Soul Gardian

The neon “Paradise” sign on the motel flickered. The evening was cold, and the snowstorm showed no hint of letting up.

“What an irony,” he muttered, glancing at the sign as he trudged through the untouched snow.

The forecast predicted it would be the coldest day of the year. He pulled up the collar of his coat to shield himself from the snow blowing directly into his face. Somehow, he reached the motel’s entrance, stomping the snow off his boots before stepping inside.

In the lobby, an older man with completely white hair was peacefully sleeping in a chair against the wall, his mouth slightly open and emitting soft snores. He was the receptionist on duty that evening. A crooked plastic Christmas tree stood in the corner, its silver star sadly swaying, and a little angel ornament had fallen beneath it.

He walked past the sleeping man, who didn’t stir and entered a room that seemed to function as a café.

The room was nearly empty and stuffy. A middle-aged waitress with strikingly red curly hair was engaged in an intense conversation on her phone, paying no attention to him.

“I’m telling you... yeah... yeah... I don’t know... I’m a grand in the hole... how much can you get together…” The call clearly dropped, and she slammed her phone down in frustration.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he said softly, clearing his throat to get her attention.

She looked up and shot him an annoyed glare.

“Do you serve dinner?” he asked, ignoring her hostile demeanor.

“Did you check in with Billy? If you managed to wake him from hibernation!” she laughed, her voice loud and hearty.

“No, I didn’t. I’m not staying here. I’m just waiting for the snowstorm to pass. I don’t want to drive in this weather,” he replied.

She shrugged silently, seeming to accept his presence.

“Dinner then, is that possible?” he asked again.

“Scrambled eggs and sausage,” she rattled off without hesitation. “That’s all we’ve got,” she explained.

“That’ll do,” he agreed. “And a bottle of sparkling water, please. Helps with digestion after a late dinner,” he added with a faint smile.

“Anything else?” she asked, suddenly businesslike, as though she had a full menu to offer. It amused him, but he kept a straight face.

“Actually, yes. The same for the gentleman over there,” he said, nodding toward a man sitting alone in the corner. “I don’t like eating alone,” he added.

“No one likes eating alone on Christmas Eve,” she remarked, intrigued, as she watched him walk to the table.

A man with brown hair streaked with gray, thinning at the crown, sat staring into the distance with a cigarette burning down in his hand. A cloud of smoke spiraled and disappeared above him. On the table sat an untouched glass of whiskey.

“Good evening. Sorry to bother you, is this seat taken?” he asked politely, though it was obvious it wasn’t.

The man turned to him with a blank expression. After a few moments, the man nodded and gestured to the chair, inviting him to sit.

He unbuttoned his coat, draped it over the chair beside him, and sat down. “Angelo,” he introduced himself.

The man gave a faint, sad smile and extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray. “Henry,” he replied, avoiding eye contact as he reached for another cigarette from the pack. After lighting it, he offered one to Angelo.

“No, thanks. I quit,” Angelo replied.

“So did I,” Henry said, exhaling a puff of smoke. “Hope it doesn’t bother you.”

“It’s fine,” Angelo assured him. “I went ahead and ordered us some dinner,” he added.

Henry looked at him, surprised.

“I don’t like eating alone,” Angelo explained.

“I’m not really hungry,” Henry said, taking a drag from his cigarette. “What brings you here tonight?”

“I couldn’t keep driving in this storm. Thought I’d take a break and grab some dinner. Hopefully, the weather will clear up by then.”

“It’s been snowing like crazy all day,” Henry said skeptically.

“It’s chilly in here. They don’t seem to heat this place well,” Angelo said, rubbing his hands together.

“It’s fine for me.”

“You’re not drinking that?” Angelo nodded toward the glass of whiskey. “If you’re not, I’ll take it. Just to warm up. I’ll order you another one when the waitress gets back. Seems like she’s also the cook here.”

“Go ahead,” Henry said, sliding the glass over to him. “I don’t drink.”

Angelo took a sip of the whiskey, shivering as it warmed his throat.

