Three Dollars and a Cup of Hot Chocolate

Three Dollars and a Cup of Hot Chocolate

         Dan checked his billfold. The three dollars was still there. Nothing had changed since fifteen minutes ago when he check the same billfold. Three dollars was the total sum of his worth. He looked over at the clock. It was near 7:00 p.m. and was cold outside. The snow was blowing around in little flurries. It was much too cold for the stuff to stick, and would take a little thawing to create enough moisture for a decent snowball. Dan shrugged; he didn’t have anyone to throw it at even if he could make it. Everyone was gone for the Christmas holidays. Friday was the last day of classes for this semester. The next class wouldn’t meet again until January 15th. He had four weeks to spend for Christmas. He certainly had not meant to spend the first one alone on the campus.

         He checked his billfold again, knowing the same three dollars were still taking up space in the folding money part of his billfold. What good was three dollars? It could buy nothing. Admission to the movies would take five additional dollars. He had sat in the lonely dorm room all weekend, while his car sat out in the parking-lot. It wouldn’t start. He figured it was probably the battery. He certainly did not have the sixty dollars that it would take to buy a new one. He thought back to the conversation he had with his father just a moment ago.

          “Hey, Dad, it’s Dan."

          “Hi Son, how’re you doin?” his dad asked in earnest. “We’re waitin’ for ya.” Unfortunately, Dan had a habit of not calling home unless there was a problem.

          “Oh, I’m OK.” Dan assured him and then added, “It’s the car that’s sick.”

          “What’s wrong with the car?”

          “Well, it won’t go. All it does is click when I turn the ignition. Jerry thinks it’s the battery. I think the thing is shot.”

          “Well, you need to get a new one put in. You can change it out. You’ve done it before.” Dan’s dad did not seem to be too concerned.

          “Yeah, well, I could; but I can’t.” Dan chimed in. There was a pause on the other end. He waited for his dad to respond—with anything.

          “And, why can’t you change out the battery?”

          “Well, it’ll cost nearly sixty dollars and I don’t have any money.”

         Another pause—he hated that. His dad had a way of analyzing the situation and putting the blame exactly where it was due. He knew it was his own fault that he had no money.

          “Dan, where is the hundred dollars that I sent to you last week?”

          “Well, that’s gone, Dad.” Dan waited for the next question that would surely be directed to where the money went.

          “And, where did it go?” There it was. Now he had to respond; and he knew that there was no way that he could make this sound OK.

          “Dad, Jerry is here by himself. I mean, he doesn’t have any friends. And I know how important it is to go the extra mile and make him feel better.”

          “This ought to be good.” Dan’s dad thought to himself on the other side of the connection.

          “Well, anyway,” Dan continued, “Jerry had these tickets to the Crusty Crew. They’re a band from this area. He didn’t have anyone to go with. So I said I’d go with him. We invited these two girls and by the time we got finished with the evening all I had left was three dollars. I had to go Dad.”

         Silence--then Dan’s dad spoke slowly. “I suppose you’re right. You’ve gotta take care of your friends. But, Dan it was your choice to spend ninety-seven dollars on the evening. You’ve got three dollars to make do during the remainder of the Christmas holidays. I hope you have thought about how you are going to spend it.”

         Incredibly, it appeared that his dad was not going to bail him out as he had always done. “Dad, I can’t buy a battery with three dollars. And even if I had the battery, I don’t think I could buy the gas to get home for Christmas.”

          “Oh, so you were planning to come home for Christmas? We hadn’t heard from you and weren’t sure we were included in your Yule-tide plans.” He detected a little sarcasm in his dad’s voice. However, he knew that his dad was right. He hadn’t called or dropped a line. He just expected his folks to be there when he showed up on the door-step with his dirty clothes and hungry appetite.

          “Of course, Dad-- I wouldn’t miss Christmas with my family for nothin’.” This was a true statement. He loved his mom and dad dearly; he just didn’t have enough time to do that family stuff.

          “OK, I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do.” Dan’s dad spoke slowly, as if he was forming his thoughts as he went along. “I’ll come down and pick you up on Wednesday. I’ll bring a battery for your car. You’ll have to get the gas. And since you don’t have any money I suppose you’ll have to leave the car there and gas it up when you get back from vacation. Will you be ready, Wednesday?”

