Morning in the Park (Revision 1)

John sat on an old bench, next to a path watching the few passers-by, surrounded by an air of peacefulness that helped him relax. He did a lot of people watching; in fact, he was very good at it. The park shone in the early morning at this time of year, while having just the right amount of trees. All in all, a layout and mix of greens that would make any designer proud. The path headed off, split by a fork, taking the visitors on a magical journey, leading somewhere behind him until it circled a large lake.

As morning progressed and the sun became stronger, more and more people appeared, the park having a different purpose and meaning for each of them. Families with the customary one pram and two kids enjoying the nature and freedom a park brings. There were joggers of varying abilities breathing the cleaner air, while enjoying the feeling of belonging, and happy young girls making the most of the weather and observing onlookers. The overall effect was one of great optimism, and was one of the things that probably drew people like him here. As he always did now, John wondered how many of these people were truly kind and caring.

The newspaper John held was not particularly interesting, most of it irrelevant to him. Not one he would normally have picked, but the choice was limited that morning. He made quite sure he gave the overly formal financial section a miss, paused briefly at an article on nutrition. It made him laugh, at least laugh on the inside. He brushed his hand through his hair, getting ready for the day ahead. At that point, an elderly couple approached, looking at the bench then looking at him.

“Sorry, let me make you a bit of space,” John said, smiling up at them.

“Come on dear,” the elderly man muttered to his wife, while moving on.

Shame, John would have fancied a chat. Perhaps if he hadn’t stared at them, or perhaps he should have left more space to begin with. Do better next time, he told himself.

**

Being brought sharply back to his usual thoughts, the fire entered his mind again. The horrific charred remains of his once-fine house, enough of it left to see what it had been but not enough to rebuild. Then there was the undeserved chaos that followed. He could hardly blame anyone else, but talk about a punishment not fitting the crime. Whoever was his judge, appeared not to be his friend. It had started in the kitchen, so he’d been told. The fire brigade had been pretty spot on with the analysis. He’d left a pan on the oven which was given as the cause. He’d forgotten it due to being late for work, his mind preoccupied with the story he had planned on telling Susan, his wife. She just should not have known about Emily, she should never have known. He’d known all along that his wife would not have accepted it.

Still, Emily had been new, and she had brought a level of excitement and fun that John had not experienced for a long time. She was different to his wife, of course. She was blond, with a pretty smile and a personality that was simply magnetic. He never really figured out if that difference was better. But that wasn’t the point, although the sinking feeling it left, when imagining what he had thrown away by losing his wife, would probably never leave him. Still, with Emily it had been a kind of addiction. The thing was, he’d known it was wrong all along. But actually knowing how to stop was something else entirely.

**

A young boy, full of life and probably around eight or nine year’s old was kicking a football, closely followed by his dad; or maybe it was his uncle. This was very a happy scene, the boy likely having one of those days he would remember for a long time. Or did they do this every day, was this the norm for them? The ball rolled towards John, bringing him quickly out of his thoughts and self-pity. The boy chased the ball and, with some apprehension, came close to where he sat. The curious child took the opportunity to stare hard at this man sitting on a bench, in the way most adults would never do.

“Hey there. Having fun?” John asked, trying to sound a bit cool the way some do with kids.

The boy paused, still staring hard, unsure of what to do next. He quickly grabbed the ball and ran back to his mildly-concerned family. Fair enough, thought John. He’d have done the same at that age, although perhaps with less obvious staring. It still hurt though. He liked kids, it was the hope they gave.
At that point, John’s head automatically turned to look down the path. A very pretty girl, mid-length blond hair which seemed to reflect the sun, and probably in her late twenties or early thirties, was approaching from the left. He felt that tinge of embarrassment and shame. She walked with a purpose and confidence he had never known. Was she really that confident, or was she perhaps a terribly shy girl who had no success with men? If she was, no-one would know today. The thing was, John wanted the people around him not to be as perfect as they looked, he wanted to believe that it was not just him that had always felt a bit insecure. Life wouldn’t be fair otherwise. Sitting there, he wanted to watch her all the way, but strategically moved his eyes around to avoid giving the impression he was actually looking. She wouldn’t give him a second glance of course. If there were leagues, she was premier. He was non-league. Perhaps once he could have claimed to be 2nd division; in a previous life.

As his eye returned from the girl, John suddenly got a glimpse of someone familiar. It made him focus. Who was it? It was a face he recognised, but couldn’t place. Then, with horror he realised it was, or looked like, Graham, the guy from Sales; and walking in his direction. He didn’t want to be seen, not today. He was stuck between wanting to look to be sure of who it was, and not wanting to look in case he was seen. Deciding not to risk it, he kept his gaze well away from the direction of this familiar face. After about a minute had passed, he quickly looked up, and with relief realised that Graham, or whoever it actually was, had gone. Still, he was not sure he would’ve been recognised anyway. Apart from anything else, he had not known Graham that well. However, the experience made John once again consider whether this park was too close. There were others further away.

