Parting Gifts (Original Fiction)

"Parting Gifts"

 

 

She was no different than any of the other passengers. She wore the same beleaguered business suit. She carried the same rumpled bag and when the announcer confirmed the half-hour delay, she wilted with the same frustration as the rest of the other people around her.

But to him, she was the world.

He followed her with his eyes as the crowd burst apart and she slunk quickly down onto a nearby bench. As soon as the people cleared a path, he shuffled toward her as fast as his eighty-years would allow.

“Pardon me, I hate to disturb you but … is this seat taken,” he said over the repeat announcement. She glanced up and shook her head, busy with her phone and updating her statuses on three different social media outlets. He twisted and eased himself onto the bench next to her before speaking again. “The trains are all getting delayed this afternoon. It's because of the snow storm, I'll bet you anything.”

“I don't care what it is. I'm ready to get home,” she smiled, her features glowing with the light from her phone.

He seized the moment and offered his smooth, cool palm.

“I'm Herbert. Today is my birthday.”

“I'm Amanda. Happy Birthday, Herbert.”

“Well, it's very nice to meet you, Amanda. A young woman your age shouldn't be traveling alone. I hope you don't have to go very far.”

She burped with a small laugh, “My age? I'll be twenty-two in June.”

“I'm eighty years old today!”

“That's amazing. You don't look it.”

“Well, that's very kind of you to say,” Herbert smiled and gazed off across the beehive of activity around them.

Commuters filled the lobby for clusters of time. Each of them patiently waiting for the signal from the announcer to tell them which platform to descend to. They rose and fell on weary feet, their shoulders bowed with bundles, their eyes all sunken and grey. They watched the LCD screen like hungry orphans and saw nothing of the world around them.

Amanda kept her eyes on her phone to avoid any further awkward conversation. Even though Herbert came off as a demure, fragile old man – he could be a psychotic, organ-harvesting necrophiliac. She wasn't stupid.

Amanda never missed an episode of CSI.

She knew how things were in the big city.

The past year of growing acclimated to life in the city had done nothing to lower her guard around strangers. Herbert sensed none of this suspicion brewing in the young woman as he stared across the lobby at the hectic Dunkin' Donuts kiosk.

“I don't feel it,” Herbert blurted out of nowhere. “I don't feel it a bit.”

“You don't feel what?”

“Eighty. I expected it to feel different, you know what I mean? You wait and wait and wait and wait and then it's there – bam! Eighty years old. Jesus Christ.”

“Mm-hmm,” Amanda pulled her phone a little closer to her nose as Herbert continued, unaware.

“Eighty years is a long time. You live each day of those eighty years saying things like, 'When I'm eighty, I'll be surrounded by grandchildren on my front porch in blah,' or 'If I live to be eighty, I won't have to stress and worry over blah,' … well, here it is all up on me and it doesn't feel a bit different. It's a bit of a disappointment to tell the truth.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Amanda squirmed and tucked the phone deep inside her purse.

Herbert waved her off like a silly gnat, “What would you know? You're still so young and beautiful. You've got your whole life ahead of you. I'm over here ranting like a crazy person. I'm sorry.”

“I'm twenty-one! I'm not that young!”

“Is that all? Honey – not to sound crude or anything, but I have things clinging to the inside of my intestines older than that. Twenty-one is just a baby.”

Amanda laughed at his salty humor and added, “I wish I felt like a baby. These shoes this new job makes me wear are killing me.”

“Oh? Let's see!”

Herbert leaned over to inspect as Amanda explained, “I just finished my seventy-hour work week and my dogs are barking. They insist that we wear at least a one inch heel even though I spend most of the day with my feet under a desk. Makes no sense to me but I need the work. It took me four months to even find this job. I can't lose it … so my feet have to suffer.”

“What kind of work do you do, if you don't mind my asking?”

Amanda grunted, “Just a temp job. It's what I could get. It's not what I want to do. I really want to be a photographer. The company I work for now is a financial place that publish a magazine I can't even understand. I enter data and answer calls in their sales department. It's brainless work but one day … I'll make a living with my pictures.”

“Why wouldn't you be taking pictures now?” Herbert turned with a curious frown and waited to understand. “If that's what you love doing – it doesn't make sense to me that you'd be wasting a day entering … whatever you just said you did.”

“I have bills to pay. I don't have time to take anymore classes for my photography degree and no one will hire me without one. It's a slow road – so in the meantime, I crunch data.”

Herbert shook his head and turned back to the room full of buzzing people. Amanda sought around inside her purse and pulled out a small digital camera.

“What's that,” Herbert nodded toward the tiny device in her palm.

She passed it to him and smiled.

“That's my camera. Just a little dinky one right now but it's the best I could afford. One day, I'm going to get one of those big fancy professional jobs. I'm saving up.”

“It's so tiny. In my day – cameras were a lot bigger. Seems to me if you had a camera that small, you could be taking pictures of … everything! It's just so convenient!”

Amanda looked flummoxed for a moment then said, “Can I take your picture? I can Photoshop it, add some nice effects and add it to my portfolio.”

“My picture? What in the world would you want my picture for? I'm just an old, ugly man.”

Amanda said, “You have a really interesting face, Herbert. It's soft, and kind … and besides, it's your birthday! I could send you a copy of it as a gift! How's that sound?”

Herbert thought for a moment then answered, “If it will help you with your picture taking work, then … yes. How would you like me to pose? I've never been photographed by a professional. Tell me what to do!”

