Real Love

A Love Story by Hiram Davis Johnson

Let me tell you something…a mere year from just a few months ago, I would be the most miserable human being on the face of this planet, were it not for some blessed old man at Myrtle Hill, and his ancient, broken wristwatch.
Seems a bit odd, doesn’t it? That I’m talking about my future as it might have been—and was—in a fashion that seems to say I know for certain what the alternative possibility could be. And in a sense, I do…or perhaps I did. Perhaps I did, at one time…yet, perhaps I didn’t. In all honesty, I no longer think it matters…what’s now is now, and for that, I am a happy man.
It would seem that, a year from a few months ago, I—a bankrupt, depressed, and alcoholic businessman—was visiting the grave of a…very close friend, buried atop Myrtle Hill, when I heard it. I looked back, down a few stairs, to find a gang of children harassing an elderly, obviously-homeless man, who was dressed in an assortment of weathered, moth-eaten rags, and held in his clenched fist, like a priceless family treasure or faded, forgotten love-letter, a battered, obviously-broken wristwatch. I remembered the friend I’d lost at that moment, and for some reason, tore down the stairs like an angry lion, demanding that the children leave him be. As I spoke, their eyes and tongues seemed to change…they became slitted, and their tongues, more forked. But after hissing at me like angry rats, they scattered, and when I blinked, seemed to vanish entirely. When I turned to the old man, his attire seemed to have gained a luminous quality to it, and seemed even cleaner than my own, despite its condition—which was odd, because I’d just picked up my suit from the dry-cleaner’s. I suddenly felt shameful to be in his presence…but the old man soon changed that.
“William!” the old man cried, his eyes brighter than sunlight, his smile welcoming, “I’ve found you at last!”
I feigned a smile, knowing that the senile derelict was probably crazy, yet found myself somewhat unnerved…my legal name would have changed to Will, but I’d been born William. Was this coincidence? I couldn’t say…
I gripped the old man’s shoulders, still smiling. How she would have loved him…how hard she would’ve tried to find him shelter, to tend to his needs…to love him. I felt her love within myself, and smiled, though tears welled up in my eyes.
“Indeed you have!” I laughed, sniffing as I spoke, my voice—usually quiet deep, according to my friends—breaking audibly. A look of concern…of deep, undoubtedly-sane, utterly true compassion…marked his features at that moment. With an utterly-gnarled index, he tapped my chest—where my old, favorite pin broke a few months ago—and, looking up into my eyes, whispered, like an old friend hearing that his own old friend had gotten Alzheimer’s,
“There’s something broken here, isn’t there, William?”
I nodded, somehow sensing that he was referring to something beneath the pin…beneath the clothes and unfeeling flesh.
I nodded.
He nodded himself, looking down at his feet for a moment, before looking back into my eyes.
“Thank you for saving me, Will…” he smiled, a look of wise acknowledgement on his face. I laughed, despite being further unnerved by the old man’s knowledge of my name.
“It was nothing, really…” I laughed. His eyes seemed to light up, and excitement charged his words as he spoke.
“Oh, but it wasn’t, William! It was the world to you, and will be! You deserve a gift!” he laughed, obviously ecstatic about something. I grinned, though now, it was obvious that I feared the man’s intent.
“It’s fine, really! You owe me nothing!” I laughed. The man’s smile seemed to become more stern.
“Gifts…are not always given because they’re owed, Will. Most…are given out of love.” He said softly, gripping my elbows with unusual, and somehow gentle, strength, as he did. Then, he smiled again. “So, just let me give you something broken…I think it’ll make you feel better.”
With this, he took my hand, and, with great gentility and care, placed his watch within it, closing my fingers around it as he did. I smiled. It was a badly beaten thing…the glass was cracked into rough thirds, with one being missing, and some of the covering was gone, exposing the little clockwork gears to my eyes. It was far too badly broken to work…
…or was it?
“Believe it or not, it actually works! It just looks broken…” The old man said. I nodded, though I didn’t believe a word of what he said, but I went along with it.
“It’s got a special knob on the side…see?” he explained, pointing at the small, golden gear along its edge. I nodded. “You just need to listen and follow my instructions very carefully….ok?” he asked. I nodded again. He smiled.
“Good!” he grinned. “Now, first you need to pull the knob out a tiny bit, until it clicks. Got it?” he asked. I nodded, now somewhat tired of the old man…I would’ve been late for a meeting with my financial advisor concerning a recent scandal with some of our younger, female workers and their bosses it this had gone on much longer…
I pulled it out slightly, and it gave a crisp, audible click. I don’t know why, but that click sounded beautiful to me…
Apparently, the old man heard it, too, because a look of further excitement ravished his features.
