Walter Cahill was a pleasant man. He was nice to everyone and liked everything about life, with the exception of spicy foods, because they hurt his throat and plaid patterns, because they hurt his eyes. Since both of those things were relatively easy to avoid, one could say that Walter had a peaceful and perfect life.
Walter lived in a small, but extremely neat, apartment with his gray and white cat Matilda. The two got along quite well and enjoyed eating together and spending evenings sitting on the overstuffed sofa reading and talking about the events of the day. Women were attracted to Walter and his happy and easy going manner, but he wasn’t interested in complicating his life. He liked things neat and tidy and from everything he had seen, relationships were anything but that.
Each day Walter rose at six o’clock. He brushed his teeth, bathed, dressed, fed Matilda and had two slices of crisp toast with blueberry jam, one small bowl of cereal and a banana or, if he could eat a pear before it went bad, an almost impossible feat he had learned, he ate that. Once finished with his breakfast ritual, he washed the dishes, tided up the kitchen and made sure that Matilda had clean water and a dish of dry food to nibble on while he was gone. Starting his day in this very ritualized way, gave Walter a great deal of satisfaction.
Once at work, he straightened up his department, made sure all of the men’s suits were hung on the racks sorted by color and refolded the ties that seemed imperfectly folded. Walter ran the men’s clothing department at the local department store, and he did it very, very well. There’s was little that made him feel better than seeing a gentleman leave the store, well dressed and color coordinated. There were days, of course, when a customer insisted on purchasing a pair of socks that did not match the suit or shirt he was buying, but Walter had learned to count to ten and take a few deep breaths, and let it go. Sometimes he had nightmares about men wearing navy socks with a brown suit but after waking up, dripping wet, he was always able to go back to sleep.
Some people thought Walter’s life was in a rut. He never seemed to change his routine and he rarely added anything new to his life. His entire existence was one of order and ritual. When Matilda became ill, Walter took a week off from work and stayed with her around the clock, reading to her, petting her and singing songs to her, until she was completely well and the veterinarian said that she was no longer in danger. That’s just the kind of man Walter was.
So everyone was surprised to hear that Walter had been arrested. They thought there must have been some mistake. Walter never stepped out of line. He was a good, if somewhat boring, man. Once arrested, he immediately began giving fashion advice to the other men in the holding cell. Many of them were not interested but others were happy to have the help. He explained the beauty of perfectly blended colors, the joy and feel of wonderfully mixed textures and the final vision of a well dressed man, stepping out for the day. When he was finished speaking, some of the men applauded. Walter thanked them and gave them his card.
One of Walter’s coworkers posted bail for him. Walter thanked him profusely. He didn’t like bothering others for any reason, but he felt that he had no choice.
“I didn’t know you could be arrested for that,” said Matt, when they were out of the police station.”
“Neither did I,” agreed Walter, brushing a bit of lint off of his sleeve. “I had to do something. I couldn’t just stand there and watch the chickens suffer.”
Matt nodded. “I know that Walter.”
“It seemed the only reasonable thing to do.”
‘Yes, I’m sure it seemed that way to you,” agreed Matt.
“It was cruel.”
“It was,” said Matt. “Life can be cruel Walter.”
“Well, I had a chance to do something about it.”
“You did. You released the chickens from the cage.”
“I offered to pay for them.”
“I know you did.”
“The charges were ridiculous.”
“I have two of the chickens in the car, Walter. The ones who wouldn’t leave you.”
“Thank you, Matt. You’re a good friend.”
“I hope Matilda likes them.”
“She will, I’m sure, but I may have to buy a house, so the chickens will have a yard.”
“That’s a good point. I double they will be happy in your apartment.”
“It would be…messy,” said Walter knowingly. “And unfair to the chickens.”
“You’re a good man,” said Matt sincerely.
“Thank you, but I was only doing the right thing.”
“The butcher didn’t agree.”
“Butcher, just the word is horrifying,” said Walter, shivering.
“They were his chickens, he’ll just get more. You can’t release them all.”
“I’ll do what I can,” said Walter sadly. “Gertrude and Silvia will be safe now.”
“You named them?”
“Of course.”
“Why don’t you come for dinner next week Walter. Mabel would like to see you again.”
“I’d like that. Thank you.”
“She’ll make something you like, something with noodles.”
“Sounds wonderful. I’ll bring a cake.”
Matt smiled. “Like I said, you’re a good man Walter. Different, but good.”
“I thought everyone else was different, not me.”
The two men looked at each other and then started laughing.
“You have to do the right thing, if you want to have a peaceful life,” said Matt.
“Even if you’re the only one who thinks it’s right to save hens from a butcher shop?” asked Walter?
“Even then my friend, even then.”
Story by: Gigi
Like this:
Like Loading...
