The Good Person

                We heard the wailing even before the bus had come to a complete stop. The other passengers heard it too and we all watched the front door with a mixture of curiosity and dread.

The door opened and a young fellow stumbled aboard. Roughly 20 years of age, he was sobbing and shaken but somehow managed to produce a bus pass. The driver quickly glanced at it, then stared stonily ahead. My fellow riders and I looked everywhere but at the young man. His high pitched keening cries continued as he stumbled down the aisle. Finally, he took a seat. 

I’d seen him on the bus before, though never in this state. I believe today’s politically correct term for his condition is “mentally challenged”. Under normal circumstances you’d barely notice him. He usually gets on the bus, takes a seat and spends his journey smiling at everyone. Every now and then he may quietly talk to himself, but you’d never pick up on it if you weren’t listening. Today was obviously different.

As his crying continued unabated, I glanced nervously in his direction. To my dismay I realized he was searching desperately from face to face, seeking any available source of comfort. I knew I couldn’t allow this to go on and because everyone else was riveted on their newspapers or staring out their windows, I found myself calling out to him in a voice much louder than I’d intended. “Hey pal! What’s wrong?”

With tears streaming down his face, he eventually focused on me. His voice rose a full octave as he exclaimed, “I’VE HAD A VERY BAD DAY! I’VE HAD A VERY BAD WEEK! I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON WITH ME ANYWAYS!”

I quickly moved to a seat directly across from him. “You don’t have to yell anymore. I’m right here. Just tell me what’s happened.”

I handed him a tissue and he blew his nose loudly. “THIS GIRL AT WORK, SHE CALLED ME STUPID!”

“Okay,” I pleaded. “Tell me exactly what happened but please, lower your voice. You’re scaring everyone.”

We both glanced around the bus and noticed almost everyone watching us intently. Even the driver glanced back at us every now and again through his rear view mirror.

“Well,” the boy sniffled, “I made a mistake where I work and she got really, really mad at me. She yelled, got all red and worst thing of all, she said I was stupid! I HATE that!”

When I asked where he worked, he responded with the name of a downtown recycling company. Our conversation continued. 

“And you know the worst part?” he asked. “Except for bosses nearly everyone who works there is like me. Even this girl is! We’re all sort of stupid but a good person doesn’t say that to another person, and I’m a good person!”

“Well, it certainly seems that way”, I responded. “It’s Friday. Do you two have the weekend off?” When he nodded I continued, “I’ll tell you what. Just relax this weekend and think hard about all your friends at work. I’m sure just about everyone there likes you, right?” Again he nodded, this time with obvious enthusiasm. “When you go back to work on Monday, walk right up to that girl and tell her that not only are you a good person, so is she.”

He appeared puzzled for a moment then he said, “I’ll do it and you know why? Because most of the time she is a good person! Maybe she had a bad day too.”

“Yes, or even a bad week, like you,” I smiled. He grinned back at me.

Just then a thought struck me. While my initial intention had been to quell a disturbance, the result was much more profound, for me at least. I had witnessed another person’s despair quietly evolve into acceptance and finally to a self-realization that few could ever comprehend. I’d encountered a truly dignified man in a time when such people seemed to have attained endangered species status. His ability to have faith in himself despite personal adversity was an attribute I could only dream of acquiring.

At that moment the bus arrived at our terminal. As we disembarked I asked my new friend if he was feeling better. 

“Yes I am,” he replied. “Do you have any candy?”

As luck would have it, I had a brand new roll of Lifesavers and I handed them to him immediately. “Keep the roll,” I said. “You deserve them.”

He carefully unwrapped the package and popped one into his mouth. He thanked me and as he walked away I heard him murmur, “I am…a good person."