Guilt

GUILT

Words = 2,261

Guilt can kill.  Not initially, but over time, growing like gnarled fingers of a monster, slowly, deliberately, un-remorsefully, tightening its grip on your neck. Only then do you realize all the things that were, and all the things that could have been.

Finally, eternal sleep and ultimately, peace.  And so it was with Harvey…

Making A Difference

Harvey, his wife Sarah, my wife and I had been friends for at least 3 decades. We helped each other around the house and around our problems – Personal, financial, familial.  When his wife, Sarah, died, we all grieved.  Harvey looked to me for comfort.  I tried as best I could.  After a year, Harvey seemed to return to normal, if perhaps a bit quieter, a bit more introspective.  Maybe he felt a little odd being the third person.  I often asked him about that and he consistently denied it.   

“It might be true with others, but not with you.” he would always say.

As the first year following Sarah’s death drew to a close, I watched as Harvey’s introspection increased, becoming ever more quiet, ever more distant (or perhaps better stated – detached).  At one of our Sunday evening dinners, Harvey confessed.  “You know, since my Sarah died, it is kind of hard getting used to the house without her brightening up the mood.  I know you’ve been there for me, but I think I want to get away for a while, be in solitude, and collect all my thoughts.”

“Harvey, are you sure that being alone is the thing to do right now?” My wife and I asked skeptically.  The idea disturbed us about what Harvey could be thinking.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking. I’ll be fine.  This will be good for me.  In fact, I saw a classified ad in the paper about a place I can house-sit for a few months.  I thought about it and thought about it, then decided.  I am going to do it. Can you watch the house for me?”

“What ad?”

Harvey showed us an ad he had cut from the Sunday classified section.

Small house with bungalow in Colorado mountains for rent.  Very isolated.  Need someone to house-sit for a few months.  All facilities working.  Send email to CHARLENEalone@Coloradorentals.com.  All emails will be answered.

Harvey continued, “I actually typed in a response. Then I waited.  I actually waited a whole day while I thought about it.  Then I said, ‘The H- with it!  I am doing it.’  Bang! I hit the Enter key.  And you know what?  One hour later – there it was – The response.  She gave me the number to call – I called it – the deal is done.  I am leaving next week.” 

“Wow. So fast. But what about bills and stuff?”

“Between Social Security and my pension, I’ll be OK!  And,” Harvey said with a wink, “I even learned to pay bills by phone.”

As promised, the next Saturday morning, bright and early, we stood outside and waved goodbye to Harvey as we watched his car turn on the road leading to the I-80 Interstate

Four months later, a knock on the door and there’s Harvey – A bit thinner, but nothing else.  We had a big “Welcome Back” dinner that night.  During dinner, however, we noticed a big difference.  He had an aura of sadness.  “Harvey, you seem down.  Is everything OK?

“Yes.  It’s just that it’s the end of a great time.”  He answered, totally unconvincingly.

A few months of denial was followed by a long confessional at one of our Sunday evening dinners.  It took a few glasses of wine to pry loose his tongue, but when it did, the story flowed like a gusher.

“When I got there, it was exactly what I had hoped for.  There was a stream with miles of dense forest-covered mountains with great hiking trails in the back, and a narrow paved road that wound down the mountain to a small town 12 miles downstream in front.  Inside – It was straight out of the movies – an upscale mountain cabin with all the amenities comfortable living with a rustic décor.  To the side – a bungalow, the ‘Little House.’ After the first week, some people moved into the Little House.”

“You didn’t expect them?”

“No. But I figured that they made a deal for the “Little House” just like I did for the ‘Big House.  After a few days, the people in the Little House came to introduce themselves.  ‘Well, what have we here’ I said.  ‘Their answer was quick, and definitely well-rehearsed.’” 

““Hi.  I am Annie and I am this many years old.” She said, holding up seven fingers.

“I am Bonnie and I am 10 and a half years old”

“I am Carol, and I am 12.”

The boy, clearly the oldest responded last, “I am Dennis and I am 14.  It’s easy to remember our names,” he continued.  “Our names are in alphabetical order. A B C D.  Annie, Bonne, Carol, Dennis.” 

Without thinking, I said, “Using that logic, I should be ‘Zavier.’  We all got a big laugh.  And, you know what – It was the first humorous thing I had said in over a year.  Then they asked me how long I would be staying.  I told them “I’ll be here until I leave.”  Two ‘funnies’ in 2 minutes – A record that would have even surprised my Sarah...” He said, his voice trailing off in reverence.  

A few days later, the kids and their mother came to the door and asked me to watch her kids overnight because she had to work.  I asked her how she knew I could be trusted with her kids.  What if I were some kind of pervert?  She mumbled something about having been married to one once and she knew right away that I wasn’t one.

Harvey continued to relate his experience.  He would feed the kids with the microware dinners, then plop on the sofa to watch TV, and finally fall asleep. In the morning, they’d scurry back to the Little House.

A routine settled in; Stay overnight, perhaps a drive to the ice cream store in town, and sleep on the sofa.   

“We also started talking about the old days in TV, Harvey explained.  He told the kids about George Burns and Gracie Allen, Jack Benny’s “Your money or your life” routine, Red Skelton’s “Gertrude and Heathcliff.” And the kids introduced Harvey to Seinfeld, “Two and a Half Men” and Reality TV. And every night after the reminiscences were done, we all went to that magic sofa, quoted Jimmie Durante’s Good Night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are, and slept like babies.

