The Box of Redemption

Derrick Brooks took a satisfying sip of his morning coffee as he looked out his large picture window overlooking the beautiful grounds of his lavish estate. Curved driveway, manicured lawns and blossoming flowers of every shade swayed and flourished in the light of the sun. He’d always loved this view, and the fact that it displayed for his pleasure like a living piece of art worthy of Claude Monet’s signature, just made it all the more satisfying.

Hot, strong, and just a touch of sugar, just how he liked it; his coffee was made for his pleasure as well. Only the best items stocked his kitchen, the best clothes found a home in his large walk in closet, and the best furnishings graced his entire home. Luxury cars and vintage motorcycles filled his climate controlled garage, as equally well-made and compliant women filled his custom made bed.

He was a success. He made sure of it. You do whatever it takes to get on top, and you stay there. If he had to crush a few hearts or steal a few deals, then so be it. It wasn’t his fault that people didn’t know how to protect their assets. From deals to friendships, he used whomever he needed to get to the end result.

Success was for himself, and no one was to stand in his way.

He turned from his amazing view and looked over at his top of the line refrigerator; clear glass twinkled and shone better than any display case at an exclusive jewelry store. His refrigerator was also filled with everything his appetite desired.

There, dangling on the side, like a long forgotten Christmas ornament, hung the small framed picture of him and Charles Hampton… poor gullible Charlie.

He had hung the picture on his fridge, not as a sentimental remembrance of a friendship that should have meant the world to him, but more of a medal of victory.

It was his friendship with Charles that had started it all. They had met each other at the company that he now owned, but back then, he was green and trying to climb to the top. Charlie was too, but he tried to do so with hard work and excellent ideas. He tried to do so honestly.

What a load of crap!

Honesty had left Charlie with a lost job and a divorce in the end. A large part of that was due to him, but was that really his fault?

Was it his fault that Charlie often invited him to a home cooked dinner because he was alone and usually settled for a cheap burger and a beer? Was it his fault that Charlie’s wife was extremely attractive, bored, and ready for him to show her what real excitement felt like? Was it his fault that after he had worked her into a deep sleep, he was free to search Charlie’s office? Was it his fault that he'd found Charlie’s brilliant plan that he had been working on in order to get the partnership position? Was it his fault that he'd presented the stats and outline of the idea as his own before Charlie could, landing him the partnership?

Was it his fault that he'd swindled and schmoozed the board members in order to find each one’s secrets, and eventually acquired ownership of the company?

He didn’t think so. He'd only taken what they were too stupid to keep. That wasn’t his fault, and now he has everything he desired - at least for the moment.

He took another satisfying sip of his rich coffee and walked towards his home office to plan out the day. Buzz….He heard the sound of the doorbell before he could reach his office door. Buzz… it continued.

“Where is the damn housekeeper?” He said out loud becoming irritated as the bell buzzed a third time.

This was unacceptable! That’s why she was here! I don’t answer my own door!

He called out to her, but no answer. Swearing under his breath and vowing to fire her and her dust mop. He flung the door open.

“What!” he yelled at an open space before realizing no one was there.

He was about to slam the door shut when his eyes looked down. There, sitting as if it was a gift waiting to be opened, was a medium sized package wrapped in brown paper.

“What the…” He reached down to pick up the box. He went to grab it angrily, but it thumped back down like a lead weight.

What was in there? He thought to himself.

Planting his feet firmly and putting his back into it, he picked the box up and slammed the door with his Italian leather clad foot.

He had to really use his muscles to get the box on the hall table.

His mind immediately started working as he looked at the package trying to remember if he had ordered anything or expected something from one of his idiotic clients.

Derrick Brooks was the name written on the package. It was wrapped in a heavy brown paper like something out of the past. At first he was suspicious; he did have a few enemies. It was impossible not to when people had some self righteous argument that he had taken from them what they were too dumb to protect.

He stood there thinking and looking at the box as though it were his opponent in a boxing ring. He suddenly decided that he was too powerful for someone to be brazen enough to send anything destructive to his home. He was Derrick Brooks after all, and whatever he didn’t own he was on his way to figuring out how to get.

It was probably a gift of some sort. Everyone knew he liked to collect the exquisite.

