Hard Redemption: A Second Chance Romantic Comedy

by Emily J. Wright

  I spaced out while reading the card and didn’t realize that she had already left. When I came out of my thoughts, she was already halfway to the door after leaving the price of chili on the table.

  She abruptly stopped on the way out of the door and turned her head to look at me. “Don’t forget to keep an eye on the fish.”

  “Got it! Eyes on the fish.” I gave two thumbs up to mock her even more.

  I was convinced that she was one of those weirdos that you bumped into at some point in time while living in Brooklyn. I went back to the kitchen with her half-eaten bowl of chili, got busy with my work, and had completely forgotten about her.

  Until . . .

  Chapter 2

  It was a little before closing time when Herman informed the staff that the deep freezer had broken down, and everything inside it was up for grab after he was done with his pick.

  Herman took most of the good stuff out for his cow of a wife and pig of a son while the rest of us waited and pumped ourselves for the loot. He then stepped away from the freezer and shouted, “All yours.”

  All hell broke loose in the kitchen as we struggled to get our hands on what was left in the freezer. We kicked. We punched. We fought. And Herman was laughing loudly from afar like the promoter of an illegal cage fight.

  I was sneaky enough to crawl my way up to the freezer while others were busy tearing each other. I held on to the freezer from my hands and pulled myself up to take a look inside.

  “That’s what I thought,” I mumbled. I was disappointed when I only saw rotten frozen inside.

  But my eyes soon sparkled with delight when it fell on a perfectly good piece of chicken leg laying in the corner. Herman had accidentally left it behind—not sure how?

  I saw my name written all over it and wasted no time to put my hands inside the freezer to get what was mine. I was closing in on the target, but the rest of the staff finally realized that I played them smartly. They caught my legs and started pulling me away. But I held on to the freezer from one hand while still trying to grab the chicken from other hand before they could yank me away.

  Finally, the tug of war ended with my victory when I got my hands on the fresh chicken—the ultimate prize. I immediately let go of the freezer, and moved out of the way before I could get hurt; it had turned into more of an inmate’s fight in Gen Pop.

  “That was brutal,” Herman said, looking at me with an evil smile, and enjoying every bit of the free entertainment.

  After much struggle, when I finally got the chance to relish my victory, I was shocked to find a stinking fish in my hand—not the glorious chicken leg.

  “Damn you, witch!” I cursed the woman to whom I served the chili that morning and received a quick lesson on the planetary movements and a visiting card in the tip.

  I knew for sure that she had something to do with all that. Perhaps—she had cast a spell on me.

  I turned around to get back in the game and gave the hunt one more go, but by then, the fight had turned into bloodshed. I decided it was best for me to contend with what I got, and I took a graceful exit. I wrapped the fish in a plastic roll, put it in my bag, and was on my way to my apartment.

  My apartment was three miles from the restaurant. I obviously didn’t own a car and didn’t want to waste money on the bus, either. The only wise thing left to do was to walk back home—which I had to resort to for saving money.

  I reached my apartment in forty-five minutes. Amber was not completely wrong; my apartment was a shit-hole compared to her house. It had a leaky ceiling, cracked floor, and no furniture to say the least. But at least, I had a roof over my head and floor beneath my feet.

  I entered my apartment with closed eyes and turned straight toward the right wall where I opened my eyes again. I had hung there the first and only family photo I had of the happiest moment of my life: the day when Casey was born.

  I wiped the dust off the picture with my hands and kissed my wife and daughter in the photograph. I always kissed them when I left for work and came back home. It made me feel that I was not alone in this apartment.

  I was exhausted that day. I threw my bag away and then lay on the floor to straighten out my back. I was still thinking about Amber marrying Walter in a month. The thought of losing Amber forever was overwhelming me.

  Even though I had not seen her in years, but I still lived and breathed for her. I didn’t know what would happen of me after she would remarry. I couldn’t blame her either; I wasn’t the man she believed me to be. And I was not in a position to take care of Casey and her, even if by the stroke of luck, I had been given a second chance.

  In my emotional turmoil, I forgot that I had brought fish with me from the restaurant which had started to stink up my apartment. I thought it was better to eat it rather than letting it go to waste.

  I unwrapped the fish and banged it multiple times on the kitchen counter out of frustration. It could have been the chicken. I threw the fish on the counter as I prepared myself to gut it. With a deep sigh of disappointment, I placed a cut near its head to take the gills out.

  Suddenly, a white light coming from something stuck inside its gills made me blink my eyes. There was something sparkly in there—perhaps a crystal. I gauged it out with the knife and washed the fish in the sink. As I was gutting the fish, I found another crystal covered in the fish’s insides. I decided to clean it with my hands then, and what I saw afterward—took my breath away.

  It was a diamond—a small diamond. I was out of burglary business for long, but I had stolen enough to know how a diamond looked or felt in hand. I performed the water density test; it sank. The fog disappeared when I breathed on it. I had no doubt in my mind that it was a real diamond.

  I took a step back and slapped myself across the face.

  No—I was not dreaming.

