Price of love

Marcus awakens to the sharp prod of a finger poking into the fleshy part of his shoulder. Before him stands a little girl with braids and a gap between her teeth. She holds out a thick blanket.

“Mama said to give you this.”

He thanks her as he takes the blanket from her. She gives him a shy wave and runs across the park to return to her mom. They climb into their car and Marcus watches them drive off. He reaches into his pocket for his pills, only to discover they’re missing.

Jumping up from the bench, Marcus searches the ground for signs of the plastic bag. He can’t go back to Jim for at least another week. The blanket falls to the ground and a small black journal slips out from its folds. Curious, Marcus picks it up. A list of addresses fills the first page. The rest are blank. He looks at the list and pauses when he sees the last one:

Riverfront Park, northeast bench, 8 a.m., 1

The number one is circled. The address above it is an intersection with a circled number 2 after it. Marcus turns the journal over, looking for any clue who it might belong to. A soft thunk brings his attention to the pocket attached to the inside of the back cover. Tucked inside the pocket is a credit card. He looks around to make sure he’s alone before he pulls it out. Shock hits him as he sees his name on the plastic surface in perfectly spaced silver letters. No logical explanation comes to mind as Marcus puzzles out the mystery of the card.

The smell of urine hovers somewhere nearby, and Marcus can’t be sure it’s not the ATM itself as he inserts his card. The machine requests the PIN and Marcus freezes, unsure. He checks the journal and sees that four numbers have been printed on the corner of the back pocket. 1984. Taking the chance, he types them into the keypad. Relief courses through him until he looks at the balance. Twenty thousand dollars. His heart does a flip as he questions how the card came to be in his possession. Marcus withdraws the card and flattens himself against the brick of the store as he realizes that he now has a chance to finally get off the streets.

“Will that be all for you, sir?” The waiter asks as Marcus finishes his meal.

“Yes. Could I borrow a pen, please?” He asks.

The waiter hands him the one from his pocket. Marcus thanks him and opens his newspaper to the classifieds. Several homes are listed for rent and a few of them seem to be reasonably priced. Marcus pulls out the journal to write down the ones he’s interested in. His pen hovers over the paper but pauses when he sees that a new address has been added. No one has touched the journal since he found it in the blanket this morning. Marcus folds the newspaper and heads toward the counter to pay his bill. When he gets to the counter, he asks for directions on how to get to the address.

The sun is high in the sky. Marcus has waited at the horse statue for almost two hours and in all that time he has come to the conclusion that it is the least busy corner in the entire city. Not a single soul has turned onto the street. And the sidewalk has remained empty. He pulls out the journal again and sees that the time after the address shows 10:00 p.m.

Marcus sits down at the bus stop across the street and pulls out his newspaper. A two bedroom house is available for twelve hundred a month. It’s expensive, but he knows he might not find better. He figures that could pay the rent for a year and hopefully use the rest of the money as a down payment on a car. Then he can start applying for jobs. Once he’s on his feet, he'll call Kelly about visitation. Guilt twists through him at the thought of his daughter. He tried to picture her face the last time he’d seen her. Before he chose drugs over his family.

An old man in a tweed suit sits next to him on the bench of the bus stop.

“Beautiful weather we’re having,” he comments.

Marcus mumbles in agreement and continues looking through the classifieds. The man pulls out a cigarette and pauses before lighting it.

“Smoke doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“No.” Marcus searches for the sign that tells him when the bus comes next, but he can’t see it from where he’s sitting.

“Good. Back in my day everyone smoked. No one even thought twice about it. I know they say it’s bad for your health, but we all have our poisons and vices. You never know what’ll get you in the end any way. Might as well live while you can.”

“Sure.” Marcus nods, hoping his lack of interest will keep the man from continuing the conversation.

They sit in silence for a few minutes while the man finishes his cigarette. When he’s finished, he digs in his pocket and pulls out a leather wallet. He opens it and pulls out a faded photograph. The edges are rounded and torn from age.

“This is my family.” He says, holding it up for Marcus to see.

