The Good Samaritan

The Good Samaritan

A Story by Jlwilliams22
"

A good deed....

"

“Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all

 

others.”

 
Cicero (106 BC - 43 BC), 'Pro Plancio,' 54 B.C.

 

 
Kenneth Kidman, or Kenny as he was known to his family and friends, believed
in karma, both good and bad. He believed that good things happened to people
who did good deeds for others without an ulterior motive. Kenny had been
labeled a goody two shoes since his childhood days growing up in his
tight-knit, middle class neighborhood in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn.

 
Kenny was a retired welder. After he retired, Kenny decided that he would
become an active member of his community, taking part in church functions,
blood, food and clothing drives, bake sales and many other community
projects including helping to build a soup kitchen/charity center for
homeless women and children. He was always willing to help his fellow man.

 
Kenny's wife Dorethea had been ill for three years before she died last year
of complications with pneumonia and very premature Alzheimer’s at the age
of fifty-nine. Kenny’s life had become full of the same routine, while
simultaneously remaining full and fulfilling.

 
He made weekly trips to the market for bread, sugar, fruit and vegetables,
making usual stops to his former co-worker, eighty three year old Judith who
was all but confined to her home due to chronic back pain. Doing things for
his   house ridden friend made Kenny feel useful, needed and appreciated. It
returned feelings he hadn't felt since the death of his wife from
Alzheimer’s.

 
Kenny and his late wife had never had any children, so he tried to fill the
void in his life with giving to others in any way he could. On one of his
many trips to the market for himself and his friend, Kenny saw a wallet on
the ground that appeared to have been dropped accidentally. He picked up the
wallet and noticed that though it was a man's wallet it had the contents of
a female. It also had a faint smell of Chanel Number Five, the perfume of
choice for his late wife Dorethea. The smell rekindled old feeling for her.
He even shed a couple tears.

 
The wallet belonged to Fran McAllister-Langford. She didn't have much in
there but dozens of coupons for various items, your average this or that;
she also had her New York State Identification Card, two credit cards a
benefit card and two crisp one dollar bills. He knew from its contents that
no one had found the wallet before he had simply because it still held the
woman’s contents in it.

 
Kenny knew exactly what he had to do.

 
Fran lived a quite life in Forest Hills, Queens. Her home was located
approximately thirty-five to forty-five minutes away from Kenny's house in
Brooklyn. Though his car didn't have much gas, the weather was horrible and
he really wasn't feeling very well that day, fifty-seven year old Kenny knew
that he had to deliver the wallet to the rightful owner.

 
Without giving it a second thought, bad weather notwithstanding, Kenny
filled up his seventeen year old Buick Skylark with his last twenty dollars
and made his way to the Belt Parkway which was covered in snow and started
on his way heading towards Queens. He was coughing up a lung due to the
unusually cold weather but when he thought of the joy he'd bring to the face
of Fran when he returns the wallet, it gave him what he needed to press on.

 
It had been the coldest day that winter. There was at least three feet of
snow on the ground. It was so cold in his car his hot cup of coffee latte
was cold within ten minutes, faster than usual considering how hot he
preferred his coffee. As most Brooklyn-born New Yorkers were confused by
Queens, so to was Kenny. He was a bit confused by the avenues and streets in
Queens that went by the same name. Not wanting to waste too much time and
very costly gas, Kenny finally stopped off at a Shell gas station to obtain
directions.

 
The attendant spoke in a very heavy Indian accent, which made following the
directions all the more difficult, but he was able to clearly understand
that he was twenty minutes away from Fran's address due to making several
wrong turns before asking for assistance. Kenny bought another piping hot
cup of coffee, plunked down five more dollars in gas and headed back on his
way.

 
The heavy, unforgiving storm was no deterrent for Mr. Kidman. He had a job
to do. On the Belt Parkway, the storm began to fall heavily.  The windshield
wipers on his weathered and torn Buick Skylark were no match for the
onslaught of the snow. The snow storm made his distance seem even further
and the brisk, bone chilling wind made the Good Samaritan feel that he was
freezing from the inside out. The heating system in his car was on the fritz
having been through several brisk winters without fail, this time it had
finally died on him. His breath was warmer than his heat.

