Not meant for that

He had heard it said that ships are safe in the harbor, but ships were not built for that. These words both encouraged and frightened him. Tom had long known he was built for greater things, but fear and an innate sense of responsibility kept him anchored at shore.

He longed to venture out to the unknown, to explore, but there were bills to pay and people to answer to, so in the safe harbor he sat. All the while fanciful dreams of what could be if he only took a chance whirred in his head.

Tom went to work that day, as he did every day, in his beater with a heater car, a 1984 Datsun. He told himself even though it was old it was a collector's item, as it was the last year a Datsun was produced in the United States. It made the embarrassment of driving a 37-year-old vehicle sting a little less. He arrived on time and clocked in. Said a bright good morning to everyone in the employee locker room as they ready for the day. Changing adult diapers and cleaning up piss-soaked bed sheets was not what he had aspired to do but here he was. He smiled as he went to the residents’ rooms, some smiled back, some did not. The empty look in the eyes of the ones who didn't smile told him to not take it personally. He understood empty.

"Good Morning, Mr. Ed!" Tom said with a grin as he entered the first room of the day.

"You love saying that to me, don't you?" Ed responded as a little spittle slipped from his lip.

"Yes, indeed I do, sir. You about as stubborn as a horse, well I guess that would be a mule." Tom chuckled. "Let me get that spit off your lip. You be looking the fool like that and we can't have that now can we?" "How was your night? You sleep well?" As he spoke, he was efficiently removing the bedpan and stripping the bed. A turn here and a flip there and viola it was completed, without any indignity inflicted on the old man.

"I'll see you later you old mule." Tom said over his shoulder as he left the room.

It took all the way to break time at 10:30 for the morning rounds to be completed. The staff gathered in the locker room, except for the smokers who had to walk to the other side of the parking lot to get their fix. Most of the workers spent their break complaining about the residents. Old bitch, dumbass mindless piece of shit, waste of my time- the meanspirited and unkind comments went on and on. Tom listened but didn't participate. He knew in each of those old folks they were talking about was a person who lived a life, who had loved, fought and cried, but not one of them here who would missed by anyone still alive. There were rarely visitors for any of them in this place. All these old battered souls had was the staff, and the staff didn't like them either. So Tom made sure he smiled whenever he was with any resident. He knew it might be the last smile they ever saw.

Over the years of working at the home, Tom had seen so many residents come and go. They generally arrived already knocking at deaths door. And typically, it didn’t take much time until someone answered the knock. At first, he took each departure hard, but your hide hardens when is it is hammered and he built up a resistance to the pain. Saddest part is it carried over to his own life. When his momma passed, he barely cried; when his brother was killed in a neighborhood drive by, he didn’t cry at all. People began to notice something in him had really changed when his baby girl died from an overdose and he was seen laughing about something at the viewing. But he knew what it was, he had just accepted death as much as he accepted life. That is a lesson only very privileged are allowed to learn.

He went home that night to his apartment, he had to admit he loved it there. It wasn’t much, just a one bedroom but it was his safe place, his sanctuary. When he walked in and shut the door behind him all the troubles of the world, and his life just stayed outside. He had spent a ridiculous amount of money on his tv and sound system, they were amazing. No need to ever go to a theater, his system was better. He would get lost in the movies he watched, and the cast of the tv shows he watched felt like his friends. Here in this place, his life was full and fun. Sleep would come and then the real peace would arrive. He loved being asleep.

Then the alarm would break the peace and the days would start again. Like that movie Groundhogs Day.

When he arrived at work something was different. He could feel it. The woman at the front desk told him Ed had passed last night. He looked at her. He took a breath. He tried to move his feet but he was stuck. And like a volcano, from somewhere deep inside, under all the debris of his life, a scream came out of him that filled the building. He felt the molecules of his body bursting one at a time and he fell to the floor.

They gave him a few days off.

When he came back, he was different. The smiles had run out, the clever jokes to cheer those around him gone. He was a completely empty shell. Still he could change sheets and a bedpan in a blink of an eye but it was rote.

Months went by and he expected it might get better, but it did not. So this was the new normal. Ok. So be it.

Months went by, new normal all to hell.

And then it happened. He received a letter that said his presence was requested at a reading of the will of Samuel Hiram Perry. Who the hell was that? They asked that he call to confirm he would be able to be there. It was right in the middle of a work day, damn. He called and a nice sounding woman said “Wagner and Wagner Law Office, how may I help you?” Ah, my name is Tom, uh Tom Schwehr and I received a letter about the reading of a will?”

“Oh yes” she said “You must mean Mr. Perry?”

Tom stammered a bit and said “Yes that’s the name, but I don’t think I knew him?” She replied simply “He went by Ed.” “Oh, ok, well maybe I did. Anyway, I’ll be there.”

He took the day off, his first day off other than scheduled ones he had taken in many years. He put on his best clothes, Sunday best as his momma would have said. When he arrived at the fancy law offices, he felt like a fish outta water. He could feel eyes on him, they all knew he didn’t belong there. He was escorted to a room, asked if he needed anything, “No I’m good.” Then he waited. It seemed like forever, finally a distinguished man in a polished suit joined him in the room.

“Mr. Schwehr, I am Hemsted Wagner, I represented Mr. Perry.”

“Ok.” Tom bobbed his head.

Mr. Perry had no living relatives, but I guess you already knew that. Anyway, he was a man of moderate means and when he composed his will, he left all that he had to you Mr. Schwehr.”

“Ok.” more head nodding.

And with that the attorney pushed a paper toward Tom, and said, “We just need your signature here and we will finish the estate transfer to you. Are you ok with that, Tom? Can I call you Tom?”

“Yeah, sure and ok, where do I sign?”

“Right here, and again here on the second page.”

“Um, what did I get, I mean inherit, that’s the correct word, sorry.” Tom was imagining a book or record collection.

“Well Mr. Schwehr, Tom, you are now the owner of a 55 ft sailboat. And also approximately $150,000.00. It’s not a fortune, but it should help you.”

And just like that, his ship left the harbor. He could sense it out traveling out to the horizon and the horizon looked good.