The heavy rains from before dawn had left small rivers and
lakes in the gutters as Mai made her way to school. Despite being less than
half a mile, she enjoyed taking a leisurely, twisting path through various back
alleys and side streets.
On
the last stretch, just across from an all but forgotten graveyard, an old man
sat on the corner. Crouched a small stool, next to him slept the most ragged,
pitiful dog Mai had ever seen. She couldn’t’ even begin to guess it’s breed.
In
his hand he held three balloons tied to short lengths of silvery ribbon.
“Could
I offer you a balloon?” he asked as she approached.
She
stopped, still a good ten feet from him and looked him up and down. She had the
feeling he might be homeless, but wasn’t sure.
Without
speaking, Mai just shook her head.
“Please?”
he pleaded, proffering a balloon again.
“No,”
said Mai flatly. “I do not want one.”
As
she said this, the silvery ribbon slipped from his fingers, releasing the
balloon into the sky.
“That
is a shame,” he replied as he turned, grabbed his stool, and shuffled away.
When
she looked again she noticed the dog was no longer there.
Mai
told herself the poor thing probably went off to a dumpster somewhere looking
for food.
The
next day was a windy one, the kind that ripped the heat from the flesh
regardless of how many layers were worn.
Unlike
her usual habit, Mai made a beeline for school.
Once
again, however, she encountered the same old man in the same spot. He got up
from his stool at her approach.
“Could
I offer you a balloon?” he asked.
Mai
noticed he only had two balloons this times.
She
shook her head without slowing her pace.
“That
is a shame,” he said.
Mai
looked back just in time to see the silvery thread of the balloon slip through
his fingers. She stopped and watched him shuffle away.
Mai
wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t help but notice he didn’t have his stool with
him. Brushing it off, she hurried on to school.
The
following day turned out to be unusually muggy, leaving a thick fog obscuring
distant views.
Nervous
about the past two days, Mai left early and took a roundabout way to school,
being careful to avoid the intersection where she had encountered the strange
old man twice before.
The
school day came and went uneventfully, the heavy fog persisting into the
afternoon.
Distracted
by thoughts of an assignment, she headed straight for home.
“Could
I offer you a balloon?” came a voice from the fog.
Mai
let out a small scream and jumped back.
It
was the old man again, holding out a solitary balloon.
“No!”
she screamed. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
“That
is a shame,” he said.
Once
again, Mai watched as the silvery string slipped from his hands. She quickly
lost sight of the balloon in the fog.
When
she looked back down he was gone.
Unnerved,
she ran home as fast as she could.
Despite
telling her initially she was overreacting, Mai was able to convince her older
brother to walk with her to school before he left for work.
This
day was clear and bright, if not almost unseasonably warm.
As
they rounded the intersection, there was no sign of the old man.
Instead,
a woman who appeared in her thirties crouched in the spot where the old man had
been. She had in her hands three balloons.
As
they approached, she realized that the woman was praying.
“Is
that your ‘old man’?” her brother chided.
“No,”
Mai said as she punched him in the arm. “Wait here a sec, kay?”
“Look,
I gotta be at work—” her brother started.
“Thirty
seconds,” she pleaded.
“Fine,
fine,” he relented.
Mai
walked up to the woman who seemed to not notice her.
“Excuse
me, miss . . .” Mai said
“Oh
I’m sorry,” said the woman as she stood. “Am I in your way?”
“No,”
said Mai, “I was just wondering . . .”
For
some reason, she suddenly felt foolish and compelled not to ask further.
Shaking it off, Mai continued.
“I
was wondering what you were doing . . .” Mai said as the balloons waved in a
gust of wind, “With those balloons. What are they for?”
The
woman smiled the saddest smile Mai had ever seen, then answered.
“My
grandfather used to sit on this corner and offer balloons to children as they
came by. He never took any money, nor asked for any. He used to tell me that
there was enough sadness in the world and a small thing like a balloon could go
a long way to brighten someone’s day.”
Feeling
her fear wanting to swallow her, Mai had to work up the courage to ask the
question that was suddenly screaming in her mind.
“What,”
Mai said, “What do you mean ‘used to’?”
“Someone
started spreading rumors that he was secretly up to no good and meant to harm
children. Eventually, some parent decided to take things into their own hands.
When he went to give out balloons one morning, they were here waiting for him.”
The
woman turned away and looked towards the sky.
“It
was a good thing for dental records,” the woman said, “Because even his own daughter,
my mother, wasn’t able to identify the body. There was this old hand-made stool
he used to carry around. They used it on him until only splinters were left.
Even his old mutt that followed him around wasn’t spared from their wrath.”
Mai
felt herself grow weak as she dropped to her knees, tears already streaming
down her face.