“Wonderful!” he cried, “Now, turn it a full three times backwards, then stop!”
This time, I obeyed more willingly, now curious as to what would happen when I finally finished ‘fixing’ the watch. When I’d turned the bent minute-hand of the watch three times backwards, just as instructed, a wave of hope—unbelievable, seemingly unmotivated hope—warmed my whole being. Apparently the man noticed this, too, because he now dictated to me more rapidly what to do.
“Now, pull it out a bit more—until you hear another click—and turn it six times backward. Then, pull it a tiny bit more—one more time, mind you!—and then, turn it back five times. Then, your problem can be fixed…” he instructed, seriousness mixed in with his joy. I obeyed…
…and when I’d finally finished it, I blinked…
…and, when I’d opened my eyes, found myself standing on Myrtle Hill, the old vagrant still beside me, the watch in my hand…
…and rain roaring down from the heavens, like the tears shed over a thousand heartbreaks.
I looked down at the watch, and found that, to my surprise, it was just ten minutes to three in the afternoon…
I looked at the old man, feeling somehow betrayed. Was this it?
I suddenly realized what kind of person I was apparently dealing with, and was about to turn on him, when suddenly he spoke, his voice ever calm.
“Well, I think you’ve got somewhere to be pretty soon…” he said, somehow calming me with his words, “I hope the traffic isn’t too bad…”
I turned my head to look down at Broad Street from near the summit of the hill, and then…
…I saw her.
Alice…my beloved, my love, my sweetness, my life and light, my best friend, my soul-mate…Alice alive!
There she stood, protected by an umbrella from the rain, a somehow beautiful anger on her face as she strode to the crosswalk, preparing to fume over our then-recent fight while waiting for the lights to change….
And then, the horror of what was about to happen struck me, like a bolt of lightning. I turned to the vagrant, but found myself alone.
It was then that I knew, with absolute certainty, that any business problems I had…any problems I had at all, including the one involving my beer-bored liver having gone to hell…were cast aside. I only had one goal…
…to save her from what was about to happen.
I practically leapt down the stairs through the rain, the stone beneath my feet all the more slippery because of the rain, no longer caring whether I would live or die, if only I could ensure she did live. I had to stop the crash from happening…had to do something…even if I had to push her out of the way, and let myself be killed in her place…I was willing. Ready and willing to die for the one I loved and missed so much…
Soon my feet hit wet sidewalk, and I tore between the thick havoc of traffic like a flash of lightning through a rainstorm. I sprinted over the bridge between the cemetery-hill and Broad Street like a man possessed, and though I was deaf to every outburst of rage and confusion, I know I caused panic in my passing…but that was nothing compared to my own panic. What if I didn’t reach her in time? What if…
I refused to think of the possibility. All I did was run…
It’d been years since I’d graduated from high school, but never before had I ever been so thankful for running cross country. I was a gazelle, running to come between my love and the lion that threatened to steal her away from me again. I sobbed with fear as I ran, desperate to save my Alice…
Suddenly the hellish bark of breaking tires hydroplaning out of control met my ears, and my panic increased.
“No…no no no no, no, God, no!” I gasped, seeing my beloved and best friend just fifteen feet ahead...
…so far away…
I growled with fury at the limits of my body, and with a cry of desperation, tore free from them. I practically flew to her, though my body screamed in agonized protest.
There! I was there! I’d made it! There she stood, right in front of me, pure as sunlight, real as moonlight, as alive as you or me! A sudden urge to stop, to look at her, to just convince myself that she was real, that this whole thing was real, gripped me…but I forced myself free of it. I had to move.
I had to save her.
Even as the look of shock appeared on her face at seeing me so panicked gripped her, I shoved her aside, seeing the lights of the massive vehicle envelop me like Death’s searchlights, having sought her but found me in her place. I turned to face her, even as the car swerved towards me, out of control, ready to destroy me, our eyes connected…
…and I was at peace.
What a wonderful way to die…gazing upon the face of the one you love, knowing that you’ve saved her, that your death will cause her to be spared…
Suddenly someone pushed me out of the way, and as I looked back in shock, I saw a flash of white, moth-eaten rags, and an old man’s smile…
Then, with a loud crack, my world went black…
…
…it took a while for me to come-to.
