Other Choices

By Diane Sprague

Mr. Thompson looked at his watch and sighed. His arrogant belief that he could accomplish his task of acquiring all his families Christmas gifts on one afternoon began to seem to be a gross misprojection of how easy it would be to rush from store to store to pick everything out and purchase the gifts with his usually efficiency. It did not help that his car was stalling, the extra traffic was appallingly slow, and the snow was falling harder as the time passed. Time was quickly running out and there were so many gifts left to buy. He decided to turn off the main streets and see if he could make better time trying to find some shortcuts along the back streets. Soon he discovered the folly of this decision when his car sputtered to a complete stop in the middle of a street in an unfamiliar section of the city. He dialed the number for road service and nervously watched a shabbily dressed man approach his car. The man smiled at him and sat on a bench across from his car.

The car service told him it could be 45 minutes to an hour before someone could get out to him. When asked about his location, Mr. Thompson pulled his coat in tightly in frustration. He would have to get out to ask the name of the street he was on.

He stepped out of his car and approached the man on the bench. The stranger, who wore a patch on his jacket with the name Ted written on it, eyed Mr Thompson with an eager curiousity. Mr. Thompson glanced at the patch indifferently and quickly looked away.

Mr. Thompson: Excuse me, could you tell me the name of the street we are on?

Ted: Car broken?

Mr. Thompson: Apparently so. I need to direct my road service here. Do you know this street's name?

Ted: Not sure. Well, could be East Street. That's what it starts being. Don't know if it still is at this point. Maybe it's West now.

Mr. Thompson turned away. It was agitating to be talking with someone who paid no attention to important details.

Ted: Run outta gas?

Mr. Thompson: No, the car has plenty of gas.

Mr. Thompson noticed a coffee shop a few stores down and started walking towards it. Ted watched him walking away and then looked back at the car. He seemed strangely fascinated by the broken down vehicle.

A few minutes later, Mr. Thompson returned. He was carrying a warm cup of coffee and must have obtained the informated he needed because his cell phone was placed back in his pocket.

Ted: Doing Christmas shopping?

Mr. Thompson: I was. I am not going to be able to finish it now. It's getting late.

Ted: It's always getting late.

Mr. Thompson: What do you mean?

Ted: Everyone is always is such a hurry. Must all be late for something.

Mr. Thompson: Well, my children will not be pleased. Not pleased at all.

Ted: (laughs) Nothing under the tree tomorrow. Yup, they will be mad. Kids are alway wanting something.

Mr. Thompson sipped his warm coffee and sighed.

Mr. Thompson: Yes, and it is never enough. No matter what. They want something bigger, newer, better. It never ends. And now I undoubtedly have ruined their Christmas because enough won't be there. You have children?

Ted: I have a son somewhere. Haven't seen him in years. When I did see him he was all snotty nosed and dirty. He didn't like me. Was scared of me. His mom kicked me out and told me to stay away. Yeah, he's forgot about me.

Mr. Thompson shuffled uncomfortably: It doesn't bother you that you don't see him anymore?

Ted: No, I don't have to rush around buying Christmas present for nobody. Nobody. Wouldn't bother me if I had a car that broke down.

Mr. Thompson: Well, it bothers me. I cannot do what I need to do and now tomorrow everyone is going to be disappointed.

Ted: Everyone is disappointed anyways. Ain't nobodies fault.

Mr. Thompson: Why do you say that?

Ted: Everyone is alway complaining. Everyone. Look, you have this fancy car, a family to celebrate the holiday with, and yet you're upset. We all want something more and we don't get it. We never get it. Ain't nobodies fault, but we keep looking for somebody to give it to us.

Mr. Thompson: I am not looking for anyone to give me anything.

Ted: You want something from your kids.

Mr. Thompson: What do you know about kids? You left yours behind.

Ted: Nothing. I am free. I don't want anything.

Mr. Thompson: You and I see things entirely differently. I don't understand your choices and I don't expect you to understand mine.

Ted: Yeah, well, when everyone is mad at you tomorrow, maybe you wish you were in my shoes.

