Chapter 2

The faded blue uniform shirt hung over his thin frame. A belt kept the pants from sliding down. Rocky ignored his reflection the same as he did every morning, knowing he would be unhappy with the image there. At only forty-two, he could never muster enough energy—or find a good enough reason—to change his appearance.

After locking the apartment door, Rocky looked across the complex and sighed. Scenes from his college days played in his head, reminding him of the plans and dreams he had for his future. Nowhere did a run-down dump as he lived in ever fit in with what he planned to do. He intended to climb the corporate ladder and be someone important.

“You got the rent?”

“It’s not due until next week, Clarence,” Rocky said, not even turning to face the cranky manager approaching him.

“Don’t be late. I got people waiting—”

“I’m going to be late for work if I stand here and talk.”

“Heh, you call sitting down all day, pressing a button to let people drive their cars in and out of a parking garage, work? Even a punk kid without a fancy college education could do that job. Yeah, your fingers must be awful tired at the end of the day, Rocky.”

Seething with anger at the mocking tone and look he received from the irritating apartment manager, Rocky skirted the piles of toys and trash, taking the last ten yards to his car in a jog. Jerking the door open, he slid onto the seat and crammed the key into the ignition. Clarence’s laughter followed him as he squealed out of the driveway.

Twenty minutes later, Rocky stood in front of the time clock at Jacoby and Sons Parking Garage to punch in for the day, thinking of how the manager of the run-down apartment building was right. It didn’t take a college degree to sit in a filthy cramped box for eight hours a day and press a few buttons so the gates opened or closed at the correct time.

“God damn it, this isn’t why I spent four fucking years in college. What the hell am I doing here?”

It was time for a change—past time—and he knew right where to start. Ripping his time card into as many pieces as he could, Rocky threw them onto the pavement and walked back to his car. He had enough, and for the first time in years, he held his back straight and his head high.

Back at his apartment, the first thing he did was open the grimy blinds. Filthy windows came close to stopping the sun from filtering into the dark room. A series of holes in the corner of the glass confused him until he realized they were from a BB gun. Empty beer cans and pizza boxes littered the floor and counter. A stale odor clung in the air, pushing him into activity as it dawned on him the smell was his fault.

Grabbing a trash bag, he crammed every piece of garbage he saw into it, opening another when the first one became too full to add more. Without enough cleaning supplies, he couldn’t scrub the place as he should have, but an hour later it looked livable. He took three trips out to the dumpster before he was satisfied enough to take a break.

“Why you back?”

“I live here,” Rocky replied as Clarence caught up to him on the cluttered sidewalk.

“You get fired? Rent’s still due.”

“How many times has my rent been late in the seven years I’ve lived here, Clarence? You know damn well I’ve always paid on time.”

Something in Rocky’s voice stopped the old man from answering. Or maybe it was the daring glint in the normally spineless tenant’s eyes. Clarence stared at the finger stabbing him in the chest and shut his mouth. Rocky watched as the manager turned around and hobbled into the office several units away.

The empty refrigerator reminded him it had been far too long since he had done any grocery shopping. Sitting in his tattered recliner with a glass of cold water, he knew he needed a plan. Soon after walking away from his job he had received a phone call from the parking garage owner and despite his perfect work attendance during his seven years of employment with them, he no longer had a job. Instead of feeling bereft at the loss, he welcomed the freedom.

Rocky spent the next three days armed with newspapers, pots of fresh coffee, and a notepad and pencil. It didn’t take him long to realize the college degree he earned twenty years before did little good in the current job market. Tired of searching, he tossed the notepad into the garbage can and opened the door to go for a walk. He needed somewhere quiet to think. Once he reached the corner, he hesitated. Then he turned toward the local park. It would be perfect.

He hadn’t intended to stare. Rocky respected peoples’ privacy, but the proximity of the park benches made it impossible for him not to notice the redhead. Fiery strands tumbled down her back, failing in their attempt at covering the bright orange shawl thrown across her shoulders.

“Have you ever gotten such bad news your brain couldn’t comprehend the ramifications?”

The question broke into Rocky’s thoughts. “Excuse me?”

“I’m dying.”

The blunt statement shocked him. He opened and closed his mouth several times before he realized he didn’t know what to say.

“It’s OK, I would rather you didn’t tell me all the lame things people say in order to be helpful. The truth is I think I knew what the prognosis was going to be. Do you believe in premonitions?”

Trying to digest her words, Rocky hesitated.