          “I’m ready now, Dad.”

          “Well, I’m not. I can’t get away from work until Wednesday. You be ready then.”

         Dan resigned himself to the fact that he had three days to kill while he waited for his dad to come and get him. “OK, Dad. I’ll be ready. See ya then; bye now; love ya.”

          “Love you too, see you Wednesday.” With that final statement Dan’s dad hung up the phone, leaving him alone and bored. He moved from his desk to his bed where he stretched out with his hands cupped behind his head. There were no studies now. He was not interested in watching television and had no one to call on the phone. He lay there until the restlessness caused him to get up and walk around the room.

         Dan grabbed his heavy leather jacket and left his dorm room. He walked down the hallway checking the doors of his classmates. Everything was locked, affirming that no one was home; even Jerry had left this morning. He saw other kids walking around campus; but he had no desire to strike up a new relationship at this moment. No, he was alone. And that was how he was going to spend the next three days—alone.

         He fought the urge to check his billfold. He was resigned to the fact that the three dollars would not grow and was secure in his pocket. He opened the door to the exit stairs and made his way down the three flights to the vacant lobby. He stopped at the double glass doors leading to the sidewalk and the campus. His dorm was one of the oldest on campus. As a result, he was in close walking distance to all the major classrooms. The library was just across the street. The lights were on for it remained open through the holidays. Although most of the students were gone, the foreign students and a smattering of others remained on campus with nowhere else to go.

         Dan mused,“That’s not me. I’ve got somewhere to go. I just don’t have a way to get there.”

         He put his hand on the door knob and paused there. ”Where am I going?” he thought to himself. “Well, there’s surely nothing to do here. I’ll walk down to Campus Corner and see if anyone is there.”

         On any other day the shops and pubs of Campus Corner would be brimming with activity. That was where a serious student could buy the works of Nietzsche and Kierkegaard. A couple of the shops also provided Playboy and Penthouse, which were purchased for the sophisticated articles, of course. Campus Corner was also prime cruising territory. Dan had met a fair number of Coeds who became fast friends, at least some of them were friendlier than others.

         ”Yes, the Corner would be a good pace to start,” Dan thought. The good thing about turning twenty-one last month was that he no longer needed a fake ID to buy beer. He had three dollars and that was enough to buy one beer. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and get included in a free round purchased by someone else.”

         Dan opened the door and entered the deep freeze that seized the campus. The wind was gusty and bit at his ears with the cold. He shuffled easily down the porch steps and through the powdered snow. Inside the warm campus pub he knew the snow would melt on his jacket, but at the moment it collected in the creases of his clothing and more annoyingly down the back of his neck. He pulled the leather collar up for added protection. Without a scarf around his neck all the collar accomplished was to funnel the snow down his neck. However, he left it that way; it made him look cool turned up. The lights along the sidewalk through campus took on an eerie orange glow filtered by the snow. The walk across campus normally took about ten minutes. Usually it was a pleasant enough walk with the reward being Campus Corner on the other side. But tonight he was the only person on the sidewalk. The situation caused him no great concern but it was a little spooky. On he trudged through the loose snow, down the snow-blown sidewalk, between the eerie orange street lights, with his collar turned up and his hands stuck deep in his pockets, being cool.

         He could see the lights of Campus Corner. He needed only to walk through the big entrance way of the campus and into the commercial section of the Corner. Down the street he could see the lights of the Sportsman, the pub he usually frequented. He stepped off the curb to cross the alley that ran behind the Sportsman; he was almost there.

          “Hey, mister!” a voice from the darkness within the alley called to him.

         Startled, Dan stepped sideways, “Damn, where’d you come from?” He stood in the middle of the alley and spoke to the faceless voice.

          “Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,” a man stepped out of the shadows and into the eerie glow of the street light.

          “I’m not frightened; it’s just that you were right there all of a sudden. Who are you? What do you want?” Dan quizzed the sudden stranger.

          “Like I said, I’m sorry about scarin’ you. I was just standin’ against this building. This is the wall to the kitchen; it’s warmer here. I ain’t seen no one since it’s gotten dark. I was afraid you’d just walk on past me. I’m sorry for scarin’ you.”

