There is no greater loan than a sympathetic ear.
~Frank Tyger
Dennis glanced at his watch and smiled. He was tired and there were only forty-five minutes to go until closing time at the Rite-Aid where he worked. The store was nearly empty anyway, even though Christmas was right around the corner. It was probably because it was raining.
The automated doors opened and a middle-aged couple entered purposefully, wet from the persistent precipitation. The man was carrying a portfolio under his trench coat to protect it from the rain. The woman was wearing a stylish red raincoat, very appropriate for the holidays, but looked sad and stressed. Dennis offered his assistance.
“You print photos, right?” the man inquired with an accent that tipped Dennis off that the gentleman wasn’t local.
“Yes sir, machine’s right over there,” Dennis said, pointing past colorful, holiday displays featuring an assortment of gift ideas. “Let me assist you, please.”
As the trio walked over to the kiosk that housed the photographic equipment and supplies, Dennis noticed that the couple looked tired and sad.
Dennis positioned himself behind the equipment, and briefly reacquainted himself with its functionality. “Okay, how can I help you good people?”
The man started to speak, but the words did not come. So his wife, her graying blond hair covered with a rain bonnet, explained: “We have some photos from our wedding nearly thirty years ago we’d like to get copies of,” she said. “Please make them pretty. They’re for John’s mother, my mother-in-law, Joyce.”
Dennis smiled warmly at the couple. “That’s very nice. A Christmas gift, huh?”
“Well… no, not exactly. We’ve promised her these photos for years, but always put it off. Maybe we were just lazy, or forgot, I don’t know. She always wanted a set from our wedding day, but it just never happened. It’s funny how things get away from you in life.”
“Well, better late than never, right?” said Dennis.
The woman pursed her lips together tightly and gave a slight nod in agreement.
Dennis went to work reproducing the stack of about fifty photographs, but halfway through the process the machine began to overheat. Somewhat embarrassed, Dennis called another employee, Sandy, to the section to assist. They needed to make this holiday gift for this nice couple before the store closed.
For nearly fifteen minutes, Dennis and Sandy tinkered with the equipment, disassembled and then reassembled components, until finally, they got it working properly again. The couple never complained and patiently stood there throughout the ordeal, in dripping attire.
With only five photos left to copy, Dennis, with a note of excitement, exclaimed, “I just know your mom’s going to be overjoyed to finally get these photos from you guys! I almost wish I could see her face when she opens them up.”
There was a long, awkward silence from the couple. Dennis immediately sensed he had said something that initiated the uncomfortable moment, and quickly apologized. “Sorry, I’m being chatty tonight; we’re almost done. Thank you for your patience, folks.”
“No, you’re fine, Dennis,” John answered, reading the employee nametag. “These photos are indeed for my mom but she won’t be able to see them. You see, she died this week and the funeral is tomorrow. We’ll put the photos in her casket, cradled in her arms.”
The man sighed heavily, and his wife wiped away a tear. “You were right, Dennis, ‘better late than never’, huh?”
Dennis asked Sandy to finish the job and he stepped away. The couple had been so patient, so kind, despite the equipment malfunctions and circumstances, all the while dealing with the pain of losing a loved one and right before the Christmas holidays. Dennis wanted to offer some token, some small gift, to recognize their goodness and positive spirit. He wandered down one of the aisles and randomly grabbed a seasonally decorated bag of red, green and gold foil–wrapped candied mints, and discreetly purchased them with his own cash. Then he bagged the item and pushed it aside.
The couple approached the register to pay for their completed photos. Dennis smiled and rang up the purchase, and thanked the couple again for their patience, then offered his condolences. They nodded and began to leave.
“Oh wait, sorry, I nearly forgot,” Dennis announced. “It’s nothing, really, but I wanted to get you two something for your incredible patience tonight with our stubborn equipment, and with it being so close to Christmas and all.” Then he handed them the plastic bag with the candy. The couple shyly accepted the gift and pulled out its contents. They both started crying.
Dennis began to apologize.
“No, no, you’re fine,” the lady stammered with a smile. “You see, you just made our night, Dennis. The only way I can say it is you are an angel… our Christmas angel.”
Dennis was dumbfounded. It was only a simple bag of chocolate mints.
The man explained, “You would’ve never known it, but every Christmas when we would visit my mother in New York for the holidays she would give us three things: a gift card to our favorite restaurant chain, something she quilted that year, and…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
“A bag of Andes chocolate mints,” his wife concluded. Then she repeated, “A Christmas bag of Andes. . . the exact same thing you just gave us.” Dennis could not speak. Out of hundreds of items he could have selected from the shelves for this couple, he had selected the one item that offered them hope and peace and joy and love.
“Thank you Dennis; we’ll never forget you,” John managed as they began to leave the store. “You have no idea how much this means to us!”
Then the couple departed into the rainy chill of night while Dennis silently locked up the store, turned off the lights and set the alarm system. But not before purchasing a second bag of Andes chocolate mints, an early Christmas gift to take home to his wife.
~David Michael Smith
