A Helping Hand

With my hat and heart in my hands, I climbed the frigid steps and knocked on my old friend’s door. I didn’t expect him to answer, but the door swung open nonetheless, illuminating a familiar but changed silhouette. We were hardly strangers, but I watched as confusion, realization, and shock registered on John’s face. He looked me once over, taking in the scars and wrinkles that had aged me through the years.

“Quite a long time since I’ve seen your ugly face,” said the man in the door, now shivering against the cold wind. “Come inside why don’t you, people will talk if you just stand around like that.”

“I was just walking through,” I replied, “Come get coffee with me, John, I need a favor from you.”

The city towered above us, coated in too much pollution to see any stars. Blinding lights more than made up for the lack, and the screams of the city echoed around me. The pedestrians walked with purpose, pausing only long enough to glower and frown at my leisurely pace. I turned my hat down against their scowls but felt the disapproval sink heavy in the fog around us.

On the lowest floor of a high-rise building sat a hole-in-the-wall cafe. I had gone there with Sarah once or twice. It seemed to sag under the weight of the massive building above it. It was almost empty, save a few rickety tables and the elderly woman behind the counter.

She raised a hand in greeting as we entered and tapped her foot impatiently while we crossed the span of the barren shop. She seemed surprised when we walked to one of the quiet wooden tables in the corner of the dim dining room. The chair squeaked as I pulled it out, and I saw the woman out of the corner of my eye, shaking her head a little as we sat at the dusty table.

She gave her head a final shake and hastened to continue her work. She wiped off our table, making her apologies for the grime.

“Customers haven’t taken the time to sit in ages,” she breathed, “Too busy, no one talks to each other, they don’t want to be forced into retirement”

John smiled, across from me “We’re here to celebrate just that! This fellow’s retiring, and I'm just here lending a hand.” He lowered his voice slightly, “it’s a hard transition.”

The waitress peeked under the brim of my hat but I kept my eyes low. When I wouldn’t meet her gaze, she smiled sadly and hurried to heat the coffee. “A damn shame,” She said, “they quit working so young these days.”

John turned to me as I removed my hat and jacket and hung them on the bare-bones chair. He kept his jacket on as he sat, despite being out of the wind.

“It hasn’t been this chilly in a long time,” John offered.

“I’d rather it be cold, do you remember the last time you saw snow?”

“Can’t say I do, but the heat doesn’t bother me.”

“Not much bothers me anymore. I don’t talk to anyone, I don’t work. The kids and Sarah won’t talk to me at all.” I sighed, “I suppose you would know.”

John looked at me with disgust at my self-pity, “You can’t blame me for that, I’m doing you a favor here. I could be home right now.”

We paused as the woman returned with fresh coffee. She again apologized for the slow service and peered at me with pity in her eyes. After she scurried out of earshot, I turned to the window and savored my coffee in silence. The people outside rushed about like worker bees on a city grid hive, constantly moving. They paused only long enough to watch the streetlight change, fearful to linger or laze.

“What do you think it would have been like if I hadn’t married her?” I questioned, sipping my coffee and setting it on the edge of the table.

“Sarah?” John paused and considered, “Who knows, you might have been happy, or you might have ended up in the same place.” He finished his coffee in a gulp and pushed it toward my cup. The ceramic clinked together and my mug clattered on the floor, bursting into pieces and spilling the remnants of my coffee across the tile.

He seemed unbothered as he raised a hand to call the waitress over and continued, “I hate to sound like a broken record, but it’s true what they say, “If you’re not helping, you’re hurting.” Sarah and the kids are better off without another burden, and life is hard enough as it is.``

“You’re right John,” I replied, watching the woman stoop to clean up the shattered glass. She turned towards me but I avoided her gaze and smiled grimly at the man across from me. “I suppose it’s best not to put it off too long.”

John paid the bill as I put my jacket and hat back on. We exited the shop onto the busy street, turning to look at the high-rise behind us. We simply stood for a moment, shielding our eyes from the bright lights as we took in the building we had just exited. The main entrance was not twenty feet from the cafe, and John patted me on the back once, twice, before saying, “This should do it.” and entering the hall. We approached the elevators but I saw the yellow tape before John and pivoted to find the stairs. I would not be discouraged.

John sighed and turned to me, clearly annoyed at the broken elevators. I shrugged and gestured to the stairwell.

“Guess we’re taking the long way up,” I remarked

“Easy for you to say,” replied John

The stairwell was barely large enough for the two of us to walk side by side, and the concrete echoed with every step as we ascended. The sickly yellow lights flickered on each level, some buzzing with a burning hatred while others cast dark shadows, remaining unilluminated and silent.

The flights of stairs passed in a blur, the numbers coalescing into infinity. Only the steel railing, solid and unforgiving, kept me steady as we climbed. The silence offered no solace, though John’s presence reassured me.

As we neared the top level, the building seemed to sway under my feet. I gripped the handrail as we scaled the last set of stairs, as though the cold metal might offer me comfort. John gestured me on as I approached the exit. The last bit of silence left my head as I opened the door and stepped out into the wild tempest on the roof.

The cold wind whipped fiercely around us, no longer the quiet breeze of the world below. I heard John shout behind me, “Well here we are old friend!”

Another furious gust blew across the roof, ripping my hat from my head. It skittered across the concrete and over the side of the building. I followed it to the boundary and looked down, watching it flutter into the darkness.

“How do you want this to go?” He inquired, joining me on the edge.

I sighed and ran my fingers through messy hair. “This is it, I can't do it myself, that’s why I need you.”

John smiled at me, reassurance in his eyes. “You’re doing the right thing, sometimes we just need a helping hand.” He stood on the precipice with me, and I felt him pat me on the back once, twice, before pushing me into the blinding lights below.