The Park Cleaner

An older man struggles with daily life and regrets. Is it too late to change course?

         
         
         
         

The Park Cleaner

by Damon Nomad

          A well-dressed man called out as he walked towards Clyde. "Hey, gramps. You Clyde? You got my money clip?"
          Clyde was standing next to Wally near the park fountain, which was shut down for the cold-weather season. Wally muttered, "What's he shoutin' about?"
          Clyde didn't answer; he knew Wally would be angry. He turned toward the man in the suit. Gramps? He wasn't old enough to be this man's grandfather, maybe a much older uncle. No reason to make an issue out of it. "Yes sir, that's me. Can you describe it?"
          The man stared for a moment as if he was insulted by the idea that he might be scamming for a lost money clip. "Sterling silver, my initials BJT, stylized font."
          "Clyde reached into his pocket and handed it to the man. "Three hundred and fifty dollars. It's all there."
          The man counted the money and slid it back into the clip. He squinted with a smirk. "You expecting a reward?"
          "No, sir."
          "Good." He slipped the clip into his pocket, turned, and walked away.
          Wally grabbed Clyde by the arm. "What the hell, old man. We had a deal. A fifty-fifty split for anything we find, and we cover for each other. Never saw it, never found it."
          "I'm turning over a new leaf. I ain't gonna rat on you if you keep something. Whatever I find, I'm posting on a website. The librarian helped me set it up on the computer in the library." They worked in an open park with no lost and found.
          "Stupid old fool. You stay on your side of the park. I'll stay on my mine." Wally walked away rolling his rubbish bin and muttering something. Sadly, Wally was the closest thing Clyde had to a friend at the moment. Seemed like that had just come to an end.
          ***
          Clyde warmed up a can of soup that evening in his rat trap of an apartment. He thought of the money he had passed up by giving that money clip back. Money he could use. Maybe this was a mistake. He stirred the soup and turned down the heat of the hot plate a smidge. No, it's time to set my life straight.
          Drinking, gambling, and stealing had cost him everything. His ex-wife said he would never change. He had kicked the booze for five years now. The gambling was harder, but he managed. He was still paying off one of his bookies. He got fired from two jobs for stealing, and he had convinced himself that finders-keepers as a park cleaner for the last three years wasn't really stealing.
          ***
          The following week, two cops on foot patrol stopped Clyde as he emptied trash from one of the bins near the stone lion statue. The short, stout officer asked, "You come across a dealer stash today?" He winked with a smirk. "Maybe forgot to call it in. We chased the guy down late yesterday. He must have ditched it here in the park. We need it for evidence."
          "No, sir. I'll keep an eye out. For sure."
          Clyde could see that they weren't sure they could believe him or trust him. He and Wally had found some stashes before, money and crystal meth or pills in bags. Wally knew some people, and he would get a 'reward' for giving the drugs to some dealers.
          Wally wandered over a few minutes later. "What did you say to those cops? They were eyeballing me pretty hard."
          "I didn't say nothing. Told 'em I hadn't seen any dope." Clyde figured Wally must have found what the cops were looking for.
          Wally moved closer. "I got eight hundred bucks for the dope. I'll give you half to keep your mouth shut."
          "Don't want the money. I ain't gonna talk."
          "Okay, suit yourself." Wally headed back to his cleaning territory.
          ***
          A few hours later, Clyde picked up his weekly paycheck and headed for the payday checking place. They took five percent, but paid cash money, and he didn't have a bank account. His once-a-week treat, the Chinese restaurant for wonton soup, was his next stop. He never cut through the alley, but today he was particularly hungry.
          The two thugs must have followed him from the payday shop. One of them knew exactly which pocket he had stuck his bankroll, and the other one pointed the pistol at him. The one who took the money pushed him to the ground and gave him two kicks to the back. They bolted away, and there was nothing that Clyde could do. Their faces were covered with pull-over masks with eye holes.
          He slowly pulled himself up off the ground. The rent was due next Friday, and Bruiser would be coming by to collect for the bookie the next day. He knew he wouldn't be able to cover them both, and the landlord had a zero-tolerance policy for late rent. A five percent per day late fee. Bruiser had an even more worrisome policy. I should have taken the money from Wally. That money, as well as the money clip last week, would be enough to get him through the month. This was a stupid idea.
          ***
          On Monday, Clyde swept some leaves and litter under a bench into the long-handled scoop. He saw a flash of something shiny and crouched down. He found a woman's pendant on a gold chain. It was circular, with some sort of red stone backing, and a woman's face in a polished white stone relief on top of the red stone. There were small stones around the outer edge that surrounded the face. Are those diamonds?
