Falling Into Place (19 page)

“You mean besides a chance to see a new movie?” Dodson said with a chuckle. “I guess you could call it a recruiting trip.”

“Looking for a few God men?” Sidney retorted, pleased with his pun.

“Blessed are the pure of heart, for they will see God,” the priest replied good-naturedly. He took a package of Twizzlers out of his pocket before turning to Sidney with a more serious look. “But enough
shop talk
, Sid. If I may be so bold, you seem like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. If you need an ear, I’m here to listen. Would you care to talk about it, son?”

“I – I don’t know what you mean, Father. I’m just fine,” Sidney said, squirming in his seat.

“All right, Sid. If you say so. Forgive me for intruding. It’s just that I have some experience in offering a sympathetic ear and some understanding, but if you’re not ready to talk, I won’t push. Just remember, everyone needs someone to listen; everyone needs a friend.” Dodson was so serene and sincere that Sidney instantly felt terrible for lying.

“The movie is about to start,” Sidney said softly. “Maybe we should just watch it now.” He was unable to make eye contact with the clergyman.

“Yes. Perhaps that would be best. Again, my apologies, Sid.”

For the next half hour, try as he might, Sidney couldn’t focus on the movie. Father Dodson’s kind gesture of brotherhood had somehow opened the Pandora’s box of emotions he’d been trying to keep at bay all week. Instead of losing himself in the cartoon action on the screen, Sidney kept reliving the reality of that night on the bus. In his mind’s eye, he saw the carnage once more; the death, dismemberment but mostly, his own fear and cowardice.

It all played on a perpetual loop now: the screams, that girl’s arm, the intestines, the severed head and all that blood. He felt like he was drowning in it.

“I – I don’t mean to ruin the movie, but I guess I do need someone to talk to, Father Dodson,” Sidney said when he couldn’t take it any longer. “You see, I was involved in...there was an incident...something happened this week and I’ve tried to move past it, to just forget it, but I can’t, so I’ve been hiding in the movies every day. It’s all I can do to keep it together. If I didn’t come here all day, every day, I don’t know what I’d do. I can’t seem to get things back to normal. Nothing feels right anymore. Sometimes I think the world’s gone crazy, or maybe it’s that...I’m going crazy.”

“We all feel that way at times, Sid. Normal can be a somewhat subjective term, don’t you think? What exactly happened, my friend?” Dodson asked, still looking at the screen.

“I saw...I was...” Sidney stammered before sighing loudly and raising his gaze to the ceiling, trying not to cry. “Have you ever felt like you aren’t what you should be or...maybe that you’re less than you could be, less than you’re
supposed
to be?”

“Of course, I have. Most everyone has thoughts like those at one point or another. I think that’s part of the human condition,” the priest said, turning towards his new friend. “The important thing is to strive every day to be the best person you can be.”

“I never do that,” Sidney said immediately and a little too loudly. “I spend all my time wishing I was someone else,
anyone
else, that I could be someone better, stronger.” He took a deep breath and released it very slowly, trying to quell his growing emotions. When he spoke again, his tone was calm but strained. “Maybe that’s because I’ve spent my whole life trying to be what I thought I was supposed to be for everyone else: a good son, a good employee, a good husband. The punch line is that it never worked. Nobody’s ever thought I was even remotely good enough. I’ve been a complete failure at all those things.” Sidney gave a half-hearted chuckle at the joke that was his life.

“Now, don’t be too hard on yourself, Sid,” Father Dodson said, patting Sidney’s hand with his. “There is no rule book as to how a man should live his life. We all simply do the best we can.”

“That’s just it! I haven’t done the best I can! I haven’t even tried! I haven’t tried at all!” Sidney replied, his pent-up emotions once more overwhelming him. “All I do is hide from life, avoid actually living my life and I always take the easy way out. I never say what I truly feel or do one single thing that I want. I’m a loser and a coward and I didn’t deserve to survive when everyone else died!” Tears streamed down his face as he muttered, “Why am I still alive? Why? Why me? I don’t deserve it.”