“I just got out of rehab,” Henry said, almost as if speaking to himself. “I was there for three months.”

“In that case, having a glass of whiskey in front of you must be quite the test, right?” Angelo asked.

“You could say that,” Henry replied with a laugh.

“So, I guess my offer to order you a drink is off the table,” Angelo joked.

“We’ll see,” Henry said with a smirk. “What do you do?” he asked.

“I help people,” Angelo replied, taking another sip.

“A coach?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s popular these days.”

“And you?” Angelo asked.

“Used to be a soldier. Now I’m a professional painter,” Henry said, grimacing. “Family business. I work with my dad.” Henry stubbed out his cigarette. “And you? How come you're stuck here tonight?”

“Work. I’m just coming from work,” Angelo replied, finishing his drink.

“No place you’d rather be? Family?”

Angelo shook his head. “What about you? Where would you rather be?”

“I didn’t tell my parents I was getting out of rehab. My ex-wife and son are celebrating with her fiancé... so...” Henry spread his hands.

“So, it’s just us for Christmas Eve dinner,” Angelo said as the waitress arrived with their plates.

“Here you go, gentlemen. Scrambled eggs with sausage. Looks like you’ve already made friends,” she said, setting the plates and a bottle of water on the table.

“For digestion,” Angelo said, pouring the water into their glasses.

“Enjoy,” the waitress added before walking away.

“Doesn’t look bad. Or maybe I’m just really hungry,” Angelo said, taking a bite.

“It’s no five-star restaurant,” Henry replied. “But it’ll do.”

“You said you were a soldier?”

“Yeah,” Henry said reluctantly, taking a big gulp of water. Angelo noticed him frown.

“Did that contribute to the end of your marriage? I’ve worked with many soldiers and sailors. Long absences seem to be a common challenge.”

“Too heavy a topic for dinner,” Henry replied.

“I’m all ears. I’m stuck here for a while anyway,” Angelo countered.

“Well... it played a role, but not in the way you’d think.”

“No?”

“No,” Henry shook his head. “I wasn’t even married back then. Tessa was my girlfriend, but we got married later. After...”

“After what?”

“After everything,” Henry sighed, pausing to chew his food. It seemed like every bite was hard to swallow.

“You must’ve been through some tough things in your line of work,” Angelo said seriously.

“Yeah. And something I can’t forget. Though I wish I could,” Henry’s gaze grew distant.

“Some events change you forever,” Angelo added softly.

“There was this village. We were sent to attack insurgents. They were holding villagers hostage. The order was to go in, no matter what…” Henry’s voice trembled. “The insurgents died, but so did the hostages. I moved through the bodies like a robot. Then I saw him. A tiny boy, protected by his mother’s body. I picked him up. He didn’t cry. Just looked at me with those terrified black eyes... Wish he’d cried.”

Henry wiped the sweat forming on his brow and drank the rest of his water.

“I took him with us. Didn’t want to leave him, but I had to. The authorities took him. Never had the courage to find out what happened to him.”

Angelo cleared his throat. “I believe it turned out well for him. I know a similar story... A colleague of mine looks after a young man rescued from a warzone by a soldier. Some amazing people adopted him. He wants to be a doctor and join international missions to help others. He’s trying to find his rescuer. Hasn’t found him yet, but hopes to someday...”

“And what if he finds out his savior might also have been his executioner…”

Angelo fell silent.

“I couldn’t handle it,” Henry finally said. “That’s why I left the army. For a while, I lived as an alcoholic and a homeless man. Tessa pulled me out of it. And my parents. They sent me to rehab. The doctors patched up my soul, as much as they could. But not completely. Some nights, when I was left alone with myself, were unbearable. Still, I managed to pull myself together. I started working with my dad. Eventually, I married Tessa.”

“You got yourself back together. That’s good.”

