It's a Wonderful Life
Snow fell, thousands of heavy flakes covering the streets, covering the people on those streets as they hurry home or to a friends. Brightly colored packages tucked under arm, held proudly in mittens, and carried by the ton in holiday accented store bags. They are oblivious to what is about to happen over by the bridge that leads out of town; the big one that spans over the cold, icy black water. There is someone standing looking over the edge. His red hair is plastered to his pale face, eyes riveted to the darkness below. He doesn't seem to notice the occasional car slugging through the snow behind him, the cheery shouts of Christmas joy, or the cold. In fact he looks like he doesn't care about anything.anymore.
He certainly doesn't notice the cloudy sky above, or the conversation taking place right over top of his head.
"See that man?" A low and soft voice speaks.
"Which one?" A questioning voice answers.
"The one by the bridge."
"The one that looks like he's going to."
"Yes, that man."
"Oh," a soft sigh "What's wrong with him?"
"He's wishing he'd never been born."
"But why?"
"For many reasons. Here let me show you."
Icicles dangled from drooping tree limbs, snow lay thickly over rolling hills, and school was called off. Which meant that the high-pitched voices coming down the lane could only be those schoolchildren freed and reckless. Sleds of all colors and materials lay at the top of old man Miller's farm, on a huge hill that the kids coveted as their drop of doom. A petite brunette child, twin braided pigtails flying behind her as she flew down the hill, small knuckles white from gripping the sled screamed as she descended, catching the attention of one of the older boys waiting up top. His amethyst eyes found the source of the commotion giggling her little head off as she tumbled from the sled into the powdery snow. He smiled faintly, shaking his head ready to turn back to the conversation the older kids where having about who could make it down the farthest and was there a steeper slope over by grocery store when he noticed a car coming up the road. Coming really fast up the road.
"Ayachan get out of the road."
His voice rang down the hill, unheard by the chatty group below.
He sighed, irritated.
"Aya move it."
He glanced down the road, and turned back to where the group of eight year olds where standing. The car was suddenly around the curve, not slowing down and heading straight for the Aya who was standing right in its path.
Before he could even think about it the boy bolted down the hill, heedless of the snow tugging on his legs. Free of the sloping hill he slid into a dead run, booted feet hitting the icy road seconds before car wheels churn up the sled Aya had been sitting on. His hands pushing her out of the way, he slips and falls. The side of his head hitting the icy road as the car disappears out of sight. He rolls slowly over on his back, staring dumbly up at the sky. He can see Aya's face hovering over his; her mouth is moving but nothing is coming out.
"So what happened to the boy?"
A crowded restraunt in the middle of lunch hour rush, a mass of confusion and orders being yelled through the kitchen.
"Ran here's that order for table twenty-three." He appears suddenly and absconds with the large platter cutting swiftly and with the ease of much practice through the milling people and stray chairs. At table twenty- three sits a young man, golden hair swept back into a ponytail, long legs sticking out in the isle.
"Here you go." He gracefully unburdens himself of the tray, placing the sandwich and soup before his last customer of the day.
"Thanks." A wink followed by an unbelieving headshake. "I still can't understand why you've taken this extra shift?" Green eyes look up at him, obscured by a strand of golden hair. Ran unconsciously reaches a hand up and pushes the obstruction away; the pale skin of his hand accidentally brushes against the tan cheek of his friend. He pulls away quickly a blush staining his face.
"I want to see everything." His eyes brighten and his voice lefts above it's usual quite tones. " I want to be somebody who shakes the dust from this little town off my shoes." He reaches around and pulls the papers he had folded up in the waistband of his jeans, warm from being pressed into the small of his back; a constant reminder.
"It's the application to a university in England."
"Only you would get this excited over going to school." A wide grin softens the words.
The papers go back to their resting place and Ran shrugs.it's no big deal if others don't understand him. He needs to get back to work and finish up.
"Let me get that out of your way." He leans forward fingers grabbing the wine glass across the table; his blond friend takes the opportunity to whisper into his ear.
"You're beautiful."
He straightens up, eyes narrowed.
"You know I can't hear out of that ear."
Another grin from the blond.
"I know."
It's his turn to shake his head but before he can think of a reply a young girl motioning for his attention from one of the smaller tables interrupts him.
"Excuse me."
"No prob."
He turns unaware that green eyes follow him.
"Hi Rankun." Her brown eyes shift from staring at his previous customer to staring at him.
"Hello Sakurachan, what can I get you?"
