Walking the Right Path

Chapter 8

Metal hit wood, sweat dripped like a drop of morning due falling from a leaf, breathless sighs escaped the lips of those whose backs ached from the labor. The smell of all sorts of meat wafted the air and people walked all around looking for the perfect one to purchase.

"Business is looking good today, isn't it?" Thompson said, wiping the sweat on his face with his sleeve. His fellow co-workers agreed with him except one who butchered the goat in front of him as though it had personally offended him.

"Yes, we haven't seen this many customers since the black Friday gig we did last month. It's good to 'cause my daughter has been whining about pretty pink ballet shoes for a while now."

The men laughed, nudging him on his stomach playfully. "My money is going straight into my bank account. College tuition doesn't pay for itself."

And just like that they conversed about their children, wives, goals, what they were planning to use their salary for and among others.

"What about you Richardson?" Pascal asked.

"Huh?" Richardson blinked, he wasn't really paying attention to what they were discussing.

"This is the third time you're spacing out today, I've got a feeling it has to do with the kid you took in. How long has it been now? Five days?" Thompson said. "If you ask me you should've just left him there. It's not good to associate with street children. Who knows what they're running from?"

"Thompson," one of the men hissed at him.

"What? You're all thinking about it. Look, it's good to help others but you have to think about yourself first."

"What Thompson is trying to say is we're here if you need to talk or need help with...the kid," Sammy, the eldest among them, said.

"He's more difficult to handle than I thought. He sneaks out to hang out with those boys from the bad side of town and comes back smelling like he's been smoking and who knows what else."

Thompson slammed his butcher knife into the pig in front of him. "There you have it folks. If the kid wishes to destroy his life, who are you to stop him? Let him rot himself in the slums with the rest of those boys. You're not his father."

"I have to agree with Thompson here," John said, "you've done your best but housing a troublesome child is not doing you any good. You'll start getting more gray hairs before you're sixty."

Richardson thought they didn't understand. He had to help Daniel else he wouldn't look at himself the same way again. "Never mind. I'm sure after a while he'll mellow down," that was all he said to add. The remaining men continued the conversation about Daniel, coming up with speculation and stating ways in which they would've handled the situation.

Richardson took a break at exactly three o'clock. He took off his gloves, apron and headed to the bathroom to wash his face. Mrs Maggie didn't appreciate him coming into her shop smelling like meat with a sweaty face.

"Richardson," Lawrence stopped him on his way out. "Can we talk?"

"I don't have much time, you know that Lawrence. My break lasts for only twenty minutes."

"It'll be quick I promise."

They sat together outside the cafe next to their butcher shop. The owner also didn't appreciate their smell else they would have gone inside.

"It's about Daniel," Lawrence whispered. "You know I'm always leaving my things behind, well that day he was at the stall I saw him with my pocket knife. Something didn't sit right with me. He kept looking at it as if...as if he wanted to do something bad and when I showed myself he jumped like a kid caught stealing candy."

"What are you insinuating?"

"I agree with the rest of the men, Richardson. They know what they are saying. If I were you I'd let the kid go before his blood is on your hands."

That night when he got home Daniel was there, sitting peacefully on the sofa watching TV. If I were you I'd let the kid go before his blood is on your hands.

Was Lawrence right? Or maybe Daniel needed more time.

"Daniel."

"Oh, you're home," he shut the TV off. "I'm going to my room, don't wait for me in the morning."

"Wait. Let's talk."

Daniel shrugged and joined him at the dining area. "What's up?"

Should I just do it now? It's the perfect time to let him go. But...

Richardson stared at the picture on the wall behind Daniel. It's the same one he liked upon his arrival. After much staring he had made a new resolve.

Yes. He knew what to do.

"It's time I put you to good use. The idle man is the devil's workshop I always say," Richardson smiled. "I know a lovely woman who'd love to hire you, she needs extra hands at her house since she's having back problems. I'll let her know tomorrow that you'd be great for the job."

Daniel looked at the table as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. Work? To be honest he didn't know what he'd do to survive if he hadn't run into Mr Richardson. His life by now would probably be spent in the streets, cold, hungry and looking for how to get by. Surely working will do him some good and then maybe...maybe he could one day leave. Not back home but somewhere farther away.

To Daniel the farther he went the more his problems stayed behind. A really bad notion but who would correct him? Only time would be his teacher. And so he nodded and said, "I'll do it." Followed by a silent Thank you because he truly wasn't that heartless as he appeared to be. Daniel realized at that moment that he could get angry, shout, rebel but he would still not really hate Mr Richardson. A feeling of guilt always came back to bite his back in the end.

The old man was there when he was alone and had nowhere to go. He could've easily let Daniel suffer under that dim light that night. Honestly, Mr Richardson never did anything wrong, rather his frustrations towards his mother was put on the poor man.

He clenched his fists as tears welled up in his eyes. For whatever reason he felt emotions, emotions that weren't linked to anger and hate. He felt utterly stupid for feeling that way. Nothing special happened so why was he getting emotional?

Mr Richardson watched Daniel have an inner conflict within himself. From the way he lowered his head and squeezed his eyes, his actions betrayed his emotions. And so he did what he felt was right at that moment. Mr Richardson saw an opening to help.

"Let's pray," he said. Daniel nodded knowing trying to talk would open the floodgates of tears.

Mr Richardson went beside Daniel and held him in his arms. "Heavenly Father, I thank you for your son Daniel. I thank you for his life, good health, strength and for your grace on him. It says in your word that even before your children came into this world you gave them purpose, and so Father I pray that you guide Daniel towards his. As he passes through trials and difficult phases I know that you'd never lay on him a burden he can't carry. Let his trails shape and transform him Lord. Let his enemies never have the opportunity to laugh at him, protect him from them and any temptation. Lord, I pray that you forgive your son as well for everything wrong he has done. I pray that he comes back to the confines of your love soon, Lord. In Jesus name. Amen."

Daniel was a sobbing mess after that. The dull ache in his chest intensified as he let everything out, all the disappointments, insults and harbored pain and hate came out of him like water bursting forth from a dam. Daniel held onto Mr Richardson tightly, wishing that things could be normal and good. He wished his father never left, maybe then his life would've taken a different turn.

That night he fell asleep in the arms of an old man after fatigue took over him hoping that tomorrow would be a good day, a fresh start.

If only.