OTHER PATHS TO GRACE

OTHER PATHS TO GRACE

When he noticed a police patrol car turning onto the street where Chuck was walking he quickly slipped into a narrow alley between two warehouses. It’s not that he hated cops and never blamed them when he was arrested after committing a crime but with his rap sheet avoiding their attention caused him less stress. After he noticed the patrol car pass by he continued down the alley because he concluded it was his best option and was mildly surprised when it lead him onto a narrow street between the warehouses and the loading docks designed for freighters.

Because it was Thanksgiving Day there were no Longshoremen or any of their equipment around and all the warehouse doors were closed and locked. In fact, there was no one on the docks or ships anchored in the bay. The only thing out of place was a sedan, perhaps six years old, parked near the edge of the dock. With no one on the dock and no one in the vehicle Chuck decided to investigate the car. He had stolen many cars in his life but this one would be the easiest one to take because the doors were unlocked, the driver’s side window was down and the keys were still in the ignition switch. 

After glancing around again for possible witnesses Chuck sat in the driver’s seat to study the gift, for good or bad, fate had tempted him with. On the floorboard of the passenger side was an opened woman’s purse. In the passenger seat was a haphazard stack of papers. After a lifetime of hardships he pondered the temptation Karma was presenting to him, but this train of thought only lasted a few seconds when he picked up and read the hand-written note on top of the stack of papers. The note was a short suicide note signed by a woman named Grace Andrews and under the note was an eviction notice and at least a dozen open letters from creditors demanding payment to past due bills.

Chuck told himself people kill themselves all the time and there was nothing he could do to prevent it and she was likely already at the bottom of the bay, but he at least felt enough pity to straighten up the stack of papers and return the suicide note to the top of them. His dilemma was what to do with the car and her note. He was off parole and the cops were no longer looking for him and it was so easy to just steal a dead woman’s car to make some quick money. But the note? How could he deliver it to a next of kin without connecting himself to the stolen car?

This conflict was suddenly cast aside when he heard the faint, anguished cry of a woman, a sound that reminded him of his own mother after his father had beaten her and stormed out of the house. Against his natural instincts to avoid any more drama Chuck stepped out of the car to find the source of the crying.

At the edge of the loading dock, on a cement incline that gradually sloped down to the bay he saw her leaning against the incline, her hands cupping her lowered head. Chuck carefully inched himself down the incline until he was sitting beside her.

“What do you want?” Grace meekly asked when she noticed she had company.

“To help you if I can.’

“You’re three years too late to help me,” she replied as she turned her attention to the water.

“A lot of people go through rough times in their lives,” Chuck tried to assure her.

“And that makes them experts on helping others?”

“Of course not, but ...” 

“You don’t look like you’ve done all that much suffering to me,” Grace mocked his sincerity in a near whisper.

“Considering my father constantly verbally abused me and physically beat me and my mother and she couldn’t stay sober for more than a day and I spent most of my childhood in and out of foster homes and started stealing in my teens, you’re right,” Chuck whimsically replied. “So I’ll just leave you to your own troubles.”

“Look, I know you mean well and maybe you’re life has been crappy but you can’t bring back what I’ve lost.”

“I apologize for reading your suicide note, but the truth is I was seriously considering stealing your car until I read that note.” 

“What a perfect irony!” Grace managed to chuckle. “But you should have taken my car. I’ve lost everything ... everything ... worth anything to me ... my husband and daughter in a car crash and they’re taking ... taking away ... our home, the only home our daughter ever knew. That damn car means nothing to me.” 

“Isn’t there a job you could get that pays enough to at least save your home?”

“Of course there is because I used to be a paralegal and it paid very well and a year after we buried my husband and daughter I applied for was given those jobs but ... I ... I had to ... to quit both jobs because ... because I couldn’t shake the lingering guilt and depression and I ... I would suddenly start ... start crying at my desk and ... at conference meetings.” she painfully, honestly told him as she fought back her tears.

“Okay, I understand the depression and grief but isn’t there family members you can turn to for comfort and support?’

“Not on my side of the family because there are so few of them and none even live in my state or on my husband’s side of the family because ... because they all blame me for my husband’s and daughter’s death. I ... I ... was sick from the flu and ... they drove though the pouring rain ... our precious little girl insisted she go with him to get the prescription filled ... at the drug store when ... their SUV was rammed by a guy who ran a red light,” she stated while trying to control her overwrought emotions.

“Relatives can be real heartless jerks,” Chuck assured her, then asked, “Can I ask you a personal question you don’t have to reply to?”

“Sure. Why not? What difference does it make now?”

“How long were you married before the accident?”

“Eight years, but why is this important now?”

“Was it a good marriage and were you all happy?”

“Of course we were. That’s ... that’s why ... it’s all so painful to me.”

“Well, I don’t want to sound like a heartless jerk myself but eight years of happiness together is more than many people ever have. I would trade all the beatings both me and my Mom received for just one month of true happiness.”

