Enjoy reading "moral of the stories?" The following short story is a fictional work, created in hopes that the reader would some insight on life.
Richie Silverstone sat at the red light on Tauntus Street, pawing through his fifty Benjamins, counting again to make sure his wife didn't take any before she left for work this morning. "No, she didn't take any this time," he thought, grinning happily. Just as he carefully placed the stack of bills in his ugly brown pouch, which served as a good hiding place for any robbers who might attempt to break in his vehicle in search of goods, the light turned green and he stepped on the pedal. His Lamborghini shot off like a bullet.
The green-eyed, dark-haired man in his early forties drove his vehicle like a professional, and arrived ten minutes early for work at Superior Mercantile Bank, where he was the president. Silverstone parked his shiny car in the President's reserved parking space, grabbed his brown bag, and tucked it into an interior pocket of his suit. He made sure to lock his car, and felt assured when it beeped twice. With a sigh, he walked through the front doors of the bank, and greeted his employees with a seemingly genuine smile.
"Ah, Mr. Silverstone! It is so good to see you this morning! May I take your coat?" asked the door/greeter and maintenance man. The gentleman, was it Briner or Wenton? Oh, what did it matter anyway?
"No. My office has been a little chilly lately. Why don't you spend your time figuring out the thermostat rather than chatting with me?" He replied coldly.
"Yes, sir, right away!" With that, the man hurried off to fulfill his duties.
Richie quickly hurried to the elevator, to avoid the rest of his brown-nosed workers, clicked the button for the sixth floor, and waited. After a moment, the elevator beeped, shut its door, and took him to his destination. He sat in his leather chair and began to work.
After working on paperwork for half an hour, his secretary Lyola arrived at his office and knocked on his door. She had been working on various paperwork and public relations ads since four in the morning. "Mr. Silverstone? I need to speak with you!"
Rolling his eyes, Richie stood up and opened the door just enough to see her face. "About what? I've only been here for thirty minutes and you're already on my case!"
"Well, you see sir, you told me to notify you whenev-," She sputtered, before he interrupted.
"Stop wasting my time! I can replace you easily in a heartbeat. You should be lucky I have kept you for as long as I have, seeing as you are annoying, selfish, and always after my money!" He sneered.
With a look of pure hurt from Lyola, Silverstone was satisfied. "What! What is it you want?"
Lyola's eyes moved slowly back and forth on the ground as she spoke. "Sir, the Darcens have called again, requesting another loan. Their house is about to be foreclosed and.." She paused before continuing, "They haven't had any money for a few years now. They are begging for mercy."
Anger flared up in her boss; his eyes nearly looked black, and his voice became a deadly sound. "How many times have I told you to take them off of the calling list! We are not lending them another penny!"
"But sir, they are broke because-"
"I don't care why they are broke! They owe me thousands of dollars and I won't give them a cent until they pay back everything they owe, and even then I would hardly lend anything again!"
Lyola started to tear up, but sensing it would make her more prone to losing her job, she quickly stopped. "Here is the paperwork from yesterday." She handed it to him, and quickly darted out of the room.
The Darcens! How dare they beg for a loan when they couldn't even repay the last one he gave to them! Such petty people, always moping around, looking for the next rich man just so they can steal out of his pockets!
Silverstone wouldn't admit it, but there was another, main underlying reason why he despised the Darcens as much as he did. Their house was a poke in the eye to the rest of the neighborhood. Every other house had perfectly kept lawns, beautiful, bright flowers in their perfectly-aligned flower gardens, huge, stunning houses, and nice sedans or sports cars. The Darcens, on the other hand, only bothered to mow the lawn when it was almost the height that they could be fined by the city, their bushes were always unkempt and dark, the paint on the house had been fading for years, and to top it all off, they drove a vehicle from the sixties. Besides all of this, the family wore homemade clothing that should have been banned years ago! What eyesores to the people who matter in the community!