“Yeah, but not for long. We had a son. He's twelve now. I was so happy... until I started seeing that boy's eyes in his. Couldn't handle it. Thought alcohol would help. Slowly, fell apart again. Put Tessa through hell. She stuck with it for years. Then one day, she packed up to leave with our son. Finally, I had enough sense to leave instead.”

“Falling is not as hard as getting back up,” Angelo said, pouring him a glass of water.

Henry took a sip and stared into the distance. “Yeah,” he said. “But sometimes, to get back up, you need a hand. And Tessa wasn’t there anymore. My parents stepped in again and helped me get to rehab. I pulled myself together, mostly for my son. For Lucas. I got back on my feet. Until about a year ago.”

“What happened then?”

“I naively believed that maybe Tessa and I would work things out someday. But that was just my imagination. She told me she’s getting married. He’s a dentist. Successful. I’m happy for her...”

“But...?” Angelo interrupted because there’s always a "but."

“But I fell apart again. Lucas... he gets along well with him. They go on trips together. I felt like I was losing him. I still feel that way…”

“Have you bought a Christmas gift for Lucas?” Angelo asked suddenly.

Henry shook his head.

“There’s still time to do that.”

“There’s still time...” Henry whispered, staring at something far away.

“What does Lucas like?” Angelo asked.

“He’s obsessed with magic tricks. He even puts on shows for me. I have to say, he’s getting pretty good.”

“Have you ever taken him to a magic show? Just the two of you?”

“I haven’t exactly been the best father. Not that I didn’t try…”

“Sounds like there’s a lot you two haven’t done together.”

“I can’t turn back time.”

“What I’ve seen help my clients is when they stop trying to go back and focus on what’s ahead,” Angelo said, setting down his fork and knife and taking a sip of water with satisfaction.

“I have to say, this was an excellent dinner. I wasn’t expecting that,” he added, looking at Henry.

Henry had also finished his meal and reached for a pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Angelo. This time, Angelo accepted. They smoked in silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts.

“I always thought I’d be the kind of father who supports his son the way my parents, especially my dad, supported me. And I wasn’t even a perfect son…” Henry said suddenly.

“Do you love your son because he’s perfect?” Angelo asked.

“Of course not.”

“Are your parents perfect?”

“Far from it.”

“And yet they were there for you when you needed them most.”

Henry fell into thought.

“We all have free will to make choices,” Angelo continued. “Whether to keep going in a blizzard or wait until the road clears; whether to use gifted money to pay off debts or waste it on useless things; whether to give up or keep pushing through life; whether to sleep through everything around us or try to touch someone else’s soul. It’s up to us.”

Angelo noticed a spark ignite in Henry’s eyes.

“I guess it's time for me to head out,” Henry said, pulling out his wallet.

“It’s okay. I ordered; I’ll pay,” Angelo said firmly.

Henry nodded and stood up. “Thank you... for everything. Safe travels. And… Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Angelo replied.

He watched Henry until he left. Then Angelo took out some money and placed it on the table. He pulled out a pen and a piece of paper from his coat pocket with a list of names. He found "Henry J." and crossed it off. 

Then he put on his coat, passed by the waitress, who was too absorbed in scrolling on her phone to notice him, and walked to the Christmas tree. He straightened the tilted star on top and picked up the angel ornament, placing it on the tree. 

Old Billy was still sleeping against the wall. Angelo moved past him and glanced outside. The snowstorm had stopped. He smiled, satisfied, and stepped into the cold night.

The waitress got up and walked to the table. Her jaw dropped when she saw the one thousand dollar bill on it. She picked it up and stared at it for a few moments in shock. The waitress turned toward the door, but no one was there. She folded the bill, slipped it into her shirt pocket, and started clearing the table.

Henry sat in his room, holding a gun. Up until tonight, he had been preparing to end his life. He put the gun away in a bag and picked up his phone. He looked up 'magic shows' and bought two tickets for the nearest one.

Then he stood by the window. Snow blanketed the ground, shimmering under the streetlights. He noticed tracks in the snow leading away from the motel, then vanishing into nothing. Henry closed his eyes and whispered, “There’s still time…”