The Act That is Immortal

A Short Story

The cool autumn breeze seeped into my clothes, causing me to shiver. Last I checked, we were supposed to get snow within the hour, so it’d be in my best interest to get home quickly.

Winter was my least favorite season, the cold and snow being primary culprits. Holidays added to my already growing annoyance. The stress of gatherings, talking with relatives and friends about subject points that didn’t matter but were for the sake of a non-quiet room.

No, I preferred the quiet. I preferred to keep to myself, distancing myself from others to rather observe. You can learn a lot from simply watching others. When talking to them, you get the side they want you to see, whether it’s real. By observing them, you can pick up on subtle clues about their lives. For me, it’s more interesting to imagine and ponder, rather than discuss.

As I’m seated on this bench at the bus stop, awaiting the bus that would take me from the University to my home, I embrace myself to keep some amount of warmth in. In doing so, I glanced around at everyone going about their days.

A mother yelled at her child to keep up with her as they crossed the street. She looked upset at the boy, but something told me it was about her day that truly infuriated her. The boy wept as he followed his mother, no longer misbehaving, humourous to him prior.

A man sat alone across the street, reading a newspaper while sipping coffee. Judging by the fact he sat outside told me he savored this dreadful weather, fancied his coffee black, and enjoyed the news. In reality, he probably just wanted to get out of the house, either away from someone, or to feel like he’s around people again.

Another man’s briefcase broke open while crossing the street, heading towards the man with the newspaper. As he picked up his scattered papers and other loose items, a woman ran up to assist. He brushed her off, but she insisted, running around the street to gather the papers as the breeze took them away. Cars honked at the pair, aggravated that they had to wait for something so pathetic.

The two eventually collected all the fallen items, placing them haphazardly back into the briefcase. The man praised her as he walked off. The woman continued her stroll, ending up at the bus stop with me.

I followed the man’s movements as he walked up to a beggar who leaned against the wall of the coffee shop. The briefcase man handed money over to the beggar, nodding while moving on. I could see how much the beggar appreciated the spare change in the way he danced.

“That was crazy!” exclaimed the woman as she sat down next to me. I glanced at her for a second and smiled before returning my attention to my surroundings. In my acknowledgment of her comment, I had hoped she would notice I wasn’t for a conversation, however to my dismay she continued to talk.

“His briefcase just exploded,” the woman said excitedly, “Contents flying everywhere. It was quite something.”

“Indeed,” I responded, not really sure what to say, not wanting to give more of an answer, anyway. I shifted my body to face away from her as I stared at the cars driving by, wishing my bus would get here soon.

“How are you?” she asked me. She clearly didn’t recognize my attempts to end our conversation.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled.

“Just fine?”

I nodded.

“I’m Carly.”

“Nathan.”

“Nice to meet you, Nathan. I take it you don’t like the cold.”

Giving up and turning to her, I responded, “What gave it away?”

“Your body language. I enjoy observing others. I hope that isn’t too weird to you.”

“Not at all,” I said, giving a half-smile.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, something I abhorred, she said, “Yeah, you can learn a lot from people based on their body language.”

“I know. It’s fascinating.”

She looked at me gleefully, “Nice to meet someone who shares the interest of people watching.”

“Likewise.”

Another few seconds of silence followed us. I turned back to the road, looking for the bus that still hadn’t shown. As it shouldn’t because glancing at my watch, it shouldn’t be here for another five minutes. These busses were always on time.

“Did you see what that man did after I left him?” she asked.

I turned back to her, “He gave that homeless man some money.”

She beamed, “Isn’t that cool?”

I shrugged, “I guess so. The man needs the cash.”

“No, not that part, though that’s nice too. I meant, after I helped him, he helped another.”

Confused, I said, “What do you mean?”

“The act of kindness,” she replied excitedly, “That man was cursing up a storm when I showed up. By helping that man, I could tell he was in a good mood from my help. He doesn’t look the type to just hand people in need money, but today he did.”

“You mean to say you’re the cause of that?”

“I can’t be sure. It’s entirely possible I had him figured wrong and that he would have handed that cash to the man, anyway. But, it’s always possible he did it after receiving help himself. The act of random kindness that pays forward.”

“What?”

She laughed, “Ever heard of ‘paying it forward’?”

“Sure, you do something nice for another and then they do something nice for someone else. And so on.”

“Exactly!” the woman said eagerly, throwing me off for a second. “I’ve been doing it for a while now, and sometimes I get to see the person I helped help someone else. It’s a feeling I can’t really describe better than saying… it’s warming.”

“I bet,” I said as I peered back over at that beggar who no longer sat by the wall but was eating a sandwich while talking to the man with the newspaper. They both seemed to enjoy their conversation together. “Seems it worked again.”

The woman looked over, “Looks like it!” She looked back at me. “You should try it sometime. It’s a great feeling.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I replied, shrugging.

The woman shook her head, “No, not maybe. I want to hear a yes. Trust me, you’ll feel great!”

I stayed silent for a little before she spoke up again, “What we do for ourselves dies with us, but what we do for others remains immortal.”

I recognized that quote before, though it wasn’t recited perfectly. Something said once in my English classes maybe, but I could have stumbled onto in another way. Albert Pine.

After a few more seconds, I nodded, giving her another half-smile as I watched my bus arrive.

“Well… this is me,” I told her as she looked at the bus herself, “It was nice chatting.”

“You too,” she said as she waved at me while I walked over to the bus, “Have a great rest of day! Happy Holidays!”

I nodded again, then entered the bus, taking a seat at the back. The bus wasn’t terribly crowded, so I got a bench to myself. As the bus lurched forward, a voice cursed, and I heard an object fall on the floor, rolling back to the empty bench next to me. I stared at the pen that laid there, looking back up to see an older woman, probably in her sixties, searching around for the item a few seats in front of me.

As I observed her, I also noticed no one batting an eye her way. No one was trying to help her. Had that other woman at the bus stop been in here, she would have done it no problem, no matter where she sat on the bus.

Realizing the woman still struggled with no one helping her, I got up and grabbed the pen, walking back up the aisle of the woman. She looked up at me, a blank face that turned questioning when she saw me standing here.

“You… um… you dropped this,” I said as I handed her the pen.

The woman smiled as she accepted the pen back, “Thank you so much, dear.”

“No problem,” I replied.

I strode back to my seat, keeping to myself for the rest of the ride, staring out of the window and smiling. The bus stopped a few times on its way to my stop, and at one point the old lady walked off. I could see her from where I sat as she walked down the sidewalk. I watched her for as long as I could, even after the bus drove away.

I wasn’t watching her for anything about herself. I wasn’t trying to figure out what kind of person she was. I only found interest in if she would help another. And though I didn’t get to see it with my own eyes, I took contentment in the idea that she will. Though my act was little, much less than Carly’s, it was my beginning.

It was something I enjoyed more than I thought I would as the years went on. To jump out of my selfish shell to help others in need, no matter how small, it was infectious. The interaction with others carries on well past what we see. What we do affects people in more ways than we could ever imagine. In my own way, in Carly’s way, acts of random kindness spreads. It pays forward and is immortal. And I will continue my mark on others, though an invisible character, I’m still spreading happiness, one person at a time.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this short story, consider checking out some of my other work. Also, feel free to connect with me on Twitter! I enjoy engaging with other writers.