The Price of Forgiveness

There was a sense of sadness on Oscar’s face as he looked upon the lifeless body of his childhood oppressor. Of course, he’d wished him dead several times before in his head, but to see the real thing, laying there in that open casket, was not what he thought it would be. He always imagined he’d feel a sense of relief as if the death of the one responsible for all his pain would free him from his years of resent and self-loathing. But, he was disappointed to find that hate still lived in his heart. Even then, at that moment, with the corpse of a former enemy before him, he still couldn’t find the will to forgive.

Brandon Cooper was the name of the deceased. It was a name that Oscar never forgot, living in his head rent-free, reminding him of his own worthlessness time after time. He attributed every failure in his life to the scrutiny he was subjected to at the hands of Brandon. All his insecurities and fears stemmed from four years of enduring constant teasing, humiliation, and physical abuse. Not only was Brandon a bully, but he had everything Oscar wanted. The social status, the pretty girls, the rich parents, and the athletic physique.

It was almost ten years to the day since Oscar last saw Brandon. A senior prank on the final day of school that left Oscar contemplating his life at the edge of a bridge later that evening. He looked around at the dozens dressed in black attire, wondering if he had taken his life that night, would the room be half as full. How many times had he wished to be invited to one of Brandon’s parties and there he was. Years later, and even in death, his house was the place to be, and still, Oscar was an uninvited guest.

As several attended to pay their respects, Oscar was there to collect. Though it had been a decade since he last saw Brandon, it had been much more recently since he heard from him. He’d received a voicemail from an unknown number earlier that week. A mysterious caller identifying himself as a “Long-lost friend”, but Oscar knew who it was - he never forgot the sound of that voice. The caller claimed to be in possession of a winning lottery ticket. That’s all it took for Oscar to throw his phone across the room. He was astonished at the ridiculous, braggadocious nature of his high school tormentor. How after all these years he could still have the audacity to go out of his way to belittle him. Laid off, newly single, and not a prospect in sight, Oscar considered revisiting that bridge where he contemplated his life.

It was the following day, as he sat at a Café looking for employment on his laptop, that he saw social media posts remembering Brandon Cooper. A couple of clicks lead him to a vague obituary. It was a curious coincidence. A random phone call and sudden death. He never cared for the guy, but he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. It was only the previous night that he received the voicemail that he was sure came from Brandon. He did his best to focus on his job search, and that’s when he heard it. From the TV in the Café, a local news reporter announced an unclaimed lottery ticket had been sold in the area. Someone out there was the winner of Thirty-Million dollars and didn’t bother to collect, or couldn’t bother to collect. It didn’t take him long to put the two together. Brandon had won the lottery and died before cashing in his ticket. The idea was bizarre, but he was almost certain it was true. He couldn’t help but think that it was the universe offering him reparations for enduring all those cruelties years ago. Oscar had lived a life of short-comings and low self-esteem, but he was about to collect what he was owed.

Oscar did his best to fit in among the mourning whispers that filled the room, imitating tearful friends and family of the dearly departed as they consoled one another. Some were familiar faces from high school, though he doubted they’d remember him. He’d come a long way from the overweight, pimple-faced, loser he once was. He aged fairly well. Thin, modestly handsome, and a charming smile. It was the person inside that remained the same. Regardless of his newly found appeal, he’d always be the social outcast. But, on that day, he felt like a character out of his favorite espionage or heist film, dressed in a black suit pretending to be someone he’s not. It was kind of fun, he thought.

There were too many eyes in the living room for him to sneak upstairs and snoop around. He had an idea of where the lotto ticket might be. The blueprints he obtained from the city offered insight into the layout of the house. He also inquired around the neighborhood for information that could help him. It turned out that Brandon had been living with his mother. He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of a grown man living at home. Oscar was breaking the bank to keep a roof over his head but at least he was independent.

A pastor called upon the guests to congregate around Brandon’s casket. Oscar moved towards the kitchen to make it look like he was headed to the washroom. He waited a moment, listening to the pastor speak wonders of the man who caused him such pain. How could one mourne such a monster, he thought. Surely, they didn’t grieve the same person he’d come to know. As the pastor transitioned into prayer, and everyone closed their eyes, Oscar tip-toed up the steps to the second floor. It didn’t take long to find Brandon’s room. It seemed to display a time that had passed. Relics and trophies of his high school days and football career hung around the room. Photos from yearbooks, prom, and graduation littered the walls. How sad, Oscar thought. Brandon had preserved the best four years of his life in a room. He felt embarrassed for him, yet envied him for having experienced all the things he wished he could have.

