Blessed Stranger

“How are you?” I said it without really thinking. It just came out.

The monitors beeped a steady beat. Confusion peeked through his swollen eyes.

Probably doesn’t recognize me, I thought. After all, we only met for a moment. I stepped back. “I should go.”

But then his eyes flashed. At first, they looked angry. Which was understandable, and what I expected. But then just as quick the anger melted into an understanding kindness. Those kind eyes caused me to follow the ambulance here.

The bandage around his head was starting to soak through red. I knew a nurse would be in to change the dressing, just like clockwork they checked in every few minutes. I know because I stood outside for an hour watching the door. No visitors; just nurses and doctors. I finally got up enough nerve, told the nurse I was his brother, and walked in.

His eyes drifted from me to a chair next to his bed. I wiped cold sweat off my forehead and slid into the chair.

His swollen lips bent into a crooked smile. I stared at those eyes and looked for hurt, for hate, for anger, I found none—just joy.

My mind drifted back... 

Two hours earlier I had been leaning against the brick wall at the Salvation Army. My head was pounding and I had just crushed my last cigarette. I was without a dime and miserable.

From out of nowhere, this stranger walked into my life. “How are you?”

I figured he was being polite, like do-gooders do. I said, nothing.

He pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “Did you walk all the way here?”

I looked at my worn-out boots with a hole in the toe. “Yep.”

“I saw you out there on the road a few miles back—”

My head snapped up, “Then why in the h—”

“I’d have picked you up but I was on the wrong side of the highway, going the opposite way.”

I eyed the old white Chevy he’d climbed out of. “That a ’64?”

“Yes sir. It still needs some work, but it’s a lot better than when I got her.”

“I had a truck like that.” I looked down and kicked a rock. “Got laid off four months ago...lost it. I’m cursed.”

He said nothing until I raised my head. He looked me in the eyes and reached into his pocket.

I figured he was about to give me some money, so I gave him a humble smile.

He pulled out keys instead.

I figured he was fixin’ to leave. I was tired of talking anyway.

He smiled, “I’m blessed. You can be too.”

“Listen mister, I’ve got a hangover. I’m outta smokes and ain’t got a dime. I’m cursed. You’d say the same thing if you were in my boots.”  I looked at the ground and spit.

He didn't hesitate. He just stuffed the keys into my shirt pocket. “Being blessed has nothing to do with possessions.” He pulled out a money clip and held out his hand.

“Words are cheap.” I slurred. I figured he was trying to make a point and would eventually want his truck keys back. But, making his point would cost him. I grabbed the money and shoved it in my pocket.

He pointed at the old truck. “I’m not rich. But concerning what matters most, I’m blessed.”

“Yeah, that’s easy to say when everything’s going your way.” He was starting to get on my nerves.

His eyes danced as he said, “You and I could change places right now and I’d still be blessed.”

“I’d have to see it to believe it,” I shook my head.

“Whether you see it, or believe it, doesn’t matter—it’s still true.” He tilted his head and smiled.

About that time trouble showed up. “Who’s your friend?”

I recognized three of the four thugs but didn’t know their names.

“I don’t know, he’s cool, just a volunteer fixin’ to leave.” I shrugged.

“Well, he oughta leave us some parting gifts then.” They sauntered around him…too close.

I started to tell them I had his money, but didn’t. I thought he’d tell them—he didn’t.

I ran.

I felt guilty as I peeled a ten out of his money clip and laid it on the bar. Three shots of whiskey later, I heard the sirens...

I shook my head and the memory faded.

“Figured you might want these.” I laid the truck keys on the table next to his bed. “I found a good parking spot for your truck real close to the door.” I hesitated. “Oh, and here’s your money—what’s left of it.” I wondered if he could smell whiskey on my breath. “I used a little…sorry.”

He smiled, shook his head ever so slightly and whispered, “What truck…what money?”

His swollen eyes had turned a dark purple. I sucked in a deep breath, “I should’ve stayed. I know I should’ve. But I figured they’d leave you alone once they saw you didn’t have any money. You probably hate me for running out; especially after you gave me your keys and all your…”

He raised his hand. I stopped rambling and remembered my words, “I’ll have to see it to believe it.”

His eyes smiled as the words, "I'm blessed. You can be to," fell from bloody lips.

I looked at the floor and shook my head. “Even now?”

Maybe it was the lighting, but he seemed to glow as his lips lifted into a smile. He raised his eyes toward the ceiling and though words were only a whisper, to me they clapped like thunder. “Especially now.”

After that things went wild. Buzzers started going off, lights started flashing. Folks in white rushed in, and ushered me out.

But, as I left, I took one more look and noticed the smile on his face never left, but only grew.

It had been a long time, but I bowed my head.

And now, from that day to this, no matter what, when anyone asks how I’m doing, I smile and say…

I am blessed.