The Heart of Henry Harrison

Henry Harrison lived his life confined to two words. Too much. The words he lived by were, show the whole world who you are. The same words were used against him. Henry now believed if he chipped away the extra, he could send his whole life overseas.

From deep within his cluttered closet, he rolled out a buckled suitcase. What was important enough to keep for poor old Henry? A life full of collecting, left things to be let go. He wished it all had the same importance. But he wouldn’t ask for help. So he would put his whole life in this little buckled suitcase.

He sat upon the bed deciding what to pick up first. His vest was tight against his shirt and unbuttoned it to make a sigh. Choosing left no compromise. A neigh broke Henry’s concentration and made him follow it to the window. Upon horse and buggy, aunt Dorothy sat. She sat there looking smug. She was one who told Henry his words were decorated in awful greys. He sat the words on the bed and left them there to stay.

Stephanie Brooks who opened up a flower shop next door, showed Mr. Henry her true colors, the day she moved on in. He asked her for a flower to match his loud and lovely tie. She said there wasn’t one alive from here to the northern skies. The tie was lost beneath the mess and Henry would let it lie.

A prickly man named Bronty James, had lent a helping hand. Carrying his things upstairs, since Henry felt a lesser man. The town did talk and Bronty James didn’t relive those deeds. All of it was lost to time itself and Henry was bound to forget.

There were still too many things for Henry to pack away, so shrinking down his inner thoughts felt the safest. Patty Jones, a dear friend, would miss him all the same. The only one who’d find him, even lost in a ghost town. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure but it wasn’t enough to convince him to stay.

Patty stomped her way upstairs, her new boots meeting every step. She heard the news from somewhere west and was going to tell him a thing or two. Unapologetically, the door slams inward. In walks a pile of anger, wait, it’s Patty standing there. Henry barely makes out Patty through her red and purple face. “Don’t scream at me for leaving this sad and nasty place,” Henry charges before her words are ready.

“Your words ring false because you only see the negative. You live in it and that’s where you’ll be, until time takes another path.”

He huffs and puffs just like the story to act all tough and big. Pathetic feelings don’t matter when it comes to the heart of it. So he stuffs them in the drawers and hides them underneath the bed.

He packs a neat and plain feeling. A meek and quiet voice. And right beside it goes the big one. The loud one goes outside.

“Patty, you won’t believe me, but I’ve found no soul who wishes I stay,” Henry explains. He combs his hair in a new direction and the comb finds a place in the suitcase. “If I’m to change and grow, then I must muster up to go,” he adds.

Patty ponders this a minute, afraid to unleash a beast. For she stopped from selling the greatest thing, cider from the corner store. “I’ll say this only once, you fool. I’m here and there and everywhere. No other person do you need, when you have no one else but me.”

“Patty you’re wonderful and rather grand, but my name has put you in jeopardy. Your sales have slowed and a business plan is what you should be chasing.”

“Henry, you’re looking thin and smaller than you used to be. Come down to the corner store and I’ll pour you a cup of hot cider.”

He weighed his options. Finish packing the necessities to leave this afternoon, or stop to close his eyes in Patty’s back office. The only other place that no one looked his way.

He dropped the thought right to the ground and Patty picked it up to save. It sagged in her arms, no life left for her to help it breathe. “You’re missing life pass you by. Taking defeat before it comes.”

“Defeat already took its toll.” Those five words broke Patty and he left her there. No part of her would reach the suitcase. He rushed down the stairs, already late, suitcase held firmly in hand. The neatest shirts and shoes. His comb. A plain green tie. All his negative memories, stuffed delicately inside.

He wanted to leave them on the dresser but had a realization. If they stayed here he’d be the same. Not learning from the past few years.

The innkeeper stopped him and held out his hand. “You’re forgetting something, Henry Pal. My rooms aren’t free of charge. Your voice did carry heavily through all of your loud snores.”

He patted his pockets, no jingling change could be found on Henry’s person. He put up a finger in need of time to go back to the place he left behind.

He trekked his way up every step he just descended. He opened the already closed door and stepped inside. Patty holding the dead piece of him. The tie, buried in trinkets. The words left on the bed.

It opened up a side to him, one he thought was not worth knowing. The grocery man found his jokes rather funny and even the horses nuzzled his cheeks. That may be because he always smelled like fresh apple cider. There was a lady once who commented on his teeth. She said he always smiled which made her smile too.

The negative pieces were out of sight so they couldn’t be revealed. But these smaller things arose from looking at them from a distance. Sure, the driver of the horses found his hair quite scruffy, and the milk man commented on his loud exterior. All the nice comments were lying under the rug, but came from underneath, the one about his laugh, his kindness, his heart, and his love.