Therapy On A Park Seat

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I didn't expect the park seat to be cold. It had been a hot day. I looked up and realised that the seat had been shielded by the sun. I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. Wishing that time could go back even if for one minute. Maybe I could retrace my steps and save myself from the looming financial drought coming my way head-on like a truck without brakes. I had just lost everything - my company, house, and investments.

I loosened my tie as a tear dropped from my eye to the crumpled piece of paper from the bank in my hand. I quickly grabbed my handkerchief and wiped my eyes. Then I looked around to be sure nobody saw my tears. It was forbidden for a man to cry in public.

I adjusted myself and watched people pass by. Couples, joggers, school children, and possibly thieves too. But none of them seemed to even notice. I wondered if they had problems choking on their necks like me.

I sat there like a man in a trance, staring at the ground, lost in space. How was I going to tell my wife and kids that the house we've lived in and built a life in would soon be sealed by the bank? How do I tell them that the life we've all built together with bricks is now a sandcastle? Would I be able to stand their happy faces going sour?

My thoughts were disrupted by a soft voice beside me.
“Seat’s taken?”

I turned and looked at the old woman with a Catholic Women's Organisation wrapper and a sparkling white gown standing beside the bench. She had in her hands her handbag and a bag of breadcrumbs.

I paid her no attention. I wasn't in the mood to entertain noisy old women.

“I'm just going to sit. Your silence tells me there is no one here.” She murmured.

With a big sigh, she dumped her weight on the bench. Her skin looked soft and folded like old newspapers. She had the kind of eye that had seen better days and many Hitler years.

For a while, she said nothing. Just spreading the breadcrumbs on the ground for a few brown feathered birds that came hopping over.

“You look like someone who’s just buried a loved one,” she said gently.

I turned to know who she was talking to but didn’t reply.

She looked at me. “It’s on your shoulders. That's the way a man slouches when something bad happens.”

I smirked. Still, I didn't reply. My problems were none of her.

She looked away. “Is it your health?”

I shook my head. Hoping she would just stop asking and go away.

“Marriage?”

“No.” I was getting agitated. But clearly she wasn't stopping.

“Money?”

That hit me hard, surprisingly. It reminded me of the weight of my problems. I took a deep breath. The tears were coming again.

She leaned in. "I've seen it all before. It’s not just the money, isn't it? It’s something deeper.”

I felt my breath rising even though I tried to control it.
“I just lost my company. My investors are pulling out. I owe banks more than I can count." I paused. "But that's not even the problem. The problem is how am I going to tell my family: My wife, my kids.'

She stopped spreading the crumbs and turned to me, nodding. Then she reached for her bag.

"In the time before all these. I love it when my children look at me like I could catch the moon for them if they wanted it. And my wife revered me. If I tell them how broke we are now, will I still be their hero or their storm?” I continued.

She brought out a box of chocolates and offered me one.

"My son says it helps with the mood." She said,

I didn't want to be rude. I reached and grabbed one at the same time wondering how chocolate was going to solve one of my problems.

She groaned and returned to feeding the birds
“You know, my husband once lost everything,” she said. “This was in the '80s. Beautiful man. Owned lots of businesses and workers. But he lost them all in a fire accident.”

I looked at her.

“I was overseas with the kids and didn't know. He asked us to return home. Then he made a meal for the family, and at the dinner table, he announced the news. I'm sure he fought himself the way you're fighting yourself now before he had that courage.”

“What did you do?” I asked quietly.

She gave a soft smile. “I made tea and everyone drank. Then tomorrow, life continued."

I blinked fast. My eyes with questions.

She tapped my legs softly, laughing. “Yes,” she continued, “It's with luck and God's grace that we survive. It wasn't his life or our love that was lost. Just material things. Besides, the vow was 'for better, for worse.' Did we die? No. Did it change who he was to us? No. Did we readjust our finances? Yes. Did we survive the drought? Yes."

I nodded.

“Tell your wife. Let your children see that their father is human. It won't make you less of a man. As long as you're not planning on giving up, are you?"

I shook my head.

"Say it like a man!" She slapped my thighs hard.

"I will never give up!" I yelled.

She turned to the birds and spread the last crumbs and stood up
“Don’t wait too long on this bench,” she said, brushing crumbs from her lap. “Home isn’t a place to hide from. It’s where you're loved and protected from the outside world”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

She only smiled, her eyes kind. I watched her walk away. Her steps are slow and frail.

I turned to my phone and dialed my wife's number.
“Hello, honey?”

“Babe,” I said, my voice shaking, "Don't make dinner. I'll buy some on my way home. I have something to tell you."

I stood up and walked home.

Truly, I didn't know how the news would affect us, but I hoped it was for the good.