Jack had just left Claire’s apartment and walked to the subway to take the last train home. The rainstorm earlier in the evening had left it a cool dark October night and the cool breeze felt great.
The opening of her exhibition at Valentin’s gallery had been more successful than either of them could imagine. They had a magical evening as they mixed with friends, art critics, fellow artists, and potential patrons.
Everyone agreed that Claire was the up and coming artist of the year for all the east coast and possibly in all of North America. Views that vindicated his faith in her. A faith that had led him to ceaselessly support and buoy her spirits in those moments of self doubt that she had over the years.
From the moment he met her he could see the inner light in her. That special gift that expressed itself from her hands onto the blank canvas with such easy grace. Jack himself had no such talents. He was a mere accountant at a local company. But he knew talent when he saw it. He knew a gift when it expressed itself before his eyes. He knew Claire was special and he also knew he loved her.
He didn’t want her to think he was just supporting her talent for an ulterior motive so he kept it to himself. But now, now he would tell her. Now that she had made it he couldn’t keep this to himself any longer. He felt like running back and doing it now but he would be patient and tell her the next day.
He took the stairs down to the subway and waited at the platform. It was a typical Sunday night. No one there but an old man in a dingy raincoat that had seen better days and dirt brown pants finished with black shoes. He nodded to the old man and the old man looked back.
A stringy old fellow with a weather scarred face. Brown and wrinkled skin. A shock of unruly white hair with piercing blue eyes. Jack felt uneasy being next to the old man. As if he would suddenly turn and pounce. The minutes seemed to stretch on and on and nothing came down the subway.
The anxious feeling continued. Jack seemed short of breath and had a tightness in his chest. He decided to go up top and hail a cab.
“It won’t work, they won’t see you” The old man finally spoke
“what?”
“The cabs. They won’t see you. You’re dead you see. Happened a few minutes ago in a back alley. A mugging I’m afraid. Blotted out the memory for you. Makes it easier I find.”
Jack just looked at him like he was nuts. He took off up the stairs and found the old man waiting on the surface for him.
“Go look if you want. Most of them do”
Jack noticed several police cruisers and a small crowd clustered round a nearby alley. He didn’t need to look to know what he would find. The unfairness of it all struck him. Why of all times now? Regrets, remorse
“Why?” Jack finally asked
The old man suddenly looked surprised as if he hadn’t expected this bit
“Well, it was simply your time my lad”
“What the hell does that mean? My time? who the hell determines that?!”
They both sat down on the curb and watched the hearse arrive and the reporters take notes and pictures.
“Believe it or not lad you did what you came to do in life and now it’s time to go”
“what? you mean Claire? But anyone could have done that. It’s not rocket science”
“oh but it is.” The old man got up and started walking. Jack followed along.
“You see the thing is….. everyone in life has this specific role that they have to play. it’s like some giant complicated equation. Only one variable will plug-in right. Otherwise the whole equation gets thrown out of kilter. You were that one thing that Claire needed to push her to a new level”
“So why can’t I stay then?”
“too much of a good thing? Maybe if you had stayed you would have affected her art, maybe she wouldn’t be as great. Don’t know. I don’t make the rules. Don’t even enforce ’em. I’m just here to guide you to your next stop.”
“But it doesn’t make sense. One entire life just to inspire one person for a brief moment? Seems like a waste to me.”
“you’re lucky actually. Sometimes it’s millions of people dying in a war before a world leader changes his mind and decides to intervene in a war. How do you think those folks feel? I once knew a fellow that gave a pregnant mother a dirty look. That’s all he had to do. forty-eight years alive just for that. Who can figure it out?”
“will she be ok?”
“Her? oh hell yes! Told you she’s going to be a great artist. Be sad for a while of course but then she meets the love of her life….or something like that.”
“What?!?! who?!?”
“Never mind that now lad. Nothing to be done about it and we’ve places to go.”
“speaking of which, you know where I’m going? Say by the way what’s your name?”
“Virgil. Don’t rightly know that either. I’m just here to drop you off at your particular exit”.
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