by Scott Young
“How did you get back home?” Helen said with as much compassion as she could muster.
“All I did was get off the bus and take the subway,” Sidney responded. “I walked away without anyone stopping me. It was weird. Nobody looked at me, talked to me or anything. The whole way home, nobody even asked about my clothes or asked me what happened. It’s like no one noticed me at all.”
When does anyone? Helen thought to herself. Not much to notice. Then she said out loud, “You didn’t wait for the police?”
Sidney looked up. “No, I didn’t. I just wanted to get home.” He fidgeted in his chair before asking, “Do you think I should call them? Tell them what happened?”
“No! Absolutely not!” Helen shouted, her voice once again cold and hard. “The last thing I need is you telling your crazy stories about a monster on the city bus. Everyone will think I married a lunatic. No way, Sidney! You are going to do exactly what I say and forget any of this ever happened. If it ever actually did.”
Sidney looked down again, staring at the book on the table, fixated on the blood splatter just above the title. “Oh, it happened, Helen,” he said, forlornly. “I wish to God it didn’t, but it did. It truly did.”
Helen let out another big sigh before moving toward her husband. She put her hands on his shoulders, massaged them a little and leaned in so her mouth was close to his left ear. She said softly, “Why don’t you take a nice hot shower and get yourself cleaned up. You know Monday is my bridge club, so I’ve got to leave soon, but I’ll put your clothes in the washer and clean your briefcase for you. Then when you get out, grab yourself a beer and we’ll put on one of your movies. I’ll even warm up that Chinese food for you before I leave, ok? I got you the Moo Shu Pork you like so much.” She gave him a peck on the cheek before adding, “Just relax and watch your movie and forget about all this craziness. That’s my Sidney.” She patted his shoulders for emphasis as Sidney nodded in mute agreement.
Two hours later, Sidney Rosenthal sat in his recliner staring straight ahead, his eyes unfocused. His only movement was the repeated shaking of his head back and forth in disbelief. The Moo Shu Pork on the TV tray hadn’t been touched and the Miller Genuine Draft in his hand was still full, but now warm and flat. There was barely five minutes left in the movie Helen had started for him before leaving the apartment. Usually he hung on every word, but tonight Tomorrow Never Says Goodbye, starring his favorite action hero, Mark LeClare as super-spy Jack Wylde in pitched battle with his arch-villain, Dr. Nefarius, had failed to be the panacea his wife hoped it would be. Instead, he kept reliving every moment of the bus ride, trying to make sense of the senseless; to reconcile his feelings of inadequacy and somehow make peace with his paralyzing fear.
Suddenly a huge explosion filled the TV screen, bathing the room with yellow and red light, breaking Sidney from his trance- like state. Despite himself, he began to watch the climax of the movie, having seen it so many times he knew it by heart. Sidney grinned as he watched the flaming debris cascade into the water surrounding Dr. Nefarius’s island lair. After a few moments, Jack Wylde surfaced from beneath the broiling depths, gasping for air. Immediately, he dove back beneath the water. Seconds later, he emerged holding an unconscious Athena, one of his enemy’s comely companions who’d succumbed to Wylde’s legendary charms the night before.
“Athena!” Wylde shouted frantically on the screen. “Don’t do this to me, darling! Today’s not your day to die.”
Quickly swimming to his 40-foot, Cobalt A40 Speedboat, the secret agent dragged the unconscious woman out of the water and onto the swimming deck of the watercraft. Wylde checked for a pulse and then began to give her CPR. Sidney leaned forward slightly in anticipation. After a few tense moments, Athena coughed up a mouthful of sea water and opened her eyes wide. Wylde looked down at her with a smile.
Sidney stared silently, mouthing the words along with the movie. “Welcome back,” Wylde said while brushing the hair off her face. “For a moment I thought you intended to break our date to see the sights of Paris. The city of lights wouldn’t be the same without you, my dear.”
“Oh, Jack,” Athena gushed before kissing him deeply. Sidney smiled broadly.
Just then another series of explosions rocked Nefarius’s fortress, causing Jack and Athena to break off their kiss. They sat on the edge of the boat, watching the villain’s plan to take over the world literally go up in smoke. The camera panned in for a close-up of the victorious agent. Sidney instinctively reached for his remote control.
“Nothing more for me to do here. On to the next adventure,” Jack Wylde said into the camera with a wink and a smile.
Sidney Rosenthal paused the DVD there. As he looked at the face on the screen, he couldn’t help but frown wistfully. “On to the next adventure,” he repeated dejectedly, fully aware that there were no adventures in his own life, only his repeated failings. If only he could be like Jack Wylde: confident, charming and always in control. If only he had half the courage as the fictitious super spy. Yeah, if only. Maybe then things would be different for him.
With a sigh, he turned off the TV, stood up from the recliner, picked up the uneaten plate of Chinese food and walked to the kitchen, shoulders slumped. He dumped the food into the garbage can, emptied the beer bottle into the sink and shuffled off to the bedroom. As he crawled into bed, the events of the day weighed heavily on him and he clutched the comforter tightly to his chest. He looked over at Helen’s empty side of the bed and wished she was there with him. The reality of what happened finally hit home and Sidney Rosenthal began to weep, feeling alone and unloved, until sleep eventually came.
