Happiness

Some have tried to find it in sex, others in drugs.  Tim had even seen people try to find it in violence.  He had seen the infomercials that would suggest that some new diet would make you skinny, sexy, and happy.  He used to think that he was happy.  He used to be able to sleep through the night without a care in the world.  He was going to be a father.  Yet one day had come and taken that all away from him.  Rather the culmination of thousands of days had come together, it seemed the planets had aligned just right to take a massive shit on his life.

            When Tim had gotten married at a young age he never told his wife that he was a drug addict.  He had sworn to himself that he could just stop when she was his.  Be eleven years cannot just be thrown away with two simple words.  He should never have said, “I do”.  Tim knew the minute he did that he had ruined the life of this woman he loved.  It had taken only one year for the cancer of his addiction to finally kill her.  He hadn’t been able to sleep that night…back when he didn’t have a care in the world.  Maybe that’s why he couldn’t sleep anymore.  Because it had happened at night.  It was that night when she had discovered what she must have always known.  His supplier, who was never allowed into Tim’s house, had paid Tim a midnight visit. Only this was a visit from which Tim wasn’t supposed to go on living. In many ways the dealer succeeded. Tim wished that he had been in bed when the small firebomb went off in his bedroom.  He wished he hadn’t been in the bathroom with his drugs quietly shooting up to feel the rush of nothingness.

            But Tim wasn’t in bed that night that anything that could have remotely been called happiness was blown out of his life.  She was gone, and so was Tim’s just forming son.  Tim didn’t blame his drug supplier though.  He blamed himself, and even though the drug supplier went to jail, it was Tim who was trapped in a worst kind of solitary confinement.  Thought.

            Now here he sat in his bed of a shitty apartment with a whore next to him.  Beer bottles empty on the floor next to the wrappers of protection that never protected what he really needed to protect.  It was 5:51 and he didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do with his life.  She stirred in the bed next to him and he was disgusted with himself.  “Get out” he said.  She cuddled up with the dirty old pillow falling deeper into a REM cycle.  Tim gave her a shove, “Get the Fuck out…my $50 ran out over an hour ago.”

            “Oh baby, this part is free.”  She smiled at him.  

            “Get out! I’m done with you damn-it!”

            “Fuck you!” her voice registering that she was actually being kicked out.

            “You did that already and your services are no longer needed, so get out!”  She gathered what little clothing she had and angrily made her way to the door, knocking over anything she could just to piss of this regular Joe of hers.

            “See you next week?”  She asked as she shut the door, not needing the affirmative response that was never spoken.  But she knew that it would be realized.

            “What the hell are you doing Tim?”  He asked himself as he looked into the darkness that filled his room, like the loneliness that destroyed his life.  He knew that what he was doing wouldn’t make him happy.  He would never really be happy. 

            He made his way to the shower where he washed off the stink of sex and let the hot water hit his face till he couldn’t feel the water anymore.  Then he shaved and just looked at himself in the mirror.  He didn’t remember how fucked up he looked.  Huge black circles under his eyes, sunken in cheeks, his face was expressionless.   He had no muscle tone in his body; he was boney and decrepit, more of a skeleton then a real man.   He thought of his unborn son that would have been about two years old now.  His beautiful wife that had died.  Was this all that life had to offer?   “Happiness…” he turned from the mirror and went and dressed for another day of whatever came his way.  Life had to be lived, whether or not he wanted.

           

            Tim sat on the subway watching an old lady struggle with her groceries as two young men approach her.  At first he thought the old lady was going to get robbed.  A quick thought reassured him that he would probably do nothing to help her.  But the guys didn’t do anything to her, but helped the hag sit the groceries in an open seat next to her.  She hardly said thank you to the young smiling men.  Smiling…why the hell should they be so happy?  Tim hated seeing happy people, didn’t they know that this world was cruel.  That this world eats people alive.  Traps them and forces them into holes six feet deep and burry everything that you loved.  So far under that they can never be touched again…never loved again.  Never.

            One of the boys returned Tim’s glance and quickly turned way to look out the window.  The other was talking to the old lady, but the train noises drowned out what he was saying to her.  Tim read the deep creases of his own palms.  No sense in looking at anyone.  Maybe they would die too.  You never know whom this world is going to burry next.

            “Hi, sir.” The young man who Tim had met eyes with stood there looking at him.

            “Huh?” oh Christ he was a beggar wasn’t he?

            “Hi, My name is Elder Rogler.” His hand extended in a greeting.

