199 lines
5.2 KiB
Plaintext
199 lines
5.2 KiB
Plaintext
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
THE FROG PRINCE
|
|
|
|
Andrew Varga
|
|
Copyright 1992
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I plunked my tray down as I slumped into the booth.
|
|
Factory-modified foodstuffs entombed in plastic.
|
|
|
|
Exhausted, and it was only noon. I'd been to five
|
|
businesses that morning, resume in hand, proudly, even
|
|
boastfully locating employment.
|
|
|
|
Truth is, I'd gone out begging for someone to read
|
|
the damned thing.
|
|
|
|
What would my wife say when I came home empty-handed
|
|
again? She'd smile bravely at my story, but I knew I'd
|
|
catch the ugly desperation roaming around behind her eyes.
|
|
And my insides would crumble again, like an old brick
|
|
building in an earthquake.
|
|
|
|
"May I sit down?"
|
|
|
|
I looked up into the face of the ugliest old man I'd
|
|
ever seen. I can't say that he was shabbily dresses, but
|
|
he was as close as one could come to it. But the truly
|
|
surprising thing about him was his face. It was almost as
|
|
though some wicked witch had tried to turn him into a frog
|
|
but had somehow forgotten part of the incantation and the
|
|
spell only partly took hold! The Creature from the Black
|
|
Lagoon without the gills!
|
|
|
|
"All the other seats are taken," he said quietly as I
|
|
sat there gawking.
|
|
|
|
All I could do was nod.
|
|
|
|
"Thank you very much," he said with genuine sincerity
|
|
and a twinkle in his eyes.
|
|
|
|
I quickly turned my attention to my unappetizing
|
|
sandwich, trying to hide my shocked surprise.
|
|
|
|
I heard his tray touch my table, and the rustle of his
|
|
clothes as he sat down. I glanced up just as he removed
|
|
his hat. His large bald head was covered with big brown
|
|
splotches, like what you'd find on a spotted toad. As I
|
|
hastily returned to my meal, I noticed that the only thing
|
|
on his tray was a plastic cup filled with black coffee.
|
|
His silence made me look up again. Two fingers were
|
|
missing from one of his hands. They were folded and his
|
|
head was bowed. This awful looking creature was praying!
|
|
|
|
Wanting to get away as soon as I could, I took a bite
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
and began stuffing my sandwich back into its thermoplastic
|
|
tomb.
|
|
|
|
He glanced across at me and smiled. Those eyes. So
|
|
bright. So out of place.
|
|
|
|
"Care for a little conversation?"
|
|
|
|
I was appalled. Can't he see that I'm trying to
|
|
ignore him? I tried to speak but ended up spitting food
|
|
on myself.
|
|
|
|
Embarrassed, I nodded.
|
|
|
|
He handed me his napkin and started to speak. I did
|
|
my best not to listen. Some story about war and Berlin
|
|
and an orphanage and America.
|
|
|
|
Then it hit me. This ugly old man was telling me his
|
|
whole life story! I stared in disbelief. The alarms in
|
|
the back of my head were beginning to go off. I felt, no
|
|
I knew, I had to get out of there.
|
|
|
|
I began listening in hopes of finding a break in his
|
|
story, so that I could excuse myself without being too
|
|
rude.
|
|
|
|
"And then," he said, sitting erect with pride, "I was
|
|
taken in by Father Pete who ran the school for the blind."
|
|
|
|
How fitting, I thought, and gave a smug smile. I
|
|
tried to get a word in, "You must have felt...."
|
|
|
|
"Like a frog out of water?" His smile broadened.
|
|
|
|
Again I was reduced to silence as he continued his
|
|
story.
|
|
|
|
He'd studied to be a priest he told me, but no parish
|
|
would have him.
|
|
|
|
"That's when I met my wife, Belinda, you know." He
|
|
told me about his family, how in spite of their problems
|
|
their love grew and blossomed, and filled his life with
|
|
joy.
|
|
|
|
And then later how they were all lost in a fire.
|
|
|
|
He told me about abuses he'd suffered for that which
|
|
he could not change, how he'd suffered and wandered and
|
|
suffered some more.
|
|
|
|
And all the time smiling with that sparkle in his
|
|
eyes.
|
|
|
|
How every one of his problems was surmounted and put
|
|
to rest in the past, with faith and a prayer.
|
|
|
|
I spent the afternoon listening to that man. Listening
|
|
yes, and learning, too.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
At home I fought back the tears as I kissed my wife at
|
|
the door, bent down and, still smiling, gave my daughter a
|
|
big warm hug.
|
|
|
|
True beauty, and yes, happiness, thanks to God, are
|
|
always, always found on the inside.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
3
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|