The Hero

Prompt: For the Glory | Word Count: 1250 Words Exactly | Genre: Fiction
Warning: None
Due: September 11, 2019

The Hero by Peggy Rockey

Dugal lay propped on blue silken sheets, his pale face in stark contrast with dark, curly hair. There was something soft and kind about the man in repose that was rarely seen when awake. His lips were formed in a crooked smile, but Patrick found it difficult to define the expression on his face: part mystery, part expectation, part fear.

“What’s wrong with Daddy,” asked the little boy who came to stand beside Patrick. He kept pulling at the bow tie around his neck, obviously uncomfortable in the little black suit and shiny black shoes. “Why doesn’t he wake up?” Donal’s face was as pale as his father’s, his expression just as mixed.

Patrick cursed the boy’s grandparents under his breath. Four year old lads should not be subjected to open casket viewings. It messed with their minds, as he well knew. He took the boy’s hand in his own calloused one; squeezed it firmly, affectionately. “Daddy’s gone off to be with your mother, lad. He’ll not be waking again.”

He refused to tell the boy his dad was in heaven. Not much chance of that, Patrick thought; not with the lifestyle he'd led. It could just as easily been he in that casket. He'd been the one supposed to deliver the drugs to the gang leader, not Dugal; but his cousin had insisted, said it was better for Patrick to stay home with his newborn babe, help out his wife and all that.

Only two weeks before, Dugal had come to the hospital while Patrick’s son was being born, and Patrick had asked what it was like being a father.

“Ah, it’s fantastic,” his cousin had gushed. “The lad follows me around everywhere, listens to everything I say and looks at me as if I can do no wrong. Your lad will think you’re a hero!”

It made him angry, remembering. What kind of hero OD’d on drugs? Dugal had been no hero. Neither was Patrick. He was nothing but a criminal; had been for ten years or more. Dugal had been in it for the drugs, while Patrick had just wanted to make easy money. And he had, too. He’d made a ton of money. Told himself he did it for his family, but seeing his cousin laid out in the casket before him make Patrick realize that if he continued on this path he'd be dead himself, or in jail, before his own son was four years old.

Donal’s small hand fidgeted in Patrick’s, and he was struck with the notion that little Donnie didn't want money. He wanted the same things Patrick hadn’t had when he was a young lad growing up. He just wanted to go to the park with his dad, or the beach, or even to the grocery store. He needed love and security and the knowledge that his dad was going to be there for him. To know his dad was someone he could count on. Donal was never going to have that now.

It was a life changing moment for Patrick.

He remembered when his Uncle Joe had been diagnosed with Emphysema after a lifetime of smoking. He’d been like a father to Patrick when his own parents had died, killed while driving drunk from a party. Patrick had offered to quit smoking if Uncle Joe would too. The older man had tried and failed to quit, but Patrick never smoked again. The desire to smoke had simply shut off, like a faucet. Like cupid’s arrow to his heart, his love for his uncle became that much greater than his love for cigarettes. It had had such a positive impact on Uncle Joe that he too quit smoking and lived another ten years when he might’ve died in less than three had he continued without change.

Donnie had begun to cry. Patrick picked him up, holding him close to his chest, smoothing his dark hair. He carried him over to the boy’s grandparents, who sat with Patrick’s wife and son. Love for this family struck him hard, like that familiar arrow to his heart, and he knew his life had to change.

Donnie squirmed, wiping at the tears streaking his face. He asked to go to the bathroom, and while he waited for the boy, Patrick overheard another cousin talking to some friends about an Ironman competition he was going to compete at in Barcelona next month.

Ian was an intense, wiry man whom Patrick had always admired, though they hadn’t been close as kids and had little connection as adults. As he listened to the other man talk about the upcoming event, Patrick instinctively knew he needed to surround himself with people like Ian if he was going to change. People with real, meaningful goals who weren’t simply wasting their lives in pursuit of quick riches and instant highs, like he and Dugal had done for so long.

***

Patrick made a point of becoming friends with Ian over the next few months. He went to Barcelona to watch his cousin participate in the Ironman triathlon, thrilled by the excitement and adrenalin of the event. Seeing Ian cross that finish line was the most fantastic and inspirational thing he’d ever witnessed. He didn’t know how to swim, and he didn’t own a bike, but Patrick made the decision, right then and there, to sign up for the next Ironman competition. He knew his life needed to change and he had found the way to do it.

He told himself he was doing it for his family. But really, he did it for himself.

It wasn’t easy. His old “friends” made it difficult to leave his old life behind, offering him quick riches and odd jobs. He told refused them, over and over again, but they kept coming back and started threatening him and his family. He ended up moving out to the suburbs, changing his phone number and getting a job as a photojournalist for a local newspaper. It didn’t pay well, initially, but it gave him a sense of legitimacy.

Learning to swim was harder than he thought it would be. Often his wife, Hannah, would bring Donal and their son to the pool while he trained. Shamus loved to splash and blow bubbles and Donnie floated and played while Patrick swam. He hired a coach, and eventually became comfortable in the water. He pushed himself hard, learning to tread and to float on his back, to open his eyes under water and to swim with long, powerful strokes.

He used some of his illicitly gained savings to buy a bike, and found an Ironman training plan online. He balanced his time between family, work, and training, feeling more energized and encouraged than he ever had in his life. He became high on exercise, on the dopamine that surged through his body, fueled by hours of swimming, biking and running. Amped by the positive changes he was experiencing in his life.

His family came with him to Holland for the competition. Even little Donnie and his grandparents went along to see Patrick compete. It felt amazing, standing on that canal surrounded by so many people, all trying to prove something to themselves and to each other. Patrick inhaled the cool, crisp air; filled with a deep sense of achievement. The race hadn’t even started yet, but he felt like he had already won.

He had won his life back and in his own eyes he had become a hero.