4x4 inches

“Nah nah nah nah nah, you’ve got rolls. You look like a donut on a pole!” Jay's feet began to quiver like spaghetti dancing on a fork. The right one faster than the left. He could feel himself slipping down the yellow steel pole he tried to climb and although proud that he made it that far, he was petrified that he was now entertainment for the people who hated me most- his classmates. Harry McClaire- the principal’s son being the worst of them.

It was difficult for Jay to describe his feelings when people bullied him, but according to his journal he felt as though their words cut as vilely as a whip on bare skin and with every laugh the very gravel beneath his feet danced as rain drops. That moment he said, seemed to last forever until his favorite teacher Ms. Hendrix exited the rust doors to investigate the uproar.

It may have been weird that Jay climbed the pole which blended in with the school’s foliage, a place no one visited at recess, but it reminded him of when his grandpa or 'Pa' would spend time with him at their neighborhood playground; and coupled by the fact that his grandfather recently passed, Jay was missing him, and would have done anything to feel closer to him even climbing that dumb pole.

He continued in his journal-

"Pa and I spoke a similar language and it didn’t take much to connect, not even words. I "have never experienced that before and I doubt I ever will again. When it came on to school, every day felt like a slow walk to an abattoir and it all started three years ago. At first it was because I was a nerd and then it was me being fat and then it was just me. Cruel jokes, shoves into lockers, food being thrown at me, among other things made it almost unbearable.

However, Pa knew what to say and how to say it to make me get up in the morning and not be eternally angry at the world. I remember when we sat down on the porch one summer day and he said “Jay, I know you're hurting but know this, you can’t change how people feel about you. You have to change how you feel about yourself. How they treat you should not be an instruction as to how you treat yourself. Stand up for you, defend you, say no for you because you are you.”" At that exact moment I remember a single tear rolling down my cheek and a light breeze gracing our faces as we smiled."

Jay was whisked away from that memory when someone threw a pen at him and there he found himself still frozen. It wasn’t until a sudden surge of warmth gently caressed his cheek that he saw an end in sight. Who was it? It was Mrs. Hendrix offering the back of her hand as a sweet embrace. Along with that was her request that they go to the principal’s office.

On route there, Mrs. Hendrix beckoned for Harry to accompany and once seated, she informed Ms. McClaire of the situation and she responded by saying “Kids will be kids and Jay it’s best if you do lose some weight.”

After tree years of him being tormented, Jay faintly shook his head in disbelief of her response and tucked himself into another memory of his grandfather in an effort to ignore the rest of Ms. McClaire's words and he would have stayed there if it weren't for Ms. Hendrix tapping him on his shoulder and telling him he's being sent home early.

It took 45 minutes to get there and during that time Jay juggled what she and Pa said and who out of the two were right. Once he arrived, his mother in a very sharp tone said, "Jay, why are you home so early?"

To which Jay replied, "i got sent home because the kids were bullying me again."

His mom firing back "So you got bullied and they sent you home. Did anyone get punished?"

"No, the principal said kids were going to be kids and Ishould lose weight."

While visibly angry by her temples pulsing and her nostrils flaring Jay's mother said, "That's the last time!" And it was. Jay's mom transferred him to a new school and although he wasn't picked on as much, he took Pa’s advice and things completely changed."

Fast-forward and now Jay's a new graduate of the NYPD, wearing his shiny gold badge, standing in his perfectly pressed uniform looking almost as good as a midnight snack; staring at the mirror, asking himself why even with all the amazing things he had accomplished he still felt trapped.

That all began to change when one day when he went to work and Paul Passeanie, his partner who smelled like garlic and marinara sauce- thanks to his wife, got excused early to see his child’s play. With only twenty minutes left on the clock, Jay decided to grab some food from a little place in Wemsford.

Then just as he was about to enter, an explosion took place that knocked him clear off his feet and unto his patrol car. The heavy scent of gas snuffing the air, his chest getting tighter; the cloud of smoke from inside the restaurant rampaging through the cracked windows and the scattered faces of despair and shock, bodies dragging on the concrete, bruised, burned and bloody was an horrendous sight.

As dizzy as Jay was from the impact he picked up his radio and requested backup. Shortly after he heard a faint cry for help but couldn’t figure where it was coming from so he braced myself and stood upright and shouted “Quiet!”- and immediately a heavy silence permeated the entire block.

“Up here!”someone shouted. So he directed his eyes and saw through the smoke a hand dangling from a window sill, as limp as a broken tree branch. He looked frantically for the stairway and up he dashed; unexpectedly being greeted with smoke and heat that saddled him. He continued making his way and luckily the door frame hadn’t swelled much and Jay was able to enter. He called out but no one answered and then after scanning the cloudy room, saw a man by the window who was now unconscious.

With all his strength Jay carried this man from out the apartment and unto the side walk; where to his relief he could hear the ambulance blaring. A minute after he crashed to the floor.

Later that week Jay was released from the hospital but learned during his stay that the man he saved was in a coma and on a ventilator due to oxygen deprivation and lung damage. A wonderful nurse whom he had built a rapport kept him informed of his progress and allowed him to visit.

