Worthy of Love

William sits on a bench overlooking a small man-made lake and relishes in the warm July sun as it caresses his face. He sits on the same spot every Sunday, with a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird in hand, which he has read at least a hundred times before. 

This is his church, sitting on this bench and feeling grateful for his long life. He is not that old, but he always wanted to be. A few years ago, he decided if anyone asked his age, he would say fifty, but no one ever asked. He is fifty now, and he likes the feeling of having half a century of life under his belt. His coworkers bought him a cake for his birthday this year and decorated his cubicle. He has worked in the same office for the past twenty-five years, and he has celebrated many birthdays without much recognition. Someone in HR must have informed others that this year was a milestone birthday. He should have suspected it when his boss asked him what his favorite cake flavor was at the end of their last meeting. “Chocolate,” he had said. The cake ended up being vanilla with strawberry filling, which he didn’t enjoy much, but the gesture was heartwarming, nonetheless.

He opens his book and reads a few pages. His eyelids feel heavy, and it is the most pleasant feeling to give in to the desire to sleep. His head slowly bends over his book and he closes his eyes. He spends every Sunday this way, sitting on this bench, floating in a harmonious balance between consciousness and dreams, waiting for nothing except for the day to end.

 “God damn it,” a young woman says as she sits on the other side of the bench. She is frantically searching for something in her large tote bag. “Do you have a cigarette?” she asks William, not noticing she has interrupted the man’s peaceful nap. 

“No,” William says as he sits a little straighter. 

“No one smokes anymore! Why is that?” She sounds annoyed, and William debates if he should state the obvious; long cancer, emphysema, heart disease, but decides to stay quiet. That’s often the choice he makes in situations that call for expressing an opinion. But the woman looks at him, demanding a response. William can tell from the redness in her eyes that she has cried recently. She is wearing yoga pants and a loose-fitting sweater that falls off her shoulder on one side to casually display her bare delicate collarbone and her long neck. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, and her face is thin and pale, which makes her deep green eyes pop like a pair of emeralds. It has been a long time since William has looked at a woman and felt his heartbeat quicken. He is drawn to her effortless beauty like a moth to a flame. 

“I used to smoke, but I quit,” William says, regretfully.

“Well, I quit too. But I was sure I kept one just in case I need it. And I need it today,” she says as she digs into her bag again.

“Are you okay?” William asks.

“I’m so mad right now I want to punch something,” she says.

“There is a store next block up if you need to buy cigarettes that bad. But if you wait, maybe you can get through it,” William says, offering his unsolicited advice.  

“I’m not mad because I can’t find my cigarette,” she says. “I just broke up with my boyfriend.” She tears up but wipes them quickly. “My mom will be so mad if she sees me crying in public over a man.” She gives up searching and looks up at the sky, as if trying to locate her mom among the clouds. “She is probably busy flirting with the angels and drinking wine before noon.” She laughs and cries at the same time now. “I envy my mom’s afterlife. That’s a new low.”

“Life has its ups and downs, but it will get better, I promise,” William says.

“Does it?” She looks at him. “What makes you such an expert?” 

“I’ve lived longer. That’s all,” William responds, not quite convincingly.

“Ha! I hope you’re right. Based on my experience, life gets harder and crappier every year.” 

“I’ve had my heart broken, too,” William says, and he is not sure why. He never shares much about his life, especially the part about lost love. But he finds himself determined to help this woman.

“Did she cheat on you with your neighbor like mine did?”

“She moved. She found a job somewhere else after we graduated from college.” William hasn’t thought about her in decades, but now that he does, he remembers her perfectly, even the tiny freckles on her nose and her honey-colored eyes and the way she snorted when she laughed. She was so lovely, and William loved her, but when she decided to leave, William helped her pack instead of begging her to stay.

“Did you meet another woman and live happily ever after now?”

“Not yet,” William says. 

“Well, there is time. How old are you?” the woman asks, and William wonders as to why she is interested to know.

“Forty-five,” William lies, for the first time ever, about his age.

“I am twenty-eight, and my boyfriend is two years younger. Never again! I am dating older men from now on.”

William feels his face getting warm. This is all so unusual for him.