Lunchtime is over and so is his workday. Apron hung up in one long black line with everyone else's waiting for dry cleaning. He is about to leave when the phone rings, no one is in the office so he answers it like he's been told to.
"Is Mr. Frank Potter there?"
"Hold on one minute please."
Ran puts the receiver down and finds Mr. Potter in the pharmacy next door. Mr. Potter owned the building keep his pharmacy and rented the bottom out to the restaurant. That was how Ran came to work an extra shift in the restaurant. He worked in the pharmacy upstairs on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and worked weekends downstairs.
"Would you mind the store while I'm gone?"
"Sure Mr. Potter." He relaxes finding peace and quite among the bottles and rows of pills.
Moments later the bell chimes, heralding Mr. Potter's return.
A piece of paper falls from Mr. Potter's hand landing on the countertop.
He ignores the boy who watches quietly, wondering at what is wrong with his employer. Why he looks so ashen?
"Mr. Potter is everything alright?'
"Fine." A choked answer.
"Do you need my help?"
No answer.
Ran can't help but read the open note.
His eyes widen in shock.
Mr. Potter's son has been killed in a car accident.
He watches as Mr. Potter fills a prescription.
"Deliver this to Mrs. Banks.'
"But Mr. Potter it's."
"Don't talk back to me, now go."
He takes the small box and slips it into the palm of his hand.
It will never make is to Mrs. Banks.
It's Monday and the Potter Pharmacy has just opened. Ran sits behind the counter reading for a school assignment when Mr. Potter comes in, livid.
He stands over Ran, shaking with fury.
"I told you to deliver Mrs. Banks her medicine. She told me it never came. Do you know what could happen to her if she doesn't get it?"
"You idiot."
A fist hits his left ear.
And he just stands there, tearing flowing down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry Mr. Potter, I know you where upset.you gave Mrs. Potter the wrong pills. It's not your fault."
Mr. Potter looks at him, horror reflected in his eyes as blood flows from Ran's ear.
He hugs the boy to him.
"It's me that's sorry boy."
"So Mr. Potter would have killed that woman?"
"Yes, he would have if Ran had never been born."
"And he can't hear out of that ear?"
"Completely deaf."
"Poor child." A soft whisper.
"There's more, watch."
Snow fell, thousands of heavy flakes covering the streets, covering the people on those streets as they hurry home or to a friends. Brightly colored packages tucked under arm, held proudly in mittens, and carried by the ton in holiday accented store bags. They are oblivious to what is about to happen over by the bridge that leads out of town; the big one that spans over the cold, icy black water. There is someone standing looking over the edge. His red hair is plastered to his pale face, eyes riveted to the darkness below. He doesn't seem to notice the occasional car slugging through the snow behind him, the cheery shouts of Christmas joy, or the cold. In fact he looks like he doesn't care about anything.anymore.
He certainly doesn't notice the cloudy sky above, or the conversation taking place right over top of his head.
"See that man?" A low and soft voice speaks.
"Which one?" A questioning voice answers.
"The one by the bridge."
"The one that looks like he's going to."
"Yes, that man."
"Oh," a soft sigh "What's wrong with him?"
"He's wishing he'd never been born."
"But why?"
"For many reasons. Here let me show you."
Icicles dangled from drooping tree limbs, snow lay thickly over rolling hills, and school was called off. Which meant that the high-pitched voices coming down the lane could only be those schoolchildren freed and reckless. Sleds of all colors and materials lay at the top of old man Miller's farm, on a huge hill that the kids coveted as their drop of doom. A petite brunette child, twin braided pigtails flying behind her as she flew down the hill, small knuckles white from gripping the sled screamed as she descended, catching the attention of one of the older boys waiting up top. His amethyst eyes found the source of the commotion giggling her little head off as she tumbled from the sled into the powdery snow. He smiled faintly, shaking his head ready to turn back to the conversation the older kids where having about who could make it down the farthest and was there a steeper slope over by grocery store when he noticed a car coming up the road. Coming really fast up the road.
"Ayachan get out of the road."
His voice rang down the hill, unheard by the chatty group below.
He sighed, irritated.
"Aya move it."
He glanced down the road, and turned back to where the group of eight year olds where standing. The car was suddenly around the curve, not slowing down and heading straight for the Aya who was standing right in its path.