“That’s a great picture.” Marucs says, barely turning his head.

“The thing is, I haven’t been able to find them.”

Marcus puts down his newspaper, wracking his mind for anything he might know about people with dementia. The best thing he can think of, is to play along.

“When did you last see them?” He asks.

The old man is thoughtful.

“I’m not sure.”

“Try to remember.” Marcus encourages.

“It was Thanksgiving, or maybe Christmas. We had all sat down to eat and I was saying the blessing and then, that’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah. I said ‘amen’ and when I opened my eyes, I was in the dining room alone. I thought it was the rapture until I left the house.”

“But why would your family leave you?”

The man stayed silent, staring straight ahead.

“I suppose I haven’t always been the most attentive father. It’s not that I didn’t want to spend time with my children, I just worked a lot. I had to though. To be able to take care of them. By the time I paid off the house and paid off the car, they were already grown and starting families of their own.”

“Were you married?”

“Yes. For twenty-three years. She was my everything until the cancer took her.”

“What was her name?”

“Betty. She was beautiful. We met during the war. She was my nurse. Hers was the first face I saw after the grenade went off in my face.”

The man goes quiet, lost in memory.

“It’s funny. I can’t remember when my daughter was born, but I remember every detail of Betty’s face. The way a curl had escaped from her hat and the shine of her red lipstick. Do you have a family, son?”

“I,” Marcus pauses. “I guess I’ve lost mine too.”

I rub my arms, suddenly too cold for comfort.

“It only gets colder.” The man says, pulling another cigarette from his pocket. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Your family.”

“No.”

“Are you sure? You’re crying.”

I put a hand to my eyes and feel the wetness come away onto my fingers.

“It’s my fault my family is gone. I got addicted to painkillers, I still am, if I’m honest. One day I overdosed in the living room and my daughter was the one who found me. She was only three. My girlfriend told me they were going to stay with her mom until I cleaned myself up because Rachel didn’t need to see me like that. It’s been four years.”

The man lets out a whistle as he flicks his cigarette to the ground and snuffs it out with the toe of his shoe.

“That’s rough, son. But you’re still young, you have enough time to get it right.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for. I just came into,” Marcus pauses, not wanting to tell a stranger about the money. “A new job.”

The bus pulls up to the stop with a huff of brakes and exhaust. The man and I watch as passengers climb off. Some look around, confused, others march off toward their next destination. An elderly woman climbs off the bus last, the driver takes her hand and helps her with the last step.

“Thank you, young man.” She says, patting him gently on the shoulder.

Beside me, the old man straightens.

“It can’t be.” He says. “It’s her.”

He turns to me, a goofy grin spreading on his face.

“It’s Betty.”

The man gets off of the bench and Marcus sees that he’s left a journal behind. The man goes up to the woman and wraps his arms around her. She swats at him with her cane until he lets go. Shock crosses her face when she sees who had her.

“Charles?”

“It’s me.”

They hold each other tightly as a glow emanates around them. They don’t seem to notice as the glow gets brighter until it obscures them both from view. Marcus looks away when it becomes too painful to see. When he looks back again, they are both gone and the world has already forgotten. Marcus picks up the man’s journal and sees a list of addresses written in the same neat handwriting as the one in his own.

Grief courses through him as he realizes he will never see Rachel grow up. He’ll never be able to tell her how much he loves her or how he’s sorry. He’ll never be able to make things right with Kelly. Better or worse, she’s the only woman he’s ever loved. He’ll never get to marry her and live the life they’d always dreamed about. No. Not never. He thinks about the money on the card. He has more than enough time to get everything ready for Kelly and Rachel.

The bus pulls away and Marcus realizes it’s almost ten. He jumps up from the bench and crosses the street. Three people are on the street, looking disoriented. The woman clutches her chest while a little boy tugs on her coat. Her husband wrings his hat in his hands. Marcus hands the woman the journal.

“What’s this?” She asks, looking at him with suspicion.

“It’s everything you need.”

He smiles and continues on down the street, hoping he doesn’t see his family for a long time.