The gentle breeze flows through the bare, quiet branches of the sycamore and oak trees that run along the edge of the bustling street. The busy lives of the towns people are perpetuated below as they walk briskly along the freshly frozen, continuously cracked sidewalk. Being a small town, they find it hard to get the money to repair them.
Jerry Brian, a hard working man, rushes down the sidewalk, weaving in and out of the slower moving patrons that occupy the walkway.
“Cold day, ain’t it George?”
“Sure is, Jerry. Colder than usual. They say its gonna hit a record low today.”
“Better hurry up and head home to the wife and kids then. Bye George. See ya tomorrow.”
As I pass by in a hurry, a dozen beautiful bright orange and yellow roses catch my eye.
“Hey George! One more thing.”
“Yeah Jerry? What’s up?”
“Can you hand me those beauties over there? How much, George?”
“This one’s on me, Jer. Don’t worry about it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. No problem Jer. Have a good one.”
“Eh, thanks, you too George. See ya buddy.”
Cyndi’ll like these. I can’t believe I’ve ignored her so much lately. She deserves better than that. It seems like all I do is work these days.
As I walk out the door, a little old lady walks right on through.
“Excuse me, son.”
“Oh no problem, ma’am. Please, after you.”
Holding the door open for her, she kindly thanks me and is on her way. I quickly turn around to find myself face-to-chest with a towering six foot seven middle-aged male, wearing an all black, three-piece suit and shiny, black leather shoes. Hmm, nice shoes. Damn it, why the hell’d I have to run into a guy like this. Ya know this is just my luck these days. There are a couple of older bullies walking around town these days. Something like loan sharks but on a smaller scale.
Still looking down.
“Umm…I’m sorry sir. I wasn’t paying attention. I’ll just be on my way. No need to worry about me,” I say to the man in an almost quivering voice.
As I cautiously look up at the man’s beat red face, I realize there is something quite familiar about him. Ah shit, it’s Joey. I knew he’d find me. How could I’a been so stupid! Why the hell didn’t I just pay him the money when I had it? My business hasn’t been doing so well for about six months now. I didn’t want to tell my wife, so I went to Joey to take out a “loan.” The “loan,” unfortunately didn’t even begin to touch the problems I was having with my self-made business, and I have no way to pay him back.
The man grabs me by the collar and lifts me almost an inch off the ground. As I gasp for breath, this giant man coldly looks me in the eye, and with a devilish smirk on his face, softly whispers, “It’s too late, Jer.”
I wiggle myself loose from the overbearing grip this man held on my shirt collar but
the grip he holds on my life and family still remain. What the hell does he mean by ‘its too late?’ Let loose from the jaws of life. Out of breath, I approach the front door of my home. As I enter, I see the entire house ransacked.
“Cyndi!? Cyndi!? Where are the kids!? Where is everybody!?”
Oh my G-d! Why is this happening? I’m a good person. Where’s Cyndi? Maybe she’s in here. No. Oh! There she is! There’s Cyndi! Why is she on the floor? Oh no! She looks hurt. I run up to her and hold her in my arms. She is badly battered and barely breathing. I tear myself away from her with tears streaming down my face. I call 911.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“Please, please help me! I just got home and my wife is lying on the floor. She doesn’t look very good. Please! And I can’t find my kids! Oh my G-d! What should I do?”
“Sir, sir? Just calm down, please. Now just tell me your address and we’ll send someone over right away.”
Breathe, Jer, just breathe.
“Okay, okay, sorry. I live at 1622 West Church Street. Please hurry! I don’t know if she is gonna make it! And my kids, oh G-d, my kids…”
I just want to crawl in a hole and die. Pretend this is all a dream.
I wait by the side of the woman I love as I hear the sirens coming around the bend of what used to be our quaint little street. Now it is the scene of malice, wrong doing and soon to be revenge. The EMT hops in the drivers seat to speed away as I jump in the back next to Cyndi and another EMT and shut the doors behind me. We race to the nearest hospital. Can’t they make this thing go faster? Cyndi is placed in the intensive care unit. ICU? This is all my fault. After all of the bustle has settled down and they have sufficiently stabilized her, I walk through the door to see my wife.
“They took the children,” she exclaims to me in her small, quivering voice.
“Who did? Who was it?”
Before she can answer me, her grip on my hand loosens and she slowly fades into a deep sleep from which she never awakens. While on a rampant search for my children, my wife, Cyndi, passes away after being in a comma for several weeks.
Can’t let the cops in on what’s going on. They’ll know it was me. I might never see my kids again. It’ll come back to me and I’ll be to blame. Gotta fix this.
Days pass. A muffled phone call.
“Listen carefully, Mr. Brian.”
“Who is this?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just bring da money to da abandoned Smith fishing dock offa Old Tavern Drive at 2:00 in da morning. I’ll bring da kids.”
There is yelling in the background.
“You wanna say hi to your’s daddy!?”
A panicked voice screams through the phone.
“Dad! Please, help us! Da…”
Click.
No more choices left.
Alone and scared to death, I walk along the creaky, broken dock. I am about half way along, when I spot the silhouettes of a large man covering the mouths of two small children. I hear sounds of struggling from afar, but I am hesitant to proceed.
“What are ya waiting for?” the man yelled from the end of the dock.
“Oh G-d! I’m sorry. I’m coming. Please, I have the money you wanted. Just, please, don’t hurt them! I beg you!”
“Yeah well we’ll see. Here’s what we’re gonna do alright? You’re gonna put the money down like I say. Then I’m gonna pick it up and give you the kids. Fair enough?”
“Yeah, yeah that’s fine,” I’m shivering in fear at this point and can barely stand up. A shot of adrenaline rushes through my body as I snatch my children away from him and pull out a gun. Before he can retaliate I shoot him in the chest five times without blinking.
“This is for ruining my life, asshole!”
Without saying a word, I pick up the children, throw the gun in the water and run in the opposite direction down the dock towards land. I hop in the car and head for the border. I leave everything behind but at least I have what is left of my family.
Final portfolio draft short story "The Loan"
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