What Would You Do?

“You know the old debate: would you steal a loaf of bread to feed your family? Well what if you saw the bread being stolen? What if it was your family they were stealing for? What then?

It all started last week. It was a Friday so I was in pretty good spirits. I had a date planned with a girl I’d been seeing for a few weeks. Nothing serious yet, but things were going well. We were gonna meet for drinks, maybe take a walk through the park. It was a nice day, especially for early November in Connecticut.

I had a few more neighborhoods to go and I was home free. I switch shifts with Johnny so he could take off early to visit his Grandma in the hospital. She wasn’t sick or anything, she was getting another facelift and roped Johnny into driving him home. But what Johnny didn’t tell me is that I’d be driving through the seedy end of Hartford. I made a mental note to give Johnny a talking to come Monday morning.

But it was Friday. It was a nice day and I had a date in three hours with a girl way too pretty to go out with me. I would loop the streets a few times, making sure to keep the doors locked and an awareness on the can of mace in the glove compartment. I’m not normally this paranoid, I’ve been in much sketchier places on much grimmer days than that. It’s just that the night before there was a story on the news about a mugging and the victim looked like, scary like me. Like could have been my brother. So I was a bit on edge.

I made it down the last block when I see it from a distance: a guy walking backwards out of a grocery store with a gun in his hand and a duffle bag jostling on his hip behind him. He turned and ran across the street and I almost hit him! I slammed on my breaks and pulled out my cell phone from the center console, ready to call the police. But then I saw the guy’s sweatshirt. When he turned around, I noticed the logo for a painting company. My brother-in-law’s painting company. 

I panicked and dropped my phone by my feet and fished around for it blindly while still looking toward the guy in my brother-in-law’s sweatshirt. By the time I got it, he was at least a quarter mile away and a line of cars had formed behind me. I didn’t want to park in the neighborhood but I had to figure out what to do. I had to call the police, didn’t I? Just because he had the sweatshirt on doesn’t mean Greg was underneath the hood, right?

So I punch in the numbers and hover over the call button, but I can’t do it. 

See the thing is, I know my sister and Greg have been having some trouble lately. I know because I’ve been wiring them a quarter of my paycheck for the last three months. They’re little girl, Maggie, got diagnosed with brain cancer a few months back. Treatments are insanely expensive, like it’s criminal how much they charge for this stuff. But Greg is a small business owner, a painter, like I said, and my sister teaches first grade. So their insurance isn’t exactly first rate. So I help out where I can.

The day before, my sister called me and told me that the doctors want to operate. That they think they can get the cancer out. But the surgery is gonna cost like, way more than they could ever afford. And I would do anything for my sister, I really would, but I was already giving her more than I could afford. I was cutting into my savings. My landlord was threatening to evict me if I didn’t pay that day. I told her I’d figure it out, but to give me a few days. 

So I went into work the next day and asked for an advance on my next paycheck. My boss liked me and I’d been there for a few years, so I didn’t think it would be a ridiculous request. But right as I was getting up to go talk to him, I got a text from my sister: Forget what I said yesterday! We got it covered!

This was great! I told the secretary I was going out for a second and gave her a call. She sounded harried on the phone, but I assumed she was just going through it. Yeah, her daughter was able to get the operation but like...her daughter was having the operation. I’m no expert, but I’ve watched enough Medical Dramas to know that these thing have risks. She said she’d call me back in a few but I never heard from her.

So I went about my day, made my rounds, same old, same old. And then I saw my sister’s husband holding up a dodgy grocery store. 

Something you should know, me and Greg don’t exactly get on. He thinks me and my sister are too close and when my sister came to me for help he got all huffy and defensive, insisting he should be the one to provide for his family. Real machismo stuff. So my sister started keeping it from him. Saying she got a raise at work. So I guess when they needed a lot more money this time, she came clean and told him I could help. But of course, tough ol’ Greg couldn’t have that, so decided to take matters in his own hands. Can’t say I blame the guy. He’s gotta do what he’s gotta do for his family.

But the problem with all this is that I’m driving around with a freakin camera strapped to the roof of my car. Constantly taking pictures. And then when I get back to the office at the end of the day, this other guy Amir picks the best ones and that’s what goes online for anyone to see. 

So when I get back to the office, I’m faced with this task. Do I turn in the flash card like I’m supposed to, hope Amir isn’t paying attention and the whole thing blows over? Greg gets away with the money and Maggie gets her surgery and all is well. Or Greg gets caught, goes to jail, leaving his wife distraught and his daughter left for dead. 

I did what I thought was right. I took the memory card out of the dashboard, stomped it under my shoe and discarded the pieces in the dumpster, returned the car and its keys to the local office and then went into the boss’s office and resigned. I didn’t tell him why. Just packed up my desk and left. 

Anyway, turns out Greg got caught after all. Cameras at the store’s exit go him. But not before he put the money towards Maggie’s hospital charges. She’s in remission and she and my sister get to visit Greg on weekends. Overall, not the worst way things could have ended. I never did get to go on that date, though.

I’m sorry, what was the question?”

“Uh, the what was the reason for leaving your last place of employment?”