         Dan examined the man standing before him. He guessed he was about the same age of his dad—mid fifties. He was remarkably well dressed for the condition that he was in. His clothes didn’t seem to be soiled, just very well worn. He wore a black topcoat that appeared to be as thin as a sheet. The stranger stood there with his hands in his pockets, the coat buttoned up to the last button. He had a scarf of sorts tied around his neck and tucked into the topcoat.

         The man stood silently and permitted Dan to examine him. He was used to this. What followed the examination was critical. It could be a look of disgust, pity, fear, or worst of all indifference. He waited for Dan’s evaluation. It was only a couple of seconds, but seemed like much longer.

          “What can I do for you?” Dan spoke.

          “Well, if it wasn’t so cold I’d have just let you walk on by. But it’s so cold and I haven’t had anything to eat for a couple of days.” Dan perceived a break in the man’s voice. “I’d appreciate it if you’d see fit to give me some money to get a bite to eat. I’m sure sorry for botherin’ you, but like I said, you’re the only person that I’ve seen tonight.”

         Remarkably, Dan noticed a tear escaping from the stranger’s eye. It could be the bitter cold. Cold sometimes did that. But it could be something else. It could be another piece of humanity being chipped from this man’s sense of worth.

          “I’ve only got three dollars.” Dan began. He noticed the man's lips tighten and his eyes drop. “No, really, that’s all I’ve got.”

          “Sure, I understand.” The man spoke quietly and returned to the shadows of the alley and the warmth of the wall, “I understand.”

         Something squeezed Dan’s heart and released compassion that would have been surprising to some who thought they knew him. Dan stepped into the shadows. “Listen, I’m telling you the truth. All I got is three dollars. But three dollars will buy me and you a cup of hot chocolate. The diner across the street is open until late. We can get a cup of hot chocolate--that is, if you want some?”

         Dan heard a soft chuckle. “I haven’t had hot chocolate since my wife fixed me some. That was a long time ago. Sure, I’d like to have a cup of hot chocolate.”

         The two men left the shadows of the alley and walked away from the Sportsman pub and entered the Varsity Diner. Dan walked down the aisle to a booth that was against the window. The snow was swirling outside and painted soft artwork against the glass. Dan noticed that he was standing alone. The stranger stood at the door, looking around as if he knew he would be ejected. Dan motioned for him to come on. The waitress behind the counter looked at the stranger and then back to Dan. She turned and fished her order pad from the apron. Not having been admonished to leave, the stranger walked to the booth and sat down with Dan. The waitress stood with pad and pencil in hand, waiting.

          “Give us two cups of hot chocolate, please.”

         Just a glimmer of a smile hinted at the waitress’s mouth as she replied, “Sure, that’ll be right out.”

         Dan studied the face sitting across from him. A day or so of stubble coated his face. He surmised that it was a face that preferred to be clean shaven. Likelihood is that the stranger only got an opportunity to shave occasionally. He imagined the face as being clean shaven. It was a strong face—one of integrity. His teeth were straight and reasonably well kept. His hair was reasonably combed. This was a man who was used to attending to personal hygiene.

         ”That’s good,” Dan thought, “since I’m drinking a cup of hot chocolate with him.”

         The waitress returned with two cups of hot chocolate. She placed them before the two men and then left. It seemed as if she didn’t want to remain there any longer than she had to. The hot chocolate was steaming. Marshmallows were melting on the surface. The aroma was tantalizing, made especially inviting because of the cold that pressed against the window. Dan immediately picked his cup up and took a small sip. It was good. And the smell of the chocolate in his nose made it taste even better.

         The stranger did not drink immediately. He cupped both hands around the warm cup. He closed his eyes. Dan wondered what he was thinking. Was he just thinking about the warmth of the cup against his hands? Or was he remembering the last time his wife fixed him a cup of hot chocolate? Regardless, Dan realized that the worth of the hot chocolate was extended to the warmth against his cupped hands. He had considered it only as a beverage. He now realized that there was more value to it than just the tasty liquid in the cup. The stranger was dissecting it, making good use of all the elements of the cup of hot chocolate. With his eyes still closed the stranger slowly lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. A smile formed on his face and he opened his eyes.

          “Why are you doin' this?” he asked Dan softly.

         The questions took him off guard and Dan darted his eyes to his own cup of hot chocolate. “I…I don’t know. I didn’t think about why. I just did it.”