As he entered his room Jay saw a shell of a man whose body was covered with medical tape and wired to machines, far too many to count. His face exceptionally pale and his eyes sunken, donning a striking salt and pepper bristly beard, prominent chestnut eyebrows that overshadowed his eyes and blisters slightly visible under gauze on his upper shoulder and neck.

He sat in the chair beside the man because he felt someone needed to remind him that he was worthy of life and after 20 minutes or so, the same nurse approached holding a shallow badly crushed brown paper box, no more than four inches each side, and she said with a sorrowful look on her face, “Doc says he possibly won’t recover and unless we find a family member soon, he’ll be taken off life support.”

Jay glanced at him and felt an overwhelming cloak of sadness and asked "How much time does he have?"

To which the nurse responded “Only a few hours. In the brown box there is half an ID. Maybe you can use that to locate a relative.”

She then gave him the box and said “You’re all he has.” and left. Jay didn’t reply, instead he just sat there, took a deep breath, opened it and saw the name- McClaire. Faded yes but very visible, his heart started galloping and he was frozen in his seat because he had never run into anyone else with that name since leaving school. So first name missing or not the chances were it was Harry McClaire. A few minutes later and Jay was determined to confirm, so he headed back to the school in search of Ms. McClaire’s address which he received.

From there he hastily made his way and after half-an-hour of driving he reached, exited his car, took a deep breath, knocked on her door and out came a very short, plump and graying woman befriended by a red cane. “Hello officer.” she said.

To which Jay replied “Ah, hello. Are you Ms. McClaire?"

"Yes I am. Can I help you?" she asked while adjusting her cozy knit sweater.

"No, but maybe I can help you.” said Jay.

Slightly confused she inquired “How so?”

Before going any further Jay asked if she felt comfortable enough to invite him in which she agreed to do. Once seated he gave her the box.“What’s this?” she asked, while opening it with her restless hands. Then upon realizing what it was she adjusted her glasses while appearing puzzled and asked “Why do you have my son’s ID?”

Jay looked at her and asked “Are you sure it’s your son’s?”

With a fervent response she said “Yes. It has our name and his date of birth. Now what’s going on?”

Jay responded, “We don’t have much time. Please come with me and I’ll explain everything on our way.”

Ms. McClaire bowed her head asked, “Is he alive?” to which Jay did not reply; just ushered her into grabbing her essentials and heading out. Upon arriving, they exited the vehicle and Ms. McClaire tightly gripped Jay's arm and to further assist her, he crouched down which allowed him to feel her nerves crawling up her arms and unto his.

Once they arrived at the nurses'station in full sight was Harry's room and a doctor accompanied by two nurses that were in the process of turning off the ventilator. Upon noticing, Jay shouted “Wait!”and the entire floor paused.

Then he and Ms. McClaire proceeded to the room and Ms. McClaire let out a small gasp. Then the doctor who was quite anxious asked, "Who are you? Do you know this man?"

"Your patient's name is Harry McClaire..."- Jay replied.

Before being able to complete his response Ms. McClaire interrupted by saying "That's my son. Don't you touch him!"

In order to give the McClaire's some space Jay left and then returned three days later, only to hear as he bent the corner of the elevator that there was great news-Harry McClaire had woken up and was breathing by himself. A true miracle. With his hat in hand he approached the nurse’s station and saw Harry and his mother were talking and on one hand, Jay was elated but on the other, he was taken back to when he was that little boy on the pole and all the years prior. Feeling conflicted, he decided to leave and on his way out he heard “Officer, officer!”

Jay stopped in his tracks, paused to collect himself and then proceeded to turn around and unexpectedly Ms. McClaire was the person standing in front of him and in the process of her throwing her arms around him as best she could, while holding her cane, said “The nurse told me what you did for my boy and I want to thank you. You brought him back to me after so many years of us being a part and you saved his life.”

Jay uttered “You’re very welcome ma’am.”

Then she asked the question of all questions Jay was hoping to avoid, “What’s your name?”

To which he responded meekly “Jay Hamilton.” She repeated his name several times with a fully knitted brow and stood upright and looked at him in a discerning fashion, as if trying to piece together a thousand puzzles at once. After a few seconds, she gasped, used one hand to clutch her mouth and then after a minute or so and some tears later she said with sincere difficulty “It can’t be. You were the little boy in my office.” She paused and then resumed “I knew how much you were being bullied. Mrs. Hendrix told me repeatedly and I ignored it. It has been one of my biggest regrets and I want you to know that I will forever be sorry for the hurt you endured from my son, and myself. It’s my hope that one day you will forgive me.”

For every word she said, a tear streamed down Jay's face and for each one she wiped it away and slowly after giving each other a humble smile, they parted ways and Jay watched her as she enter Harry’s room and although he couldn't identify what she was saying he could clearly tell by Ms. McClairy's periodic glancing at him that she was telling Harry about their exchange. After what seemed to be 20 seconds, Harry looked over to Jay, his cheeks flushed, lips pursed and his eyes laden with guilt; to which Jay responded by putting his hat on his head and turning around and walking towards the elevator. The past which kept Jay hostage all these years became the weight he released and the one Harry would have to carry for the rest of his life.