The next morning, Sidney walked past the bus stop without slowing, having decided to take the subway to work for the foreseeable future. He had always preferred the bus since it allowed him a measure of solitude to lose himself in whatever book he was currently reading, but now he almost welcomed the maddening throng of humanity presented by the New York City Subway system. It somehow made him feel safer, more secure after his harrowing experience. Sidney longed to return to the monotony of his mundane existence, to get back into his daily routine and feel normal again. At least that’s what he’d been telling himself. However, once he got off the subway, his heart raced as he walked through Times Square, toward the building that housed the accounting firm of Weinstein and Goldman.
Every work day for the past 18 years, he had walked through the familiar revolving door leading to the lobby, stopped at the newsstand, bought the NY Post and his morning coffee before diligently undertaking his daily workload. Today, for some reason, he sped up and walked right past his place of employment. Filled with an unknown and growing anxiety, he wandered the streets of midtown for a few hours without any purpose, trying to calm himself.
Eventually, he ended up on 42nd Street, heading toward 8th Avenue. Without thinking, he stopped at the multiplex near the corner, bought a ticket for the next available movie, purchased a box of Milk Duds and a Sprite. Once inside the darkened theatre, he was finally able to steady himself and regain his composure. Sidney sat there in the dark all day watching other people do amazing and interesting things until it was time to head home from work.
The next two days, he repeated this process, not really knowing why. Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to walk through that revolving door, the feeling of dread growing in his chest the closer he got to it. So he spent his days in the movies, letting reality slip away 90 to 120 minutes at a time. Each night he went home to his wife for dinner like nothing was wrong. He didn’t have to lie because Helen had long since stopped asking about his day. As long as he was home on time, she left him alone. The two spouses ate in silence, the chasm between them growing larger every night. After cleaning up, Helen would give him a peck on the cheek and head out to some club meeting or other function, leaving Sidney to watch television in his recliner until bedtime. Each night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he vowed he would return to work in the morning but somewhere dee
p inside, Sidney longed for something else, something more.
On Friday morning, the despondent accountant walked past his workplace for the fourth day in a row, barely even glancing at the door, checking the movie times at the multiplex on his phone.
He was genuinely excited for the first time all week. There were several new releases today, so he didn’t have to sit through the same movies he’d already watched multiple times. As Sidney got to the entrance to the theatre, an elderly priest reached for the door just as he did.
“My apologies. Please, after you,” the priest said with a smile, holding the door open and gesturing for Sidney to enter before him. Sidney couldn’t quite place his accent. Italian maybe?
“Thanks,” Sidney said, nodding to the clergyman before hurrying inside.
Sidney rode the escalator up to the second floor after buying a ticket to the 10 a.m. showing of Search and Destroy, a high-octane action flick he’d seen the commercial for many times. At the concession counter, Sidney ordered a small popcorn along with his usual snacks before making his way to the designated theatre. He smiled ear to ear upon entering. Every seat was empty at that early hour. Nothing in this world was quite as satisfying as having the entire theatre to himself. He chose the middle seat of the back row, removing his coat and settling in for what he hoped would be an enjoyable movie experience. In this moment, for the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt completely at ease.
By the time the house lights dimmed, signaling the beginning of the previews, Sidney was still the only person in the theatre. He felt another wave of excitement as the “silence your cell phones” message played on the big screen. He nestled further down in his chair, putting his feet up on the seatback in front of him, and gleefully munched on his popcorn. Just then a man entered the theatre. From his vantage point, Sidney could see the solitary figure looking around slowly as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Oh well, Sidney thought with a sigh. One person won’t make much difference.
The man headed up the stairs to Sidney’s right, stopping at the first landing to scan the rows of empty seats. Sidney instinctively put his feet down and sunk lower in his seat. The stranger continued up the stairs and, by the time he was halfway from the top, Sidney started to feel uneasy. Where are you going? he thought to himself. Just pick a seat. The newcomer continued up the stairs until he reached the top. No, no, no...don’t sit near me, don’t sit near me, Sidney thought, now staring straight at the screen, not wanting to make eye contact and have this guy interpret it as an invitation to sit near him. The stranger moved down the row until he was a few seats from Sidney.
“Excuse me, my son, but would you mind if I sat here?” the man asked, beginning to remove his coat.
Sidney recognized the accent and saw it was the same priest who’d held the door for him outside the multiplex. “Uh, sure, father, if you want to, but there’s – um, there isn’t a shortage of seats, y’know.” Sidney gave him a weak smile as he gestured toward the front of the theatre.
“Oh, I know, but I guess I prefer a little company to sitting all alone, even if it’s just the proximity of another person,” the priest said. “If I’m bothering you, I apologize. I’ll find a seat somewhere else.” He frowned and began to turn away.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Sidney said quickly, feeling bad. “Please, have a seat, father.” He moved his coat and briefcase from the seat to his right to the one on his left. “Forgive me. I guess we could all use a little company now and then.”