“Are you belittling the loss I’ve gone through?”

“Of course not! But my perception of loss is based on my own difficult childhood.”

Before replying Grace stared at him long enough to wipe the tears off her cheeks.

“So you steal cars, right?” she finally asked and, after Chuck nodded yes, asked followup questions, “And you spent time in jail, right? Are the cops looking for you now?”

“Yes, time in jail, first as an adolescent, then an adult. They haven’t been after me for six years because I’m off parole and have been very careful who I chose as a Fence now.”

“You ever kill someone or hurt them badly while stealing their car?” Grace earnestly wanted to know.

“No, no, no, no! I don’t even carry a gun. That’s why I’ve had no armed robbery charges and I’ve had my share of s**t and am not going to pass it on to others.”

“Okay, and by the way, I’m Grace,” she offered him as she patted Chuck on the shoulder.

“I’m Charles, Jr. but don’t want to be reminded of that b*****d. Call me Chuck,” he admitted as he started inching his way back up the incline. “And it was nice talking to you Grace, but I’m leaving you alone now to figure out what you want to do and if you decide not to swim with fishes your car will be waiting for you.”

With him now standing on the loading dock, as he started to walk away, she called up to him.

“Hold on a minute, buddy, because I want to make a deal with you.” she offered as she climbed up to the dock.

“I’m not going to kill you because you don’t have the courage to do it yourself, Grace.” 

“Don’t be stupid, stupid,’ Grace jokingly mocked him as she stood on the dock. “This is the kind of deal where we can accept the past and perhaps move on somehow. So here’s my part of the deal: I treasure those eight wonderful years together as I pull myself together, find and keep a paralegal job and keep it hopefully without the tears flowing again and try to work out a deal with the bank to keep the house.”

“And my part of the deal?”

“Should be easy enough for you. Quit stealing and don’t even think about stealing and get a legal job that will pay your bills.” 

“I’ll really try but it won’t be easy for either of us. You realize that, don’t you?”

“Or course it’ll be difficult as hell, almost like cold-turkey ending an addiction. But then again what can I lose I haven’t already? And you, you’ll have to deal with a complete lifestyle change” 

Chuck reacted on impulse and give her a quick, embarrassed hug, then backed away from her.

“I know enough about repairing vehicles, starting very young because my b*****d old man made me do all the work on his, and I’ve always worked on my own cars and, yeah, I could easily get a job at a garage that repairs cars.” 

“Deal?” she asked. 

“Deal,” he replied, “but being very sensible about it now do we know we’re each keeping our part of the bargain?”

“We’ll exchange phone numbers,” Grace suggested, then wondered, “You want a ride home?”

“I won’t turn down a legal ride, but what about the papers in the passenger seat?”

“I’ll tare up the suicide note and the rest of the crap gets tossed into the rear seat for now and later I’ll try to talk the creditors into giving me a little more time.”

“Have you got a computer at your place where we can stay in tough on-line as an option to the phone?” Grace quizzed him after they were seated in the car.

“Had a damn good laptop until about six years ago but had to sell it to help cover attorney’s fees.”

“Okay, and don’t take this the wrong way, but you can have my husband’s laptop once I’ve saved the personal files to a Flash Drive and then delete them from the laptop. Anyway, I have my own laptop and a full size desktop and his laptop in the house would be a sad reminder of what happened.”

“Dum vita est spes est.”

“That’s Latin! And it means what?”

“Where there is life, there is hope,” Chuck translated it for her.

“Wow! Simply wow! You had a crappy childhood but you still must have down well in school.”

“Hardly,” Chuck laughed. “They doctored my grades to let me graduate because they claimed I was a bad influence on the other boys.”

“But the Latin?”

“I was a guest in our state prison twice and, just to let you know, I don’t drink because of my Mom being a lush and never did drugs, but I do love to read when I can.”

“So you taught yourself while in prison?”

“Pretty much because I read every book, from history to philosophy, I could check out of the prison’s library. The only vises I’ll admit to are stealing and smoking. Other than that I’m a self-made nerd.”

“So staying in touch on-line is okay with you?”

“After I’ve saved up enough money to rent a place that isn’t a dump I’ll get internet service,” he promised her. “And it’s likely we’ll both have relapses, like me having nightmares of being beaten or some of the horrible things I saw inmates in prison do that I didn’t dare report. And it’s possible you’ll have nightmares of the wreak or moments of survivor guilt so, yes, and we’ll need someone to tell us we have the strength to pull through it. And you’ll the only real friend I’ve ever had.”

“You’re making my blush now,” Grace chuckled. “But the truth is the first time I talked to you my gut instincts told me down deep inside you have a good soul and I owe you so much for helping me figure out my life was worth continuing.”

“Au contraire, Grace. You’ve reminded me there were still paths open to redemption.”

She patted Chuck on the shoulder again and flashed him a warm smile as she drove him to his dump.