Seventeen Hours

With original artwork from Midjourney

Image by author created on Midjourney

Alvin was miserable. As in a miserable excuse for a human being. Not that it bothered him. He didn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been a miserable selfish jerk. When he overheard his employees discussing him, he just laughed—all the way to the bank. He liked himself just the way he was.

So when the old beggar woman reached a hand toward him, beseeching him for a few dollars to feed the hollow-cheeked child sitting against the brick of the bank building he had just exited, he sneered, laughing at her misery and the child’s hunger. He pushed past the crone, not caring that she fell, landing with a cry of pain. By the time he reached his office, he had forgotten the incident, one among many such.

He arrived home late from work, as usual, entering his dark hallway with a bark at Alexa to turn on the lights. He removed his shoes and wiggled his toes, eager to put his feet up and order dinner. As he padded his way into the living room, he stopped dead in his tracks. The old beggar woman sat in his spot on his extremely pricey sofa—in her filthy rags.

“How did you get in here?” he roared, rushing to dislodge her.

Time froze. Or at least Alvin did. The beggar woman rose from her seat—his seat damn it! With a fluid grace such as Alvin had never seen, she seemed to float toward him, her features blurring. By the time she reached him, she had transformed into a stunningly beautiful woman, something between a fairy and an elf.

If Alvin could have swallowed the lump of fear rising in his throat, he would have. Truthfully, he would have run. Instead, he remained frozen, unable to so much as blink an eye.

“You have lived a selfish life, Alvin.” The fairy-elf regarded Alvin with curiosity, as if she was observing some distasteful growth under a microscope. As if considering how she might best eradicate it.

“I will give you one chance to redeem yourself. I will grant you a wish.”

A wish? She was punishing him with a wish? Alvin snickered. In his mind, of course, since he couldn’t do so physically. Wait! What was the catch? There had to be one.

The fairy-elf smiled knowingly at him. Perhaps she had read his mind. He tried desperately to shut down his thoughts, but they raced to ever worse possibilities as she merely watched him, letting him stew.

Then, “You must use this wish for another’s sake. The wish must be for someone you know, and it must be heartfelt. You may not in any way benefit from it, not even indirectly. If you do, you will die instantly.”

Alvin’s heart, which was not frozen, began to pound. Die? He would die?

“You have until five p.m. tomorrow.” The fairy-elf in a motion so quick his eyes couldn’t track it, grasped Alvin’s right wrist. Her touch burned. And then she disappeared without so much as a flicker, releasing Alvin to stagger to the sofa and sit, nursing his aching wrist.

When he dared look at what she had done, he blanched. Blue numbers, like those of an analog clock, glowed on his wrist. They read twelve midnight, exactly. He had seventeen hours in which to use his wish in a manner that would satisfy his tormentor. He couldn’t contemplate the alternative. Nor could he not. He remained seated on the sofa all night, his mind racing to find a solution as he obsessively checked the countdown on his wrist. By morning, he had come up with nothing.

However, work awaited him, so he went through his usual morning routine, choking down his coffee and bagel. Maybe something would present itself either on the way to work or during the day. Maybe the beggar woman would be there, and he could wish something for her. Of course, that made no sense, since the fairy-elf was the beggar woman.

Alvin couldn’t stop his eyes from searching for the woman—or another beggar or person who seemed needy—as he walked from the subway station to his office. That would be too easy, he told himself as his face shifted into its accustomed scowl. Maybe someone at the office.

Though it wasn’t a wish, Alvin found himself thinking of how he could do something for his employees. Maybe by being nicer, he could somehow circumvent the need to find a wish. He stopped into the donut shop a block from the office and ordered a coffee carrier and enough donuts for everyone except himself. He remembered he was not allowed to benefit from his choice.

As he entered the building, he twisted his lips into a smile he hoped looked genuine and offered coffee and a donut to the security guard on duty. He realized that after sixteen years, he had no idea what his name was. Reading the nametag, he hastily appended the word “George” to his offer.

George stared at him incredulously for a moment, then stammered a thank you, and took one of each. Alvin didn’t know why, but the man’s reaction bothered him. Was he such a monster? He could do nice things. But when had he ever done so?

As the elevator opened on the fifteenth floor, Alvin again pushed his lips into a smile and stepped off into his reception area. Marcia, who had replaced Ellen, who had replaced…someone else, rushed out from behind her desk to relieve him of his burden.

“I’m so sorry, Mr.  Blacklock. I didn’t remember there was a meeting today.” Marcia’s voice trembled. “I would have picked these up if I had.”

“There’s no meeting.” Alvin found himself rushing to reassure her. “These are for the staff. Please let everyone know they should come and help themselves. In fact,” he added with sudden inspiration, “tell them all to take the next twenty minutes to enjoy these before their day gets busy.”

