| Mr. Samuel D Jenkins |
 |
 |
| Written by Sarah Grade 9 | |||
|
After two weeks it happened again. Ever since the first time it had happened Mr. Samuel d Jenkins had been trying to prevent it. Mr. Jenkins was a 69-year-old man but unlike other 69 year olds Mr. Jenkins was utterly alone. No wife or kids, not even a dog or cat. Sometimes Mr. Jenkins would walk down to 73 rd street and look in the window of “jacks pet-o-ram-a” he would look in the window and just when he had made up his mind to bring meaning to his life with a tiny white kitten he would remember Elli and turn away. Before we delve into the characteristics of Mr. Jenkins and the things that made him a crotchety old man, let us spare a moment to define his looks. Mr. Jenkins was the sort of man you look at then quickly avert your eyes. Its not that he was ugly or wild looking in fact he was clean and tidy and had once been considered handsome. No the reason was the outright hostility that radiated from his very core, in the combination with the look glued to his face, a mix between a frown and someone with stomach problems. In his use he had always had a sunny smile and a cheerful disposition. Mr. Jerkins' pants were crisply pressed the pulled up to as though he was afraid they would slid down his scrawny legs and settle round his boney ankles. His shirt was likewise as stiff, the collar circled neatly round by a bow tie. The oatmeal coloured sweater was long sleeved and while it was patched at the elbow the patches were so neat they almost looked intentional. If one possessed the bravery and perseverance to look him in the eyes they would have noticed his eyes were a steel grey this in combination with the horned rimmed glasses gave him a Permanent bug-eyed look only heightened the stern and unusually hostile look permeating from him. His iron coloured hair once rich and abundant was now thinning and the shiny bald patch coupled with the receding hairline made it look as though someone had taken a lawn mower to the top. Now that you have a brief idea of what Mr. Jenkins looks like we can get to the real stuff that made Mr. Jenkins the crotchety old man he is now.Mr. Jenkins was the kind of person who had been giving all the cards to start with and through a combination of bad luck and a negative outlook on life had lost them. When he was young and naïve he had been charming the typical jock. His father had been high up in the mayor’s army and there were rumors he would succeed the mayor. His mother was a social butterfly. Every day his father came home and ate dinner with his mother, had a glass of port while Samuel's mother read to him. Samuel would sit on a low stool by the fire and listen to the methodic sound of his mother’s voice. Then when Samuel was 11 fates dealt its first cruel blow. Samuel's mother contracted a mild case of pneumonia and through a series of complications the doctor was never able to explain, she died. Samuel's father was distraught beyond the boundaries of sanity and when they buried Samuel's mother they buried his fathers will to live as well. His father quit his job and any thoughts of him being the next mayor were dispelled by the desolate look on his face. Just a year after losing the women who loved him. Samuel's father took his own life.With the loss of both parents Samuel's entire world shattered. And it was not he who put it back together but his childhood friend and next-door neighbor Elli. And as she put him back together an extra piece one that had not been there before was added as she stitched him back together she left a mark on him one that would never dissolve a unwavering protectiveness and a loyalty a loyalty that would some day manifest into something else. L-O-V-E love. This piece remained with him for more than ten years; when at 26 he asked a question to that shattered him and then with one word put him back together as a different man. With that one word the scar tissue that remained from fates many blows was erased and cast into the wind. One word a to be repaid by a lifetime of them, YES. Two months later she walked towards him in a cloud of white gossamer her chestnut hair wound three with flowers and when he lifted her vale to whisper the two words that would bind them together he say that her hazel eyes were glistening with tears, with the exchange of those two little words they carried on into there little piece of forever. And for the next two decades they lived in a bliss slowly aging and enjoying it. Together. Then one day at 62 Elli was diagnosed with stage two lymphoma in the pancreas. Otherwise known as cancer. Until the very last day she smiled and made him promise to do the same on the 5th of may Elli took flight and left Samuel broken and crumpled with no one left to put him back together But when the grant came through to let him buy his Victorian style house the one that he and Elli had been saving up for, the one full of hopes and dreams. Samuel moved to this house and held the door wide open to dispel all the hopes and on slamming the door he completed the put together he did not fix himself the scar tissue simple closed over the wound and held him together. Barely. He became the grumpy old man who growled at girl guides and yelled at the mailman. The bump it was bump under the hand made rug Elli had woven about the size of a grapefruit but nowhere near as easy to catch. It had been stealing left over and cheese left in the traps (all humane as Elli would never kill anything) since the winter chill began to change. You cannot really blame whatever it was, for the house was always toasty and comfortable. The bump came into view from time to time but never long enough to be identified nor caught. It was not until a dreary Friday night on which Samuel had stayed up late, as the nightmares had been getting especially terrifying that the culprit for the lack of Nile wafers had been caught. Samuel was sitting in his lazy boy (the only personal object he had bought since the shattering.) when the bump appeared an unnatural rage began to fill Samuel a rage at this pitiful creature defiling Ellis perfect home. Next to his lazy boy was hard chair that had kept him awake at Ellis bedside. He lifted the knobby chair and as he was about to bring it down in what would have no doubt been a crushing blow a soft whimper escaped to bump and Samuel froze, the whimper seemed to recreate his pain and put it into words a thing he himself had never been able to do. So sad and alone was this sound that while he tried to harden his heart against it felt long forgotten feeling begin to grow. And so rather then crush the bump to bits he gently lifted the edge of the rug to behold... a kitten. While it was not the groomed white purebred of jacks pet-o-ram there was something mesmerizing about its hazel eyes, that were. The. Exact. Same. Shade. As. Elli’s. Suddenly there was someone to put him back together and the raised puffy scar tissue began to fade away. Years later in an old nursing home the population was decreased by one, this death was insignificant to many but to the nursing staff a retired mail-man, and a orange tabby it was a cruel blow. Less then a month later despite tender care on the part of the mailman another was lost. The Bump returned to her master and her namesake, Elli. THE END
|