He began his search for the winning lotto ticket. Under the bed, around the floor, inside the desk, nightstands, and drawers, but nothing. He was careful to keep quiet and did his best to avoid a mess, but his frustration left him careless. Oscar slumped on the bed, defeated and empty-handed. He loosened his tie and dug his face into his hands, thinking of where else the ticket could be. The muffled sound of a beautiful voice singing a hymn downstairs emanated from the floorboards. Oscar sat there a moment. He looked at a graduation photo hung behind the door of Brandon smiling with a wink. It mocked him. Gone and he still had the last laugh. Oscar grabbed the pillow beside him and stuffed it in his face. He let out a long muted scream. It helped. He looked over to where the pillow had been to find a little black book. It sat there, a long ticket protruding between pages, like a bookmark. A smile spanned across Oscar’s face as he reached for it. He opened the book and there it was. The winning lottery ticket. He tucked it into his inner-breast pocket and as he was about to shut it closed, he saw his name written on the marked page. Beside his name was his cellphone number. Under it, Brandon had written $20,000.

The door suddenly opened. Oscar jumped to his feet throwing the little black book over his shoulder. It was a woman. She was fixed in a black dress, her mascara-stained tears ran down her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I was looking for the washroom,” Oscar said as she observed the mess around him.

She looked at him curiously at first. Then, as she looked at the little black book behind him, her expression changed. “You must be Oscar."

“How do you know my name?”

The woman closed the door and sat beside him on the bed. “My son told me all about you.”

He looked at her surprised. “You must be thinking of someone else.”

“No. He called you, didn’t he?”

“You’re Brandon’s mother?” he asked.

She smiled at his realization. “ He told me what he did to you. All the cruel and mean things that must have made you feel--”

“--Your son ruined my life,” he interrupted.

“I know. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” The woman could see the lotto ticket missing from the little black book. “Where is it?" she asked.

Oscar hesitated a moment. He couldn’t help but submit to her sadness. He retrieved the ticket from his pocket.

She let out a playful laugh at his ashamed demeanor. “ I’m sure you deserve the whole thing, but you weren’t the only one he wanted to make things right with."

He looked at her confused. “Make things right?”

“He left you a voicemail didn’t he?”

Oscar pulled out his phone. The screen was cracked but it still worked. “I didn’t bother to hear the whole thing."

She moved to Brandon’s desk in the corner of the room and opened a drawer. Her hand reached in deep before revealing an envelope. She walked back to the bed and handed it to Oscar. “I’ll trade you.”

They exchanged hands. The winning lotto ticket for the white envelope. She looked down at it and let out a smile. “I think you should listen to that voicemail. You deserve it”. She said as she walked to the door.

"What happened to him?" Oscar asked.

She turned to him. " Cancer. But, it didn't take for him to get sick to know what he did was wrong." Again, she let out a smile before leaving Oscar alone in thought.

Oscar took a walk around the neighborhood. It was around the corner from the place he tried so hard to forget. His former high school. He crossed the field and climbed up the bleachers. His eyes pondered the setting sun as he sat there. He remembered all the times he’d wondered what the future had in store for him. Where he’d be in ten years. The experience he had moments ago had left an awful taste in his mouth. To think he would have stolen millions from under the nose of a mourning family. To rob a dead man. His hatred had led him down a path indistinguishable from the cruel intentions he resented. To stoop so low would render him equal to his oppressor. It was time to absolve himself of the hurt and pain he’d kept in his heart. Oscar opened the envelope to reveal a check for $20,000 dollars. The signature read Brandon Cooper. Oscar thought of all the things he'd done that were hard for him to live with. Things that made it hard for him to sleep. He never made anyone's life worse but he was definitely no saint. For a moment, he tried to imagine what Brandon must of felt as he grew older and got sick. The regrets he must have had as he reflected on his past, reliving it as Oscar did his. People change, he thought. He certainly wasn't the same person he was years ago, why should the same not be true for someone else. He retrieved his phone from his pocket and accessed his voicemail. He listened as the voice of a familiar adversary spoke, and as he heard the apology he'd been waiting for his whole life, he chose to forgive.