 
Just three to four exits away from his destination, the car started to show
signs of weakness. There was a hard thumping that rapidly increased with
every succession. Then the unthinkable happened. Approximately one mile away
from his exit, Kenny’s car completely shut down. “This is unreal.” He
said to himself in utter disbelief at what had just happened.

 
“This is just another obstacle I’ll overcome.” Kenny said
reassuringly.

 
He put the hazards on, applied the club anti-theft device on the steering
wheel, locked up the car and walked the rest of the way to the home of Mrs.
McAllister-Langford. Hopefully his car would be safe until he got to her
home and was able to make a phone call to a tow truck.

 
The snow was blinding. It was falling at high speeds, thick and heavy
limiting his sight distance considerably. Turning up the collar of his heavy
wool coat, Kenny happened upon a man asking for directions unable to see
where he was going.

 
“I’m sorry; I have no idea where I am myself, sir.” Kenny said to the
questioning stranger.

 
“It’s OK man. Hey, by the way, give me all your money and we’ll call
it even.” He demanded.

 
“What? Is this a joke?” He asked.

 
But the man wasn’t joking. Kenny was flabbergasted. How could doing a good
deed return such bad luck? Kenny was thrown to the ground where he was
embedded in the snow. The mugger took Kenny’s coat and shoes. He stole his
car keys, his wallet and his reading glasses. He started to believe the old
adage that “no good deed goes unpunished.”

 
The only thing that was salvaged was the wallet belonging to Mrs. Fran
Meade. As Kenny watched the mugger disappear into the night snow.

 
With all his bad luck notwithstanding, Kenny pressed on. He was just a mere
block or two away from his destination and was only facing the possibility
that no one was home, leaving him cold, hungry, broke and stranded in
Queens.

 
Though nearly blinded by the thick fall of snow, Kenny saw the address just
ahead. It was within reach. He could almost reach out and touch it as he
turned the corner to her home. On her doorstep, Kenny rang the doorbell and
collapsed onto the salty stoop. The door crept open and Fran noticed
instantly who it was.

 
“Kenneth Kidman, is that you?” Fran asked as she stood looking at the
tired man while tightening the strap on her warm pink wool robe with a
“Hilary for President” sticker on it.

 
Brushing back her long reddish-brown hair, she bent over to pick up the
beaten gentleman and pulled him inside her home and laid his wet and cold
body on the floor. It was the recently widowed Fran Meade, formally Fran
Langford, Kenny’s old high school sweetheart.

 
Kenny looked up and said that he went through Hell and high water to return
the wallet to its rightful owner. He didn’t recognize the woman in the
license because it belonged to her mother Fran McAllister-Langford. Though
the name was vaguely recognizable to Kenny, he never put two and two
together. It had been decades.

 
Kenny started to weep at the reconnection with his long lost high school
sweetheart. He never thought he’d see her again after their graduation
nearly forty years ago. “Fran, I cannot believe it is you. I don’t know
what to say. I came here to return this lost wallet. This has all paid off!
I was all worth it now! He exclaimed with merriment.

 
“You came all the way here, in this treacherous weather without a proper
coat, to return a wallet with nothing in it?” Fran asked with confusion
and a hint of condescending sarcasm.

 
Looking deep into Kenny’s weary and watering eyes, Fran smiled lovingly
and said, “You went through all this Hell to return two dollars to someone
you believed to be a total stranger. You’re crazy! I knew there was a
reason I broke up with you.”

 
She callously took the cash and shut the door, leaving Kenny on the ground.

© 2008 Jlwilliams22



Author's Note

Jlwilliams22
www.jlwonline.com

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Reviews

Fantastic story!!! The story reminds me of the normal old way/fashion/style of storytelling that is less boring. Instead of trying to get the picture, you make the reader get the picture with ease and flow. Just work on the replacement of Kenny's name with a pronoun. Kenny character is so well introduced that he is perceived and known.

Kenny, at the other hand, is quite fascinating. A strong character indeed.

Posted 2 Months Ago


This is a really well done piece! I love it. Good job. Im very surprised it has not had more views.

Posted 5 Years Ago



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Added on February 14, 2008

Author

Jlwilliams22
Jlwilliams22

Brooklyn, NY



About
I am a writer who works 9-5 as a hobby, writes all the time out of necessity. more..

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