Standing Under the Weight of Our Mistakes

David Papp

“‘Tis hard for an empty bag to stand upright” - Benjamin Franklin

Staring at the alien reflection in the dusty mirror of the basement, Rob desperately battled tears of disbelief. He did not recognize the man in the mirror. His once muscular frame has been reduced to an anorexic skeleton. His hair and cheeks were covered by layers of grease, sweat, and filth. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen from endless trails of tears. Their once adventurous sparkle has faded to a dull circle rhythmically illuminated by the flashing lights of the police SUV outside. Suddenly, Rob remembered the gaunt faces of imprisoned criminals and realized he is soon to be one of them.

Rob’s conscience repeated frantically in his head I am not a murderer! It was not my fault! but his conviction faded as flashbacks of the mutilated victim and Rob’s crying mother reminded him of the truth. Just a month ago, he was here at this exact same spot, marveling at the future ahead as the end of senior year approached. It all seemed so distant, as if that horrible night had engulfed his sweet memories in flames.

Rob shivered as memories of the accident flooded his thoughts. He was driving slightly over the speed limit on a late Friday night, glad to have finally finished volunteer work at a nearby laboratory. He remembered a feeling of desolation overcoming him as he was glancing at the abandoned factories, shattered streetlamps, and overwhelming darkness. As he was sipping his coffee from a local restaurant, he was suddenly jerked back into reality as a still figure appeared in his headlights. He slammed on his breaks as he realized that the object in front was a man. In the final second as Rob met the panicking eyes of the man, he realized collision was inevitable. Just heartbeats later Rob heard the unmistakable sound of metal hitting flesh. Thud. Instantly the windbag exploded into Rob’s face, but not even the steaming airbag could wake up Rob from his state of frozen shock. Silent and motionless what seemed like hours, Rob unrelentingly forced his eyes shut with the airbag still pressed against his cheek and sat refusing to glance outside. The only thought crossing his head was: what have I done...?

Rob’s mind was drawn back into reality by the sound of his mother’s sobbing upstairs. Despite having gone through legal charges, being accused of murder by the victim’s family, and now facing a sentence of three years in a correctional facility for minors, nothing hurt Rob more than his mother’s agony. The sobbing words of his mother echoed in Rob’s head: I’m not blaming you, Rob. I’m just disappointed that you gambled with your and others’ lives like that. Realize that life will never be the same. Rob hesitantly walked upstairs to comfort his mother, but as he stood at her door, fist raised to knock, and on the verge of collapsing in tears, he turned abruptly and walked outside to the squad of police SUVs. He silently gave himself over to the police as they handcuffed him and directed him to the back of one of reinforced frame SUVs. Rob stared blankly while the car pulled out of his driveway.

* * *
Rob awoke to the sound of keys turning in the locks of his bars. Two bulky guards equipped with automatic firearms awaited him with stern expressions.

“Get out of here you scumbag! Time to discover the real world that hates you now. We’ll see you back in no time, it’s always the case with useless delinquents like yourself!” the guard announced threateningly as he swung his arm to point at the direction of the exit.

“Thank you, sir,” knowing better than to provoke them, Rob answered in a melancholy voice as he walked with his gaze fixed on the tiling pattern at his feet. The black-and-white checkered pattern seemed to continue indefinitely as it revolved around corners. Eager to escape the confines of the facility, Rob hastened his pace to a speed-walk. The sounds of his footsteps thunderously echoed in the narrow halls.

“What’s the hurry? You think you can escape your past?” the guard inquired provocatively as he lengthened his stride to catch up with Rob.

“No, sir. I just want to return to my normal life,” answered Rob automatically, but as soon as he did he realized his mistake.

“Normal life, hah! Do you hear this kid?!” the guard exclaimed as he clasped his massive belly in hysterical laughter. “ I've seen dozens of scumbags like you expecting to return to their normal lives. They never see what’s awaiting them: their friends long gone, society fearful of them, and career opportunities closed. And even those who were only at the wrong place at the wrong time will never regain their old selves. Pride, self-worth, happiness? All gone, son,”  the guard warned Rob.

“I understand, sir. I know it will be hard.”

“Hard, really? Try impossible kid. How do you think your friends will react when they find out? The government brands your crimes on you, just one internet search and everyone - your friends, your employers, and even your neighbors - will know what you did; you can’t hide it...”

Sensing tears emerging, Rob tried desperately to drain out the guard’s monologue. He begged his mind to disregard the guard’s caution as nonsense; he even prayed. All was to no avail, as the gut-feeling of hopelessness spread like venom from his soul to his limbs and to his senses as Rob realized the truth in the guard’s tirade. Vision clouded by rivers of tears, mouth unable to form meaningful words, and legs lacking the motivation to walk towards the “freedom” of the outside world, Rob collapsed on his knees. It was as if the infinite weight of all his mistakes were rested on his shoulders. He glanced at the second guard who has been quiet all this time and noticed a name tag. George. Maybe this man is more sympathetic, Rob prayed as he pleadingly looked into his eyes for help. Please, I can’t take his words. Tell him to end it. Despite Rob’s efforts, his pleads deflected off of George’s cold and unsympathetic eyes.

Slowly gathering the strength to at least make his way out, Rob leaned against the wall for support. The hope of not having to listen to the two guards gave Rob a weak, but nevertheless revitalizing source of physical strength. As he painstakingly stood up to continue his way to the exit, the guard’s words hit him like a wave of ice cold water.

“The consequences of your mistakes will forever press on your shoulders and debilitate you in every way. Do not expect to ever recover kid. You will never stand upright, you hear me?”

As a final attempt to block out the guard’s barrage of words, Rob clasped his hands over his ears to the point the he feared blood circulation would be cut off. But as the guard’s words began to sink in, Rob recognized the inevitable yet painful truth. He’s right. It’s been three years, and not a single day have I risen without remembering and regret. I am worthless, my life has been reduced to a single memory and a single emotion, but the weight of it is excruciating and unmovable.

Had it not been for the guards’ grabbing his shoulder to pull him back, Rob would have walked directly into the stainless steel door as he stumbled forward, lost in emotion. The voice of the guards’ requesting to open the door through the raspy intercom did not register within Rob’s mind. As the door slowly slid open, Rob stared into the real world he hoped for three years would be his escape. But his emotionless eyes stared directly through the thunderous downpour, and in the horrible voice of a man who has abandoned all hope, he muttered the guard’s words: “I will never stand upright.”