilton leaned forward in his chair, gold watch prominent on his tanned wrist. He was handsome and still dressed in his business suit from the workday. His wife was well-dressed as always and expensively coiffured. Pastor Tom suppressed a sad smile to think of the contrast between these two and the bulk of his parishioners. The less fortunate, the poor, the sick, so many who had so little.
    “We usually take a week and go to Hawaii in January,” Mr. Hamilton said. “Chicago winter and all that. But we’ve been thinking. Maybe this year we’ll stay home. Pastor, do you have any big money needs? Any projects that you just don’t know how to fund?”
    Pastor Tom didn’t hesitate. “Actually yes. Just yesterday it came to my attention that Mrs. Morningdale had a tree fall on her roof during that last ice storm. From what I can tell, the house is actually open to the elements in one corner. I don’t know if you know her, but she is, oh I would say going on eighty, and living on a fixed income. Poverty level would be my guess.”
    “Now isn’t that something. And what kind of cost would that be?”
    “Her neighbor dropped some coats off yesterday and was telling me about it. She said some men quoted her a fix for about $5,000.”
    The Hamiltons shared a look. They smiled at each other and then Mr. Hamilton laughed out loud. “Well I don’t know if you believe me Pastor Tom, but that is exactly what we budget for our trip every year.”
    Mr. Hamilton reached inside his coat and as he pulled out a leather checkbook, Pastor Tom was filled with a warm glow. He decided to scrap his upcoming sermon for a new one. He had just enough time to write one about the power of charity and the far-reaching effect of human kindness.

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