“My name is Moira, by the way,” the young woman said, clutching her shawl to her as a gust of wind lifted it from her shoulders. During any other time in her life, Moira would have walked away before even beginning a conversation with a stranger. Unassuming in demeanor, her clothing hinted at the fire simmering inside.

“Rocky Manville, and yes, I do. Some people know ... things ... will happen, but I’m not sure how to explain it. Maybe there’s a feeling—from inside—that teases the senses in a different way than what’s normal to them.”

“I began having headaches. Slight, the kind you take something for and they go away, you know?” she asked, turning to look out over the small playground several yards away.

That a stranger was sharing such personal information gave Rocky the impression she had no one close to her. Because he both cared for others and had nowhere to be, he listened.

“Do you have children, Rocky?”

“No, not yet.”

“I was supposed to get married, a long time ago. He cheated on me. Would you ever marry someone you loved who slept with another person when engaged to you? I mean, how could he love me and then take her to his bed?”

“He was a fool for choosing another over you.”

Rocky wasn’t sure how he knew Moira was a good person. His instincts were often wrong. This time he had no doubt he was right. Looking into her eyes, he saw only truth and honesty. She wasn’t hiding behind the pretense of name-brand clothing or designer shoes. Whatever else she was, Rocky felt comfortable with his opinion.

“I used to love playing on the merry-go-round when I was a kid. Daddy would make it go so fast he was afraid I would fly right off,” she said, smiling at the memories.

They watched as a young boy chased an errant ball, his childish giggles innocent and pure. Rocky noted the longing in Moira’s eyes before she looked away to hide it. That she wouldn’t have her own seemed cruel.

“Summer is so beautiful. It gives one hope for a brighter tomorrow,” she remarked. “I’m chattering. My mind is so chaotic right now and what I’m saying is coming out in that same disjointed manner.”

“Then I should let you in on a secret. I’m an expert at translating chatter.”

Her laughter transformed the introspective look on her face to one of carefree happiness.

“Uh huh.”

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I have little doubt you think so. But I can’t even make sense of myself so how can you?”

“Try me.”

“My doctors gave me no more than six months. That was three months ago. They warned me what might happen, but I’ve done my research. This could turn really ugly.”

The breeze—so warm all day—seemed to turn cold and damp, sending chills through Rocky. Seeing the way she shivered, he moved over to her bench and pulled her against him without even thinking. Moira resisted for only a few seconds before letting her weight fall onto his body. He felt the dampness of her tears through his shirt soon after.

“I’m sorry I—”

“Never be sorry for being human.”

“But—”

“The Hopi Indians have a saying: Don’t be afraid to cry. It will free your mind of sorrowful thoughts.”

He saw her nod and smiled.

“Rocky?”

“Yes?”

“Why were you here today? I mean, sitting here in the park?”

“You don’t want to hear about me. My life is dull and boring.”

“What do you do? I mean, what kind of job do you have? And I don’t think it would be dull.”

Settling back against the bench again, she waited for him to begin. Moira sensed he was struggling with issues of his own, yet had never hesitated to let her lean on him. That revealed a great deal about his character.

“I don’t have a job. Well, I did. Instead of punching in I ripped my time card into pieces and left without saying a word.” He grinned, still reveling in the rush of taking a stand involving his future.

“That sounds intriguing. Most people today hold on to their jobs, not give them up.”

“I suppose that makes me a little odd, but...”

“Define odd first,” she said and smiled.

“That would be a forty-two year old wasting a college degree working in a parking garage.”

“Times are tough, Rocky. People often take whatever job they can to pay the bills.”

“Moira, I went to work at Jacoby and Sons seven years ago when I moved here from another state. I thought it would be temporary, until I found something better. But I never looked.”

“All right, that’s odd then. But you had a job.”

“I put in my time each day and went home to a run-down apartment. That was my life.”

“Didn’t you want more?”

“I thought I would marry.”

“Was there ever anyone special?” she asked.

She didn’t ask more when she saw the sadness in his eyes. Losing someone special was an occurrence she was familiar with but didn’t want to experience again.

Rocky cleared his throat before speaking. “It was a long time ago, when I was young and foolish. She deserved someone responsible, someone who provided for her, someone dedicated to making her happy.”

“We all have faults. Seeing them through the eyes of others shows us how to be a better person.”

They sat in silence until Moira turned to Rocky. “This park is a wonderful place to be when you need to think.”

Trees and shrubs dotted the landscaping surrounding the benches. Rocky noted the sound of children laughing and suddenly understood the woman’s draw to the park. He turned back to her and nodded.

