Better to Give

The morning traffic was heavier than usual, even for a Monday. Normally, Tom would be happy about this, walking between the barely-moving cars with his cup in hand, collecting coins. Today, though, he was sitting on his cushion, leaning against a brick wall, and watching the cars inch along. He was tired and his leg was bothering him. The night before had been cold and he hadn’t slept well. Fortunately, the foot traffic was also greater than normal and he’d already collected several dollars. He figured he had enough to go buy breakfast, but he stayed in place, thinking he would be able to collect a few more dollars for lunch and supper as well in fairly short order.

Across the street, a young man was pacing back and forth, appearing agitated. Tom watched him for a time, imagining as he often did, the lives of the people whom he saw each morning on their daily commute. Usually he would envision them living exciting lives as lawyers or highly-paid business men and women. Most of them appeared as older professionals, unlike the pacing man, who looked quite young. Tom figured he must be no more than 25, but he was dressed as well as any CEO.

“Thank you,” he said as he felt a coin land in his cup. He hadn’t seen where it came from. “God bless.”

Tom scratched at his thick beard and sighed as he thought about the day ahead. He figured he should take a walk to get his blood circulating. Maybe he would head over to the shelter and see if Manny was there. He hadn’t seen his friend in nearly a week and was concerned for his well-being. Living on the street was never easy, but in recent weeks, times seemed to be growing more difficult. Fortunately, today was looking to be a good--

“What would you do for twenty thousand?”

Tom started, nearly dropping his cup. The young man had crossed the street and now stood over him, staring intently. “What?”

“What would you do for twenty thousand?” the man repeated, then gave an exasperated expression when Tom simply stared at him confused. “I will give you twenty thousand dollars,” the man said, crouching to look Tom in the eye. “Do you want it?”

“This one of those YouTube things? Social experiment?” Manny had been in one of those, Tom recalled. Got a free lunch and a hundred bucks out of it. He glanced around to see if someone was filming them.

“Look, buddy, I want to help you out. I’ll give you the money, but you have to tell me you want it. I need you to say it.” The kid-- and Tom saw now that it was a kid, younger than he’d originally thought-- had wide eyes and shaking hands. Tom didn’t want to assume it was drug-related, but the way things were going....

“Sure,” he said. “I don’t know what your game is, but whatever. I’d love the money.” He laughed. “But I’m not doing anything... weird... for it.” Tom didn’t know what kind of joke was being played on him, but figured he would be clear that he would only go along so far.

“Hold out your hand,” the kid said and Tom did so with a sigh. With greater speed than he would have imagined, Tom was grabbed by the wrist. He tried to pull away, but before he could free himself, his finger was jabbed with a needle and pressed against the page of a small black book.

Reacting instinctively, Tom swung with his free hand, striking a solid blow behind the young man’s right ear, freeing himself. He knew he should be angry, but almost instantly regretted what he had done. People were staring now and he knew that any confrontation between a homeless man and a guy in a suit-- even one so young-- would not go his way.

“It’s yours now,” the kid said, his entire demeanour changing, a smile spreading across his face. “The book, the money... It’s yours!” He tossed a fat envelope at Tom, then laughing as though he had just heard something hilarious, he jumped to his feet and raced away. Tom stared at the envelope, laying on the ground beside the black book. It had opened slightly, and several bills were clearly visible within. For a moment he didn’t move, until the sound of tires screeching and a loud impact drew him back to reality.

The kid was laying in the street in front of a van, unmoving. Tom went cold. What the hell was going on? He didn’t move as a crowd formed and someone called for an ambulance, afraid that someone was going to point him out as if he’d somehow been responsible. After all, the kid was fleeing some kind of altercation with him.

But as minutes ticked away, no one even glanced in his direction. Nervous, but unsure what else to do, Tom grabbed the book and envelope, tucking both under his belt, and left the scene.

Flipping through the book as he walked, he grimaced. His own bloody fingerprint was just one of many that filled several pages. There was nothing written, save the name John Smith and an address inside the cover. Uneasiness growing within him, he resolved to get rid of both the book and the money, but... what if this was a prank of some sort? A test to see what he would do?

After a moment’s indecision, he set out for the address in the book, his leg and his head throbbing in equal measure. He had no idea what he would do or say once he arrived, but something was driving him onward, and almost before he knew it, he was standing in front of the most expensive hotel in the city. He tilted his head back, staring up at the building that seemed to reach the clouds.

“Welcome back, Mt Smith,” a voice said and Tom found himself blinking at the smiling doorman, the entrance open before him.

