Day 164 - Appearance Story

Appearance Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

The old man appeared from out of nowhere. Or at least that was the way it seemed. Benjamin was walking home after having been shopping for groceries. Lake and California was usually a busy intersection so he had cut down an alleyway behind the store as a way to avoid the traffic. He hated traffic and was always paranoid that somehow a car on a busy street was going to jump the curb and that would be the end of him. He wanted to avoid trouble. He wanted an easy and fast walk home. But then the old man appeared.

Benjamin would later swear to the police that he was alone in the alleyway. He was alone and the old man just appeared out of nowhere. But Benjamin knew that was impossible. Old and dying men didn’t just appear out of nowhere for you to trip over. Benjamin would later decide that he must not have been paying attention. He must have been focused on thoughts about his job or of prospective dates he might have or any number of other things that weren’t really important. It was possible that he had simply spaced out for a second. It was possible that Benjamin wasn’t really paying attention to his surroundings. It was all reasonably possible. Benjamin couldn’t be sure either way. Sure, unsure, it didn’t really matter. One second Benjamin was walking along the alleyway, and a second later he was on top of an old man who appeared to be undergoing a heart attack.

He was somewhere in his nineties. He looked weak, malnourished. He kept opening his mouth to speak. He kept reaching out his hand in an attempt to touch Benjamin. It was like he didn’t even care that he was having a heart attack. He almost seemed glad for some reason. He stared into Benjamin’s eyes and gasped and groaned. He fought hard and almost made a smile. Maybe he was lonely. Maybe he was glad just to see another human in his last moments, to share his passing and to not be alone when it happened. Maybe he had made peace with whatever gods he believed in and was willing to let his life go. Benjamin had no way of knowing. All he was doing was guessing and trying to understand the motivations of a dying old man.

Benjamin called the paramedics and then he tried to do something helpful. He didn’t know CPR. He thought he was supposed to keep pressing on the man’s chest to simulate a heart beat, and he tried his best, but he wasn’t sure if he was doing any good at all.

In the end, there really wasn’t anything for Benjamin to do. The old man was dying either way. Minutes later it would all be over. Minutes after that Benjamin would be spending his time answering questions. There were lots of people with questions. Too many people, thought Benjamin. Too many questions. It was off. People with badges, people without. People in uniforms, people that looked like pedestrians. Lots and lots of people with lots of different questions. Benjamin didn’t have many answers.

Benjamin evaluated a lot of theories. It was possible he hadn’t been looking and the old man rolled out from behind a dumpster or something. Perhaps he had been a bum. Perhaps he had just been resting. But the old man didn’t look like a bum. He didn’t look like a man that had sat down for a moment. He looked like a man at the end of his life. He looked like a man that was relieved.

Benjamin was busy talking with an officer, telling his story one more time, when he noticed a strange group of men taking the old man away. They didn’t seem like paramedics; they didn’t seem like coroners. Benjamin didn’t know who they were. But they were strange. Benjamin didn’t think there needed to be that many people there; there were suddenly too many people that seemed too interested in this poor man’s death. It made Benjamin wonder if there was something he was missing. It made him wonder if there was something more to this older man – some story, some hidden key to understanding who he was and where he had come from and how he seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

A minute later, the old man was gone, and with him, the secret.

Benjamin would never know the secret; he would never understand why the old man seemed so happy to die. That mystery would haunt Benjamin for years to come. But he was sure there was something more to it. Something sad and something lonely. His life had been pain and his death had been relief. What more could it have been? What more was there?

Benjamin felt his jacket pocket. Inside was a wallet; the old man’s wallet. Benjamin hadn’t told the police about it. It was just an impulse. He wasn’t sure why he had taken it, but he had. It was a mystery that the old man considered important, important enough to waste precious final seconds on, trying to pass it to someone else.

Benjamin had looked inside, but didn’t understand it. There was a driver’s license for a young man. Perhaps it was the old man’s grandson. Perhaps it was just a wallet the old man had found. But he wanted Benjamin to have it. He wanted it passed on. So Benjamin took it. He was never able to find the young man – he had gone missing the same day Benjamin found the old man. Who were they and what was their connection? Benjamin would never know.