            Tim looked the man up and down without reaching out his hand.  “Elder?”

            The sheepish looking boy pulled his hand back, “Elder Rogler, I’m a missionary from the Church of Jesus Christ of…”

            “Christ!  You’re a religious one?”  Why people found religion worth talking about was ridiculous.  Why waste time with vain beliefs?

            “Yeah…I…I am a religious one.  What did you say your name was?”  This kid could take an insult.  Didn’t even show that it had hit.

            “I didn’t.  What do you want?”  Tim didn’t like talking to anyone, much less a religious freak on a subway.

            The kid smiled, something had to be wrong with him. “Well I…or rather my companion and I go around sharing a message about Jesus and how he has restored his gospel again upon the earth.” 

            “What?” All Tim got from that response was that the religious freak was gay.  He smiled a little to himself thinking that it was kind of ironic.

            “Er…I’m sorry I am new. I just got to Chicago yesterday; I am from upstate New York.  You from around here?”  They gay religious freak seemed to relax a little.

            “Yeah I live here in the city…wait you’ve been here one day and you already have a boy friend?”  Tim had been single for two years in this damned city.

            “What? Boy friend?  Oh no…No! Haha…”  a hesitant smile broke out on his face, “I’m not…I’m not gay, I am a missionary, my companion, that guy,” he pointed to the other clean cut guy standing and talking to the old lady still. “He isn’t my boy friend, he is my partner, and we work together.  I have a girlfriend…” he laughed again and Tim started to loosen up a little.  Something about this kid was real. 

            “Oh! Wow…I bet you get that a lot though, lets me honest.”  Tim said to cover his slip. 

            “I guess…wrong word to use… my bad.  Anyways like I said my name is Elder Rogler and I am a missionary.  I’m here sharing a message about Jesus Christ, maybe my companion and I…” he paused smiling a little to himself, “could stop by sometime and share this message with you?”  This kid had to be like 18 and he wanted to come to Tim’s house?  Tim was going to have to clean up a little.

            “Umm…” He didn’t know how to say no. What did this kid know about life?  He decided that a wrong address would be good.  “Yeah sure.  I live on Fifth Street.  The apartments are called Greenwood Apartments. I am in apartment 237.” 

            The young guy scribbled down the false direction in a small white booklet and then asked. “Ok cool! When can we pass by?”  There was a giant smile on his face.

            “How ‘bout tomorrow? Whenever in the afternoon.” Tim said with out smiling.  He was far to good at lying.

            “Oh and what was your name? I never got it.”

            “John Doe…Dotty” Tim said with a smile. Poor kid.

            There was a knock on Tim’s door late one night, at about eight o’clock.  “What the hell?” he said under his breath as he made his way through the mess to the door.  He put his beer on the dirty bookshelf and called out “Who is it?”

            “We’re the missionaries for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”  A shaky but somewhat familiar voice called out.

            Shit! How the hell had they found him here?  He started to laugh.  Then he opened the door to find the two guys from the subway in the hallway.  “How the hell did you do that?” was the only thing he could say through his amused smile.  He wasn’t even ashamed for lying to them.

            “Do wha…John? I thought you lived on Fifth Street?” the more familiar one said as the other gawked at him.

            “I lied…and my name may or may not be John.” He was still laughing.  Just his luck.

            “Really?”

            “Tim.” He said and extended his hand for a proper introduction. “Tim Ronaldson. Nice to meet you…again.”

            “Elder Rogler” he shook his hand smiling also. “This is my companion Elder Franklin…So, umm like you already know we’re here to share a message of Christ.  Is it ok if we come in?”

            “I guess…It’s a mess but I really wasn’t expecting anyone…wait how did you find me?” 

            “We live just upstairs and we didn’t want to go home just yet. We decided to bug our neighbors.”  This was the first time Tim had heard the other guy talk.

            “Oh wow…just my luck, I lied to the religious guys who live upstairs…well come in I guess.”  Tim stepped aside to let them into his small apartment.  “You guys want a beer?”

            “No we don’t drink.  But thanks!” Elder Rogler said as he passed into the messy bachelor pad, a huge smile on his face.  Tim wasn’t sure if he liked that he was so happy.

            “Oh…I should have guessed that.  Well sit down and make yourselves at home.”  He wasn’t quite sure how to be a good host; the last person that visited him was paid to be there.  Tim instantly felt a strange tinge of guilt in his stomach.  

            There was an awkward aura in the room until the slightly older looking one spoke.  “So Tim, you from around here?”

