Being a Hero for a Night

Henry’s soul couldn’t be saved. It was dark, angry, and rotten. But, as he laid on his death bed, no family or friends by his side, he thought of the only memory he could think of where he showed kindness. He thought long and hard about that memory, and it puzzled him why he broke character at that moment. It made no sense. He was the type of man that would punch his dog, spit at kids in wheelchairs, and steal from churches. He’s been to jail multiple times. Evil was engrained in every bone he had in his body. Yet… That one day, he did something good. 

It was 45 summers ago, he was working construction in the city. It was a basic job, just lugging large pieces of concrete pieces, and all the other men would go the bar afterwards. He never got invited. Which was fine by him, he hated all of his coworkers anyways. But one night, he decided to go. Maybe his intentions were to harass his coworkers or maybe he just really needed a beer, he couldn’t recall. All he knew for sure was that he was there that night. 

He was at the bar, drinking his beer. The music was terrible, the beer was terrible, the loud crowd was terrible. He was going to leave after saying one more rude thing to the bartender, when a younger lady sat next to him. She had to be 21, no older, and was absolutely beautiful. She had long, red hair and blue eyes that could pierce your soul. She was wearing a short skirt and a black tank top that fit her nicely. She was stunning. Except for the black eye that looked so out of place on her face. Her face should be caressed with kisses and soft touches from a gentleman, not fists. 

She sat next to him because there were no other seats at the bar. She ordered a shot of whiskey and that’s when he noticed little silent tears going down her bruised cheek. 

Usually, he wouldn’t care at all about this girl. He has done his own fair share of abusing. She was the type of girl he would beat up, too. Pretty, vulnerable, and broken. But something about this girl was different. It took him a minute, but he finally placed it. This girl looked just like his big sister. His sister, that his father beat to death when he was 11. His sister, the only person he ever loved or cared about. His sister, the only reason he can find that he is the way he is. 

At first, this angered Henry. He wanted to give her another black eye and then add in some broken ribs. How dare this girl look like his sister and sit right next to him. She had some nerve. 

However, just as he was about to go in for the kill, a wave of shame hit him like concrete. He never felt guilt or shame for his actions, those weren’t emotions he could express, but that night he did. He thought about how his sister would be so disappointed in him, how she was looking down at him and crying. 

He tapped the lady’s shoulder and she whipped her head around as if she was expecting the devil himself to be looking at her (which wasn’t far away from the truth). 

She gulped and said in a weak voice, “Yeah?” 

Henry didn’t really know what he was going to say. He didn’t have a plan. His plan was usually something with violence, but he was going completely off script.

He shrugged, “What are ya drinkin’?” 

She looked at him with skeptical eyes. He realized she was probably thinking he was hitting on her, which was ridiculous to him because she was so far from his type. So, he clarified, “Just seems like ya had a big day is all.” 

She didn’t relax even a bit, but said, “I don’t know. I don’t drink often.” 

Henry nodded and looked at the bartender, “Get her scotch.” 

The bartender looked at Henry with a weird expression, but did what he asked. 

When she had her drink, Henry asked, “So what happened?”

She looked at him with fear in her eyes, as if her secret wasn’t out and proud on her face, “Fell.”

Henry almost laughed. No one, not even a moron, would believe that story. He almost just walked out and left, but his sister’s voice was in the back of his head saying things like “help her out” and “she deserves better”. 

So, he took a swing of his beer, and said in the most blunt terms, “Do ya need someone to beat him up? Cuz I have no problem going over to your house and teaching him a lesson.” 

The woman’s jaw dropped. Henry only shrugged, drinking more of his beer. After a moment, she said, “No, please don’t.”

Henry scoffed, “He needs to have a taste of his own medicine.”

She only repeated herself, “No, please don’t.”

“Okay fine then.”

The woman chewed the inside of her cheek before saying, “He wasn’t always like this, you know. He was sweet. He was a gentleman. He loved me.”

Usually, Henry would definitely be laughing by now. But he just sat there and listened to this woman’s tale of heartbreak. 