**

As John’s mind drifted off, the past returned. The real irony of the fire was that, although no-one was hurt, his movements around the time were examined, and therefore known to anyone who was interested. And one person was extremely interested. Additionally, his wallet, that he’d forgotten that day, was recovered in the ashes, and handed to his wife by a helpful fireman. It still contained the charred piece of paper with Emily’s name and number, and even better the time they had planned to meet. Already having suspicions, due to learning of his outing the night before while she had been at an overnight conference, she called the number. It wasn’t the first time he’d met Emily, but it was certainly to be the last. She wanted no part of this new complication, simply wanting to make life easier for herself.

“Look, I’m sorry, ok? He wanted it.”

“So it was just him, was it?” Susan asked.

“That’s not what I mean, but he didn’t exactly make it difficult. He came on to me, he made the suggestions that we meet. If I known...”

“Yes, well, perhaps you should have asked. Anyway, look, I appreciate you being frank.”

After a few more minutes and the false niceties to end the call, Susan had a version of the facts that she considered enough. It hadn’t taken long, or much persuasion to know everything. When he learned about the number and phone call, John felt like he’d been hit by a truck. Still, Emily’s words had basically been the truth, however much he resented her for what she’d said. And so the end began.

**

The young boy, still full of energy, along with his ball and family were just going out of view. How happy they looked. Was that the face of true happiness? John had seen both sides now. Were they actually as happy and content as their fleeting presence suggested? He considered what might be going through the mind of the man. Was he thinking about another woman, looking for something more, could this be the last moment of joy for this family together? It certainly didn’t appear that way. The problem was that, from now on, happiness would always come packaged with scepticism.

John rubbed his beard, shuffled a bit, tried to straighten his back to improve his posture, and thought about his strategy for the day. He told himself he should really get to that office he’d seen before, get some extra work; if they’d take him on of course. He leant back on the bench, trying to push hopelessness from his thoughts. John worried about getting stuck in this routine; the park at least was a better way of starting the day. He’d always seen himself as someone apt for something much more adventurous. But life dealt the cards and this time a life of adventure, at least the type he had in mind, was not the hand he’d been given.

He wondered, as he always did in the mornings and especially in the evenings now, what he could have done differently. Not just with the events before and after the fire, but throughout all of his life. Had he really made the right decisions? Is this the path he was supposed to be on, or had he strayed from it, and therefore left the stability and opportunities that destiny provided? Ultimately, at the end, it had all happened too quickly, out of his control.

**

Returning to his thoughts, he recalled the end of what he was before. The arguments with Susan, the accusations and bad-feeling that had led to such negativity, such awfulness between them. The days following the fire were the worst John had ever experienced. The events replayed again and again in his mind. He asked himself each time if he could have have saved his marriage, and if not, if he could have saved his job, and why on earth he had not kept his administration in order. She had left him of course. To add the final nail, due to his on-going search for something more interesting, some kind of new excitement, he’d let the buildings and contents insurance lapse. His wife was no consolation at that stage either, leaving immediately to stay with her parents up north, knowing that putting distance between them would save her from the horror of dealing with any of this. His so-called friends, mostly from work, were quick to find reasons why they were unable to help. He’d found himself in a place he didn’t understand, with a confusion and bitterness that was new. So really, the loss of his job was just a natural progression after all that.

**

So here he was. He had nothing. What life was this, and why had it happened to him? Did he really deserve this? He was an intelligent man, if only people could see that. He still had something to give. One day he’d get up from here and, with determination, change everything for the better. He would show the world what he was capable of, who he truly was. However, he was mildly aware of the fact that he was gradually beginning to lose himself, bit by bit to this new world. For no real reason, he got up and folded the old sleeping bag as best he could, then sat back down again. He didn’t know why he did that. Perhaps it was to keep hold of some former need for organisation, although quite frankly he’d never been what you would call organised. In fact, his life had always been a bit messy. The thought crossed his mind that maybe people like him may always end up like this.

So, the office opened at nine. Knowing he wouldn’t be the only one, he should get there early. The Big Issue was popular and he’d heard not everyone could get in on it. Still, he knew what it meant though. Selling it really was the acceptance of what he now was. Today he would again go to Oxford Street, and beg; hoping the kind people would allow him to eat today. Maybe someone would be so kind as to give him something more; an opportunity. Someone might look close enough to see that he does not really belong in this world, that he could do so much more. Or maybe he’d get lucky with the money. You never knew who would pass. A lottery winner might pass by and throw him a pile of notes. If he could just find a way out, he could surely use this experience, help people like him to leave this world. He was, after all, basically a good person. But first, deal with today, he told himself. He just had to hope the police wouldn’t move him again. At least his bottle was only half empty, and he knew where he could buy the next one.

The most important thing of all, John hoped the kind people would be there again, and would not stop giving. He relied on them now, he needed them. Without the change they gave him, he would have no food, and worst of all, no drink either. He’d thought about stopping drinking numerous times. He knew he should, but he didn’t know how to face the world as he now was, without the numbing effect of the alcohol. Plus it gave him something to do. On that thought, he picked up his old-but-sturdy carrier bag, stuffed the sleeping bag, newspaper and bottle into it, and left the park for the day. His new home and his bed would be waiting for him when he returned.