The next thing I knew, the sound of my beloved Alice—the girl I’d loved since childhood, and who’d, by her own admittance, felt the same of me all along—crying met my ears, and my heart broke to hear it. I burst out sobbing with relief, with sheer joy that she was, in fact, alive, and she cried all the more. Immediately, someone shouted for morphine, but Alice stopped them. I opened my eyes, and from beneath the heavy bandages that covered my recently fractured-and-shaved skull, found her beautiful face stained with tears. I reached up, my arms unharmed, and pulled her close, and she did the same. We embraced like that for about thirty minutes before I spoke again.
“I’m so sorry…” I sobbed, hot tears stinging the corners of my eyes and blinding me slightly, “I’m so sorry for….hurting you!” I sobbed. She covered my mouth for a moment, then choked,
“Let’s just forget about that…we can worry about it later. I’m just so glad you’re alive!” Alice laughed, her face etched with relief. I closed my eyes, and held her tightly, and for the first time in what seemed an eternity, felt her heart beat by mine, felt her life meld with my own, and then realized that this was all real…that it wasn’t some sort of illusion, some sort of hallucination created by the sorrows of a madman. This was…real.
And I thank God every day for it.
The doctors told me that I’d nearly broken my neck…whoever pushed me did it with skill…I’d hit brick and passed out, but escaped the certain death the collision would’ve caused. However, at the same time, they told me that I’d damaged my legs…both my Achilles tendons had been torn, almost in half, and they’d take a while to heal. My skull had been fractured by my meeting with the brick wall, but other than these wounds, I was okay.
I knew even before they told me that whoever had pushed me out of the way was undoubtedly dead…that, although the driver of the car had miraculously survived, whoever the car struck at that speed would almost certainly be dead. But what I knew best of this was that there was no body…and no blood besides mine and that caused by the facial lacerations received by the driver.
So, with her hand in mine, I fell asleep, my lullaby composed solely of the heartbeat of my rescued love.
However, that same afternoon, when the doctors left me and Alice to rest together, I received an unexpected visitor…
A tap wakened me from my sleep, letting me know further that what had happened was not merely a dream, but perfect, miraculous reality. I opened my eyes a crack before snapping them open…
…there stood, in the doorway, the old vagrant who’d made it all possible.
A smile cracked across my face, and I laughed.
“You!” I cried, overjoyed. The old man grinned.
“Me.” He answered, approaching my bed as the sun shone across my face through the window, after the rain ended. Then, he continued as he sat by my bed.
“So…” he began, “did you like my gift?”
I beamed.
“How did you do it? What are you? Who are you?” I blurted, my mind swimming with questions. He laughed. “Are you God?” I whispered, reverence in my voice.
The old derelict laughed loudly, his eyes bright with mirth, evidently quite amused.
“No, William…I’m not God. But that’s not to say I don’t work for Him…” he hinted, adjusting the glasses on his moustached face.
“Really? Can you tell Him thank-you for me? Is there any way I can…repay him?” I asked, somewhat hesitant. He laughed.
“Will…I think you can tell Him that yourself…but if it makes you feel any better, I can. And as for what you can do to repay Him…” he paused, as if waiting for me to react. Then, he grinned again.
“It’s just like I said, William…gifts aren’t always given because they’re owed. Most…are given out of love. Like this one.” The old man explained. Then, he pointed casually at my beloved. “By the way…did you know Alice is pregnant?”
My eyes widened with surprise. I shook my head.
“Well, she is…with twins, as a matter of fact. And she doesn’t even know it yet.” He explained casually. “And they will bring you two all the more close. But you and I both know…” he said gently, his voice somehow firm, “that life doesn’t last forever.”
I nodded. I knew all too well…
“So, before I go, I must make a request of you…” he said. I nodded violently.
“Anything! Anything you want, and it’s yours!” I said, quite honest. He chuckled, then put his hand on my shoulder.
“Make for me this promise…that no matter what conflicts you face from this moment on…no matter what hardship, be it physical or emotional, or of any other sort…that you will never take a single second for granted. Life is precious, and all too short for mortals like you and Alice…enjoy it while it lasts. And never forget what real love means.”
With that, the old man—that Angel, for what else could he possibly have been—squeezed my shoulder once more, then got up, and walked towards the door. Before he left, I cried out to him, tears streaming down my face.
“Wait! Please…who are you? I don’t even know your name!” I cried, desperate to know the name of the one who’d done so much for me. A final grin appeared across his face.
“My name,” he said, “is Raphael.”
And then, after tapping his wrist—quite similar to how one would tap a wristwatch—he vanished, never to be seen by me again.
So thank you, Raphael. Thank you for helping me save the only woman I could ever love…thank you for helping me prepare for fatherhood. Thank you for saving me from myself.
Thank you Raphael.
Thank you God.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.