Wow,” Elizabeth said.
“Yeah.” I considered saying nothing more, but since this had become the closest thing to confession I’d ever gotten, I didn’t. “Know what the bad thing is?”
“What’s that?”
“I took some of the money and bought that fishin’ pole anyway. Not the one I wanted, though. Got something cheaper.”
“Why’s that bad?” she asked. “It’s what you honestly wanted, right? And it didn’t hurt anyone.”
“I guess,” I said. “But it’s still sitting there in the garage. Never been used.”
“And how about Michael? You still see him?”
“Oh, yeah. Still every Saturday and still with the fiver for a tip. I still take it, too. I’ll let them build up for a few months and take them back down to Jackie’s church. But you know what? Despite it all, despite who he is, I can’t help but like him still.”
“Do you feel guilty about that?” she asked.
“Sometimes.” I paused, not so I could think of what to say next, but how to say it. “He used to remind me of me in a way. We had a lot in common. Have, I mean. Little things that don’t really matter but still hold people together, like a love of baseball. We like talking baseball. But now he reminds me of me in some bad ways, too.”
“You mean the way you both put people in little boxes?” she asked. “He didn’t like that woman because she was black. You didn’t like her because she wasn’t from town.”
“I can get along with most everyone,” I said, “whether they’re from town or Away. At least, I thought I could. I saw that woman as a stranger rather than a person, and I missed out on a chance to help her. I don’t know what I could’ve done. People’s hurts can be a wall sometimes, and it’s a wall you can’t breach. If anyone knows that, it’s me. But I could’ve done something, even if it was just getting her out the door quick so she could get to her niece. I missed that opportunity, all because I was seeing with my eyes and not my heart. I think that’s why that fingernail is in my box. So I won’t forget that.”
Elizabeth said, “I’m sure you haven’t, have you?” She glanced above my bed to the clock, then moved her hands toward the box and rattled it, taunting. “Is there anything else in here that helped you learn that lesson?”
I wiped my eyes and offered her a smile.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “There was the day I found out firsthand how tough being an angel can be. Talk about a lesson in humility.” I took the box and rummaged inside it. “I know it’s in here somewhere,” I told her, but I couldn’t find it. I began emptying onto my lap the objects from the stories I’d already shared. There it was, stuck to the side. I pulled the piece of bubble gum free and held it up to her.
“Smell,” I said.
She did and asked, “Watermelon?”
“Crazy, huh? All these years later, and it still smells.”