Lost in the Park, A Fiction

Hey readers and lovers of old time radio, remember that challenge to write something every day that I’m trying to keep up with? Here’s a bit of fiction to stretch my imagination. No OTR stuff today.

Her thoughts drifted as she sat on the park bench, her hands mindlessly busy with her knitting. She was back there again, reliving the last day she saw him. Those dimples and dark brown eyes that melted the hearts of any woman who met him. Heaven help us, he was only 3 years old. What kind of a lady killer might he be in another ten to fifteen years? Myra would have to beat the young girls away with a stick. The thought gave her grin to her moment of sadness. He was there in the department store with her, and then suddenly vanished. The search found nothing; nobody could tell where her little Danny went. It was like he evaporated. Myra always suspected her husband. It couldn’t have been him, he died in a car crash shortly afterward, and if Danny was with him, certainly he would’ve been returned to her. Roy’s family had never liked Myra, thinking she was beneath them. The refused to even acknowledge the marriage and Myra had never met them. She didn’t even know where they lived. The wealthy family had several homes they lived in as the seasons, or mood moved them. If they didn’t want her to find them, she didn’t know how to find them. All the days of her life since then were filled with the hopes that her little Danny would somehow be returned to her. Myra was brought to the real world when she heard footsteps. Could it be? No, it was just a man and woman coming down the path in the park. Her mind went back to her knitting the tiny sweater, for a son she couldn’t find, and humming a tune that she often sang to her little darling.

Sadie was enraptured by Benjamin as they held hands and walked through the park. He loved for who she was, and not for her appearance. She was tired of men at the modeling agency ogling her, and thinking that just because she was beautiful, that they had the right to own a little piece of her. She always had to be on guard to keep from getting involved with someone who was so shallow to only see her on the surface. Benjamin was different. They met on a crowded subway when he surprised her by nearly sitting on her lap; Enraged at the act, Sadie opened her mouth to pour out a few choice words, thinking he was just another pervert who wanted to cop a feel. “Watch it pal, what are you…” her words were cut off, as abruptly as the shutting doors on the train. Her last word came at the same instant reality struck her at the sight of his long white cane. “…blind?” Embarrassment washed over her, and she was suddenly nervous as she back pedaled, and seeking a way to retract her blunder. “Oh… I see that you ar… I mean that…” Benjamin was kind enough to let her off the hook. “I should be the one to say ‘I’m sorry.’ I usually check to see if the seat is empty before sitting, but I guess my timing was a little off when the train lurched forward like it did.” His words had a way of soothing her embarrassment, and soon they were making small talk. Phone numbers were exchanged, and they soon found themselves meeting for dinner, or just hanging out like they were this evening. Sadie had never thought of disabilities before, but the barrier of blindness meant that Benjamin knew her for who she was inside. He wasn’t distracted by how she looked. She knew his admiring words and smile was for her alone, and not for any shallow, cosmetic reasons.

Usually he used his cane to tap his way down the sidewalks of the city, but Sadie’s apartment was near the park, and it would be nice to just take a stroll with her. They walked hand in hand. Benjamin didn’t often trust people to lead him around, but despite his first awkward encounter with her, he felt that Sadie was the kind of person he could trust with more than guiding him. Benjamin was beginning to think he could trust her with his heart. He grew up with his grandparents, they were a doting pair, but could be aloof, often leaving him in the care of nannies. He couldn’t remember his father or mother, but was told that they died at a young age. It was a car crash. ‘Is that hereditary?’ Benjamin mused to himself. It was an auto accident in his college days that cost him his eyesight. He managed to bounce back from it with the resilience of youth. There was a few weeks of recovering from the initial injuries, then more time spent in the Blindness Rehabilitation Center. Since then Benjamin had hit the ground running, and returned to finish his schooling with ferocity. Through his dedication to live as independently as possible, Benjamin had little room in his life for people who offered him patronizing attitudes, or showed pity on him. Sadie was different though. She somehow managed to look past the image of a man with a white cane, and want to the person within.

“What are you thinking?” Sadie asked. “Just how much I love you,” was Benjamin’s reply. “You’re just after my good looks,” Sadie teased. “You’re just after my dimples and sexy brown eyes,” came his response. “You’re just being a silly man, Daniel Benjamin Westmoreland.” Sadie admonished him. As they strolled past the woman on the park bench who was knitting a sweater, a tear came from Benjamin’s eye. “What’s the matter?” Sadie asked as they continued further down the trail. “Nothing,” Benjamin replied. “It’s just that a tune just entered my head. One that I think my mother used to sing to me. I wish I could remember more about her. I was only 3 when I last saw her.” Sadie squeezed his hand a little tighter, then he continued as they walked, “It’s just a fuzzy memory, but we were in a department store one day when…”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s