“I’m Amanda,” she extends her long arm and shakes William’s hand.

“William, or Will,” he responds. The touch is like an electric shock, bringing William’s body back to life. He likes her name. No, he loves her name. He whispers it to himself a few times, so it is carved in his memory forever. 

“I like your name,” he decides to confess.

“Thanks. It means worthy of love. The universe is playing a cruel joke on me.”

“Or the universe is reminding you that you deserve to have great love in your life,” William says. 

“Maybe you’re right,” Amanda says. “Maybe things happen for a reason.” William wonders the same thing. Perhaps he has been waiting for her every Sunday.

 “I want adventure. I want great love. And I want to post pictures of my amazing life to make him regret losing me,” Amanda continues her daydreaming.

“You won’t care about that when you are truly happy,” William says, ready to ask her right then to take a chance with him. He would quit his stupid job. They never cared about him anyway. They even got his cake wrong, and that is really pissing him off right now. He would cash out his retirement and take her around the world. He imagined them on a boat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with no Wi-Fi and nothing to do all day except to swim with the dolphins at sunrise and make love at sunset. He will never sit on this bench again, and his books will collect dust, except for this one, his favorite, which he will bring with them so he can read to her under the stars, while they sip on wine and eat chocolate cake.

“What are you reading?” She asks as if reading his mind.

“To Kill a Mockingbird. Have you read it?” William asks.

“Oh yes, in high school. Don’t remember it, though,” she says.

“It’s a good one,” William gently touches the cover. “You should take my copy and read it again.”

“Oh no, I can’t take care of books. It will be covered with coffee stain,” Amanda says.

“It’s okay. It’s meant to be read.” William takes a pen out of his coat pocket and writes his phone number on the front page. “Call me when you finish it, and we can talk about it.”

“You’re so sweet,” Amanda says as she takes the book. 

“Things will get better. You will have your great love and adventure because you deserve all of it and more.”

“Thank you,” Amanda smiles at him, holding the book like it is the most precious gift she has ever received. “I wish more men were like you.”

William wants to reach over and tuck a few strands of hair that have come lose behind her ear. Maybe then she will lean over to kiss him. It would be so romantic and a great start to their love story. But her phone rings and he has to delay that plan.

“I bet it’s him, the worthless scumbag!” Amanda says, rolling her eyes. She puts the book momentarily on the bench to look for her phone.

“Ignore it. Forget about him.” William says. Amanda finds her phone and looks at the name displayed on the screen. William sees the hesitation in her eyes, and he knows she will ignore the call because that’s the right thing to do and because she feels their attraction, too. But she picks up.

“What do you want?” Amanda says, and William is glad of her angry tone.

“The only way you can make it up to me is to turn back time and not do what you did. I hate you. Do you understand?” Amanda continues, and she sounds even more furious. William gives her an encouraging nod.

“I don’t ever want to see you again…” she says to the phone. William moves a little closer. He wants to hold her as soon as she hangs up on him.

There is a long pause. Amanda is listening, and William sees tears accumulating in the corner of her eyes. What is he telling her? And why is she listening? She deserves great love, and that man can’t give that to her.

“Fine… “Amanda digs into her bag again. She finds the cigarette and lighter and triumphantly holds them up for William to see. He wants to tell her to be strong, that he can help her get over all the harmful habits in her life. But she is standing up now.

“One coffee, that’s it. I’m not wasting any more time on you.” Amanda says. “Actually, let’s grab lunch. I’m hungry.” She hangs up and lights the cigarette.

“I got to go,” She says to no one in particular. “He’s begging me to take him back.”

“But you won’t, right?” William asks.

 “I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I’m glad I found my cigarettes, though.” She inhales the smoke, and the muscles in her face relax. “It was nice meeting you…? I am sorry I am bad with names.”

“William,” he says again.

“That’s right. Bye, William.” She waves at him, leaving behind a whiff of smoke as she walks away. William looks down at his favorite book discarded on the bench. She forgot to take it, and William sees no reason to call after her. She would never read it or call him to discuss it. But maybe she will come back here in twenty years and sits on this bench to count her blessings and also to wonder where she went wrong. And if he is lucky, he will be waiting for her.