Marcia froze, and Alvin almost looked around to see if the fairy-elf had returned. The moment passed and Marcia opened the donut box and started to pour coffee—two cups.

“None for me,” Alvin said, then quickly added, “I had mine already this morning.” As he turned right down the hallway toward his office, his steps felt somehow lighter, though he could feel Marcia’s eyes watching him all the way down the hall.

As soon has his office door closed behind him, Alvin pulled his sleeve up to look at his wrist. His heart sank as he regarded the still glowing countdown. Eight-forty-five. He had eight hours and fifteen minutes left.

Alvin made sure as he met with clients that morning not to do anything that might be considered the slightest bit dishonest. He dealt with each fairly and even made sure those he knew were less well off came out a little better than he did in their dealings. And he obsessively watched the time count down.

This was no good. Just trying to be a better person wasn’t helping anything. Though he noticed he didn’t need an antacid tablet after his lunch. And the tightness that usually grew in his chest throughout the day didn’t seem to be there. Still, none of this was solving his problem. He had to make an actual wish. He checked his wrist. One-twenty. Three hours and forty minutes in which to do so.

He desperately tried to think through what he knew about his employees’ personal lives. Who among them was in need? His heart sank when he realized he didn’t know any of them. Not really. He knew some of them were married. Some had children. But he had never asked after any of them. That needed to change.

Alvin pressed the button for reception on his phone, then asked Marcia to cancel his afternoon and join him. Ten minutes later, a tentative knock came at the door, followed by a timid face Through the smallest opening possible.

“Yes, Mr. Blacklock?”

He really was a monster. Marcia probably thought he was going to fire her. “Please, come in, sit down. I need to pick your brain.”

Visibly relieved, but also confused, Marcia pushed the door fully open and entered, closing it behind her. Once she was seated, Alvin looked at her blankly, not knowing how to begin. And then he did.

“Marcia, I want to start doing things differently here. Can you arrange schedules so that we finish at four on Fridays? I want to start holding happy hour from four to five. I want to get to know the staff. And I think we should start each day with coffee and touch base with one another.”

Marcia looked at him as though she thought he’d lost his mind. But that didn’t deter him. “And I’d like to start getting to know the staff more right now. Is everyone okay? How about their families?”

For the next hour and a half, as Marcia slowly relaxed and opened up, Alvin learned about Bernie’s difficulties paying his mortgage since his wife had lost her job and Mina’s struggle to balance work and caring for her ailing mother. And a host of other problems no one ever told him about. Because he hadn’t cared to know.

Most heartbreaking to him was learning that Marcia’s daughter, Kelly, had childhood leukemia. She needed a bone marrow transplant. Marcia had no idea how they were going to find a donor before Kelly became too ill to survive the procedure. Kelly was only six years old. How had he not known?

Heart heavy, Alvin expressed his deep, heartfelt wishes for Kelly’s recovery and offered to do whatever he could to help. After Marcia had dried her tears and gone home, for Alvin didn’t have the heart to make her finish her workday, he sat alone in his office. So many of his employees carried such large burdens. While he luxuriated in the riches he made off their backs.

Alvin could only make one wish. But he could still help all of them. He started to plan. Suddenly aware that he hadn’t checked his wrist since Marcia had entered his office, he looked. Four fifty-eight. There was no question of what he would wish for. Without knowing why, he stood up from his desk.

“I wish for Kelly to be fully healed of her leukemia.”

A tingle started in his wrist and passed through his entire body, leaving him feeling light and what was that emotion rising up within him? Joy. It was joy. He looked at his wrist, knowing what he would find. Skin. Nothing but his own skin.

The fairy-elf appeared in front of Alvin. “So, you fulfilled the requirement.”

Alvin smiled at her. A genuine smile. “Thank you,” he said.

“Why? You didn’t benefit from this wish.”

Though Alvin didn’t contradict her, he knew that wasn’t true. He had benefitted more than Marcia would from Kelly’s healing, though maybe not more than Kelly herself. He had changed and could never go back to the man he had been when he had treated the old beggar woman so badly.

As though she again knew his thoughts, one corner of the fairy-elf’s mouth quirked up in the hint of a knowing smile as she faded away.

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This was a long one! They say there are only 7 basic plot ideas (or 3 or 6 or 20, depending on who you talk to). However many there are, all stories follow a pattern and many are consciously modeled on an already existing story. West Side Story, for example, is based on Romeo and Juliet.

Can you guess which classic this story is based on? Guess in the comments. I’ll wait a bit and then let everyone know who’s right (or, alternatively, what the correct answer is).