            “Yeah, born and raised!” He tried to sound more excited…excitement wasn’t really Tim’s thing these days. “How about you guys? Where are you from?”

            Elder Franklin jutted in as Elder Rogler was about to speak, “I’m from Texas, San Antonio area.”  He had a Texan attitude thought Tim.

            “I’m From New York like I told you the other day.  This is actually really funny that we found you here.  We found Fifth Street. But no apartment building…nice try though.”  He smiled mischievously.  Tim liked him immediately.

            “So how do you know?”  Tim asked Elder Rogler. 

            Elder Rogler looked at him, almost doing a double take.  “You mean believe in Christ?” his shocked face was impossible to hide.

            Tim felt small.  But he felt like he could really talk to this young kid. “Yeah…I mean does it really count as believing when that’s all you have ever been told in your life?  Plus the guy has never helped me.”

            Elder Franklin’s face turned red.  “How dare…I mean…” he started then stopped as Elder Rogler’s hand brushed his knee.

            “I know what you mean, man.” Elder Rogler said.

            “How? Hell, you wear his name on your chest.  You look like a Christian FBI agent that has come to tell me that I am going to hell.”  Tim laughed lightly.

            “You’re not going to hell, Tim.  Life’s complicated.  And I wish I could tell you the right answer.  That I could tell you that yes you should just believe because that’s what everyone else tells you to believe.  But that’s a load of…”

            “Shit?” Tim liked Elder Rogler even more now.

            “Yeah…” Elder Rogler’s eyes shifted from his companion, who stared heavily at him, to the ground. “I mean it’s perfectly normal to doubt things.”  Then with more confidence in his words he looked at Tim in the eyes.  “Tim we’ve been over here 5 times and every time you brush off what we tell you with out ever doing anything about it.”

            Tim looked down at his hands.  He felt a weight on his shoulders and he wanted to blame these mormon missionaries for it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  “Well what am I supposed to do about it?  You expect me to be some guy who just…Christ I don’t know, believes everything you say?”

            “No…but Tim?”

            “What?”  He was starting to get upset with his overly religious friend and his pious sidekick. 

            “Why do you keep letting us in?  What do you want?”  Elder Rogler asked with a hint of patience mixed with understanding in his voice.

            Happiness.  That’s what he wanted.  But how was a thirty year old who still dealt drugs and who had lost everything worth having in his life, to say that to some kids who talked about Jesus way too much to be normal?  He studied the floor, seeing dirt that he had missed when he had cleaned before their arrival.  “I…” he felt comfortable with them, but he seemed like if he said it they would laugh at him.  Anyone would laugh at that.  “I want…” He looked at Elder Rogler, ignoring Elder Franklin impatiently looking at his watch.  “I want it to stop hurting.” 

            Elder Rogler looked at him, a half smile on his face.  Not a hurtful mocking smile, but a tender understanding one.  His voice cracked as he started to speak. “I…I cant imagine what you have been through Tim.”  His eyes moistened, “but I know that you can be happy.”  A tear spilt over his cheek.

            Tim sat there stunned and wanting to cry.  He didn’t want to show them that their Jesus talk was getting to him.  He closed his eyes.  He felt something in his chest.  Something that he hadn’t felt since the day of his wedding. Except for the day that he found out Sarah had been pregnant. 

            “That thing you’re feeling…that’s the spirit that we told you about.”  Elder Rogler said quietly.   Tim couldn’t speak.  He didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to say that Elder Rogler was full of it.  “I want you to do something for me tonight.”  Elder Rogler picked up the blue book that they had given him from the half cleaned coffee table.  “Read this scripture,” he highlighted with his pen a part of the book then put a card in it. “I want you to read it, then pray.”

            Tim didn’t pray they had to have known that by now, “Pray?”  Tim said skeptically, “Me…pray?” he smiled but didn’t push idea out of his mind.

            “Yeah…just talk to God and tell him what you won’t tell us.  Tell him what you want.  He will listen and if He does exist, he’ll let you know.  That’s a promise.” Elder Rogler got up from the couch and handed Tim the book.  “We’re late so we gotta get going but do that.  Ok?”

            “Ok.” Tim said without thinking.  He shook their hands as they left his apartment.  Then returned to the couch where he sat and stared at the blue book for what seemed an eternity.  

            His heart began to pound.  He picked it up.  They had told him to read from it so many times before, but he never had.   But something inside seemed to beg him to just try.   He thumbed the pages.  They were crisp and soft at the same time.  He let the book open to where the card was marking the page, and he saw a circle around a few paragraphs of words.