“It’s very peaceful,” he said.

His conversation with the dying woman had been so unexpected he hadn’t had time to consider his own problems. Besides, his troubles were nothing compared to hers. While trying to find the right words to say next, he heard an alarm ring. Moira reached into her pocket and pulled out a small stopwatch. She tapped on it a few times until it stopped. Then she slowly stood.

“I have to go...” She looked away before continuing. “The pills aren’t going to change the outcome. Each time I take them, I wonder what would happen if I ... stopped.”

Rocky grasped for a reply that wasn’t trite or cliché.

“Yesterday you were a stranger. I sat on that bench and you told me you were dying. I ... I felt an ache so intense I wanted to cry.”

Moira looked at Rocky for so long he worried he said something wrong. The world around him disappeared when he saw the pain in her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to be a bother,” she whispered before pivoting to walk away.

“Moira, wait.” He went to her side when she stopped. “You weren’t a bother. You’re strong and wise and gave me a lot to think about.”

“Wisdom didn’t keep the tumors away. And I won’t always have the strength to fight.”

The angry tone of her voice was completely opposite from the gentle way she spoke before. Rocky wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I apologize. My illness isn’t your fault and I shouldn’t have...”

Although his life didn’t often include interacting with other people, Rocky felt drawn to the redhead.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time. Let go, if that will help,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms.

Moira stiffened her back for a few seconds. She fell against his chest as the sobs she tried to hide burst free. Strange emotions filled him as he struggled to fit the pieces of the past hour together. He suddenly saw that his impulsive decision to quit his job changed how he saw the world around him. Her blunt statements about death and dying made him realize his tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. All he wanted to do was help—yet he felt helpless.

Several minutes passed before Moira moved. Tears clung to her eyelashes. Rocky fought the urge to brush them away. He didn’t know her well enough to touch her in such an intimate way.

“Thank you. I feel better now.” She used her shirtsleeve to dry her cheeks as she spoke. “I don’t break down very often, but if I do, it’s not in front of anyone.”

Some instinct told Rocky it was time to lighten the conversation. He touched his damp shirt and smiled.

“That makes us even, because I don’t let just anyone leave their tears on my shirt.”

The frown on Moira’s face slowly turned into a smile. Rocky felt the tension leave her thin frame.

“I’m glad we met, Rocky. If things were different...”

He pulled her close for a brief hug, wondering if he would ever see her again. Her arms snaked around his waist for a few moments. Then she untangled herself and left. Rocky wanted to follow her but she hadn’t given any indication she wanted him to help her home. He returned to his car where he sat for several minutes before driving across town to his apartment.

The short time he spent with Moira had a huge impact on Rocky. Instead of spending his days hunting for a new job, he found himself at the park, hoping he would see her again. Rain or shine, he took up residence on what he called her bench, staring into space for hours. Their conversation ran through his head day and night. Her comment that she only had three months to live ate at him as the days passed.

Questions filled his head. What would he do if he only had a few months left? One morning before he went to the park, he saw the apartment complex manager heading his way.

Rocky ignored the man, turning away instead. He didn’t care about anything except seeing Moira again. He cursed himself for not getting her number. Still upset with himself, he drove to the park, planning to spend the day on her bench once more. His pace increased when he saw a woman with long red hair sitting there.

“Moira?” he asked. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were—”

“Are you Rocky?”

He stared at the stranger without replying.

“Yes, I can see you are. My sister described you perfectly.”

“You’re her sister? Tell me, please, how is she? I’ve been here every day hoping she would be back,” he said.

“My name is Mia. My sister and I weren’t close. I didn’t even know she was sick until a few days before the end. She was so independent.”

The woman resembled Moira. Questions filled Rocky’s head. The woman—Mia—spoke again.

“My sister told me about the day you two met. She hadn’t been out for quite a while but she loved this park. She talked about you as if you were a long-time friend.”

“I only talked to her one time.”

Mia studied Rocky before continuing.

“Apparently the cold air got into her chest ... she wasn’t strong enough to fight both the cancer and the pneumonia. She didn’t suffer. For that, I am eternally grateful,” Mia said.

“She changed my outlook on life. I’ve been here, on this bench, every day since I met her.” Rocky swallowed to keep his tears from falling. “I’m sorry. I’m babbling when you lost your sister.”

“Moira had an impact on many people. She was special.”

“Thank you, for coming here...”

“She didn’t ask for much, ever, but she made me promise to look for you here at the park. This is for you,” Mia said, pulling a slim envelope from her purse.