Father Dodson put his arms around the distraught man, hugging him in the darkened theatre. “Don’t say that, my friend. Each one of us at least deserves life. That is God’s gift to us all.” The dam inside him burst and Sidney broke down completely. After four or five minutes, the tears abated enough for him to wipe his eyes on the napkins he’d taken from the concession stand. Father Dodson could tell he was embarrassed by his outburst.

“Don’t you see, Sidney? Maybe there is a reason you survived,” the priest said gently. He grabbed the sobbing man by his shoulders. “You’ve been given a precious gift. You have a chance to do things differently, to change who you are. Most of us don’t get that opportunity. It’s possible you were spared because you have a purpose you haven’t fulfilled yet.”

Sidney looked up at the other man, still sniffling.

“If it’s like you said and you’ve never really tried, then you’ve never failed either,” Dodson said with a gleam in his eye. “Your potential is unlimited in that way. No matter what happens, you can get through it because you have a clean slate. You don’t have any of the baggage that can weigh a person down. None of the regrets or misgivings about past choices, because you’ve allowed others to make the important decisions for you. You simply have been waiting for a chance, for your opportunity. This
is
that opportunity, Sidney.” Father Dodson smiled broadly before adding in a firm tone, “You can be anything you want. You can be
anyone
you want.”

Sidney felt a calm come over him. It began in his chest then quickly spread throughout his entire body, clearing his mind and energizing him. Somehow when he looked into the priest’s eyes, he saw the simple truth for the first time in his life: it was all up to him. He was the master of his own fate. He could take control of his life and be someone different, someone better. He, Sidney Rosenthal from Kew Gardens, Queens, could be everything he’d always wished he could be. He knew it beyond any doubt, believed it with all his heart.

“Thank you, Fath...thank you, Nicholas,” Sidney said with a smile as he shook the other man’s hand. “You’ve done me a great service. Maybe one day I can return the favor but right now, I have to go. I
need
to go.” He grabbed his coat and briefcase before bounding down the stairs two at a time. Within seconds, he’d disappeared through the doors leading out of the theatre.

“You’re very welcome, Sid,” Father Dodson whispered serenely. “I know you’ll do great things soon.”

Sidney hurried through the busy streets of Manhattan, almost sprinting at times. Something had clicked for him in that theatre and, despite feeling an urgency he’d never experienced before, he also felt in rhythm with the world for the first time in his life. That synchronicity seemed to slow everything down as he weaved his way through the crowds of people, allowing him to see three or four moves ahead, like a star running back breaking through the defensive line. He was lighter now too, completely unburdened, not just from the bus incident, but from every weight he’d ever allowed to be thrust upon him during his long, torturous life. As he reached the corner of 44
^th
and 8
^th
, he dumped his briefcase into one of the city’s overflowing garbage cans without breaking stride.

Minutes later, he was on the street that housed his longtime employer, Weinstein and Goldman Accounting. He sped up, his excitement increasing with each step, as he got closer to that familiar revolving door. Sidney burst into the lobby like a guided missile rushing past the security desk, newsstand and flower shop on his way to the elevator banks. When the doors opened on the 16
^th
floor, he went through the office’s outer doors heading straight for the cubicle where he’d spent the better part of his adult life. Just like every other day, no one bothered to greet him or ask him where he’d been all week. Nobody cared enough about Sidney Rosenthal to exchange a simple pleasantry. No “Hey, what’s the good word, Sid?” or “How ya doin’, buddy?” No, today like every other day, he got nothing but apathy from his coworkers. This time it didn’t bother him in the least. He casually looked around his work place and realized there was nothing for him there, nothing he needed anymore, nothing he wanted.

“My name is Sidney Rosenthal and I quit!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, startling everyone. He strode purposefully toward the door as everyone watched.
Sure, now everyone notices me
, he thought to himself.
Well, too little, too late, assholes.
Just before he exited through the doors, he turned and added, “And you can all kiss my ass!” Outside on the street, he took a deep breath and smiled happily. He felt good. Really good. Better than he’d felt since he was a little kid, before his dad passed away.

