A Little Goes A Long Way - The Long Way Home

A Little Goes A Long Way – The Long Way Home

Written By: Torkwase Burts 

            Nowadays

    “Okay sir, have a good day!” The bells clinked against the glass door as it swung shut behind him. You would think the structure of the door would be a bit more modern. They should have automated doors that I can magically walk through without having to lift a finger, Al thought. The type of doors that's so aware of a humans' royal presence, they'll slide open themselves. There should be glass doors built in, (like the ones at Super Market), waiting for each human to make a complete exit with one royal swift of their feet. Although, he did embrace that actually pushing/pulling at a door to open it brought back a sense of "how things used to be." Nostalgia… He thought about the days where everything required more effort than they do now. Now, the convenience of technology is so obedient to humans, it's like a royal luxury to have robots make your life easier without having to do so much as to let your motion be sensed or press at a flat screen with no textured button to satisfy the sensory needs of those who just like to press buttons. The sounds of the bells woke up his memory of being a kid. 

Al remembered when he, his siblings, and a few friends would take the long way home. As if they were on some sort of an adventure. Actually, it was an adventure...

    Usually, after coming from the corner store... Al would whip around the corner and cut right through the alley before he reached Warner Avenue. He would take the side street a few blocks down to Belton Street and be home within seven minutes. Today, he decided to take the long way home…

The sun patiently peeked at him, waiting until he reached his destination... Blinding him and guiding him all at once. God really does have a sense of humor.

He walked past Mr. Wesley's house and smirked. The same smirk he had when he was a sneaky, little boy. Mr. Wesley was the old grump that the kids in town used to provoke to get a thrill out of his atrocious anger. He was a hot-head! So quick and easy to anger. Once they would get Mr. Westley steamy red and livid, they would go about their day with laughter and hysterically rant about a recap of their nuisances.

                 Back in the day

Al remembered that time they started a race on the sidewalk and across the street from Mr. Wesley’s house, seemingly occupied by the competitiveness of their peers. Really, they were peering at Mr. Wesley... Waiting for him to leave while they raced. They knew that Mr. Wesley liked to twist his door knob to be extra cautious that it was locked and that no one could enter. He always looked over his shoulder.... Not trusting a soul and they observed that. Al and his friends. They also knew that he left out at 3:45pm... Shortly after school let out. Where he went? They wondered… but he sped off in his car as if he had an urgent task to tend to, everyday. 

Mr. Wesley slapped on his baseball cap as he exited out of the door, he snorted as he chewed his tobacco, he grimaced at the children racing and grunted at their foolishness. His gray mustache twitched at the presence of children. In his eyes, they were all brats! He turned around to lock his door. He pulled at the knob to shut the door. His hands sunk into a sticky substance. The substance oozed between his fingers and his face reddened. He turned slowly to glare at the children who already sped down the block altogether. He cussed, he yelled, he spat out his tobacco. He whiffed at the sticky substance that glued his fingers together. A sweet smell... His expression, sour. 

            Today

Al cringed at the thought, shook his head, and guilt overwhelmed him. He stared at Mr. Wesley old gray home which was now painted a Prussian blue. A little girl tapped down the front stairs where Mr. Wesley used to live. He wondered if she was Mr. Wesley’s relative. A granddaughter? Maybe not, no resemblance; the girl didn’t favor Mr. Wesley at all. Perhaps this might be a family unrelated to Mr. Wesley. The girl noticed the man and looked startled. She tapped back up the stairs in her pink flats and ran inside of the house. 

Wesley snapped out of his daydream and continued walking.

He grabbed a bag of chips out of the grocery bag that he held in his hand. A potato chip fumbled out of his hand and onto the ground. A bird swooped down and picked it up. 

     Way back when...

