Broken Toyz
It was late afternoon on a warm June day in a small rural community just outside of New Orleans. Miss Posey, a middle-aged woman, dressed in her Sunday best, casually travels down the winding river road that would bring her to the home she must visit today. She turns unto an oak lined drive, just along the grounds of the local cemetery. Once at the home, she slowly ascends the steps, hesitating briefly, as she is startled by a sudden flash of light. It is only then that she noticed a man sitting next to the railing of the front porch. She didn’t recognize him, even though she knows him well, as do the rest of the people in this small town. Everyone here is aware of the pain associated with this man. She rushes into the home and peers through the shears covering the oval glass of the front door.
The man had just lit a cigarette and was reaching for his lighter that had just slipped from his hand. He seemed too preoccupied to even acknowledge anyone else was there. His eyes were transfixed on the porch of a modest country home across the way. There was a young boy, who appeared to be about twelve or so, building what seemed to be a fortress with assorted letter blocks. It looked as if he was trying to reenact a battle with an eclectic array of toy soldiers.
As the boy played, his father returned from work and headed directly into their home, completely oblivious to his sons presence, even though the boy had told him hello. Moments later, the boy hears his father’s voice radiating through the house, the volume ever increasing as he returns to the porch. A long shadow falls over the boy’s fortress as his father crosses behind him. Only then does his father notice his son sitting there. His dad just couldn’t understand why his son wasn’t playing ball like the other kids his age. No, Matthew was playing with an old tin soldier and a bunch of toy blocks.
Matthew hears his mother announcing that dinner was ready. And as his dad heads into the house, Matthew is told to pick up and come inside to eat. The boy meticulously returns each block and soldier to its pre-designated location in an old shoe box. The boy’s favorite was a small tin soldier he had received from his late grandfather. He was just about to place the soldier on top when he hears his father’s scream, “I told you to come inside and eat!” At that same instant, Matthew’s toys are flung across the porch by a swift kick of his father’s foot, shattering them against the front of the house.
Matthew frantically searches the fragments for the Napoleonic man he cherishes so much. You see, it reminds him of everything good in life. It reminds him of the only man who showed him any sought of love, his grandfather. He discovers the soldier, bent in two, lying next to a potted plant. And as he caresses it, like one would a wounded bird, he hears the encouraging sound of his mother’s voice telling him it will be okay.
The man on the steps is mesmerized by the scene he has just witnessed. He gets up and lights another cigarette as he prepares to take a walk down the path to the river road. As he returns, he passes Matthew and Courtney, the boy’s friend, on their way to the local fair. A few hours later, the man sees the young couple returning, hand in hand. Matthew seems to be nervous. Maybe it’s because he is anticipating what would soon be his first kiss. Even though it’s just on the cheek, it’s just what the boy needed to help him forget his troubles at home.
The man notices, through the window, Matthew’s father lying on the couch. And even though he’s obviously out to the world, Matthew’s dad manages to balance a half empty beer bottle between his outstretched fingers and the floor. The television seems to be pulsating as its glow is projected across the living room wall. The man sees a shadow crossing the room towards the television. It’s Matthew, and as he reaches to turn it off, a shower of sparkles strays past his eyes. Matthew looks down and sees broken glass on the floor and instinctively reaches for the pain coming from the back of his head, and as his father stumbles out of the room, Mathew’s mother hurries to the boy’s assistance.
Matthew’s mother has had enough. She starts to pack the car, in hopes of taking Matthew away from this abusive man. She tells Matthew to go to the car and wait, but Matthew heads to his room. There was something he just couldn’t leave behind. He just couldn’t relinquish it, not while there was still the pain of his father’s so called love. This was the only thing that gave him the strength to handle all the abuse. While standing next to his night stand, Matthew hears the horrific sound of his mother’s scream. He rushes to the kitchen and sees his mother slumped over the sink with a rag pressed to her eye, his father standing over her.
Matthew knew this could go on no longer. He pushes his father back and to the floor. His dad staggers to his feet and slaps the boy with the back of his hand, expecting Matthew to back down. But Matthew pushes his father again. This time his dad punches Matthew across the face, spinning him around and through the jalousie glass door behind him. Matthew lays lifeless amongst a bed of shattered glass, his mother desperately attempting to revive him.
The whine of an approaching siren rivets the man sitting on the steps across the street. He is left emotionally exhausted by the realization of what he has just encountered. The man unconsciously heads up the steps leading to the home where he had been sitting all this time. As the door opens, he is greeted by Miss Posey. She gently hugs him, as if to comfort him somehow. After their embrace, she heads down the hallway, her eyes never straying from the room at its end. The man follows, and as he enters the room, he notices her standing beside a casket.
At its edge sits a freshly inscribed plaque with the words, “We must forgive to mend the broken.” He gazes down at the fragile being lying before him and thinks how ironic those words truly are. He places his hand in the casket, then turns to leave, pausing momentarily in the foyer to sign the Guest Registry.
Miss Posey kneels to pay her respects and is shocked to find, just inside the casket, a tiny tin soldier. She rushes down the hall to the Registry in a desperate attempt to find the identity of this troubled man. There, in total disbelief, Miss Courtney Posey finds but one word, “Matthew.”
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