          They had found jewelry before, but this looked like something special, and it appeared to be old. He slipped it into his pants pocket. He could see what Reggie might offer. Reggie ran a shady pawn shop where he and Wally had sold some jewelry, mobile phones, and even some old coins once. Maybe this was a reward from the good Lord, a little payback for his new righteous life. Money to get him through this month and even longer. Just this one time, and then he would get back on the virtuous path. Wally made it clear they weren't partners anymore, so the heck with him.
          ***
          Clyde could tell from Reggie's initial expression that it was valuable when he stopped in the pawn shop late that afternoon. "It's a real antique, right?"
          Reggie quickly put on his game face. "Antique? Well, it's old. It's a quality costume piece. Probably retails for five hundred dollars. I'll give you two hundred."
          "You're lying. Looking to cheat me."
          Reggie gestured for quiet. "Keep your voice down."
          Clyde looked around. "It's only you and me in here. Give it to me straight up."
          Reggie squinted as he puckered his lips. "Yeah, it's an antique cameo, European, I would guess. I'm no expert, but I think it's hand-carved ivory on a red jade base, and those are small diamonds. Probably worth twenty grand, the best I could do is three thousand cash. It's a bit out of my league. I know a guy who will give me maybe five or six grand."
          Clyde picked up the necklace. "How old?"
          "Probably from the 30s or 40s."
          Clyde nodded slowly. "Three grand cash, right now. I was never here, right?"
          "Yep."
          ***
          Tuesday morning, a man about Clyde's age approached him in the park. Dressed in expensive clothes and with the manicured appearance of money. Kind of a pale appearance of someone who was sick or had recently been ill. "You haven't by chance heard of anyone finding a woman's necklace in the park the last few days?"
          Clyde held his breath for a moment. "Yes, sir. I found a necklace. Can you tell me what it looks like?" Clyde couldn't bring himself to sell the fine piece of jewelry to Reggie. He hadn't had time to post it on the website.
          The man gave an exact description. Clyde reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. "I put it in here so it wouldn't get damaged. I'm guessing it's valuable."
          The man gasped when he looked inside. He sat down on the nearby bench. "It is worth some money; its value can't be measured in dollars. My grandfather commissioned it for my grandmother when they were living in London. My grandmother bequeathed it to my mother. My mother passed away on Sunday, quietly in her sleep. Her driver brought her here to the park on Saturday to visit the spot where she became engaged to my father."
          The man paused a moment. "I'm guessing she was wearing the cameo and hadn't properly closed the clasp. It was her most cherished possession and remembrance of her mother. The carving of the woman is a portrait of my grandmother. Hand-carved from ivory by an artisan in London." The man's eyes were glassy with tears. "I was horrified that it was lost, forever, when I realized it was missing. It was my mother's wish that she be buried with it. I promised her."
          The thought of burying this valuable family heirloom seemed regrettable. Clyde asked, "There's no one else to pass it on to?"
          "No, I was an only child. My wife died five years ago; we never had any children. Truth is, I don't have much . . ." His voice trailed off, and he went quiet for a moment. "You didn't ask for a reward. I will pay more than what it's worth."
          Clyde thought for a moment. "I can't accept a reward. I made a sort of promise to myself to change my life."
          The man smiled with a nod. "Tell me more about this pact."
          ***
          A month later, there was a knock at Clyde's apartment door on Saturday morning. Clyde had paid last month's rent, but not his installment for Bruiser. Strangely, Bruiser gave him another month with only an additional interest charge. He had scraped by all month, eating nothing but white beans, rice, and noodles. He barely had enough for the rent and Bruiser. The rent was due at the end of the day, and Bruiser would come by in the early evening. He cracked the door open to find a young man in an expensive business suit.
          An hour later, Clyde stared in disbelief at the papers the young lawyer had left behind. The man Clyde returned the necklace to had died yesterday after a long fight with cancer. It turned out that he was the owner of the local newspaper and had left a fortune of nearly one hundred million dollars.
          There was a handwritten note on top. Dear Clyde, I have struggled with where to leave my money. Hoping to find someone who might use it to make the world a little better in some way. Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself. You turned your life around. Take a few days and give my lawyers instructions for this money; keep it all, some of it, or none of it. Do something to change the world.
          ***
          Tuesday afternoon, Wally approached as Clyde emptied a bin. "Hey Clyde, you hear about that old dude who left a fortune, a hundred million bucks, for some new charity. Fifty thousand bucks to anyone who completes a change your life challenge for a year. Got to keep a diary and write a story about it for the newspaper."
          "I heard. You think it's a scam?"
          Wally was quiet for a moment. "Didn't sound like it."
          Clyde moved a step closer. "You thinking of giving it a shot?"
          "Yeah." He paused a moment. "I thought you might help me. You are already on that road."
          "Sure, we could take it on together. Lean on each other when it gets rough."


Word Count 1995. A Story based on a Tolstoy quote, "Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself."

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