John had probably the roughest day any man has ever had. While exiting his house he was robbed at gun point. Shortly after while crossing the road to the Police Station where he was heading to report of the theft, he was run over by an ambulance. He required a blood transmission urgently and it was during this blood transmission shenanigan that it was discovered he was HIV positive. Something he had not known.

  I work at the Elwis Empwit Charity Organization. We go from place to place spreading charitable cheer. We visit hospitals mainly and bring smiles to the faces of those who otherwise had nothing to smile about. It was when I made such a visit to Kangare General Hospital, and was assigned John’s bed that I came to know the man.

  “Hello!” I said. “How are you doing?” He only stared at me with these sad puppy dog eyes. He was restrained to the bed since any movement heightened the pain of his fractured disk. I moved closer. “Hey, how are you doing?” I asked again. He just stared. And here’s the thing about me, I am on a job to spread cheer but if one refuses to acknowledge my efforts let alone meet me in the middle I end up getting annoyed.

  My father told me that I am a worthless human being. I punched him in the face and enrolled in the charity organization so as to prove him wrong, prove to him that I am worth something. That I can make others feel like they are worth something. My ex-girlfriend told me that I dedicate myself to my job on the pretense that it will make me appear to be a very good person while in truth I’m a horrible human being, I punched her too in the face. I punched the watchman to my apartment too but that was for a whole other matter.

  John appeared to be distressed, that was what I garnered from his silence. And someone in distress always reacts positively to music. So I decided I’ll sing for John. I started with a Kanye West song called Mercy, it sooths me to listen to something that makes me desire more than life ought to give me, in this case the song made me want to have sex in a Lamborghini. I figured the thought of rutting away in a luxury car would ease John’s distress but it didn’t. Maybe it was the chorus or the way I sound, but it didn’t seem to work on John. He just lay there staring at me, this look of extreme melancholy etching his features.

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  I decided conversation is worth more than song. With music there’s melody but with conversation there was rhythm. I could match his tempo, talk about random things until one drew his attention. I started telling him about my life and my goal to spread cheer. I started telling about how my youth was, the way I was bright eyed and full of hope. But slowly my narration of what I thought to be a lovely life morphed into something quite dark. I started telling him about my fears, this clawing feeling at the nape of my neck that makes me feel as if I’m in danger all the time. I told him about my rage, deep seated and layered.

  It reached a point where I started talking about the movie Titanic, this always drives me to sorrow each time. “‘Jack’ Rose said. ‘Jack.’ She cried again but Jack was frozen like a popsicle and sinking into the depths of the pacific.” I started crying and all the while John just stared at me.

  After I’d wiped my tears away I stared at John in silence. All he did was look back at me, but his gaze seemed to pierce through me, as if I was nothing more than fog. “You’re a good guy John.” I said. “Your silence, at first I mistook for rudeness but now I see it as contemplation. You’re contemplating, always ever contemplating.” I leaned closer to him. “Do you wish things were different or what is it that you dwell on so intently?”

  John said nothing, he only stared.

  It was then that I punched him in the face. Not a soft punch either, hard, right in the face and I didn’t even wait to see his reaction. I walked away, left him to contemplate that.

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