2 Dec
[Bartolome Esteban Murillo - Brother Juniper and the Beggar]
Can our hearts become cold? By that I mean, can we stop caring about some things, some people?
In the story below, Once upon that time, Karen fights to save the orphanage where she grew up from being torn down. In her way are the new owner and his son who is in love with her.
What causes a person’s heart to be or become cold?
So until the next story . . .
It should be our actions that makes the difference, not what we say. (*_~)
2 Dec
09
A warm Saturday afternoon, men and their heavy equipment outside, waiting to do what they were going to be paid to do. Karen and Matthew, inside. They could hear voices and the sounds of machines. The owner of the building was home; he did not want to be nearby, not with reporters swarming the place. He was eating lunch when the phone rang.
“Hi dad,” his son said.
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the orphanage with Karen.”
“Where?! Get out of there!”
Dead tone. He tried to call him, but he turned his cell phone off. He tried to call the person in charge, but the noise was so loud that he could not hear his phone ring; it not being on vibrate.
He rushed to his car and drove like a race car driver, speeding against time. Please, please, he said to himself. When he reached, it was too late, the building was now rubble. The reporters saw him and quickly rushed over.
“Mr. Blake! Mr. Blake! they shouted.
“Out my way,” he said, pushing them aside and heading to what once was an orphanage. “Matthew! Matthew!” The people did not understand. He turned around and began to say, “My son . . . My son was . . .”
“Hi dad,” a voice from the back of the crowd said.
He looked despondently around. “Matthew?” he asked. His son came forward, holding Karen’s hand. His father was angry, and tried to hide it, not wanting to draw attention to why he had rushed out there. “I think we better leave,” he said. “Just the two of us.”
His son let go of her hand. The ring around her neck, was now on her finger.
Thank you for reading.
2 Dec
08
He was about to look, but she told him to keep his eyes ahead. “Do you know where I live?” she asked.
“No.”
“So you were going to drive until–”
“You said something.”
“And if I didn’t ask?”
“I wouldn’t have mind,” he said, pulling over. “Do I remember what?”
There was a chain around her neck that she took off, and on it was a ring. She held it up, and asked, “This?”
“No.”
“I was waiting for this person to show up again.”
“Again?”
“When your mom was talking with some of the children, and you and I were in the kitchen getting the snacks, remember what you told me?”
“No.”
“Think.”
“I . . . I told you that . . . I told you that I wanted to be like you.”
“And then you gave me this ring. Remember what I said?”
“That when I was, come back.”
“You never did.”
“I’m seven years late.”
“Why were you walking around with a ring in your pocket?”
“My mom gave it to me and told me to give it to the person I found interesting. Why did you take the ring? Why you kept it?”
“Because deep in that person’s heart, there was someone I like.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been so stupid.”
“Yeah you were,” she said, smiling. “You’re forgiven.”
“About the ring.”
“I’m keeping it,” she said, putting it back on the chain. “Now, what can we do to prevent the building from being torn down?”
“We can be in it.”
2 Dec
07
“What are you doing?” Jane whispered to him, as he was driving her home.
“Nothing.”
“Then why is she here?”
“You can let me out on the sidewalk,” Karen said. “I don’t want to cause a rift between you and your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
Jane was silent after that. But that was not a surprise to her; he had repeatedly told her that they were only friends–nothing more. After dropping her home, he told his other passenger to come and sit in the front seat. She did.
“They’re going to tear down the building tomorrow.”
“Your father has no feelings.”
“He does.”
“I mean loving feelings.”
“There’s something we can do.”
“We? I thought you wanted the building torn down?”
“I wanted to hurt you.”
“Hurt me; why?” Don’t answer that. Let me out.”
“I can take you home.”
“In the restaurant that day, were you–”
“Don’t mention it.”
But she being stubborn, still did. “You asked if I remembered your mother, and I guess you. You only came to the orphanage once; why?”
“Because I thought my mom wanted to force me into doing what I didn’t want to.”
“Remember this?” she asked, showing him something.
1 Dec
06
The more Karen protested that the building not be torn down, the more he wanted it to be. She and others finally knew who it was that bought the building, and they could not believe it. Not the husband of the woman who had done so much for them. They took their protest to his bank, and was across the street making their voices heard, when after seeing them once again on the news, Matthew showed up, bringing with him Jane.
“Children need that home! Orphans need that home!” they shouted.
She ran across the street when she saw him, and stopping him, asked, “Why don’t you talk to your father?”
“Do I know you?” he asked, as he walked away.
