The Life Veteran
The winter breeze set his scarf abroad the wind. His lips were frozen into place, restricting him of speech; he could only wave his broken cup and hope someone would think of what an old man like him has been through to end up here in the middle of a sidewalk in New York. He saw millions of people pass by him every single day, and far from a million small black cents were given to him. He understood why; he once knew a life that was prosperous. A life that would’ve carried him far and happy if he’d done what a successful man does. If it weren’t for his wife, he would be out there, possibly on the beaches of Cuba, enjoying a spiced drink, admiring the ocean in front of him. But that wasn’t the case…
His wife had betrayed him and taken his children. She had stolen his expansive gain and thrown him away like a piece of garbage. Now he knew nothing, he owned nothing and he deserved nothing more than a kick in the gut. He had never wanted this but it must’ve been his destiny all along and he did not know it. As he lay there thinking of his past life, he attempted to cry out to God, to pardon his sins, to give him his life back. His lips cracked open but did not utter a word. He lay motionless on the sidewalk, old age and weather cracking his skin, as he stared at the grey sky. He frowned, but did not move. He gently closed his eyes, as dry blood stained his weather-ridden skin. The frantic breathing he hadn’t realized he was responsible for slowed and stopped. He slumped over, and dropped the broken cup that had kept him alive for over a decade.
Mike Bouchard was a trained doctor at the Manhattan Hospital. He was forty-two and had two children. His family was very rich, mostly because of his father, who he suspected had killed himself after Mike’s mother had left him to die on the roads of New York. Sometimes he looked for him, but he didn’t have much time, especially when his mother had forbidden him of looking for his father. Though Mike had a hate for poor people that had routed from his mother, he sometimes took a walk down what they call the Poverty Lane; a road that was massively populated with low-lifes and such. Never did he recognise his father’s bright gaze, his rich beard, his smile.
One Friday afternoon, he decided to not look for his father, finally convincing himself that his father must be already dead. He decided to walk down the small trail behind his apartment that led to the subway entrance. When he exited the trail, he saw a man slumped over, probably sleeping, with a cup in his hands. As Mike walked closer to the man, he looked more closely at the low-life’s gloved hands. He then realised that the broken cup in his hands had a small paper taped to it. Though Mike hated the poor, he reached down and gently grabbed the broken cup. When he read what the paper said, his eyes filled with tears. Perhaps his tears were tears of sadness, or perhaps it was tears of joy, but Mike had just found what was left of his father. The paper was an old drawing that was practically completely faded away; a drawing that read “I love You, Dad.”
Mike had done this for his father when he was much younger. He gazed down at the heap of ripped clothes and garbage bags he once called his father. He crouched down and peered into the old man’s face. His beard was no longer rich, but a mess. His eyes were closed, and he guessed that they weren’t a bright blue but more of a grey, dying color. His lips were cracked and covered with dry blood; so much that one would think it was dirt. It was when he listened for his father’s rhythmic breathing that he realized he wasn’t breathing. Mike picked out his phone and dialed nine-one-one at once. He realized that his mother would’ve suggested he leave him there to die, as she did so many years ago…
Soon after, the ambulances arrived and took him to the hospital. They took him to the emergency area and told Mike that it was possible he wouldn’t see his father again. Mike then called his mother, though this was risky, he wanted her to know what she had done to him. He wanted her to know that she had been relentless and brutal, even though his father was a good man with a passionate heart for everyone around him. He told her that she had ruined his father’s life, and that she should feel guilty for his demise. As he said that, he thought he heard a whimper. He asked his mother if she was hurt, and she said no. Instead, she said that she was coming to the hospital and would arrive there in around twenty minutes.
As she arrived, by pure coincidence, the doctor arrived to see them with news of Mike’s father. He asked if Mike’s mother was a relative, then he said that Mike’s father was going to be fine. He said that he would be in Intensive Care for a month at most and would be able to see his former family in about half an hour. He said that they could go see him now, but he would be sleeping, and they’d have to be quiet. Mike’s mother insisted they go see him right away, and Mike shrugged. It didn’t matter much, and he wondered what his mother would do beside her ex-husband. He followed as they entered the Intensive Care Ward. As they arrived at his father’s room, Mike’s mother started crying. She finally found the sympathy she had for Mike’s father. Mike hoped that from that day on, Mike’s life would get better, as would Mike’s father. And when he will go get his father in a month, he will be most joyous, as would his mother, he hoped…
