The Man Who Needed a Miracle

February 27, 2008 at 5:22 AM

"I need a miracle. Please, I don't want to go back there!"

Tuesday afternoon, bulky flakes of snow pierced the ground while an elderly man walking away from an assisted living home shouted into the air, "I need a miracle! Please don't let me go back there."
Alfred, my violin teacher’s beloved son, a dog, walked me. We had passed him when his silence was only a mere whisper carried off with gentle winds, touching the tip of my ear, but not my heart. He spoke of invisible family and wearing away, but I could not hear him. So, I said a quiet, “Hello. How are you?” and walked on.
“Come on, Alfred,” I tugged on his leash. He stopped and stared at the old man once more. He pulled me on once he decided the man was no threat.
The elderly man wore a blue jacket, tattered green corduroys, and thick rimmed glasses. I have seen him everyday hiking towards campus, despite his slow pace. He’d converse with himself occasionally (or so I think he speaks to himself) in the mail room or the dining hall lounge, but in a quiet, subtle tone.
Today, his legs seemed to push him. His stomach poked out, and his head was two inches behind his feet.
I kept my eyes straight ahead of me, sometimes momentary glances at Alfred or the pole he would mark his territory on. But, never at the man, so as to not be rude.
The ground felt like a slide, and even worse, I wore sneakers. Alfred’s favorite hill was just around the corner, the man was far behind us now.
“Alfred, you cannot and will not run down the hill, today. I will fall and break a leg and some fingers. We cannot have that!” I yelled as he started to pick up speed.
“Alfred, I mean it. If I fall--.”
“I need a miracle! Please, I don’t want to go back there.”
“Stay, Alfred,” I said and glanced around to see who was yelling.
The tone was high pitched and strong. I grew scared. Is someone hurt? I thought. Oh, gosh.
I saw the man coming around the corner, looking up into the sky as he walked.
“I need a miracle,” he yelled. “I hate it there! Please, don’t make me go back. No!”
I stared at him in helpless agony. What could I do to make him stop making me feel this way? Stop yelling, I screamed inside. I can’t help you.
“I need a miracle!” He yelled, each time louder.
A young man walked by, I needed reassurance.
“Is he okay? He is making me sad,” I said.
“Oh, he’s like this all the time,” the college student, (I assume, since he had a backpack latched around his neck), replied. “Don’t worry.”
Why don’t feel I feel comforted? I asked myself.
“But I have never heard him talk out loud like this. I mean, maybe we should go talk to him,” I suggested.
“Well, if you want to lady, go ahead. He talks to himself all the time. Loud, softly—what’s the difference?” He continued to walk down the hill. I stared after him, my mouth thinned out, eyes wide with anger.
“I need a miracle,” the old man’s calls grew faint as he moved further away. Alfred began to stir. He looked into my eyes. He sat up and began to follow the old man, ears and head perking up everytime he heard one of the man’s calls.
“No, Alfred. This way.” I yanked on his leash. He came back.
I do not feel good, I said to myself. The old man’s words banged on my skin, my heart, my mind like a hammer on a nail (excuse the cliché). Give him a miracle, I called out, breathless.
So, I stopped. “Why am I passing on the miracle job to someone else when I could very well be the miracle?” I asked Alfred. He looked at me, frustrated. “Well, the only time I think of you as a miracle is when you give me a treat and food. Right now, you're a pain--are we going or not?” I could hear him ask me.
“We’re going back up that blasted hill,” I yelled at him. “Come on, Alfred! Come!”
We ran. I slipped--a couple of times without the horror of falling as a result.
The man came into view. His arms were raised in the air. I could hear a faint cry. Should I go to him alone? I thought. What if he is mean? What's the worst that could happen? Death, rape, teeth pulled out in weird ways...
Alfred jerked me out of contemplation and we were jogging towards the man.
“Ummm…excuse me?” I asked when I finally reached the man.
“I need a miracle. I need a miracle.” His yells had become whispers once more. He chanted.
“Ummm…hey. How are you? It’s a beautiful day isn’t it?” I said, trying to be as sensitive as possible. I was not getting off to a good start.
His head popped up as if he had an epiphany. “Are you okay?” I asked.
He glanced at me and his eyes seemed to glisten. “Are you talking to me, young lady?”
“Well, I am not talkin’ to myself,” I said and then muttered, “Oh, shoot” when I realized the implications of my reply.
“I mean, yes, I am talking to you. Alfred here does not understand much English. Just a few words like stay, sit, treat, food, and home,” the man stared at me for a few seconds and then laughed. I blew out a breath. My humor doesn’t always go over so well. I looked at Alfred, he seemed to say, “Good job, Jazzy. Just keep talkin’ and you might have us in the grave, yet.”
“Shutup.” I whispered.
“What?” the man asked.
“Oh…did I say something? Anyways, I saw that you lived in the apartment building back that way--,”I began.
“I don’t want to go back there,” the man muttered.
“What is your name?”
“I am Ralph.”
“What’s wrong with your apartment building?”
“It’s….” he did not finish his answer.
“Do you like musical instruments?” I asked.
“I play the harmonica.”
“Oh, cool. Does your apartment building give recitals?”
“No, but there’s a piano in the lounge.”
“I play violin. It’d be really nice if the people at the front desk would allow a recital. You and I could play together and maybe some students from the college,” I said.
Ralph looked at me with confusion.
“Why?” He asked out of nowhere.
“Why what?”
“Why would you waste your time rehearsing with an old folk and playing for old folks?” He asked.
“Because I want to. I mean, and of course it’s not a waste of time. I enjoy playing the violin, so it’d be fun," I peaked at my cell phone. "Well, I do not want to keep you, so I am going to finish walking Alfred or else he’ll eat me.”
Ralph chuckled.
I strolled towards the hill.
A gentle wind touched my ear and in it I heard Ralph whisper, “Thank you.” I spun around. He was a few feet away, his head facing straight ahead, his hand folded in front of him.
I smiled as I watched him turn the corner.

From Drew Lecher
Posted on February 27, 2008 at 5:42 AM

Jazzy,
How does it feel to be the miracle angel in Ralph's life? Beautiful!
God bless,
Drew

From Pauline Lerner
Posted on February 27, 2008 at 7:34 AM

You wrote such a good suspense story that I held on and read faster. I like your solution to the problem. Once again, music will touch people's hearts.

From Tom Holzman
Posted on February 27, 2008 at 4:54 PM

Great story.

From Donna Clegg
Posted on February 28, 2008 at 2:45 AM

Bravo!

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