Before he could even think about it the boy bolted down the hill, heedless of the snow tugging on his legs. Free of the sloping hill he slid into a dead run, booted feet hitting the icy road seconds before car wheels churn up the sled Aya had been sitting on. His hands pushing her out of the way, he slips and falls. The side of his head hitting the icy road as the car disappears out of sight. He rolls slowly over on his back, staring dumbly up at the sky. He can see Aya's face hovering over his; her mouth is moving but nothing is coming out.
"So what happened to the boy?"
A crowded restraunt in the middle of lunch hour rush, a mass of confusion and orders being yelled through the kitchen.
"Ran here's that order for table twenty-three." He appears suddenly and absconds with the large platter cutting swiftly and with the ease of much practice through the milling people and stray chairs. At table twenty- three sits a young man, golden hair swept back into a ponytail, long legs sticking out in the isle.
"Here you go." He gracefully unburdens himself of the tray, placing the sandwich and soup before his last customer of the day.
"Thanks." A wink followed by an unbelieving headshake. "I still can't understand why you've taken this extra shift?" Green eyes look up at him, obscured by a strand of golden hair. Ran unconsciously reaches a hand up and pushes the obstruction away; the pale skin of his hand accidentally brushes against the tan cheek of his friend. He pulls away quickly a blush staining his face.
"I want to see everything." His eyes brighten and his voice lefts above it's usual quite tones. " I want to be somebody who shakes the dust from this little town off my shoes." He reaches around and pulls the papers he had folded up in the waistband of his jeans, warm from being pressed into the small of his back; a constant reminder.
"It's the application to a university in England."
"Only you would get this excited over going to school." A wide grin softens the words.
The papers go back to their resting place and Ran shrugs.it's no big deal if others don't understand him. He needs to get back to work and finish up.
"Let me get that out of your way." He leans forward fingers grabbing the wine glass across the table; his blond friend takes the opportunity to whisper into his ear.
"You're beautiful."
He straightens up, eyes narrowed.
"You know I can't hear out of that ear."
Another grin from the blond.
"I know."
It's his turn to shake his head but before he can think of a reply a young girl motioning for his attention from one of the smaller tables interrupts him.
"Excuse me."
"No prob."
He turns unaware that green eyes follow him.
"Hi Rankun." Her brown eyes shift from staring at his previous customer to staring at him.
"Hello Sakurachan, what can I get you?"
Lunchtime is over and so is his workday. Apron hung up in one long black line with everyone else's waiting for dry cleaning. He is about to leave when the phone rings, no one is in the office so he answers it like he's been told to.
"Is Mr. Frank Potter there?"
"Hold on one minute please."
Ran puts the receiver down and finds Mr. Potter in the pharmacy next door. Mr. Potter owned the building keep his pharmacy and rented the bottom out to the restaurant. That was how Ran came to work an extra shift in the restaurant. He worked in the pharmacy upstairs on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and worked weekends downstairs.
"Would you mind the store while I'm gone?"
"Sure Mr. Potter." He relaxes finding peace and quite among the bottles and rows of pills.
Moments later the bell chimes, heralding Mr. Potter's return.
A piece of paper falls from Mr. Potter's hand landing on the countertop.
He ignores the boy who watches quietly, wondering at what is wrong with his employer. Why he looks so ashen?
"Mr. Potter is everything alright?'
"Fine." A choked answer.
"Do you need my help?"
No answer.
Ran can't help but read the open note.
His eyes widen in shock.
Mr. Potter's son has been killed in a car accident.
He watches as Mr. Potter fills a prescription.
"Deliver this to Mrs. Banks.'
"But Mr. Potter it's."
"Don't talk back to me, now go."
He takes the small box and slips it into the palm of his hand.
It will never make is to Mrs. Banks.
It's Monday and the Potter Pharmacy has just opened. Ran sits behind the counter reading for a school assignment when Mr. Potter comes in, livid.
He stands over Ran, shaking with fury.
"I told you to deliver Mrs. Banks her medicine. She told me it never came. Do you know what could happen to her if she doesn't get it?"
"You idiot."
A fist hits his left ear.
And he just stands there, tearing flowing down his cheeks.
"I'm sorry Mr. Potter, I know you where upset.you gave Mrs. Potter the wrong pills. It's not your fault."
Mr. Potter looks at him, horror reflected in his eyes as blood flows from Ran's ear.
He hugs the boy to him.
"It's me that's sorry boy."
"So Mr. Potter would have killed that woman?"
"Yes, he would have if Ran had never been born."
"And he can't hear out of that ear?"
"Completely deaf."
"Poor child." A soft whisper.
"There's more, watch."