How To Stay

“It’s yours...but for a specific purpose.”

The words hang above a stack of $20,000.

My boss, who is the unfortunate recipient of a terminal diagnosis, has decided with his infinite fortune, to grant the workers of his enormous corporation a bonus. Dolled out in numerous ways, in numerous amounts, and to everyone of every level.

For me, it was $20,000.00!

“I… never knew your name until today, I must admit.”

I can feel the weight behind his words. You hear about these situations, but only ever in movies or television. Old rich benefactor paying out or giving to the needy at the end of their life or the behest of some mystical adventure… but this is… something different.

“In your record here,”

His fingers tap against a folder sat in front of him, it looks like the other few hundred sat behind him.

“-it says you’ve been with us for just about 20 years now.”

His hand lays flat on the front page of the folder, opening it up to read back the date.

“Uh- yes, sir. It’ll be 20 in 3 months.”

I manage to stammer.

“Let’s round up then, hm?”

His voice lilts upward, like a grandfather listening to their nonsensical and whimsical grandchildren’s stories.

“Ah-heh, yes, sir.”

I bow my head to him. I never bow my head, but I don’t know how to respond or act with this man. Normally I’d never be able to step foot on the 17th floor, let alone into the CEO’s office.

It can hardly be called an office, to be honest. More like a museum, given the furs, the old guns, the statue of a knight in shining armor.

I have to direct my eyes back to the man by force,

“For 20 years, $20,000.”

He raises his hands to mine. I have to lift mine off of his desk to shake his warm hands. Telling myself over and over how to shake a hand properly.

“Up, down, up, down, up down- stop it!

“Hohohoho, it’s okay, Miss.”

His laughter is light but filling.

“Uh- sorry, so, you said it came with a… purpose?”

I had to ask, I had to know why I was given so much, and why so much came with a purpose.

After a moment of taking in a few shallow breaths, Mr. Eriss stood himself up. A grunt of effort and a soft push from his desk lets him stand up, blocking a strand of sunlight from my face. Up there, he looks less sickly and more like how one might depict an army general. Gruff, filled with history and sights of horror. He’s scary.

“Yes, the purpose.”

He walks around the desk, coming around to the side of the desk and away, walking off to the side of the room where now I can see that there is another table, lit by a simple silver lamp.

“Sir?”

I have to respond with something since the air has hung quietly for too long.

“This, here.”

He stops at the table and reaches down to it, finding one of the many stacks of what looks like passports or ledgers. Tiny black books, neat and simple, reach from the table in piles of no more than 10 per. His hand pats the top of the nearest stack, picking up the first one and swiping away a small number of gathered dust particles.

I can’t help but reach my shoulders off from the side of the chair, leaning over to see what might be behind his stature.

As he turns, I thought I might’ve seen a smile on his face, but perhaps it was a trick of the light because he’s wearing the same gruff exterior.

“I want you to collect for me…”

He takes a step forward, walking to cover more of that sunlight coming into the room. His body heat climbs in close to my own.

“Collect your thoughts… memories, even the things you buy with the money.”

“Ah-”

I can’t speak. I can barely even breathe. What do you mean?

“A list, perhaps? Maybe even draw a sight this money lets you see.”

His warmth passes over me, landing the tiny black notebook in my lap. He rounds the desk to the other side and sits down again. A few minutes pass by.

“Ahem.”

He chokes on his own throat, not meaning to come off as rude or to have me move on or speak, just his own body, doing what it needs to feel comfortable.

“Oh- Uhm. Sir, I can keep a journal of everything from here on, of course.”

It took me those minutes to formulate a proper answer, and all that came to me was to say yes to his purpose.

“Do-”

I begin to speak and his eyes perk up. Should I not have continued?

“Yes?”

He speaks up now, not obtrusively, just genuinely curious.

“Oh, nothing, it’s just… Do you want to have the book back…?”

“Hmm?”

I feel like I’ve somehow insulted him now like by asking this I’m saying “This is just a job for me.”

He’s quick to quell my thoughts though.

“Aheh, no, Miss. It’s yours to do with what you will. My giving you the money, and asking this of you is nothing more than to pique my intrigue.”

“We’ve all heard the news… “

I had to say it. Why he might be giving up his fortune. He hasn’t said, but this is at least why I think he’s doing it.