“You want to know something – They even started calling me Poppy-H.  It so reminded me of Sarah’s comforting words, “It’s OK, H.”

There were several auctions in the area – People selling anything and everything in this poor economy. Harve bought a few things, but the real fun was teaching those kids about things of value, and how to bid on them. Dennis, the oldest, bought a BB gun, and the girls got a set of 3 Alice in Wonderland dishes.

“In a sense, those kids became the kids that Sarah and I never had.  Perhaps if she hadn’t had the miscarriages, our kids would have grown up like these kids but…”  His voice trailed off.  “But ahhh, such is life.”  He said as his mood descended into sadness, signaled by the slump of his shoulders.

“What’s the problem? It sounds like you had a better time than you expected.”

“I did. The problem is that when it came time for me to leave the kids begged me to stay, and I told them I couldn’t stay.  I told them I had to leave.”

“That’s true.”

“Not really.  I could have stayed.  If I would have decided to stay, it would have been the best decision I could have made, ranking up there with my decision to ask Sarah to marry me.  I could have called and told you I am staying longer.  I could have done a lot of things.  What I did was the thing I didn’t have to do – Leave.  And now it seems there’s another hole has opened up in my life – Sarah’s death, and now the void of leaving the kids.  For the last couple of months I’ve been thinking more and more about them.  And here’s the funny thing, I haven’t been able to sleep in my bed.  What little sleep I do get is on the sofa.”

“Harvey, we’ve been friends for how long?  Over three decades.  Let me tell you!  This is not the end of the world.  Why don’t you just get on the phone and call them?”

“I can’t do that!  What will I say?  Even more frightening, what will they say?  Will they be angry with me for having left?  Will they remember ‘Poppy-H?’ What if the answer’s no?  And the saddest thing of all would be what if they did find someone else to call ‘Poppy-H’?  There’s just too many ‘what ifs’ here!”

After another few months, Harvey told me he had decided to take my idea and call.  He waited for another few days to build his courage, then he called.  He was on a high with anticipation.  But, his emotional high was dashed like a fragile china figurine thrown against the wall, when the mechanical voice on the phone said, “We’re sorry.  The number you have called is no longer in service.  Please check the number and try again.”  Harvey thought maybe he misdialed.  Over and over he dialed the number, each time ever more carefully, and each time, that 3-beep phone sound followed by the mechanical “we’re sorry…” message was heard. He tried emailing.  That too, failed.  The emails were undeliverable.

Worlds come together and for brief moment, a window of opportunity is opened.  Then the worlds spin off, ne’er to meet again.  The window closes.  No way to get back to those precious kids; No one sleeping on the sofa with him.

I think this was the turning point for Harvey.  After that, he became more down, more disconnected. It seemed there was no possibility for happiness. My wife and I did all we could do to cheer him up, but none of our tried and true efforts worked.  We watched him slowly descend into a ‘quicksand of depression.’

He started mumbling to himself about missing Sarah’s “It’s OK, H.” The Alphabet kids, sofas, and “Good night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are.”

I guess I knew something was seriously amiss when he came over to the one night and handed us an envelope.  “I have a huge favor to ask.  In here are the instructions on what to do with my possessions in case I die. Would you be my executor?  I’ll pay you.”

“What are you planning, Harvey?” I asked, sternly and very forcefully.

“Nothing.  We’re all going to die someday, and I drew this will up.  I know what you’re thinking, and no, I’m not thinking about taking my own life.”  Neither my wife nor I believed him. I just wish if there was something we could have said or done, “But ahhh, such is life.”

Two Years Later

Sunday afternoon, my wife and I are watching TV, when there’s a knock at the door.  Four young adults are there.  “Yes?  May I help you?”

“We hope so.  We’re looking for a Harvey, we called him ‘Poppy-H?’ Do you have any idea where we can find him?”

“Oh! Sweet Jesus!  It’s really you – The Alphabet kids from a few years ago!”  I blurted out.

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“Come in.  Honey,” I shouted to my wife, “Look who’s here.  The Alphabet kids Harvey always talked about.”

“He talked about us?”

“All the time.  Actually, there wasn’t a time he didn’t talk about you!”

“Where can we find him? Do you know where he is?”

“Sit down, kids.  I have same sad news for you, and a little something that Harvey hoped would help.  He tried to contact you, but failed.  I am sorry to tell you that he died about almost two years ago.  We all miss him.” 

Like I said initially about guilt, I would not burden these kids with guilt about the reasons for Harvey’s suicide.   The fact that he was guilt-ridden when he came back from his time with them would remain my secret.

 Two of the girls broke into tears, and Dennis fought to hold back his tears. 

“But I have something for you.  Can you come back tomorrow afternoon?”  This is vitally important to me, but even more so for Harvey.” 

“Yes! We’ll be back.”

Monday afternoon came, as did the knock on the door.  The kids came in, we chatted for a while, then I handed them an envelope.  Dennis took the envelope, carefully opened it and removed the contents.  His eyes fixed into a stare as he slumped into a chair.  He showed the contents to Annie, Bonnie and Carol.  They teared up.  It was cashier’s check for $450,250. 

“What this?”  Dennis asked when he was finally able to speak.

“Harvey told me that we should sell his house and possessions and put all the money in a trust.  If the Alphabet kids ever show up, give it all to them.”

Whatever pain Harvey had felt had at least partially transferred to me.  As I handed them the check, I experienced a feeling of overwhelming relief and a sense that Harvey was finally at rest.