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Soggy bun and ketchup squished up between my toes.
Eww. Fighting my gag reflex, I retrieved the shoe I’d just purchased during yesterday’s lunch and sat on the closest bench to rummage through my bag. Where’s a darn tissue when I needed it? Then I remembered I’d used them earlier to wipe Chai tea off my things. Again, I was not surprised; it just went with my day.
Two designer-dressed women pushing luxury strollers passed by, and one eyed my foot with an expression of horrified disgust. From a distance, I bet the ketchup could’ve passed for blood. Now, do you think either one of them, or anyone else for that matter, would offer assistance with their precious bottled water?
That’s okay, I didn’t expect it, either.
A giggling child caught my attention, running as fast as his chubby little legs would carry him away from a woman who’d given chase. Mother or nanny? The child’s glee brought a smile to my face, until I realized he bee-lined for the busy street.
My heart lodged in my throat. I jumped to my feet, horrified to realize the woman would never catch him in time.
With barely a second to spare, a young man who’d jogged past me a moment ago dropped his water bottle and snatched the boy out of danger. The frantic woman grasped the child to her chest and collapsed to her knees. Mother. My own heart pounded so loud I barely heard her tearfully thank the man who’d saved her son.
I don’t feel bad about my ketchup toes. If he’d stopped to offer his water to wash my foot, that precious little boy might have been hit by a car. Carrying my unread book and damaged shoe, I teeter-tottered back to work, feeling like a jerk and beginning to wonder if I didn’t break a toe kicking the copier this morning. None of it seemed important after what I witnessed, but it still hurt.
The afternoon crawled by and I found myself contemplating the hero thing again. Earlier I was being goofy about it, but now I think I finally figured out the true trouble with heroes. Ask a hundred people their definition of a hero, and I believe you’d get a majority of similar answers. Our society is so enamored with Superheroes, and great BIG gestures that are easily recognizable and indisputably heroic, that the little everyday, wonderful things people do for others often times go unnoticed.
Superheroes are great, but they’re not real.
The man who saved that child is a hero, no doubt about that. He might even be super. But you know, so is Nalinda’s grandmother—to Nalinda. And Mr. Apology’s brother—to his wife. (At least, he better be.) And Mr. Apology himself, for trying to make things right despite my ungrateful attitude. Oh, to turn back time.
On my walk home, I looked around and was amazed at the whole new world before me. I searched for anything good and found signs at every turn. Friends hugging when they said hello, a woman assisting an elderly man onto the bus, couples holding hands, a little girl gazing at her father with hero-worship in her eyes.
I now realized we must look carefully every day, or we might end up missing what’s right in front of us.
Because I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking, I stepped on an uneven section of sidewalk, twisted my ankle, and broke the heel of my unscuffed shoe. You know what? I didn’t even care. Laughing quietly to myself, I took off both shoes, stuffed them in my bag, and limped barefoot the last block.
I reached my building and started up the stairs a little after six, hoping there’d be hot water for a long soak in the tub, but not holding my breath. For some reason, a noise behind me caught my attention. I’d like to think it was because I was more tuned in to my surroundings after my epiphany.
Squinting across the street into the dim alley, I saw some kids harassing a homeless man. They laughed as they pulled at his clothes and kicked him where he lay on the ground. I knew his name was Jerry because last month I heard someone say “Good morning, Jerry,” to him. I’d kept walking that morning, pretending I didn’t see him, because homeless people made me uncomfortable.
Anger flashed through me—at myself, and at the kids for picking on someone less fortunate. Without thinking twice, I hurried across the street, fumbling through my bag for my cell phone. Jerry attempted to get to his feet, but one of the kids shoved him back down.
“Hey!” I yelled. “Leave him alone!”
The tallest of the three tormentors turned on me. He looked about high school age. I lifted my chin to meet his gaze, but he was in the process of assessing if I posed a threat.
“Who’s gonna make us?” he sneered.
Apparently, I wasn’t—a threat, that is.
“I mean it.” I stiffened my spine for an extra inch of height and glared up at the kid. “Get out of here or I’ll call the cops.”
To prove I meant business, I waved my phone in the air. The kid lunged forward and suddenly I didn’t have my security line anymore. He laughed in my face.
“Whatcha gonna do now, hero?”
Yeah, what was I gonna do now? I hoped he couldn’t see I was shaking in my bare feet. Newspaper rustled against the pavement behind me. My pulse skyrocketed into the red zone as I realized Jerry and I were now surrounded, neither one of us capable of protecting the other.
“You heard the lady. Get the hell out of here.”
Oh, my God—German Chocolate Cake! I never expected to hear his wonderful voice again. Weak-kneed with relief, I started to turn around, but he stepped past me to post himself between me and Jerry, and the smart-mouth little jerk. I would’ve laughed at the kid’s expression if I hadn’t been so darn scared.
Our rescuer’s six-foot-plus frame and broad shoulders outlined in a black T-shirt were enough to convince the spineless punks it was time to split.
“And don’t let me catch you here again,” he called after their cowardly backs.
His electric blue gaze shifted to me for a quick appraisal before he held out a hand to help Jerry to his feet. He spoke softly to Jerry while I concentrated on stopping my knees from knocking together. Mr. Apology then reached into his pocket with one hand while pointing across the street with his other. Jerry stared at him for a long moment before accepting a set of keys with an expression of dignified gratitude.