            “And it came to pass that as I was thus racked with torment, while I was harrowed up by the memory of my many sins,” Tim leaned back in his chair, thinking of all that was screwed up in his life. “…behold, I remembered also to have heard my father prophesy unto the people concerning the coming of one Jesus Christ, a son of God, to atone for the sins of the world.”  His mind thought of when he was a little kid and his mother sat at the end of her bed to tell him a story of Christmas.  His heart ached and his cheeks were wet as he continued to read.  “Now as my mind caught hold upon this thought, I cried within my heart: O Jesus, Thou Son of God, have mercy on me, who am in the gall of bitterness, and am encircled about by the everlasting chains of death. And now, behold, when I thought this, I could remember my pains no more; yea, I was harrowed up by the memory of my sins no more.  And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold; yea, my soul was filled with joy as exceeding as was my pain!”  Could I have that joy? He thought to himself.  He yearned for that feeling.  He felt warm and filled.  The hole that nothing had been able to feel seemed to fill.  He thought about all the drugs and the whores how they had left him feeling so empty and worthless.  He never thought that he would feel this, what he felt in this instant.
            He closed his eyes against the tears and tried to picture his life.  It wasn’t going anywhere.  He felt as if his heart was filled yet that it was breaking.  His wife’s image entered his mind and he sobbed.  He missed her more than anything.  He wanted to drink to numb the image of her in his head, but something wouldn’t let him get off the couch.  He sat there with the book open in his hand. 

            His eyes fell to the page and he reread the words “O Jesus, thou Son of God, have mercy on me.” His eyes then focused on one word. Joy.  He didn’t believe in Jesus, he had stopped when his lifestyle had killed his wife.  Why hadn’t that all-powerful being saved her and his unborn child?  To Tim Jesus seemed like a child playing with Legos, building and destroying whatever he wanted.  Ripping legs off of the little plastic men just for the sheer enjoyment of seeing them with only one leg.  This Jesus couldn’t be real.  He would be the biggest joke that the universe had invented. 

            As his mind raced it kept returning to one question, what if?  What if he is real?  Tim tried to push out that question with all the logical reasons why there was no God.  But could this make him happy?  What if?

            What if? Could it be?  This is stupid! He thought to himself through the tears that told him that he was feeling something different.  Something that he hadn’t felt like before.  Then without even wanting he heard his voice in the quiet room

            “God…Jesus?  I don’t know who you are.  But if you are real.”  He stopped himself this was ridiculous, he was just talking into the night.  “I think I might want…God…” I sound retarded he thought then continued, “…I’m sorry…I need to know if you exist.  So if you could let me know, that would be…good.”  He didn’t know how to end. He had never prayed before.  So he just stood up awkwardly and looked around the room.  “Ok now what?” He said to the darkness that flowed in from the windows.  He didn’t feel anything.  Wasn’t he supposed to feel something?  He wiped his eyes and made his way to his bedroom and laid down.   The stale smell of smoke made him remember that he needed to wash his sheets and to start making his women smoke outside.  As he lay there his mind returned to the little blue book.

            At midnight he finally got out of bed and went to the book, it sat on his couch where he had left it.  He was almost upset as he picked it up and flipped it open randomly and barely looked at the page when his heart stopped and his eyes focused on one word.  Christ.  It was everywhere on the page.  He couldn’t take is eye off the pages. 

            Tim’s mind starting to put fragments of what he was seeing together and he started to read.  He read “…God in whom they should trust…whosoever believeth in Christ…” Then reading the next column directly to the right of that he read, “O then despise not, and wonder not, but hearken unto the words of the Lord...Doubt not, but be believing…come unto the Lord with all your heart, and work out your own salvation with fear and trembling before him.” For a few seconds he couldn’t feel anything describable.  It was nonsense to his mind, but it was incredible.  Then the thoughts all at once came to his mind, I do exist, Tim. I am here. I know your pain.

            Then slowly he felt warmth.  He felt right.  For some reason this seemed right to him.  Then, like he had read, the pain was gone.   He felt light, physically light.  He wanted to cry with joy, but he couldn’t move.  He didn’t dare move for fear that this feeling would leave him.  He felt something so real as if he was holding it with his hands, hearing it for the first time, tasting the most wonderful fruit and smelling the freshest air.  In that moment happiness was tangible for him.  He smiled as the tears flooded his cheeks and he hugged the blue book close to his heart, and felt it move to its beats.  This was true, this was his happiness.