“Then he started drinking and things got worse…” She took a sip of her drink, a tear going down her other cheek. “I don’t know what to do.”

He didn’t know why this woman was telling him her story, he didn’t really care all that much. What he did care about, which was odd, was her well being. She needed to get away from her abuser, but it sounded like she had no where to turn. 

“Do ya have any family? Any friends?” Henry asked. 

“I’ve got an older brother,” she said, giving a confused look, “Why?”

“Are ya close with him?”

“Yeah. He’s like my best friend. But he lives in Boston.”

Henry hummed. That would be a plane ride away. She probably didn’t have the money for that, he assumed. He rolled his eyes, knowing he was about to regret what he was about to do. 

“Get a ticket to go. I’ve gotcha covered.”

The woman looked at him like he was crazy, “I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me. I’ve gotcha covered.” 

The bartender who was listening had his jaw on the ground, but Henry ignored him. 

“Why?” The woman asked him after a long pause of silence. 

Henry shook his head, “I don’t know, to be honest. Ya need to get out, and ya need to get to ya brother’s so... I have money. I’ve got money.” Which was a complete lie. He was in so much debt, he was swimming in it. 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes, you actually can.” 

The woman didn’t move. She stared into Henry’s eyes and they both felt something. It wasn’t romantic, but it was some kind of bond. The kind of bond that would last forever, that if they saw each other again they would probably hug like they were childhood friends. 

Finally, she nodded and smiled for the first time that night, “Thank you so much, oh my God I don’t even know your name!”

Henry stuck out his hand, “Henry.”

They shook hands as the woman said, “I’m Lucy.”

“Nice to meet ya Lucy.” Henry did not smile, he hadn’t smiled since he was a kid. At that point in his life, he thought he was physically incapable of it. 

They found a plane ticket to Boston that left at four in morning, which was an hour from then. When they bought the plane ticket, she looked at Henry and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She wouldn’t stop smiling and her aura changed completely. She went from being a victim to lighting up the room. 

When she kissed his cheek, the weirdest feeling went down his throat. It was warm and he almost felt like choking on it. Tears almost welled up in his eyes, but he wouldn’t let it. He swallowed back the tears and said to her, “I’m glad I could help. Now get outta here. Go be happy.” 

She nodded and said, “thank you” over and over before grabbing her purse and fleeting out the door with a spring in her step. 

As soon as she left, Henry’s shoulder was patted on. He looked at where the source of the touching was coming from, and his coworkers had come over., obviously were eavesdropping. They all looked at him with different eyes and Henry hated it. The bartender was even smiling at him. 

The coworker that touched him, Gus, started to say, “Hey man, you’re welcome to come with us—“

Henry interrupted him with a fist to the collar bone. Gus fell to the floor, clutching his face and screaming curse words. 

“Don’t ever touch me!” Henry screamed, his face getting red. Everyone backed away slowly from him as one of this other coworkers helped Gus up. Henry bared his teeth and almost growled like a dog. 

He chugged the rest of his beer and spat on the ground, then left. On the walk home, the only thing he thought was I’m never going to be nice again if that’s the reaction I get. 

After that one night, he went back to his old, terrible self. His coworkers eventually forgot about that night, only seeing Henry for who he really was. But Henry thought about that night and Lucy often. And as he sat in the hospital, about to die, he knew he was definitely going to the fire pits of the underworld. But he wondered if he just acted like he did that night more often, if he would be worthy enough to be called good. He could’ve stayed rough, if he wanted, but been a nice guy. 

He thought why didn’t he? When his sister first died, he wanted to go up to heaven to be with her, badly. He would pray every night hoping she would hear him. 

Where did it all go wrong? he thought. When he was generous (very generous) to Lucy, it felt kind of good. He didn’t hate the gratitude kiss on his cheek, it made him feel like a hero. He had never been the hero type, but that night told him that he could’ve been. 

Sitting on that bed, thinking about 45 years ago, he started to cry. The first time he cried in a very long time. But there the tears were, going down his face. He sobbed. His whole body was shaking. 

He closed his eyes, regret and self-hate showering over him.