Wishes (Lucy, part V)

It’s late, it’s dark, it’s lonely. I’m sitting at the train station, waiting for the next train. I don’t know where it’s headed, and I don’t really care. As long as it’s away from here. And not back to San Quentin. There’s no one else here. I can’t even buy a ticket yet.

Out of nowhere this woman appears and walks over to my bench. She sits down next to me, leaving a small amount of space. I can smell her perfume; Woolworth’s Summer. Lucy’s favorite scent.

I can’t not look at her, even though I really want to be alone with my thoughts. She’s wearing a pair of worn denim jeans, tightly wrapping her legs, above a pair of Converse sneakers. She has a T-shirt on top - one that says “Ebony and Ivory.” The sort of clothes Lucy used to wear. Then I see her face.

She has Lucy’s face, and it’s positively glowing. High cheekbones, a button nose, wide green eyes. Full, wide lips, beautiful without lipstick. Auburn hair cascading down the sides of her face in cute curls, hiding tiny little ears. A smile that lights up the night. My heart feels like it’s going to stop.

“You look like you could use some help,” she says. Lucy’s voice, dripping honey, but honey wrapped around a firm, wooden honey spoon. Strength and sweetness. I must be imagining all of this. I shake my head. She laughs, a bright tinkling sound like wind chimes on a summer day; Lucy’s laugh.

“I can grant you one superpower,” she says.

I scoot farther away from her and frown. “What sort of a scam is this?” She laughs that wind chime laugh again, stretches out her arm, and places her hand on my forearm. “It’s true, Roger. I can grant you one superpower.”

“How’d you know my name?”

“Don’t you recognize me after all these years? It’s me, Lucy.”

“Lucy? Is it really you? Can you ever forgive me?”

“Forgive you for what?”

“For killing you, Lucy. I’m so sorry I got you killed.”

“You didn’t kill me, Roger. That policeman did. Why would I need to forgive the man who showed me love? Who accepted me for who I was, and saw beauty in me where all I saw was ugliness?”

I started crying. I reached out to draw her into my arms. She sat there and allowed me to try. I could feel her, but she felt like the wind. I drew back.

“Are you an angel, Lucy?”

“I’m a spirit, Roger. Some might say an angel. Some might not. And I’ve come back, the only time I can, to grant you one superpower. The superpower you choose.”

“Can I be a spirit too, with you? That’s the superpower I choose.”

“That’s not a superpower, or at least not one I can grant.”

“Oh. How about super strength? So I can force all the policemen to respect me, and others like me?”

“I can give you super strength, Roger, if that’s what you really want. But do you really think trying to force people to accept you and others will work?”

“No, it won’t.” I hung my head. Lucy was always smarter than I was, or at least I thought so. And that was before she became a spirit. I started trying to be as smart as Lucy, thinking out loud.

“I could ask to know everything that’s going on in the world.

Then I could go where I see injustice and try to help.” I shook my head. “But I can’t go everywhere in the world. Certainly not in time to help.”

“Flying. I could ask for the superpower of flying. Then I could get anywhere fast.” I started to smile, then stopped. “No, that won’t work. I wouldn’t know where to go, because I wouldn’t know what’s going on.”

“Could I have the power to make everyone in the world who treats others without respect feel ashamed?” Before Lucy could offer any advice, I vetoed that idea, too. “No, that would only hurt a bunch of people, And nothing would probably change.”

“What about forgiveness? Could I make everyone have forgiveness in their hearts? Then maybe all the dissension would disappear. No, that won’t work. Many people have tried that turning the other cheek, but they only get slapped twice instead of once, most of the time. The haters don’t believe they need to be forgiven. And they certainly don’t think they need to forgive anyone else.”

“Can I make up a superpower, Lucy? Maybe I’ve already been doing it, when I ask to be able to make everyone feel something; ashamed, or forgiveness. But can I? Make up a superpower?”

“You can make up anything you want, Roger. I might not be able to grant your made-up superpower, but if I can, I will.”

“How about give-shame-for-ness? It’s a mashup of Forgiveness and shame? I want to be able to make everyone who has been wronged feel the healing power of forgiveness, and everyone who is mistreating others feel shame.”

“Oh Roger, you are such a beautiful person. I’ve really missed you.” Lucy reached out and caressed my cheek like she used to do. “Are you ready?” I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded.

“Your wish for the superpower of give-shame-for-ness is granted, although I’m going to call it acceptance. And now that my work here is done, I must leave you again, my love. Until we meet again.” And she disappeared, even more quickly and silently than she had appeared.

I didn’t know what to do, so I waved my arms in a big circle and told the world that everyone now had give-shame-for-ness. Then I repeated the motion and told them all they had acceptance.

I didn’t feel any different. The world felt the same to me. I figured I must have dreamed it all. I must have imagined Lucy appearing there. Wishfully thinking that she could grant me a superpower that would change the world. 

My train came along, I paid the conductor for my ticket and got on board. There was only one other person in the railroad car. I walked past him, nodded, then took a seat two rows in front of him. After I sat down he came over and knelt beside me.

“Would you please forgive me?” he asked, rolling his hat in his hands.

“Do I know you?” I asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Then why are you asking me to forgive you?”

“Because I feel so ashamed. I’ve seen your people, black people, being mistreated, and I did nothing.” Tears started down his stubbled cheeks. I put my hand on his shoulder. I felt an unbridled urge to forgive him.

“I forgive you, brother,” I said. He smiled, as big and bright a smile as Lucy’s.

“Thank you, brother,” he said. Then we went back to his seat. Maybe it wasn’t a dream after all. I closed my eyes to dream of Lucy again.