“Many thanks, my son. You are a good man,” the priest said, sitting down next to Sidney. “My name is Father Dodson, but my friends call me Nicholas. You decide which you prefer.” He smiled and extended his hand.
Sidney shook the priest’s hand, saying, “Don’t mention it, um... Father. I’m Sidney Rosenthal, but Sid works.”
“Sid it is then,” Dodson said, turning his gaze toward the screen. “This movie should be quite a thrill ride, don’t you think? I’ve been looking forward to seeing it all week.”
“Really?” Sidney asked. “I wouldn’t think holy guys like you were fans of the smash, bang type of movie.”
“Well, I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’ve always been a huge fan of this genre. My favorite is the Transporter series. And of course the Die Hard movies,” the priest replied in an excited tone. “Unfortunately, we don’t get the new releases where I’m from until months later.”
“Oh, where is that?” Sidney asked.
“The Island of Malta,” Father Dodson said. Seeing the confusion in Sidney’s eyes, he added, “It’s south of Sicily.”
“Oooh, I thought your accent was Italian,” Sidney said, smiling. “What brings you to The Big Apple, Father?” Sidney realized he wasn’t just making small talk. He was truly interested. Something about the priest garnered instant trust and a comfort level he didn’t have with most people.
“You mean besides a chance to see a new movie?” Dodson said with a chuckle. “I guess you could call it a recruiting trip.”
“Looking for a few God men?” Sidney retorted, pleased with his pun.
“Blessed are the pure of heart, for they will see God,” the priest replied good-naturedly. He took a package of Twizzlers out of his pocket before turning to Sidney with a more serious look. “But enough shop talk, Sid. If I may be so bold, you seem like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. If you need an ear, I’m here to listen. Would you care to talk about it, son?”
“I – I don’t know what you mean, Father. I’m just fine,” Sidney said, squirming in his seat.
“All right, Sid. If you say so. Forgive me for intruding. It’s just that I have some experience in offering a sympathetic ear and some understanding, but if you’re not ready to talk, I won’t push. Just remember, everyone needs someone to listen; everyone needs a friend.” Dodson was so serene and sincere that Sidney instantly felt terrible for lying.
“The movie is about to start,” Sidney said softly. “Maybe we should just watch it now.” He was unable to make eye contact with the clergyman.
“Yes. Perhaps that would be best. Again, my apologies, Sid.”
For the next half hour, try as he might, Sidney couldn’t focus on the movie. Father Dodson’s kind gesture of brotherhood had somehow opened the Pandora’s box of emotions he’d been trying to keep at bay all week. Instead of losing himself in the cartoon action on the screen, Sidney kept reliving the reality of that night on the bus. In his mind’s eye, he saw the carnage once more; the death, dismemberment but mostly, his own fear and cowardice.
It all played on a perpetual loop now: the screams, that girl’s arm, the intestines, the severed head and all that blood. He felt like he was drowning in it.
“I – I don’t mean to ruin the movie, but I guess I do need someone to talk to, Father Dodson,” Sidney said when he couldn’t take it any longer. “You see, I was involved in...there was an incident...something happened this week and I’ve tried to move past it, to just forget it, but I can’t, so I’ve been hiding in the movies every day. It’s all I can do to keep it together. If I didn’t come here all day, every day, I don’t know what I’d do. I can’t seem to get things back to normal. Nothing feels right anymore. Sometimes I think the world’s gone crazy, or maybe it’s that...I’m going crazy.”
“We all feel that way at times, Sid. Normal can be a somewhat subjective term, don’t you think? What exactly happened, my friend?” Dodson asked, still looking at the screen.
“I saw...I was...” Sidney stammered before sighing loudly and raising his gaze to the ceiling, trying not to cry. “Have you ever felt like you aren’t what you should be or...maybe that you’re less than you could be, less than you’re supposed to be?”
“Of course, I have. Most everyone has thoughts like those at one point or another. I think that’s part of the human condition,” the priest said, turning towards his new friend. “The important thing is to strive every day to be the best person you can be.”
“I never do that,” Sidney said immediately and a little too loudly. “I spend all my time wishing I was someone else, anyone else, that I could be someone better, stronger.” He took a deep breath and released it very slowly, trying to quell his growing emotions. When he spoke again, his tone was calm but strained. “Maybe that’s because I’ve spent my whole life trying to be what I thought I was supposed to be for everyone else: a good son, a good employee, a good husband. The punch line is that it never worked. Nobody’s ever thought I was even remotely good enough. I’ve been a complete failure at all those things.” Sidney gave a half-hearted chuckle at the joke that was his life.
“Now, don’t be too hard on yourself, Sid,” Father Dodson said, patting Sidney’s hand with his. “There is no rule book as to how a man should live his life. We all simply do the best we can.”
“That’s just it! I haven’t done the best I can! I haven’t even tried! I haven’t tried at all!” Sidney replied, his pent-up emotions once more overwhelming him. “All I do is hide from life, avoid actually living my life and I always take the easy way out. I never say what I truly feel or do one single thing that I want. I’m a loser and a coward and I didn’t deserve to survive when everyone else died!” Tears streamed down his face as he muttered, “Why am I still alive? Why? Why me? I don’t deserve it.”
