The Bird That Flew

chapter sixteen

Later that evening, Stanislaus was thinking about Zoltan. He was sitting on the bench in the courtyard after Mass had ended so no one would see him lurking about. He had gotten almost no sleep within the past twenty four hours due to worry. Memories of Zoltan bringing him food and conversation filled his heart with joy, but now sorrow. Stanislaus had convinced himself that what had happened the night before was his fault. He started to become angry with himself that he had ever allowed himself to get close to Zoltan, as he was very hesitant ever since they had met in the first place. The dark part of his soul had warned him to not reveal too much of himself to him, but he did. It happened naturally as the sun rises. But why did it?

Stanislaus received something from Zoltan that something passersby never gave, and that was time. Attention. Care. Compassion. And most importantly, love. Love was the reason Zoltan made sure he had gone to safety before he did. And it was now the reason he was in the hospital recovering from injury. Stanislaus was surprised that anybody would dare to take such a risk for him. He never had felt he had respect from anybody. Being a homeless man, he was used to it. But as Zoltan interacted with him and spoke to him like a human, he learned he had worth. He was worth somebody's time of day.

Stanislaus looked at the church bell as it went off and decided he should go to the hospital, to see if he was alive. He could not bear to not know any longer. If he were really dead, Stanislaus thought, then he would ask Zoltan's father to shoot him, knowing he was a skilled huntsman. After all, Stanislaus was responsible for his son's death, right? And point being, he could not imagine living with himself if the only soul who cared for him died on account of it. He would not accept it.

Stanislaus took the bus to the city hospital, despite the sneers by strangers who touched shoulders with him. It did not bother him in the slightest. All he could think about was his dear friend, and whether or not he was still alive. Fear and sorrow laid heavy upon his soul. He prayed the entire way.

Mustering all of his courage, the old homeless man took a deep breath as he walked up the hospital doors and saw his reflection before walking in. He was prepared for the stares. For the weird looks. For the judgement. But he was here for only one person, and that was Zoltan.

He walked up to the front desk and asked the receptionist for him. Surprised, the receptionist adjusted her glasses and looked him up and down, as if he were not supposed to be there. She asked him what his relation was to Zoltan.

"I'm his friend. He is like a son to me. Please, may I see him?" Stanislaus begged earnestly.

"No," the receptionist refused. "I will have to ask you to leave, sir." she stood up and pointed to the door. Stanislaus shook his head and left the hospital. All eyes in the waiting room were glued on him as he made his way out. More sorrow filled his heart as he realized the receptionist's coldness may have meant Zoltan had already died and they would not release any more information.

As Stanislaus walked out from the hospital, he went straight to a tree that had a bench. There was another man sitting on it, but Stanislaus's feet were tired and he did not care. His heart was filled with so much anguish he did not care what the man's reaction to him would be.

The man on the bench was Zoltan's father; Tobias.

As Tobias saw the homeless man approaching, he did not move. He did not care. His heart was filled with so much anguish and shame he did not care about anything. He let the homeless man sit next to him, but he dared not look at him.

Stanislaus looked at Tobias and noticed he had been obviously crying. Knowing he probably was going to be brushed off like a pest as usual, he decided to take his mind off his pain and make sure he was alright.

"Are you well, sir?" Stanislaus asked.

Tobias shook his head.

"No." he replied. "I do not know what to do with myself."

"Me neither."

"My son is here because of me." Tobias said, sorrow in his voice.

"My friend is here because of me, too." Stanislaus said, just the same. "I am sorry, sir."

Suddenly it occurred to Stanislaus that the man sitting right next to him may very well have been Zoltan's father!

"What is your son's name, if I may ask?" Stanislaus asked, intensely eager to find out.

Tobias looked up at him, wondering why a homeless fellow would care so much to ask.

"Zoltan," he replied.

"That's my friend!" Stanislaus exclaimed. "Please pray tell, is he living?"

"Yes," Tobias replied, realizing that this was indeed the man who his son was talking about earlier. "And who are you?" he asked, just for confirmation.

"Stanislaus."

Tobias sighed and looked up at the sky. Stanislaus began to feel all sorts of anger towards the man sitting next to him. The stories Zoltan told him about the situations at home, about his father, drove him into the desire to give Tobias a piece of his mind.

"Your son," Stanislaus began, "is magnificiant."

Tobias had a confused look on his face. He listened, anyhow.

"Why do not not let him fly?" the old homeless man asked him.

"Pardon?"

"You want him to fit the mold you have set for him--" he replied. "but he cannot thrive there. He cannot be a hunter. It is not in him. He was meant to bring worlds unknown to men like you and me to life through the written word."

Stanislaus continued. "and you, you took his soul and tore it down, but you cannot fix what is not broken. Why can't you accept him? If he was my son, I would pour all of my efforts into believing in him."

"What did he tell you about me?" Tobias asked, getting touchy.

"He told me what was already quite clear in his voice." the homeless man replied. "He told me how unhappy he was at home. He was not thrivining. His heart was broken."

Tobias looked away in pain.

"I had a friend. His father was like you, but in a different respect," Stanislaus began, "he did not believe in my friend--but soon my friend found the magic that is in this life we live in, and he flew away."

Tobias looked at the homeless man, speechless.

"Whether you like it or not, Zoltan will do the same. His heart is gentle, but it is stronger than you know. And he will fly away just like my friend did. I know it." Stanislaus added.

Tobias took what the old homeless man was saying to heart and thought long and hard about what he was saying. He knew all along his son was going to be different from what he had in mind since he was young. His only intentions for his son's life were for good, but he poorly excecuted them. He then realized avoidance and cruel treatment were not the answers. But he knew the damage had been done.

Stanislaus stood up to leave. "Good day, sir." he said.

Tobias stopped him.

"Wait," Tobias said to him. "I will take you to see him. He wants to see you."

Stanislaus turned back and agreed without hesitation. They walked back into the hospital, both still in bitter anguish in heart, but this time together. They were both alike in many ways, although on the outside it seemed otherwise. They both felt helpless in the present situation, and they both felt like it was their fault it was happening.

Tobias led the old homeless man through the hospital, up the elevators, and down the halls, until they got to Zoltan's room.