His eyes perk up again at this. I feel less harmful in talking to him.

“Is the money.. an apology? Or maybe a… cry?”

I have to speak my mind. He’s done nothing less with me, it’s just that he hasn’t done more.

“Hmph.”

He grumbles, raising his left hand to his chin.

“Always quick to question the niceties of others?”

He shoots back at me. I said something to affect him.

“No, sir, I just… want to know why.”

I lower my head.

The air, again, hangs heavily above my head.

“I have no kids. No heir. No wife, or at least no significant other to speak of. No one here, at the… end of my life.”

I’ve never had to hold my breath for as long as I am. Not out of fear, or to somehow disrespect. I just can’t breathe.

“My money, it’s not that it’s pointless now, or that I feel some urge to give back…”

He continues.

“I just... don’t want to leave, yet.”

I finally have to breathe in.

“Miss? Will you be okay?”

How can he mean that? I don’t think I’ll ever be okay.

“I’m sorry. I just… I guess I just don’t fully understand it.”

I have to admit.

“I read it once...somewhere in some book.”

His hand wafts around hazily in the air in front of him.

“The things you leave behind, they are you.”

He closes his eyes. Standing at his desk, he plants both of his palms on the desktop.

“What am I? A 20 story building? A company that can’t remember someone who’s worked for them for 20 years…?

He bows his head.

“I didn’t think I’d ever have become someone like me. I don’t remember a day outside of this office, or any particular business trip I might’ve taken to some far-off place. I have no memory...of even taking a walk to that park out there.”

Mr. Eriss turns around slowly, opening his heavy red curtain to peer below.

My heart feels heavier, after this. I can’t pretend to feel completely sad for someone worth millions, nor can I ignore the words of someone so close to… the end.

But before I realize it, my body is carried upward, toward Mr. Erric’s back.

“No, don’t hug him.”

I think to myself, forcing my hands of sheer will to only pat him on his back.

My palm lands softly on his arched back, not sinking into the suit jacket any.

“I’ll do it. I think I understand.”

I can try to relate.

“I think of…”

I hesitate to relate him to this person.

“-Genghis Khan…”

Did I really just say that?

His back pulls forward, then around. My hand quickly ties itself to my side, fastened down by awkward restraint.

“Ahem. And by that you mean?”

His throat is clear, yet his voice still has a resolute raspiness to it.

“I-I only mean, the thought behind Genghis Khan’s immortality!”

I put my other hand up, palm facing him, like a crossing guard asking him to stop from hating me.

His shoulders lose their tension, and he seems ready to listen.

“People find that Genghis Khan, through his many acts of horrible crimes, has become immortal. Remembered, seen, and felt throughout the generations because of who he was and what he did.”

My hands start to fly and free themselves, as I speak I can feel my comfort returning.

“So I wonder if, through using what you did get in this life, and what you’ve lacked... You mean to-”

Mr. Eriss silenced me, and I can understand why.

To say it, might take away from it. And probably this isn’t his first meeting of the day, and likely it won’t be his last. I find myself nodding and bowing, taking my leave of the office room.

Another day.

It’s cloudy, sprinkled with short beams of sunlight and blue sky above.

My lunch break is almost up, but on my way back from the corner cafe I can’t help but see-

“Mommy, mommy, can I keep it?”

A young girl holds high a coin between her fingers.

“Sure! You gotta say what you want with it though!”

The mother holds her child between her legs, holding onto her kid’s hand with the coin in her fists.

“Ready? One, Two, Three!”

“I want to buy a scooter to play in the park with mommy!”

The young girl shouts aloud, gathering aww’s and ooh’s from the crowd around the fountain.

“It’s working.”

I smile to myself, the scene finally reminding me to finish my list.

I pull out my tiny black notebook, peel open the fresh cover. The fabric of the binding breathes, this is the third time I’ve opened it after all.

“I want to help you, Mr. Erris… but that’s too broad to start my list. So I'll just start with my first step. “

1. I accept your $20,000

Space divides the first opening and my second entry,

2. I bought space, commissioned a piece, and wrote the plaque for the installment this week. “Have an experience.”

And today I can safely say that my list will be completed

3. You’re here, Mr. Erris. In the park. With the people. Giving as you would’ve wanted. Smiling as you would have liked to, with everyone, enjoying the park alongside you.