Mr. Thompson: Why? What so special about what you will be doing tomorrow?

Ted: Nothing. But nothing is good. All the days are the same to me.

Mr. Thompson: And you are okay with that?

Ted: Hell, yes. Why not? What makes tomorrow different for any other day?

Mr. Thompson: We have expectations about it. That's all. Just expectations.

Ted: I have no expectations. I expect nothing form no one and no one expects nothing from me.

Mr. Thompson: That's not living to me. It's giving up on life. I am not going to let you persuade me you made a better decision that I did.

Ted: Still going to be hell tomorrow explaining yourself, don't you think?

Mr. Thompson: Yes, it will. It will. Still I don't get people like you.

Ted: Nothing to get.

Mr. Thompson: I suppose not. Please stop pretending you get me. There is nothing to get for me either.

Ted: You believe in God? You go to church and stuff like that?

Mr. Thompson: I go to church. I don't know that I believe in God anymore. It doesn't make any sense thinking there is intelligence and love behind it all.

Ted: So why go to church to worship someone that ain't there?

Mr.Thompson: Lots of reasons. It gives some structure and form to life. It makes it not so lonely. So what do you believe?

Ted: Ain't no God.

Mr. Thompson: What makes you come to that conclusion?

Ted: I can see it. I can see it in people's faces. Blank, ugly faces. Yup. When we die, we die and that's it.

Mr. Thompson: You are likely right. But what makes you think we need to see God in people's faces?

Ted: Cause we are the one's who made this whole God thing up and our faces tell another story.

Mr. Thompson: So you are a philosopher?

Ted: (laughs) I don't believe in an any philosophy. What a waste of time. No, I just watch.

Mr. Thompson: So you like watching this affluent business man having his car break down on Christmas?

Ted: Yeah, I am seeing that look in your face. You know that tomorrow you won't be living up to expectations, and it's like looking into a big hole isn't it?

Mr. Thompson: Ah, so now you are a psychologist? Yeah, it's a big hole. I don't like it. It terrifies me. So I spend my time living up to expectations, going to church, working hard, and never being authentic. I know. I know. Except, you see. It has it's moments.

Ted: (laughs) Ah, the moments. The pacifiers.

Mr. Thompson: So what is it like to live in the hole, no expectation, no moments?

Ted: Oh, I have my moments too. Just yesterday, I watched a hell of a dog fight. Bloody critters.

Mr. Thompson laughed. He shyly looked at Ted. He looked cold and alone in spite of his tough talk.

Mr. Thompson: Well, my road service should be here soon. Would you like me to get you a cup of coffee?

Ted: Yeah, that would warm me up.

Mr. Thompson walked back over the coffee shop. Ted continues to stare at the car. The snow starts falling harder and the daylight starts to fade into darkness

Mr. Thompson returned. He handed Ted the coffee.

Mr. Thompson: I got some cream and sugar. And some donuts.

Ted: Thanks, but I like it black

Mr. Thompson: I am not surprised. I don't know. Maybe you are on to something. Maybe we do clutter our lives with all the expectations of what we are supposed to be. It would be refreshing to let some of that go sometimes.

Ted: Yeah, but maybe you have something too. A family, a nice car...

Mr. Thompson: I don't know. Perhaps we would do well to adopt a little of each others choices.

They both stared into the swirling snow and darkness. Sometimes life offers new choices and we mainly turn away, but now and then we can open ourselves up to them. The tow truck's lights shown through the snow and Mr. Thompson stood up to signal the driver.

Ted continued to watch as they set the car up to be towed. His coffee was tasty and comforting. Mr. Thompson began rehearsing the story he would give to his family to explain his lack of gifts. Somehow the thought of their disappointment opened up a hole in his mind that wasn't fully frightening; maybe it was a bit liberating. Perhaps he could tell them about Ted. Perhaps not. He glanced back at Ted as he entered the truck. Mr. Thompson's face wasn't totally blank and ugly. Ted laughed. Perhaps God was peeking out for a brief moment. Then again maybe not, but at least his coffee was still warm.