Twenty-five minutes later, having stopped at a street vendor for his first two hot dogs with sauerkraut in 17 years, Sidney arrived at the main offices for Parkhurst National Bank. This office was the very first branch ever opened back in 1967 and, while it still offered three tellers for customers’ banking needs, it was now used mostly as the corporate headquarters for New York State. Helen had been promoted to VP of Administration a little over two years ago but, as he was just beginning to realize, Sidney had never set eyes on the place before today. He was beginning to understand just how much of a spectator he’d allowed himself to become in his own life.

As he walked through the front doors, Sidney could see the entire inside of the bank. It was one incredibly large room consisting of a 25-foot high ceiling with two distinct portions separated almost completely down the middle. On the left were the tellers, secure behind their bulletproof, clear, glass dividers. Their work area was much smaller than the length of the room, undoubtedly because the vault was located through the heavily fortified door at the far end of their work stations. Directly in front of the tellers was a waiting area with two counters filled with various banking forms and those pens chained down to prevent theft. There was the requisite roped area sending all customers through a maze of left turns to maximize and coordinate the waiting space. Sidney couldn’t help but notice the numerous security cameras positioned throughout the room to monitor every square inch of the place.

On the right side of the room was an office setting. It was completely surrounded by more glass, accessible only through a locked door, and further protected by a computerized key card entry system. Inside were a half dozen desks lined up two by two as well as other various office equipment. There were three doors along the right wall leading to other offices, presumably for the higher-ups. Some kind of meeting room was in the far back, most likely used for conferences and other gatherings, also completely enclosed in glass walls and doors.
This place must be a bitch to clean,
Sidney thought. Right in front of the door to the office section was a small desk and chair facing the street. On the desk was a clipboard filled with lined paper, a few pens and an out-of- date phone. A lone security guard stood nearby, dwarfed by an overgrown, 8-foot tall potted plant.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” the security guard asked as Sidney looked around for his wife. He was a gangly, redheaded man with oversized blue eyes and freckles all over his face and arms, made more prominent by the dark blue uniform he wore.

He appeared to be all sharp angles, his elbows, shoulders and knees protruding starkly through his clothing. The hat on his head was entirely too big, conjuring up images of a ginger Barney Fife. His name tag said “McDowell.”

“Hi, I’m Sidney Rosenthal,” Sidney said. “I’m here to see my wife, Helen.”

“Helen’s married?” the guard responded, his face scrunching with incredulousness.

“Yes, she is,” Sidney said curtly. “To me. For 15 years.”

The guard grimaced in embarrassment. “Gosh, I’m sorry, Mr. Rosenthal. I didn’t mean no offense. I’m Timmy, by the way,” he said, extending his hand to shake, but Sidney just stared at him stoically. “Ah, um...well you see, it’s just that I’ve never seen you around and everybody loves Helen. I mean, she’s the best and so nice and I figured you would’ve gone to the office parties with her and everything.”

“What office parties?” Sidney asked, having no recollection of Helen ever telling him about any work gatherings.

“Oh, we have ’em every few months. It’s always at some swanky place. Everybody from the office goes,” Timmy said with a big smile. “Probably the Christmas party is the best with the tree and all the decorations and stuff. Last year, Helen even asked me to dance. Yes, sir, she did. Nobody’s ever done that before, but she just walked right up to me and asked me. It was real nice. Yeah, she’s the best.” Timmy was blushing now, his entire head getting redder by the second.

“I’m sure she is,” Sidney responded, beginning to wonder just how much his wife hadn’t told him. “Is she around, Timmy?”

“Um, I think so, Mr. Rosenthal. I’m not exactly sure. You see, I’m usually in the back of the office by the vault. My buddy, Carl, is the front guard. He’s a good guy, too. I only watch the front door when he’s on lunch break,” Timmy said, before whispering “Or if he’s gotta...well you know, if nature calls.”

Sidney began to wonder if Timmy was a little slow or if he was actually a transplant from a town like Mayberry. Either way, he didn’t want to be insensitive or insult the guard so he chose his next words carefully. “Do you think you could find out if she’s here, Timmy? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Oh, sure thing, Mr. Rosenthal. Just give me a second,” Timmy replied before moving to the desk and picking up the phone. He hit one of the extension buttons, but immediately hung up, looking confused. He ran his finger down the right side of the phone before finally hitting another button. He looked up at Sidney with a goofy grin as he waited for a response. After a 10 second conversation he hung up.