          “I know why you did it,” the stranger remarked.

          “Tell me…tell me then,” Dan responded.

          “You’re a good man, Mister. Most folks would have just told me to go to hell. Most folks are scared of the homeless. And it’s not me they’re scared of. It’s what I represent. They know that there is just a fine line that separates them from me.”

          “And how am I different?” Dan quizzed the stranger. He was curious about the man. Somehow he didn’t seem like a bum to him. This man was intelligent, but yet Dan had encountered him in an alley, begging.

          “You’re different because there is somthin’ in you that still cares about others. Oh, you’re not alone; there are others who feel the same. You’re just a member of a shrinking community. No, you gave me this cup of hot chocolate because you wanted to help.”

          “Don’t most people care?” Dan asked. “I mean, I think most folks would help if they could.”

          “You’re wrong. Most folks don’t care about helping. Most folks just want me to go away and it’s easier to give me a dollar than to turn me away. Folks feel badly about it, but they really don’t care. That’s why you just used your last three dollars to share with a bum—you care.” The stranger smiled and then continued, “The funny thing is that you didn’t even know that you cared. Seems as if you learned a little something about yourself tonight.”

         Dan shot his eyes down at his cup of hot chocolate, embarrassed. He didn’t know if what the stranger was saying was true. But he was right; he cared about the man. He took a sip of his chocolate drink and then looked at the man’s waiting eyes.

          “Why were you in that alley? You seem to be an intelligent person. What is it that brings a man to that place in their life? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

         After another sip of the hot chocolate the stranger smiled and said, “I was wondering when you’d get around to that. Most folks are curious about that. They are too polite to ask. But it doesn’t seem to keep them from shooing me away. Do you want to know my story? Want the details about how I got this way?”

          “Not really,” Dan responded, “I’m just trying to understand what brings a person to the place where they beg for money in alleys.”

          “I’m not sure I can do that. I’m not sure I understand why I do it. I just do it. Unlike you, I don’t seem to care anymore. Oh, I did at one time. Yeah, I had my eye on a piece of the American dream. You see, I’m an engineer—civil engineer.” The man paused and then chuckled. “I got my degree from this same University. I was top man in my engineering class. I was also ranking cadet in the Navy ROTC program. When I graduated I chose to go to the Marine Corps officer candidate school—came out a second lieutenant.” The stranger returned his attention to the hot chocolate. He raised the cup to his mouth, hesitating to take a generous smell of the aroma before drinking another sip.

         The stranger looked deeply into Dan’s eyes. It was as if he was searching for a reason to go on. Did this young man really care? It hurt to tell the story and he was debating whether to blow this young man off or unload the details.

          “That was in 1967. It was a strange time in our lives. The ‘love’ movement was in full swing. Seems that there was plenty of love to go around. That was unless you wore a uniform. All that love turned into something nasty then. It was foul and hurtful. It just didn’t make sense. I came back from Nam a very confused and troubled young man. I had smelled the stink of death and had learned to live with it. What I found at home was much more difficult to live with.”

         Dan remained silent, sipping his hot chocolate, which was just about gone. He noticed the waitress had stopped her chores and was listening in on the conversation. There was nobody else in the place. Nothing else needed her attention. And so, Dan and the waitress, patiently waited for the stranger to continue his story.

          “I remember greeting my dad at the airport. It was an awkward homecoming. I expected my wife and little boy to be there. They weren’t. My dad hugged me and then walked me to the baggage pickup to get my stuff. On the way I asked where Margie and Kevin were. A man should be greeted by his wife and kid. Dad informed me then that Margie and Kevin wouldn’t be coming. She was living upstate with a college professor. Kevin was being raised by another man. That was the first step in a long battle that ended up with me losing all rights to my son. But that ain’t nothing. It don’t matter, at least not now.”

         The waitress sat down at the counter now, openly listening to the story. Dan excused himself for a moment took the check to the counter and spoke quietly to the waitress.

          “Listen, all I’ve got is these three dollars. You’ve been listening to that guy’s story. I’ve got a feelin’ that it’s not gonna get any better. You know, it takes a lot to spill your guts to a couple of strangers. And any of the self respect that guy ever had has been taken from him. I’m figuring the least we could do is to feed him. I don’t suppose you’d take this watch in trade for a couple of hamburgers."