“Excuse me? I--”

“Coming in, Mr. Smith?” the doorman asked, his expression unchanging. Tom stuttered a confused reply and help up the notebook, trying to think of a way to explain the insanity of the past half hour. “They can help you at the desk, Mr. Smith.”

Waved through the door, Tom found himself crossing the extravagant lobby toward a large front desk, half expecting someone to jump him at any moment to toss him back onto the street. Several of the employees behind the counter made eye contact with him and smiled, something he was no longer accustomed to.

“Good to see you, Mr. Smith.” The voice was warm and welcoming, belonging to a middle-aged woman dressed in red. Despite himself, Tom blushed at her attention. “Your room is ready. Would you like--”

“Wait, wait. I don’t know what’s going on here. I was given this book and--” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “the guy who gave it to me had an accident. I just wanted to bring this here and return--”

“I understand. Very unfortunate.” Her expression dimmed momentarily. “But you’re back now and your room is waiting.”

“No, I’m sorry but this joke, or whatever it is, isn’t funny. I’m just going to leave this here.” He dropped the book in front of her and was reaching for the envelope when he sensed someone coming up behind him. This is it, he thought, bracing himself.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Smith? I am Mr. Alcalde.”

Tom turned to face an older man dressed in a dark suit with a red tie and pocket square. Clean-shaven with short, neat white hair, he radiated calm authority even at first glance. “No, no problem, it’s just that... I don’t understand what this is about. Some guy gave me this book, which has this address written in it. I just wanted to return his stuff. I don’t know what the joke is supposed to be and I don’t want any trouble.”

“There is no trouble at all, Mr. Smith.”

“Donner. Tom Donner. Smith is the name in the book. Why does everyone keep calling me that?”

“As I said, there is trouble to be had here, Mr. Smith. I understand that this has been an unusual morning for you. Why not get cleaned up, eat, and rest. You will surely feel better and then we can discuss everything.” He motioned toward the elevators. Come with me, please. I will show you to your room.”

Something in Alcalde’s voice was almost hypnotic and Tom found himself becoming strangely compliant. He followed Alcalde to the elevator and watched as he hit the button for the top floor. As if in a dream, he was brought to a penthouse larger than the home he had grown up in. At Alcalde’s suggestion, Tom locked himself in the spacious bathroom and took a long, hot shower, washing his hair and beard three times.

Whatever this prank was all about, he wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to get cleaned up.

When he emerged some time later, he saw that his clothes, and more importantly the envelope of money, were gone. He knew he had locked the door, but in their place were a robe and dark green pyjamas, softer than anything he had ever felt.

Not sure what to expect, he exited to the main room and found Alcalde waiting for him with another man, who without asking led Tom to a chair in front of which were laid out scissors, a razor, and everything needed for a haircut and shave.

Still unable to find a voice to object, he sat in silence as two year’s worth of hair was cut away, Alcalde watching intently the whole time. Almost one hour later, Tom found himself looking into a mirror and barely recognizing the man staring back at him.

“And now, we come to this,” Alcalde said, producing the envelope in what had surely been an empty hand seconds earlier. “Before you ask, this is no joke. This is yours to do with as you wish, as are these accommodations. The card key is in the envelope. I will take my leave of you now, but return to see you this evening. My one piece of advice is to be here by 7:00. We don’t want to look for you elsewhere.”

With a nod of his head, Alcalde withdrew, leaving Tom with his wildly-racing thoughts. He picked up the envelope and fingered the bills within. It was more money than he had ever held in his hands, even before he had lost his job. There was enough here to do almost anything, but he knew what he had to do.

Alcalde returned that evening at 7:00 sharp. He sat with Tom, listening to the tale of how the money—all of it-- had been spent.

“I see,” Alcalde said, softly. “You spent it all on food and supplies for the homeless shelter. Very noble. But then, ‘Donner’ means, ‘to give’.” He gave a small smile.

“I wanted to help a friend of mine,” Tom said, thinking of Manny, “but I couldn’t find him. He’s been missing a few days now.”

Alcalde reached across the table and took the black book, opening it and pointing to one on the bloody fingerprints, his expression unreadable as understanding slowly dawned on Tom’s face.

“So... what now?” His chest was tight and his hands had gone cold. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“Now, Mr Smith, you enjoy a well-deserved rest. Unlike those who came before, you have put others ahead of yourself. Tomorrow we begin again.”

Alcalde excused himself and Tom watched him go, confused and more than a little frightened. Eventually, he crawled into bed exhausted. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he would press for answers in the morning. For now, a deep, restful sleep awaited.