It was an early, foggy Brooklyn morning. Birds chirping and cars driving out to daily activities one by one. The fog steams the car windows. Cats remove from the resting places over nights and move to their daytime ones. Same routine every morning .The first to leave off the block is Pastor across the street. Then miss Katherine comes out with her dogs for their morning walk. Then leaves Bill’s wife across the street, Then Damon and I.
He walks outside dressed and ready 7:50 am, no earlier, no later. Trying to avoid every other person on the block. If it’s a Thursday he pushes his garbage can out on the street, any other day he has coffee in his hand and walks steadily to his car. His name is Damon and he is what many call a peoplefobe. He makes eye contact with no one and when you try to say hello he simply growls and walks past. It’s gotten to the point where no one try’s anymore they just let him be. His wife (one of the sweetest people in the world) actually puts up with him and they have a love that no one really understands but respects.
His grandchildren visit twice a week and some of them are my very good friends. It’s hard to imagine how he fits in with his family when they are so different from him. His family is so slender with light green eyes and all somewhat identical. While on the other hand, he is short and bulky with black hair and glasses. All the coffee he’s consumed over the years have left permanent stains on his teeth, and he walks steady always looking forward and never looking back.
One day as I was leaving for the bus I saw him walking out of his house as usual but accidently dropped a piece of paper. As I bent down to retrieve it he grumbled “ No I got it.”I took two steps back in shock and watched as he quickly retrieved his paper, got in his car and drove away. I continued on my way more concerned with what was on the paper, than with getting to school on time. When I reached the other side of the street I heard a huge CRASH!! . I looked down the block as smoke rose from Damon’s car, airbags blown up and the front of the car smashed badly.
At this point everyone on the block was outside their house as they watched the catastrophe. I saw Damon’s wife run out the house screaming, pushing past every neighbor that got in her way. It was hard to tell if he was alive or dead then all I saw was a hand. Damon’s fingers moving and he dropped out the car on to the street and continued on his way to work. Everyone went back in his or her house mumbling, “fool,” ”he’s an idiot,” “he should get medical attention.” My mom ran in the house and called the ambulance. Everyone went back in his or her houses like it never happened.
No one cared about Damon, after all Damon cares about no one. At first we all thought the worst but when we saw a hand emerging out of the car at least we knew he was alive. His wife fell to the floor screaming and wailing not yet realizing that her husband’s heart was very much still beating. After the ambulance came to convince Damon to get proper medical attention, I watched as they lifted him on a stretcher and rolled him away. “Do you want to ride with him?” The ambulance operator asked. “Yes please,” replied Damon’s wife. She jumped in the ambulance and it later went on its way. I didn’t see Damon again until the next morning.
The next morning I woke up early and waited till 7:50 am on the dot before making my way outside. I watched as Damon came out of his house and walked to the bus stop. I followed him as every step I took behind him he seemed to take a further one. “Good morning Mr. Damon,’’ I called. He stopped so swiftly I almost bumped right into him. He turned back and continued to walk on his way. After that day I left him alone for good.
Damon’s wife came over the next night to thank my mom for the get-well card she wrote up for Damon. “No problem” my mom replied. I continued to listen from the top step. “You know you’re the only one that sent one” his wife replied. There was a long period of silence. “Damon has social anxiety disorder,” She proclaimed. “Many think that he’s just mean, but deep down inside he has a heart”. I heard her start to sniffle and at some point a tear slowly ran down my cheek. I felt bad for Damon, all this time he was being judged for something he couldn’t control. “Wow” my mom replied. I could tell she felt bad, but knew nothing she could say would help the situation.
As I laid in my bed that night I reminisced about the crazy week I had. I learned a lot from Damon though. I used to be one of those people that would judge by first impressions. Even if that meant not completely knowing what someone goes through on a daily basis. The truth of the matter is though; no matter what Damon is diagnosed with he still had no respect for others. When he didn’t turn around that morning I wasn’t too surprised. I could wait my whole life for him to turn around and he still wouldn’t. Some people never change; I’m glad that I did.
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