Al remembered how he used to sit in the park with grandpa on the bench and feed the birds. The birds would swarm over a few crumbs and quickly devour the crumbs with their swift little pecks. Sometimes a bird was left without crumbs because he wasn't swift or clever enough to get the first few crumbs. The crumbless bird never looked disappointed, just accepted its fate and searched for more crumbs. Grandpa would laugh abruptly at the birds and shout, "SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST" and would throw a handful of more cracker, bread or pretzel crumbs as he watched the birds compete. Being on the bench with grandpa meant grandpa would slip him a few dollars after feeding the birds. He held Al's hand and pressed the cash down into his palms. Five dollars was a lot. He beamed at his grandpa and told his grandpa what he planned on doing with the money. "A little goes a long way!" Grandpa would wisely mention. As he reminisced, he walked up to the bench. It looked untouched with what looked like brand new forest green paint, etched at every wooden crease. He crouched down on the bench and stared down at his black running shoes. He remembered how, as a kid, his feet dangled from the bench as he swung them with endless energy. 

         His grandpa's voice echoed in his ears as he peered up at the sky and sighed, "a little goes a long way..." 

  He remembered how his dad came home early during the summer. School was out, mom was preparing lunch. She was shocked to see dad barge in the doors. He had lost his job. She stared at him as she expected him to come up with an instant solution but his head hung low along with his confidence, his esteem, his pride were all swept away and thrown into... God knows where; problem thrown into a bin of hopelessness. We all felt hopeless in that moment. Helpless even. Depression dwelled like a heavy cloud over our home for most of the summer... Threatening to rain on our parade but no flood can do as much damage that had already been done to our household. 

Mom and dad pretended for a long time. Pretended that everything was normal while around family and friends. No one truly knew our struggle but grandpa kept a suspicious eye on us. He knew something was wrong. He interrogated dad with a number of questions when he visited over the weekend. 

One day, grandpa came during the week. Unexpected. Just came with no warning. My siblings and I sat at the table eating toast with butter but no jam. Grandpa carried a newspaper every time he came to visit. He had one rolled up tight, clenched in his fist. Dad was having coffee at the kitchen table during what was supposed to be his regular work hours but he was home and hopeless. Grandpa barged in through the screen and slammed the paper onto the table next to dad's coffee. The table wobbled and creaked from the loose screws. Dad looked up in shock as if grandpa caught him in a criminal act. "There's a job at the news stand, boy." Grandpa talked to dad as if he was a kid again. Not disrespectfully but with a concern. Dad glared up at grandpa with tears threatening to slip away. Grandpa pointed directly at the job listed on the newspaper. "Paperboy wanted. It's something for now..." Dad wondered how grandpa knew, "but.. " he squinted at my siblings and I as we betrayed them. 

Grandpa said, "naw now don't go looking at them. I know when a man is hurting. You have the same sorry look I had when I lost my job at the factory. Your mom was pregnant with you and your eldest sister helped take care of the house after school... While I worked. This is the news that no family wants!" Your house and falling apart. I can hear it on the creaks walking up the porch stares, I can see it in the leaks from your pipes, your table is one dinner away from collapsing to the ground. Son... You can't afford tools to keep your house sturdy. If you do, you're to depressed to tend to it." Grandpa held dad's hand and pressed something down into his hands. I'm sure that "something" was cash. Dad was all out of pride so he took the cash and clenched in his fist as if it would escape. Grandpa grimaced in empathy of dad's pain, "A little goes a long way..."

              Presently 

The clouds from Al's memory blew away with the wind. He was back in the present moment. He looked over to the right side of the bench where grandpa might've sat. He saw a $20 bill shivering near him. He wondered how long it has been there? Did the wind just blow it there or was it there the whole time. Al grabbed the $20 and clenched it in his fist before it made an escape with the wind. He shoved it in his pocket and left the park and headed towards home. 

The wind tussled at his windbreaker. He continued on his journey as he walked the long way home. The side walk reminded him of when they drew hopscotch on the ground, the trees reminded him of when him and his friends used to climb and spy on the neighborhood, pretending to be detectives or that time they made their own tree house with the help of Alex's dad. Alex... The boy with the curly hair who lead them into dangerous stunts and mischievous whereabouts. Alex. Where has he gone? Has he turned out okay? The last time I saw him was my last summer here before college. I had a laugh with him and sad my final goodbye. Did he go off to college or did he go to work right away? Who did he become....