Rocky couldn’t speak. He took the envelope and held it against his chest.

“I have to go. My children will be home soon...”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

She gave him a soft smile that reminded him of Moira. Then she left. Rocky slid onto the bench she vacated and wept. He cried for the beautiful woman who lost her life far too young. Even though he knew her prognosis, hearing that she was gone pierced his heart. Laughter penetrated his thoughts. He turned to see a young couple walking along the path. Not wanting anyone around when he read her letter, he jogged to his car, making the drive home in record time.

Inside his apartment, he stared at the envelope for several minutes. When he finally broke open the seal, a single sheet of paper fell onto his lap. He took a deep breath and began to read.

Rocky,

I was a complete stranger when I told you I was dying, yet you offered me your shoulder to lean on. Your kindness helped me through a rough day. For that, I thank you.

My life goals changed when I heard my diagnosis. God decided I wasn’t having children but never did He say I couldn’t have friends. Although we didn’t have time to learn much about each other, I considered you my friend. I couldn’t make it back to the park ... but I sat there with you many times in my mind.

I will miss many people, including you, but I know everyone will be OK without me. God has a way of preparing us to handle difficulties even if we don’t think we can. He protects us from the evil that surrounds us and places us in safer environments.

I’m sorry we didn’t have more time, Rocky. I’ll save a spot on the bench for you.

Moira

He read the letter twice before carefully returning it to the envelope. Tears ran down his face as he worked through the emotions swirling inside. Moira was gone but he would never forget their brief conversation. Her strength inspired him in ways no one ever had. His future wasn’t guaranteed, but he vowed to better himself as a way of honoring her memory ... starting with fixing his life.

PART 2

Rocky spent the remainder of the week trying to decide what he should do about a job. He read Moira’s letter so often he knew the words by heart. Although each sentence was special, one seemed to have a message within the words.

He protects us from the evil that surrounds us by placing us in safer environments.

He thought about the environment around him. When he first moved into the apartment, most tenants were married, and many had children. Each year the complex looked worse. The pool didn’t even have water in it anymore.

Another week passed and Rocky still didn’t have a new job. He hadn’t spent much money while he was working and accumulated quite a large savings account. He wasn’t worried, but he knew he couldn’t sit around forever. To give himself something to do, he decided to take a drive around town.

“Maybe I’ll see some help wanted signs,” he mumbled to himself as he closed his front door.

“You get a new job yet? The rent’s about due again,” Clarence said when he stopped near Rocky.

“Shut up, Clarence. You’re so damn annoying.”

Rocky walked around the manager. His shoulder brushed against the old man’s arm even though he wanted to shove the irritating man away.

“Hey, that hurt. You better watch it or I’m calling the cops on you.”

Turning to face the old man, Rocky hesitated before speaking. “If you want me to hurt you, I will. Be prepared to feel pain, though; a lot of pain.”

When Rocky first lost his job, he didn’t have any plans. Weeks later, he still didn’t know what to do with his future. The rent wasn’t due for a few days. However, the man’s constant nagging gave him a headache. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’ll be out by the end of the week.”

“You have to give four weeks’ notice to get your deposit—”

“Fuck the deposit. There’s no way I’m staying in this dump another month,” Rocky said, cementing his sudden decision. “Move out of my way now, Clarence. I’m off to find some boxes so I can start packing.”

Walking with a lighter step than he had in years, Rocky turned his back on the man. Once in his car, he paused before driving away, pondering the recent changes in his life. Stagnant for so long, trapped in a dull and boring routine of his own making, he suddenly felt free and alive. Satisfied with his decision, he drove to town to look for boxes.

An hour later, with the back seat and trunk filled with boxes, Rocky returned to his apartment. First, he calculated what he would put into storage until he chose a new place to call home. Then he lined those items up on one wall of his living room. The opposite wall he kept for the personal items he would take with him. A call to a storage facility secured a unit for six months. With his energy high, he went into his bedroom, prepared to fill the boxes he had stacked there. He began with the closet.

“What the... ?”

He stared at the books he pulled from the back of the shelf. A small journal slid to the floor. Even without opening it, Rocky knew the last entry had been while he was in high school. He wasn’t sure why he stopped writing. He kept the book closed, not reading any of the pages. Instead, he looked at one of the yearbooks. Long forgotten memories rushed over him of his senior year in high school. He skimmed through the pages until he spotted a picture of Marco. His best friend since middle school, the two went to the same college where they met up with Greg and Calvin.