  I started to feel hot out of nowhere as my hands started shaking, and the sweat began dripping down my forehead. I splashed water on my face to calm myself down, followed by guzzling it down my dry throat straight from the tap. With heavy panting, I then checked if the fish was carrying any more diamonds.

  Yes—there were many more.

  I jumped up and down—behaving like a teenage girl after her first kiss. I counted and collected all the diamonds in a bowl.

  All thirteen of them.

  I started shouting like a maniac hanging on by the last thread of sanity. “Thirteen, thirteen—”

  “Keep it down!” My junkie neighbor yelled at me. Little did he knew that I would soon be out of this shit-hole.

  “Thirteen, thirteen . . . ,” I continued whispering and roaming around in the apartment out of happiness.

  I lay back down on the floor and looked at the ceiling above. Thirteen may be considered unlucky, but to me, there is no better number than it. “I am rich now.”

  Suddenly, the image of the woman from table 13 today popped in my head. Her words—‘Keep an eye on the fish’; ‘End of the road of redemption’—had started to make sense to me then.

  I jumped to check my pockets and see if I still had the visiting card of the jeweler that she gave to me—or had thrown it in the trash can in the alley behind the restaurant. As I riffled through my pockets like being bitten by a bee, I continued to grow restless while my heart was beating fast as ever.

  At last, I found the visiting card in my back pocket, endlessly folded and reduced to the size of a sim card. I decided to go there in the morning after quitting my job and flipping Herman a bird. The prophecy of the woman from table 13 had started to turn out to be true.

  I lay down again and closed my eyes with the thought of Amber and Casey. Soon enough, I was going to have enough money to look Amber in the eyes and ask her for the second chance—the mere thought of which lifted the weight off my shoulders and put me to sleep like never before.

  I woke up at noon after sleeping twelve hours straight. I suppose, being rich had made me lazy. The first thought that struck my mind was to go and check on diamonds. I recal
led that I had left the diamonds in a bowl on the kitchen counter last night.

  And I rushed to get there, but each step was getting harder out of worry. I was a former burglar, but for the first time in my life—I was scared of being burgled upon.

  “Thank God.” I took a sigh of relief after I found diamonds completely safe.

  After a quick shower, I carefully put the diamonds in a zip-lock bag and the zip-lock bag in my pants. I could have carried it where the sun don’t shine, but I didn’t want to stink the diamonds—or worse, gave myself a cut. I also feared that it would compromise the clarity—not that I knew anything about it.

  It was not safe to carry diamonds on a bus either. So, I decided to hail a cab with the thought of paying the fare once I sold the diamonds to the jeweler.

  I had the cab stopped in front of the restaurant for a moment to hand in my resignation. Once Herman came out of the restaurant—annoyed by the constant honk of the car disturbing the customers—I flipped him a bird and shouted, ‘Fuck you.’

  It felt so good—really good—to say that out loud to him. On the spur of the moment, I pulled down my pants and mooned him out of the window. He instantly came running towards me—possibly to beat me, if not kill me. But before he could lay his hands on me, I quickly rolled the windows up.

  He threatened to kill me as he pounded the glass window with his fist. I saw him dead serious, and I screamed in fear—or so as he thought. What he didn’t know was that I didn’t do well with threats. And I pressed hammed him while riding away from the restaurant.

  After that, I was off straight to the jewelry store—no more stops. I got the cab parked a few shops away from the jewelry store and asked the cab driver to wait for me until I return back.

  It was a big jewelry store—or rather an enormous glass castle. The name ‘Dew and Douglas’ was written in calligraphy on the big signboard.

  And considering the carpet area of the store and the rich customers inside—I was not sure they would deal with me. This thought got stuck in my mind as I walked towards the revolving glass door.

  And returned back.

  I went back and forth a few times but couldn’t gather the courage to go inside. By then, the cab driver had already started observing me from afar. He was obviously concerned about the payment of his fare.

  I realized that it had to be done to go meet Casey face to face—or, possibly unite with Amber. So, I finally entered the store after collecting all my confidence, and without thinking about anything or anybody.

  It was a large store—bigger from the inside than it appeared from the outside. There was nobody to entertain me; the entire staff was busy helping the big-shot clients.

  A young man of about my age, smartly dressed in an Armani suit, and with a smug look on his face came out of nowhere to help me. “How can I help you today?”

  “I need to sell some diamonds,” I mumbled nervously as I buried my hands in my pocket to ensure that the diamonds were still there.

  He was judging me from my goodwill-bought clothes—I could feel it—but was polite and nice to my face. “I am sorry, sir. I didn’t catch you.”

  I cleared my throat and tried again. “I need to sell some diamonds,” I whispered with just enough tone so that only he could hear what I said. I didn’t realize then that my mumble and whisper might have given a wrong first impression of me.

  “Sure—follow me.” He led the way to his workstation and got behind the counter. He then grabbed a loupe from the drawer and asked, “Can I see them?”

  “Sure . . . Sure . . . ,” I said nervously—intimidated by that place too posh for me—and put the zip-lock bag of diamonds on the counter.

  He was not impressed with the way I was carrying the diamonds. “Uff!” He scorned and shook his head in disappointment and then went ahead to open the zip-lock bag and pulled out the first diamond.