He detoured on his journey just as he was about to approach Belton Street... He decided to walked down towards Magnolia Ave. The street lived up to it's name Magnolia bloomed on full trees like a gray afro. They hovered over the street as the petals from the magnolia shedded like hair and fell onto the ground. 1586... 1586 ... 1586 replayed in Al's head. 1586 etched in his memory. He remembered Alex's address. As a boy, he would chant Alex's address from his own house to Alex's house. Anxious to go on their next mischievous adventure. Alex's was creative and witty. He always had a new trick up his sleeves and Al couldn't wait. 

Back into the present moment... Al reached the address... 1586. He looked up at the door. He wanted to knock but it would be strange if strangers answered. A fence rattled violently near 1586 where a beast of a dog gnarled and showed his drooling teeth. The ferocious bark startled Al and he continued on his journey. He came to a store that has been standing sense he was a kid. It was a milkshake and candy stored. Now it was a store that shelved adult liquor and sweet licorice. At least there was still some old school candies to remind Al of the sweet old days. Lemond heads, chico sticks, peppermint sticks, long boys, Boston baked beans, now and laters, sunflower seeds were the few treats lined up on a small shelf. Liquor dominated the bigger shelves, attracting adult consumers. He looked up at the name of the store. Big, brick-red letters "Dizzy Daze." It used to be called "Yum-Yums." He remembered how a few coins would get him a bag of candy. He stepped inside and purchased some lemon heads, a peppermint stick, some black licorice, a few boxes of Boston baked beans and a can of Sprite with the $20 he found lying on the bench. "And what we having to drink, my man?" The cashier raised an eyebrow. "That's it! Al grinned. The cashier handed him his change from the $20. "There's a plenty of candy stores around if all you wanted was candy." The cashier slammed $15.86 on the counter. Al didn't respond; he just scraped the change off the counter and into his blue jeans shorts. Easing toward the exit, he pressed the small balls of lemon heads against his tongue and cherished the flavor. He didn't realize how much he missed the candy he ate as a kid. His adult years lured him into diets, fastening, salads and smoothies. He didn't feel guilty because he excuses himself for memory-sake. He stepped out of the store. As a man hunched over and straggled towards him. He limped towards Al as if it he had the intention of approaching him. Al eased to the side in case the gray bearded man needed to get inside of "Dizzy Daze." "Sorry I'm in the way." He held the door open for the man. They stared at each other for an awkward eternity. The man had thick, curly gray hair sitting on top of his head but a familiar face. Al realized this face had aged ten years ahead of it's time, being that the man looked older than him. Al squinted at the familiar, distinct features that stood out. He knew no face of the sort except those of Alex's, his childhood friend. Except Dave, Alex's brother. They looked almost identical but Dave was two years older than Alex with the same, thick curly hair and unforgettable features. A thin, narrow nose... With small brown eyes. Eyes like glaring marbles. A pouty bottom lip and a top lip pursed in. The look of a mischievous kid. One eye squinted on the man. The way that Alex's did when a dangerous, mischievous, crazy thought raced from his brain to his lips. He blurted out our plans for the day. Where we would go, what we would do and who would do what. How we would get away with it and never, ever get caught. Al breathed in the stench of the man... The stench of hopelessness. His lips quivered with empathy of who Alex had come to be or is it even Alex. Maybe it was Dave. The man's clothes were heavily soiled; layers of clothing hovered over his back. "Alex?!" The man looked like he recognized Al. His lips were ready to respond but only to blurt out, "SPARE SOME CHANGE?!" Al reached for the change left over from his candy purchase. He held the man's hand and put the change into his palm. "A little goes a long way." 

Al walked until he reached down the block. He turned to see the man who seemed to be Alex was still in view. To Al's surprise the man peered in his direction. He was watching him walk away the whole time. The man didn't turn away. He still stared at Al. He shouted lid and clear: "MAYBE I CAN USE THIS MONEY TO BUY SOME HONEY FOR MR. WESLEY'S DOOR KNOB!" He left hysterically. Insanely. Al made his way back towards Belton Street. Sometimes, going the long way goes a long way.