A wakeup call

I had read the message maybe fifty or sixty times but my brain still refused to process the words that were written on the screen. I felt frozen. Numb.

There was a hustle and bustle forming around me as the crowds of people crammed into their train carriages. Their silhouettes faded to a blur as I continued to sit lifelessly in the same spot. My focus drew back to the text message on my phone, “Your father is dead.”

It had been years since I referred to Derrick as my father. He revoked that title the day he decided that my siblings and I weren’t worthy of his time. I had blocked him out of my life, or at least tried to. Every birthday I endured his sad attempts at rekindling the relationship with cards filled with hypocritical scribble and copious amounts of dollar notes. Another failed effort to buy my love. But that didn’t fix the fact that I was a growing young boy; lost, confused and without a father figure.

My mother had tried her best to fill the void that he had left but there’s only so much a single mother could do while working two jobs and trying to raise growing children. She tried to hide behind forced smiles but I could see that she wasn’t quite right after he left. She became obsessed with perfection. Nothing was ever good enough, not even me.

Hindered by the pressures of being the, ‘man of the house’, as soon as I turned eighteen I left just like he did and spent many nights alone, drinking to fill that hole inside of me. A hole that I still can’t figure out how to fix.

But that brings me back to the present. He was dead. Did that mean I was finally free of him? I rolled my eyes at the thought; such a naïve thought. Even from beyond the grave, he was still trying to buy my love. “$20,000” I muttered under my breath. I had never wanted his money and I sure as hell didn’t want it now.

I took a deep breath, focusing once again on the station. It had become ghost-like as the previous crowds of people had left and new ones trickled in waiting for the next train. I stood up trying to find my balance, brushing the stray fibres from my coat. I had no idea what I was going to do but one thing was for sure, I wasn’t going to keep his money. I had to get rid of it.

Lost in deep thought, I placed one foot in front of the other until I found myself wandering through the dull, polluted San Francisco streets. I had pictured myself living in a high rise apartment somewhere fancy like London or New York, surrounded by people wanting to know my name. I had chased a dream of a new and better life but ten years later and I was still alone and nowhere near where I thought I’d be.

“Spare cash, sir?” my eyes searched for the husky voice calling out to me. A homeless man. Yesterday, I may have avoided eye contact and walked hastily away, but today was different. I don’t know what compelled me to do it but I slowed down and began looking at the man curled up on the sidewalk. I felt sorry for him.

I shared a brief smile as I crouched down to put what little cash I had in my pockets into his hands. His eyes were kind and beneath that matted hair and uncleaned clothes, he seemed no different than me. His fingers curled around the coins as his head bowed in appreciation.

As I walked away, the thought crossed my mind; was I being ungrateful? This homeless man didn’t have a cent to his name and here I was throwing $20,000 away out of spite. People would kill for this money. They would snatch it out of my hands without giving it a second thought. I frowned. There’s an idea. I could give it away. But not just to anyone, I could help someone. I was getting excited at the thought, I could feel the tingles radiating from my body, this was a good idea. I felt good about this idea. But who would I choose?

I neared my local café, Romano’s and ordered my usual. Caffeine was well and truly needed after the day I was having. I took a seat in one of the bay windows, admiring the low archways with its blue interiors and gold framing. I closed my eyes as I soaked up the sunshine that peaked through the clouds. But who? The question floated around my mind once more. I took out a small black notebook from my pocket and began brainstorming some ideas.

“The homeless?” I murmured, before shaking my head. No, too broad and way too many people to help. “Single mothers?”, No, they would probably get offended or emotional. “Abandoned pets?” No. I grunted crossing out the scribble in frustration. I was done thinking about this. I was becoming desperate. All I needed was one person, but where would I find them? I sipped my coffee, tracing the rim of the cup with my finger. This city can’t be that big, right? I took out my phone and began searching, ‘What is the population of San Francisco?’.

“874,961 people” I let out a large sigh. This city was huge. It would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. This was ridiculous. There had to be common ground, just one place that every person in San Francisco had to visit. I began doodling in my notepad, drawing lines of circles with my pen, then it dawned on me. A supermarket.