          Dan slipped his watch from his wrist and placed it before the waitress. She looked at it and smiled at him. It was certainly worth a couple of hamburgers.

          “Honey, keep your watch. I suppose this place can stand to donate a couple of hamburgers to a worthy cause. What I’ve heard so far is as worthy as it needs to get. You go back and hear the rest of the story. I’ll get the hamburgers.”

         Dan returned to the booth where the stranger was staring at the snow outside the window.

          “Excuse me, I had to do something,” was all Dan said.

         The stranger shrugged and finished off the last of his hot chocolate. “I guess I should finish my story.”

         However, before he could begin the waitress stopped at the table and refilled the two cups of hot chocolate. She smiled at the two men and then returned to her place behind the counter.

          “Yeah, it was the Nam that made the difference. I felt that I was doin’ what I was suppose to do. I saw a lot of stuff there. Hell, I did a lot of stuff—some of it I’m not too proud of. But the way I saw it I did my duty and earned the right to come back home to the life I left behind. That life was gone when I got home—just as gone as my wife and child. Six months after I got home my dad died. He was the only one who understood. He had been through the Second World War. He was shot up in the Battle of the Bulge. He knew what I had been through. He was one who cared. My mom, well, mom never understood. She just loved me and hurt because I was hurting. When dad died all meaning in her life seemed to disappear. I was very little consolation to her. Within a year she also died. It was as if she was in a hurry to get to dad.”

         Dan was intrigued. His dad had served in Vietnam. He spent two tours there. He considered his dad a good man. He had a strength that was born from something outside of Dan’s understanding. He never talked of his experiences in Vietnam and Dan didn’t ask. He looked at this man and began to understand a little about the inner conflict that his father must have faced. He supposed the difference between the man sitting across from him and his own father was simple. The man across from him had lost hope. His dad had found hope in his wife and son and the life that he had with them.

          “It has never left me.” Dan heard the stranger continue. “The impact of the place has never left me. I still see the faces, see the dead; I can even smell the place. I thought that when I got around people who cared about me, it would be different. The only thing was that no one was here when I got back. That’s why I’ve come not to care. Oh, I still get hungry and cold. And I want to get warm, but I really don’t care anymore.”

         The waitress sat a couple of plates of hamburgers and French fries on the table.

          “It’s on the house.” She smiled and walked away.

          “I guess this is my lucky day,” the stranger replied.

          “Not as lucky as mine,” Dan responded. “You’re right, I’ve learned a little about myself today. But, you’ve also given me a little insight into my dad. I want to thank you for that. I’d also like to do a little trade with you.”

          “Trade?” the stranger quizzed, “what have I got to trade.”

          “How about that topcoat? I’ll give you this leather jacket for that topcoat.” Dan got to his feet and removed the leather jacket, laying it in the seat. The stranger looked at the coat with its thick lining.

          “Now, why would you make a trade like that? This old topcoat is worn out. You know that.”

          “Believe me,” Dan smiled, “I’ll be getting the better deal.”

         The men exchanged coats and attended to the business of eating the hamburgers. They finished the meal with very little conversation. Then Dan stood to go. He slipped his hand into the pocket of the topcoat as he was preparing to go. He felt something there and pulled it out. He stared at the object.

          “I think this is yours,” Dan spoke to the stranger as he handed him the object.

         The stranger stared at it for a moment and then said, “No, I want you to keep it. Somehow I think you will understand the meaning of the thing. Anyone else will probably just throw it away.”

         Dan smiled, “Sure, I’d be honored to keep it. You know, I’ve seen this before. My dad has one just like it. He keeps it in a box in one of his desk drawers. I know you’d want to give it to your son, just like my dad will give his someday to me. I’d be honored to have it.”

         A tear streaked down the stranger’s cheek. A spark ignited in his eye and a little pride was restored in him as he spoke, “It’s a silver star. It’s something special that is given to special people. In my book you deserve it. Show it to your dad and tell him this story. He’ll understand.”

          “I’ve got to go now,” Dan said with tears in his own eyes.

          “I know. Thanks for giving me your last three dollars.” The stranger smiled at him.

          “Yeah, thanks for giving me much more than that—Merry Christmas.”