  “Mm,” he mumbled as he looked at the diamond minutely through the loupe. And after he was done examining it, he placed it in a small steel bowl on the counter.

  “Mm,” he mumbled again while examining the second diamond and placed it in the same steel bowl.

  His constant mumbling and blank facial expressions led me to believe that those diamonds were not real—or not as flawless as I imagined.

  “How much are you expecting for these?” he asked after he was done examining all thirteen of them.

  It was a trick question; I knew it. If the diamonds were actually real and I had quoted a low amount—I would have regretted it later. And if they were fake, and he got a feeling that I knew about it—he might very well call the cops for trying to con him.

  “Only the fair price.” I think I nailed it with that answer.

  “Okay.”—He put the loupe back in the drawer—“Can I see the receipt of these diamonds?”

  “What receipt?”

  “The receipt . . . the sale invoice of these diamonds. You must have bought these from somewhere.”

  He was doing his due diligence before buying them, and I told him the truth. “Sorry, I don’t have one.”

  I hid the fact that these were the courtesy of a fish I gutted last night. Even if I had told him then, would he have believed me?

  I didn’t think so.

  “I apologize,” he said as he returned the diamonds back, “but we can’t buy them.” At least he was kind enough to put the diamonds into a case rather than back into the zip-lock bag.

  “Are they not real?”

  “They are small in size, but perfect—flawless, genuine cut and quality. You may very well get a good price for them somewhere else.”

  “Why not here?”

  “I am sorry, but at ‘Dew and Douglas,’ we don’t deal in stolen merchandise.”

  “Stolen!” I shouted when he hit a nerve, which inadvertently drew the attention of other customers.

  “Sir, please don’t create a scene here. I suggest you leave the store immediately—or else I would have to call security.”

  He was polite and mad at the same time. I had never seen this kind of combination before and was impressed to see that rich people even fight sophistically.

  I tried to explain myself. “But these are not stolen.”

  And he fired another question. “Then, how did you get in possession of them?”

  I had no answer to it.

  Chapter 3

  “Maybe they are his family heirloom.” A friendly—but not unknown—voice answered on my behalf.

  “Miss Applebaum,” he said with a big smile that lit up his face, “it’s so nice to see you.”

  His demeanor and way of talking changed entirely. I jerked my head and noticed the mysterious woman from table no 13 from yesterday standing to my left—on my side.

  He got out from behind his counter, pecked on her cheeks and said, “It’s lovely to have you here. I was actually planning to call you tomorrow. Our designers have prepared some wonderful jewelry that I am sure you would find them to your liking.”

  She shook her head in disappointment. “Dew—what made you think that I would buy jewelry from here again?”

  “What?! We have served your family for decades, Miss Applebaum. My father was the best man at your father’s wedding. It suffices to say that our relationship is not purely business in nature. Even the thought of you buying jewelry from somewhere else is a matter of utter shame to our legacy.”

  “How can I ever shop here, Dew, where I suffered an insult that I’ll never forget?”

  “Miss Applebaum,” he gasped, “I can’t even think of insulting you in my dreams. I am sorry to say this—but this is a blatant accusation.”

  “You may not have insulted me directly, but you have insulted my friend here,” she said, pointing me with the gesture of her hands. “I sent him to you—and you accused him of being a criminal. It’s an insult to me, my words, and my reputation.”

  Trust me—it shocked me more than him that a sophisticated lady like her called me her friend and took my side.


  “I am so sorry, Miss Applebaum. I had no idea that he is your friend.” Dew was very apologetic—perhaps of the fear of losing an important client. He then came towards me and bowed his head as he apologized, “I apologize for my behavior, sir. Please forgive me.”

  And it felt so good to be once on the other side and not saying sorry all the time.

  Miss Applebaum was still very determined on getting those diamonds sold as my family heirloom. She further pitched in for me and said, “He may not have a receipt for these diamonds, but I can assure you that these are not stolen. It’s his family heirloom. I’ll vouch for him.”

  He knew how to handle the situation and said, “Now you are embarrassing me, Miss Applebaum. If your friend had told me earlier that it was you who sent him—it wouldn’t have come to this. I wouldn’t even have checked the diamonds, and paid the asking price.”

  He then turned to me and said, “Sir, I apologize again. I hope we can put all this behind us. Please tell me the price you are seeking for these diamonds, and it will be given to you—no questions asked.”

  I learned a thing or two by just looking at him in action. I could have easily exaggerated the asking price—and he would have to give it to me.

  But—I didn’t do it.

  I didn’t want to break the trust Miss Applebaum had put in me and just said: “I don’t know what they are worth. As I said earlier, I am only seeking a fair price for them.”

  “Very well, then. These diamonds can easily fetch you $725k if you sell them somewhere else, but their actual price is around $750k—”

  “Se-Sev-Seven . . . Hun-Hund-Hundred . . .” It was taking me forever to say that figure.

  I hissed. I stuttered. But I never finished saying that figure out loud.

  I was beginning to experience shortness of breath and a sudden shiver in my body. I took the support of counter as I was going weak at the knees and feared that I would fell on the floor.