“Just sit like you were sitting a moment ago – looking out over that way,” Amanda pointed off across the lobby and the bustling hive of men and women rushing for their trains. “Pretend I'm not even here, like you're lost in thought and all that.”

Herbert did as he was told and a sudden flash made him jump. “Goodness! That was bright!”

Amanda flipped the power off and tossed her camera back inside her purse. She lifted her phone out, opened the notepad app and said, “I can send you a copy if you'll just give me your email.”

“What's that?”

“Email? Oh,” Amanda realized Herbert's age and rephrased. “I can mail you a copy! Just give me your home address and I can get it printed and send it to you sometime this week! I work late most nights, so it'll have to wait until the weekend. I'll definitely mail you a copy, though! Where do you live?”

“That's not necessary, Amanda. You just keep it to remember me by,” Herbert chuckled. “I don't want another picture of my old, wrinkled face around. It'll just kill my plants and they're about the only ones around willing to keep me company anymore.”

That awkward, uncomfortable feeling of an elderly person openly addressing the solitude and isolation of his existence washed over youthful Amanda.

She wrinkled her mouth and struggled to find an appropriate response and only came up with, “Happy Birthday, just the same!”

After a moment, Herbert broke the silence with, “If I were you, I wouldn't look forward to eighty like I did. If I were you, I'd be taking pictures and doing everything I could to follow my heart right here today. You shouldn't wait.”

Amanda stretched her legs and said, “Not everyone can afford to follow their hearts in this day and age. If I could make a living with my pictures, trust me – I'd be doing it.”

“You won't know unless you try. Sounds to me like you wasted seventy hours this week doing something that brought you no joy when you could have spent all that time doing something that was rewarding.”

Amanda thought for a moment and agreed, “You're right. I should take more photos. During my lunch break and on my way to work. You're right. I see a lot of things I could work with and that's why I moved here from Ohio in the first place. I just got so caught up in trying to keep the lights on, I forgot what I was here to do!”

“There you go! Seize every second you can while you're still young enough to endure it. Don't wait around like I did. I was always looking toward the future. I had one of those mentalities. I kept looking toward tomorrow until all my tomorrows were used up and here I sit, eighty years old and can't even afford a decent dinner. It's not what I imagined. It's not at all what I imagined … but then again – nothing ever is.”

Amanda produced a single bill from her pocket and handed it to Herbert with a smile. “I'm sorry. It's only a twenty. It's all I have on me. It's not very much, but it's enough for some fast food.”

“Thank you,” he said as the bill vanished with a blur inside his coat pocket. Herbert leaned back against the bench and added. “Eighty years old and here I am. At least I got to spend time with a such a sweet young woman like you, Amanda. I'm awfully glad your train was delayed, if you don't mind my saying so. It's a blessing to meet someone with such a kind, generous heart in this day and age – and especially on my birthday.”

“No problem,” she jostled on the bench as the announcer read off another series of departures. At the end of the announcement was the one Amanda had been pining for and she quickly collected her belongings, turned to Herbert and said, “Say … what time is your train?”

Herbert stood from the bench by bracing himself on his cane with one shaking arm. “I'm not taking the train, honey.”

“You're not? I thought you were delayed like me! How much longer until you leave this God forsaken station and go home to celebrate your birthday?”

Herbert pet the young woman's shoulder with a familiar touch and said, “I am home, honey. I live here.”

Amanda looked down at her feet and pulled her purse close over her shoulder.

The tide of people pushed her toward the steel framed door and she struggled to catch sight of Herbert who stood motionless, propped on his single cane with a weary smile bleeding across his face.

She stepped out of the current and called over the metallic voice of the next round of announcements, “I'll see you around, Herbert! I come through here every afternoon about this same time! I'm sure we'll see each other again!”

“That'll be nice, Amanda. I'll look forward to it,” Herbert struggled to yell. The sign above the door leading down to platform nine began to flash, Herbert nodded toward it and urged, “You better go. You don't want to miss this one.”

Amanda glanced up and yelped.

She grappled her bag and as she stepped onto the escalators leading down into the sultry subterranean corridor, she called back over her shoulder as she rode away, “Happy Birthday, Herbert! I hope you have a good one!”

As Amanda rode downward on steady tracks, she pulled her camera out of her purse and smiled down at the newest photo in her collection. Herbert's statuesque lines revealed each week of the man's life. His tired eyes wept with longing and Amanda knew this would only be the first in a series of character studies she could work on to keep the spark alive.

Her spirits renewed, Amanda faced the maddening crowd with a renewed faith in herself, her abilities and a restored will to seize every moment as a fresh, promising opportunity.

Herbert waited until she vanished and then he turned to face the milling crowd once more.

Blank faces stared up at the LCD screen awaiting the cue to bolt into motion. Passengers stood like pillars, with their necks craned back; baby birds awaiting food.

One jarring disturbance caught Herbert's eye and he followed it as it eased its way out of the crowd and knelt down by the wall.

The flustered mother pushed the stroller next to the bench he'd just abandoned and plopped down, her cheeks bursting with color. Under a plastic screen came the shriek of an unhappy infant and the woman tore through her shoulder bag in search of something to silence the wailing as she waited for the announcement. Herbert slid across the polished tile floor without drawing an eye.

Herbert stepped up to the woman, cleared his throat and asked, “Pardon me, I hate to disturb you but … is this seat taken?”

by R.W. Webb

(c) 2013 All Rights Reserved.

 

 

This and many other fabulous tales can be found in The Collected Tales, Volume One or if you fancy your stories a bit meatier, try one of the novellas available on my Amazon Author Page.