Still fuming over the question Lyola had brought to his attention, Richie decided he would take off early, and pay his doctor a visit. He had had a bug for the past few days, and he was sure that it was due to his wife's cooking. Sure, she'd been cooking for years, but she was always eye-balling his money and would probably love to pick up extra life insurance money once he was gone. Besides, she'd never miss him anyway and he sure wouldn't miss her!
The president scurried down the hall to the elevator and as soon as it reached level one, he made his way out the front of the building and to his car. He hardly payed any attention to the road as he drove, still venting about the preposterous nature of the Darcens. Upon his arrival, Dr. Sdarro quickly took him into his back room, and was in the process of checking him out when a nurse burst through the door, saying, "Come quickly! Timmy Darcen is having a seizure!" The doctor glanced at Richie and, scurrying out the door, said, "Excuse me for just a minute."
Richie was furious! How dare that family interrupt my session with the doctor! I haven't been feeling very well, and they have the audacity to rush to the doctor's office and steal his attention while I sit here with a stomachache!
After another twenty minutes, Dr. Sdarro returned. "I apologize for the inconvenience. You see, little Timmy has had cancer in the brain for a few years now, and his parents have tried countless numbers of chemotherapy, and all it has bought for him is time. The tumor continuously increased, branching off into more and more tumors, and the child now only has about two months left to live. The poor family has spent almost every dime they own in hopes he would be cured of this monster of a disease. Lindell works eighty hours a week to provide for his family on top of the medical expenses, and all he has to show for it is the frailty of his son. It's really a terrible, sad thing. Such a shame. Timmy is really a bright, caring young man. He would have amounted to more than any man dreams of being."
Finally, it clicked with Richie Silverstone that all of these years, the Darcens had little money, not because they weren't diligent in working, or that they spent too much and neglected other things, but because their poor child was dying. For the first time since the loss of his own child, Richie Silverstone began to weep. He wept not only in remembrance of the death of his own son to cancer, or because of the horrible, tragic evil that was going to occur to the Darcens, but also because all of this time he had walked in their same shoes and did nothing at all to help them, but rather, speaking hatred and animosity regarding the family. He wept, hating himself for not caring about their needs (or anyone else's, for that matter), since the death of his son.
In an instant of mindset change, the president promised he would never become so selfish and involved in such self-love again. How can I ever undo the hurtful things I have said and done? Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. Perhaps I can't undo my selfish deeds, but I can start being selfless. He pulled out the ugly brown pouch, unzipped it, and started to pull out his good friend, Benjamin. "Here, give this to the Darcen family." Dr. Sdarro nodded, took the bill, turned around, and was about to step out of the door, when Richie said, "Wait! Here's the rest of it." He took every bill out of the pouch and handed it to the doctor, who stood in shock.
From this moment on, Richie learned an important life lesson: Money can buy anything, but love far surpasses its value. "From this day on," he swore, "I vow to put others first. My dear wife Elizabeth has had to go through these difficult four years alone, with no one to lean on, and while I focused on my pain, I didn't help her cope with hers. Lyola has been a faithful secretary for me for years, and I've treated her like a bug on a sidewalk. I must let her know I truly appreciate her, and apologize. I need to say sorry to Wenton. He is always so kind and does whatever I ask, and I have acted like his help meant nothing to me. God, I've been such a mess! Please forgive me!"
Learning to live as a selfless, caring man didn't become any easier after this point in time, but Richie Silverstone was no longer the man he used to be after Marcus passed away. He and Elizabeth starting reliving the happy days of their marriage, and making new memories together with their organization, Cancer Patient Hall of Fame, designed to commemorate children whose lives were taken too soon from the planet and help the parents of the children whose lives were lost afford to pay their medical expenses.
After succumbing to the tremendous pain inflicted in life, all people cope in different ways. To some, it is grieving by crying and clutching to your loved ones, but to others, it is masking the pain until all you can see is how you feel, and becoming self-centered is entirely too easy, but once the pain dies down, although it can never be erased, one can once again begin to focus on true happiness in life - helping and loving others who have been bogged down by the weight of the world. In doing so, your excruciating difficulties will be nothing in compare to the beauty of joy that is only revealed when one invests not more to himself, but more of himself to others.
