Henry remembered him from his work at the high school, where he had been a craft teacher for over forty years.
So this Andrew, when he was a student, behaved extremely insolently, humiliating those who were poorer than him or physically weaker.
Henry once tried to shame Andrew, but it was all in vain.
And then, one dark night, the workshops for practicing crafts caught fire. Many blamed Henry then, saying he didn’t put out his cigarette properly. But he had never smoked in his life and always observed fire safety precautions.
The mystery was unraveled with Andrew, who, in fact, had committed arson with a group of teenage friends. Henry couldn’t prove anything at the time and was subsequently fired from the school with the corresponding note in his employment record.
Overall, the dismissal didn’t bother the craft teacher too much, as he was formerly retired by then and had no bread left on his plate for sure.
After seventeen years had passed since the incident, by the twist of fate, Andrew and the elderly janitor crossed paths again, though in quite different capacities now.
Of course, Andrew pretended not to recognize his former teacher, but Henry Brooks was no fool and had seen far too much in life to take Andrew at his word.
However, James appealed to him. Honest, kind, fair. Just the kind of leader he should be.
Clutching the money given by Henry, I slowly made my way toward the bus stop to catch my needed bus on time.
Memories of the recent snowstorm loomed on both sides of the road, with dirty gray mounds of snow that had fallen several weeks ago.
Lost in my somber thoughts, I trudged along the street when suddenly I heard a muffled murmuring.
It turned out that I hadn’t managed to distance myself from the restaurant by a decent margin, and thus I quickly turned around, thinking Henry was following me to say something.
But there was no one behind me.
A fairly brisk frost lingered, nipping at my nose and rosy cheeks. The mysterious sound repeated, and I realized it was coming from the nearest snowdrift.
Understanding that someone clearly needed help, I cautiously approached and froze in shock.
There lay a man with a bloody head, groaning softly and unconscious on the dirty gray snow.
My first thought was that the stranger had simply had too much to drink and had fallen, hitting his head. But when I leaned over the young man, I immediately realized he was as sober as a judge.
Without a second thought, I lifted the unfortunate man under his armpits and tried to get him on his feet. He was gradually regaining consciousness, indicating that the initial shock from the injury was wearing off.
“Damn, how could this happen? Bastards. Don’t touch Jack,” the man muttered deliriously.
Meanwhile, I stooped under the weight of the stranger’s body, led him to Henry’s shed, thinking that the injured man was simply delirious. I tried to ignore his muttering and persevered toward our destination.
The man I had rescued was definitely a vagabond and could have frozen to death on the streets in such bitter cold.
Seeing my flushed face, Henry understood everything without words. Taking the man from the other side, he, with my help, quickly laid him on the cot, which had once been a folding sofa.
“Well, that’s better. Now let’s treat the wound on his head. He’ll probably recover soon,” Henry sighed in relief, taking out bandages, cotton, and antiseptic from the first aid kit.
“Can you manage? Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?” I asked anxiously.
But the janitor just shook his head.
“No, dear, there’s no need. Why distract people from more important work? I wanted to be a doctor in my youth, but I failed the entrance exams. Then I spent a year and a half in medical school, decided to become a nurse, but even there, luck wasn’t on my side, so I had to become a laborer. But I know how to provide first aid, so don’t worry. The lad is tough, street smart. He’ll pull through, no doubt.”
My face immediately lit up with a sweet smile as the wounded man opened his eyes and began to turn his head from side to side, trying to understand where he found himself.
“Easy there, buddy. Easy. Sudden movements aren’t recommended for you right now. Just lie down and regain your senses. Do you at least remember your name?” Henry cautiously asked.
The guy forced a smile.
“Of course I do. Connor. That’s my name. Sawyer, the last name. Got beaten up because of a dog. These rich kids wanted some fun with a victim, and they chose the dog Jack. He’s a street dog, you know. He settled near the meat pavilion, not afraid of people. So when I saw that villainy, I immediately rushed to help. I took down two on the snow, but the third one, the jerk, hit me on the head with something.”
Henry nodded sympathetically.
“Yeah, that kind of thing happens. Don’t worry, stay here as long as you need. I have firewood and a little stove here. You’ll be as comfortable as can be.”
Connor gratefully looked at me, who hadn’t passed by and helped him in his difficult moment.
Sneaking a glance at my watch, I sighed sadly.
“Well, looks like I’ll have to take a taxi now. There go my savings. I’ve already missed the bus.”
Connor sniffled with a guilty look and turned away to the wall. Then, feeling it was because of him, the vagabond said, “Forgive me, for God’s sake. I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way. I’ve been having quite the adventures lately. Three weeks ago, I pulled a rich guy out of a burning car. Maybe you heard about it. It was quite a loud incident.”
I paled and involuntarily looked at my palm, remembering what happened during the revelation regarding Mr. Williams’ future.
“We heard, Connor. That was the restaurant owner, you know. Well, the one Henry and I used to work for,” Henry replied for both of us.
“We don’t work there anymore. At least I don’t,” I corrected him immediately.
The guy shook his head sadly and winced from the pain. His neck was stiff, and any slightly sharp movement caused a spasm.
“Easy, my friend. Don’t get agitated. And for saving our friend here, you deserve a special thank you. James was a very good person and probably still is,” the janitor corrected himself.
“I just happened to be there. It’s not really my territory, you see. Us vagabonds, we divide everything by districts, by yards. Step onto someone else’s turf, and you’ll quickly get your ribs cracked. But there I saw it. An accident and a pillar of smoke rising from it. People were running around, wailing, but no one was rushing to save the man. The gas tank could have exploded at any moment,” the vagabond began his story.
Henry looked at his interlocutor with undisguised respect. Deep down, he had long concluded that Connor was a good man. Otherwise, would he have rushed to the defense of a stray dog? Unlikely.