It was too easy. No more thinking, no more guilt, just pure luck of the draw. Surely I would find one worthy of my inheritance there.

***

I entered the supermarket with determination, looking around at the people passing by. Some lucky person was going to be $20,000 richer and they didn’t even know it. I smiled at the thought. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I scanned the aisles, pacing from left to right but no one caught my eye. There were elderly ladies ticking off items off their shopping list, men looking confused huddled around the sanitary aisle and young couples piling their already overflowing trolleys with more items they thought they needed. None of them were good enough but what was I looking for?

I started reaching for my notebook again, hunting for further inspiration when I made it to the toy aisle. It was empty, all except for one boy. His hands clutched a new transformer toy as his eyes traced every inch of the packaging. I noticed how young he was, maybe nine or ten. His clothes weren’t untidy but they looked worn as though they had lived through generations. There was something familiar about him that made me automatically gravitate towards his direction. Was this the one I had been searching for?

I could feel my heart thudding beneath my chest and before I knew it, I was standing in front of him. “Congratulations” I blurted out, not thinking where I was going with this. The boy looked up at me with confusion in his eyes. “You’ve won” I kept rambling, hoping to find some kind of direction “You’ve been chosen to win free things”.

“W-what do I have to do?” the boy stuttered, clearly torn between the stranger-danger warning signs his mother had told him about and intrigued by the free items.

“All you have to do is fill…” I searched around for something “this trolley within 1 minute and it’s all yours. Are you in?”. I looked at him hoping that he would say yes. Something about this boy made me want to help him. I wanted to give him that spark of happiness that I longed for when I was his age.

He nodded, getting excited at the idea. I grabbed my phone and started the timer as he braced himself to run. “And your minute starts … now!” I called. The boy stared at the mountain of toys in front of him scanning each item one by one. I was ready for the shelves to be emptied into the trolley but instead, he placed the one toy he was holding inside and began running into the next aisle.

I pushed the trolley behind him, following as we moved from aisle to aisle. He had picked up the most random items, from nappies to household items and appliances to plates. I wasn’t sure that this kid fully understood how this worked. Did I explain the game clearly? Maybe he thought that he needed to create the highest value.

“And…your minute is up!” the timer chimed as we stopped mid-aisle to inspect what he had collected. He walked over to me, panting as he did so and looked at his now overflowing trolley. I could tell by his expression that I was more confused than he was. “Is this all for you?” I frowned “Where are all the toys? The candy?” He admired his choices still trying to catch his breath.

“It’s for my family” he began shifting through the items “we don’t have a lot so I thought I could get some stuff”. My heart dropped. Of course it was for his family, that hadn’t even crossed my mind. I wasn’t even sure that I knew what family meant anymore.


I felt ashamed. I was so focused on disposing the cash that I didn’t even think about how my family were handling the news. This boy was selfless. He was nothing like me at all.

I brushed off the guilt and continued, “Do you have a parent here with you? Let’s go show them”. He nodded and led us to a middle aged lady rummaging through the reduced goods basket. She looked older than her years.

“Mum!” he shouted as we pushed the trolley towards her. Her eyes widened and her brow furrowed.

“What’s this?” she looked back and forth between the boy and I. I mustered a smile as I moved to shake her hand.

“This is for you” I beckoned at the trolley “your son has won all these belongings for you and your family”. She scanned the items, noticing the household and cleaning products as her eyes began to tear up. “Let’s go pay”, I quickly motioned to the cashier before she could fully process what was happening. I was never very good with crying.

We said our parting goodbyes and I watched as they rolled their new gifts away with them. I had to admit that it was liberating. I folded my arms across my chest, something was off. I had hoped that if I could get rid of his money that I would finally feel free. Then why did I still feel so empty inside? It’s for my family. The boy’s words echoed in my ears. Family.

My eyes lowered as I picked up my phone and began to search for the number that I had once known off by heart. I listened to the dialling tone, each second feeling like minutes. And after so many years away, I finally heard that voice; the one that was both familiar and now foreign to me. I let out the breath I didn’t realise I was holding and took in one last inhale, hoping to find the strength to utter the words.

“Hello, Mum”.