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As I lay in bed in the middle of the night, once again unable to fall asleep, I bemoaned the fact that I forgot to fill my prescription for sleeping pills. I tossed and turned, threw the covers off, and punched the pillows into submission as if they were the culprits for my insomnia. Maybe I shouldn't have drunk that last cup of coffee. The red numbers on the radio-alarm clock cast a devilish gaze at me: 2:43 AM. An hour later, with my pillows thrown against the wall in frustration, my frayed nerves felt like they were stampeding up and down my body. Why was my mind racing around a darkened track of work-induced stress? I bolted out of bed, tiptoed to the kitchen, and stole the last banana from the counter. I'd buy fresh ones for my roommate tomorrow. Tomorrow? Why wait? There was a 24-hour grocery store on the promenade of our complex. And the night air might rescue my body from these caffeine invaders. I threw on yesterday's clothes and rushed out the door. The lights were bright in the store. I happened upon the fruit section, and saw a stock boy pulling at the lid of a crate. I grabbed a bunch of bananas in a section close to him. Normally I would have simply walked away and not said anything, too caught up in my own world to bother with someone else's, but something about him caught my attention. It felt like his demeanor was calling me, like his manner of being was pulling me in. Instead of ignoring my intuition like so many times before, tonight I chose to reach out and answer it. I turned and walked towards the young man. "What'chu got there?" I asked. The young man appeared startled. "Oh! Ahhh... I... I thought you... you were my b-boss." "Nope. Just a sleepless customer getting some groceries." "Ummm... s-sorry, sir... I... I don't h-how to say… grapef… grapef…" "Grapefruit?" I smiled and tried to put the guy at ease. "Y-yes. Grapefruit." He looked away for a second then looked back at me. "Can I... I h-help you... with s-something?" "I'm just browsing, thanks. Not really looking for anything." I smiled again, and slowly walked over to the next aisle where the apples were stacked. I tore off a couple of plastic bags from a roll mounted on a wall, and selected six of the biggest apples. The stock boy came into my line of vision, and while I was tying a twist-tie onto the bag, I observed him holding a grapefruit, all the while looking around. Was he trying to find where they belonged? Just then a huge slab of a man exploded out from a set of double doors at the back of the section. "Jack, what the heck you doin' with the grapefruits? I told you to take the oranges out! Can't you get nothin' right?" The stock boy hung his head and dropped the grapefruit back into the crate. He strained with the dolly, pushed it towards the double doors and disappeared into the back room. I walked to another aisle to find the nectarines, and choose six of the most juicy looking ones. A man's loud voice echoed from the stock room. "I don't care if you can't read! If you can't do your job, I'm gonna fire you, you understand that?" Moments later, the double doors opened in slow motion, and the stock boy emerged pushing a dolly with three unopened crates on it. He appeared confused, like he didn't know where to go. He hung his head and pushed against the dolly. I heard a lady's voice yelling in the stock room. "Larry, stop being so mean to that boy! You know he can't read." "This ain't a daycare," he shouted back. "If he can't do the job, I'll have to find someone who can." The female voice sounded exasperated. "Oh you're such an idiot! Just help him instead of criticizing him." While the verbal confrontation was going on, I walked to another aisle, picked up a fruit, and looked towards the young man. He gazed at me, and eventually struggled his way to where I was standing. "Is... is that an or-orange?" "Yeah," I replied. "Why, do you have to restock this section?" He nodded. "Y-yes." "Oh, that's great. Maybe I can get some fresh oranges then. What do you think, Jack?" "Y-yes." "By the way, my name is Joe." "J-Joe. Hi, Joe." He waved his hand even though he was standing only a few feet from me. "Hi, Jack." I shook his hand. Without a word he turned to go back to the dolly, and slowly dragged the crates to the right aisle. "Are those crates heavy?" I asked. "Y-yes." "Do you need help with them?" "N-no." He snapped the lid off one of the crates with little effort this time, and began refilling the orange section. When he was done, I picked out a few of the best looking ones, and put them in a plastic bag. "Thank you, Jack. Now I have all I need." A shy smile enlightened his face, and a look of simplicity and innocence shone in his eyes. Over the ensuing weeks and months I saw Jack in the store on many occasions, and I kept reaching out to him, always exchanging a few innocuous remarks here and there. As he got used to seeing me, he seemed to grow progressively more relaxed, and soon he was laughing at some of my jokes. He learned that I liked oranges, apples, nectarines and bananas, and was ever ready to get fresh ones for me from the stock room. I was amazed at how Jack became more and more personable over time, like I was seeing deeper into him, beyond the façade. We also met by happenstance a few times outside the grocery store, and when I once bought him a coffee, I took the opportunity to broach the subject of his inability to read. Not to my surprise, no one ever took the time to teach him, and I imagined it was probably because he was labeled as learning disabled. I wanted to reach out to Jack some more, and wish I could have taught him even basic reading and writing. But to my great chagrin, one night I discovered from the grocery staff that he was killed in a traffic accident. It turned out that he was colorblind as well, and didn't notice the traffic light turning red. He was crushed under the wheels of a city bus turning the corner. Jack may have had a low IQ, and perhaps he would never have been able to do most of the things that we take for granted, but he was a gentle soul and a kind spirit. Had I not reached out to him during one night of insomnia, when I was taking stock of my own life, I never would have received the gift of his innocent smile. As a stock boy he may not have been able to tell the difference between a grapefruit and an orange, but it seems to me that such an inability has nothing to do with his inherent value as a human being. Once I allowed myself to meet him in his own world, he changed my world for the better. Thank you, Jack… wherever you are. Comment on this story on our public message board |
