The Special Can

Sometimes all you need...is to share your thoughts with a stranger.

            “Penny for your thoughts?” a voice rasped near Sam, causing him to snap out of his thoughts which had kept him occupied for the better part of an hour. He looked up from his large hands to see a dirty man sitting next to him, giving Sam a grin that was missing four teeth.

            The mysterious man’s skin was coated in dirt and he seemed to not mind the dark, greasy hair falling in his face. His eyes were bloodshot and the man let out a putrid smell, but Sam didn’t draw back from the stranger.

            He was used to these people running around New York. They all seemed the same, bad smell, teeth, and clothes.

Sam could tell this one was the same with his ratty clothing and a beaten up messenger bag resting by his feet. The only thing missing was a cigarette dangling from his lips, but Sam was happy that the man wasn’t smoking.

            He couldn’t stand smoke.

            “No, but I’ll give you a penny anyways,” Sam said, feeling around his jean pockets until he withdrew a nickel and placed it in the man’s open hand.

            The homeless man shook his head and placed the nickel back in Sam’s lap. “No, I must earn it.”

            “You did earn it. You came over here and asked for it. Now here you go,” Sam insisted, giving the man back his nickel. These homeless people were always begging at Sam’s ankles for money, so why was this one being so stubborn?

            Figures the one time he decides to be a Good Samaritan he gets the stubborn homeless person to donate money to.

            Sure, it was only a simple nickel, but it was the most he had ever given to a charity.

            “No, I want to listen. Then you give me nickel,” the man said. “My name is Henry.”

            “Well, Henry, I think that there are plenty of other people in New York that you can go talk to,” Sam said, looking back over the Central Park area. He could count at least twenty other bystanders that Henry here could go pester for their thoughts.

            His thoughts were his own.

            “Sure there are, but you seem especially weighed down. Your thoughts are very heavy on you,” Henry said. “Care to tell?”

            Sam sighed, “You wouldn’t care.”

            “I would.”

            Henry was still smiling when Sam looked back at him. Sam couldn’t help but give the homeless man a smile back, “My name is Sam.”       

            “Close with God.”

            “What?”

            Henry closed his eyes and placed his hands over Sam’s own. “Your name means ‘close with God.’ Are you?”

            “I haven’t been to a church since I was fourteen Henry.”

            “Neither have I. They won’t let me in, but still, I’m close with God,” Henry said, removing his hands from Sam’s and looked down at his bag which was resting by his feet.

            “Why won’t they let you in?” Sam asked, his voice slightly rising in pitch as he craned his neck to see what Henry was getting out of his bag.

            Henry sat back up, holding a dented tin can. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s my appearance.”

            “Some people are judgmental.”

            Henry looked at Sam with his wide, soulful brown eyes. “Are you, Samuel? Did you judge me?”

            Sam was only silent. He figured that eventually Henry would move along with the conversation, to safer waters if he simply didn’t answer tough questions such as those.

            His assumptions were right.

            “This is my special can. Place thoughts in it; carry them around in my bag instead of in my head. Helps make thing lighter,” Henry explained knocking on his head with a dirtied hand.

            “What do you want me to do it?

            “Speak to it. You won’t talk to me; maybe you’ll talk to my special can. It’s the only one I have, but my momma told me growing up that sharing made everything better.”

            Henry held out his can to Sam who accepted it with hesitant hands. “Promise you won’t listen?” Sam asked, eyeing his companion with a weary eye.

            Henry nodded and made a cross with his hands across his chest. “I swear on the Heavenly Father. I always keep my promises.”

            For some reason unknown to Sam, he believed Henry and bent his lips to the can and began to speak. “My wife had her second miscarriage and I’ve overheard her crying on the couch almost every night. She’s scared that we won’t be able to have kids and yells at me for not caring about her issues. Then the other day she went out for some coffee after a nasty fight between us and she didn’t come home until the next day. I was so scared that something happened and when she came home, she was crying.”

            “She said she was so sorry and kept on apologizing. I didn’t understand what was wrong until she whispered to me that she had gone to some man’s house and had…well…had cheated. She told me she thought that it was my fault that we weren’t having kids so she went and tried to get another man’s help.”

            “That was the final straw for me. I left without even talking to her. I don’t think I could ever look at her again. How could she do that? She was my wife? She was supposed to love me no matter what. Those were our vows…we were only married for seven years…the best seven years of my life…and now…”

            Sam felt the tears come up, arising like a tidal wave, but he did nothing to stop them. He felt a tear slip down his cheek, and then two, and a whole stream of them.

            He felt a hand rubbing his back as Sam couldn’t help the tears as they streamed down his face as if on a mission. He couldn’t stop, all the pain he had been feeling for the past five days came pouring out in one simple confession to a stupid dented tin can.

            Henry’s voice appeared in his ear, a soft, wistful tone, “They say New York is the city of opportunity .That’s why I came here…for a new chance. My wife died a few years ago from cancer. I spent all of our money on her medical care. There wasn’t much left anyhow. One of my children had been sick a few years earlier. She was buried right by our son.”

            “The trip was hard, but it was worth it. I’m not stupid, I know that I’ll never become the man I was before, but I don’t care. I came here for opportunity for others. There are so many struggling out there. So many like you…Samuel…and really all they need is a special can to talk to.”

            “New York has special powers. It can make people, break them. It causes lives to start and to end. It brings joy and pain. It brings relationships and ends them. But all in all…it causes things to happen. Things here don’t stop. Things here go along. That’s why they called it the City of Opportunity because unlike other places…things here don’t stop if you’re having a bad day…or a bad life. You are just forced to go along.”

            Sam looked up, his eyes puffy, his hair a mess, and tear tracks all down his face. “T-t-t-t-thank you,” he stuttered out. He wiped his face and nose, feeling no embarrassment that he had just broken down in front of this stranger.

            Henry just gave him a sad smile. He picked up the dented special can from Sam’s limp hands and placed it over his heart and breathed in deep. “You’ve had a rough few days, but don’t worry; I’m carrying it with me now.”

            “You’re incredible Henry…can I do anything for you?” Sam asked, already feeling himself down for anymore money then he already had which was just a nickel.

            Henry smiled, “One thing.”

            “Yes?”

            “Live.”

Reviews

[Nikole]

I really enjoyed this story, I especially loved this passage:

“New York has special powers. It can make people, break them. It causes lives to start and to end. It brings joy and pain. It brings relationships and ends them. But all in all…it causes things to happen. Things here don’t stop. Things here go along. That’s why they called it the City of Opportunity because unlike other places…things here don’t stop if you’re having a bad day…or a bad life. You are just forced to go along.”