His fingers eagerly began to tear off the heavy brown paper. Tacky as it was to wrap a gift in plain brown paper, he had to say that at least it was good quality. He pulled the edges of the paper back to reveal a box with a lid. On top of the box, was a piece of paper that was rolled up and held in place by a thick red wax seal, similar to an ancient scroll.

Curiosity peaked, he broke the seal and unrolled the paper that was indeed thick like cloth, not modern day paper, and read the words written there.

“For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?”

“What the Hell!”

Derrick read the words again out loud. It was like some scripture he had learned in bible school when his mother forced him to go.

“Are you kidding?” He mumbled now thoroughly irritated. He flipped the paper over searching for something that made sense.

He found nothing.

Was this some kind of joke? What a silly quote! Of course gain the world! Who cares about a soul? He thought ripping the top off the box.

White smoke surrounded him suddenly, filling his lungs and burning his eyes. The burning did not make it hard for him to see; instead it made his sight more lucid. The smoke spread out like a screen in a movie theater and he began to watch his life in 3D clarity.

The picture unfolded:

His single mother working hard and him as a teenager, stealing money from her coffee jar in the kitchen. She'd worked extra hours so they could have a skimpy tree and some measly presents for Christmas. He'd wanted to go out with friends and show he was just as good as or better than they were, so he took it.

He saw his first girlfriend, sweet Lauren with the beautiful brown eyes. Every guy had wanted her, but he'd convinced her that he was the one she wanted. After the night he'd triumphed in her bedroom, he'd bragged, so every guy he knew would see that he was superior and could get whatever he wanted.

The smoke swirled and he saw himself in college. He had girls to do his homework and get answers to test he needed to pass. He didn’t have time for studying, he'd needed his time for something more important - making money and taking money.

The smoke swirled again and he saw Charlie, in rich high definition color. He saw how Charlie had befriended him, and helped him as he moved up in the company. He'd always wanted Derrick to succeed as well.

He truly wanted Derrick to feel the love of a family when he'd invited him over for dinner. He'd planned on promoting him to a higher position when the partnership came through for him. Charlie had Derrick’s best interest at heart. He didn’t take for himself. He'd worked and sacrificed in order to share with those he cared about. Charlie was a true friend and he had ruined him. He'd lied and cheated and fornicated with a wife he knew Charlie adored, just because he could.

He stumbled back in horror as the smoke played out his deeds. He had made choices in his life, with his eyes wide open. He knew what he was doing to those who cared for him, and he did it anyway. The white smoke also allowed him to feel the pain of those he had hurt.

He had even held a $100 bill out to a homeless man one day coming home from work. When the broken man came up to the driver’s window to take it in gratitude and elation, he'd snatched it back and sped off laughing at the man’s stupidity to think he deserved his money!

He was disgusted with himself as he felt the sorrow of the homeless man flood through his body. He had everything, but had worked on nothing within himself. He had done nothing for anyone but himself. He had lost the essence of what life was truly about; to cultivate the ability to care and share with those he met on his journey.

He had lost his soul…

The white smoke swirled around him at this revelation like a tornado. Derrick screamed and pleaded with it.

But it was too late.

The smoke gripped and spun him into itself like a wave engulfing a surfer and pulled him into the box. The box closed shut and simply disappeared along with Derrick and all his misdeeds.

The housekeeper, who was in the back yard sweeping the deck, came in when she thought she heard screaming. She called for Mr. Brooks and walked through the hall towards the front door as she thought she heard it slam shut. She opened the door calling out to him again.

No answer.

He must have gone out. She thought to herself.

She looked down and saw a manila folder with the name of G. and J. Law Associates on it. It included instructions for her to call them and give them the contents in the folder.

Inside the folder was a will. Charles Hampton’s name and address was neatly printed in the appropriate spaces, signing over to him, everything Derrick Brooks owned. The instructions indicated that Charles was to share his new wealth as he saw fit.

A small fortune was also willed to her for years of loyal service. Mary stared at the folder for what seemed an eternity, not sure what to do.

Where was Mr. Brooks? Why was there a will? He was fine this morning. Where had the folder come from? Who was Charles Hampton?

Mary walked slowly over to the phone and typed in the number of the law firm as instructed…

“Hello, this is Mary Caldwell, Mr. Brooks’ housekeeper. May I speak to Attorneys G. and J. please…?”