“Help stop what your father’s doing,” she said, going after him and getting in his face. “Stop what your–”
“Step back young lady,” a security guard said. Ignoring that request, she continued. He grabbed her arm, hurting it.
“Ow,” she said.
Matthew seeing what was going on, to Jane’s dismay, took Karen’s hand and led her into the bank. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?” She was moved by the softness in his voice, and told him that she was okay.
His father was not happy to see her, and was eager to see her leave. Which she did, and his son with her.
1 Dec
05
“Hey,” he said, getting her attention when they were out the restaurant.
“I’ll catch up with you guys,” she said to her friends. “Are you stalking me?” she asked him.
“No. Do you remember Mrs. Blake?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “Why?”
“I’m her son.”
She thought for a minute, and when she realized who he was, she was not smiling. She left him standing there and joined her friends. He was surprised by her reaction, and became bitter. It was not until late that he got home.
“Matthew,” his father who was waiting up for him said, “where have you been? It’s 11:30pm.”
“I’m going to bed.”
“Where have you–”
“I was out driving around okay.”
“Until almost midnight? Jane called three times.”
“I’m going to sleep,” he said, as he climbed the stairs.
“I’ll talk to you in the morning!”
And when morning came, he was still not in no mood to talk. His attitude was like a jalapeno pepper. His father looked at him as they both sat at the breakfast table, and was not sure what to say.
“Dad,” he began, breaking the silence, “about that building.”
“What about it?”
“You should tear it down.”
“Why the sudden change in showing interest?”
“No reason. You should tear the building down and build a bigger one so people can have jobs,” he said, as he got up to leave. “And dad, sorry about last night.”
1 Dec
04
“I’ll be right back you guys,” he told them, as he got up. “I’m going to order something.”
“We’re almost ready to go; what more do you have to get?” one of them asked.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
He joined the line and stood behind her. She was chatting and clowning around with her friends. He whispered her name, and when she turned around, he looked the other way, pretending that it was not him who did. The line moved and she moved with it. He whispered her name again, and once again she turned around.
“Are you whispering my name?” she asked him.
“Me?” he innocently asked, as he pointed at himself.
“Yeah you.”
“Yes,” he confessed.
“Do I know you?”
“You don’t remember me?”
“Next in line,” the person behind the counter said.
She turned around and ordered, and after being served, went and sat with her friends. His were about to leave, but he stayed behind, not giving them a reason; although, one of them in particular wanted one. She offered to stay behind too, but he told her that he wanted to be alone. So retaking his seat, he watched and waited until Karen left.
30 Nov
03
His dad wanted to build another branch of his bank, but what concerned his son was not the orphanage. His only visit there resulted in him not caring. He had refused to hug any of the children, and when he smiled, it did not come from his heart. His mom had done those things so lovingly. Karen had noticed; noticed what he had done.
His life consisted of having fun and spending money without worrying about the concern of others. He was his father’s son.
It was four days later when he and his friends were sitting in a restaurant; they intentionally sat where they could watch and make fun of the people coming and leaving the establishment. She and a group of her friends came in, and they made fun of them. But he did not.
30 Nov
02
Once upon that time, when he was ten, when his mom had taken him there in hopes of wanting to help the orphans, he met her. She was an orphan, and was one year older than he was. When he first saw her, he was mesmerized by her animation. The way she had made the other children laughed and felt important. He never found out her name–and he never went back. But there on the news, she was being interviewed.
“What’s your name?” the reporter asked.
“Karen.”
“How long have you been living at the orphanage?”
“Since I was eleven, and now I’m eighteen. I don’t live here anymore, but this was the first real home I ever had. I just want to say that we’re not going to let them take or tear this place down. Only a bad person would do something horrible like that.”
“Do you know the person who bought the building?”
“No, but that person should donate the building so that children who don’t have a place to live, can have a place to live. We’re not moving!” she screamed.
The reporter then turned her focus on the building and the other protestors.
“What are you going to do with the building?” Matthew asked his father.
30 Nov
01
His father was watching the news when he came in. He paid no attention to him, and was about to go upstairs when his father called out his name.
“Matthew.”
“Yeah dad.”
“Come take a look at this.”
“What?” he asked, entering the room where his father was.
“These idiots on the news.”
The idiots he referred to were the people protesting the closure of the orphanage. They had no money to pay their rent and bills, and so, the building was sold. He bought it, not caring about his late wife who used to visit it. She took their son there once when he was ten, and now he was seventeen.
“That girl there,” he continued, “seems to be the loudest.”
He turned to see who that girl was, and when he did, a lump came into his throat.
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