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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Inspirational
- Subject: Community / Home
- Published: 01/20/2022
Mr. O'Malleys lunches.
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United States.jpeg)
“Do you have a banana?”
Mr. O’Malley looked down at the little girl who couldn’t have been any older than seven or eight. Her Mother, brother, and older sister had just moved in to the house next door. He had waved at them several times as they moved in to their new home. But he hadn’t really met any of them. He smiled down at the young girl. She had a look on her face that mixed hope with “probably not.”
“In fact, I do young Lady. Wait here and I will get one. What is your name?”
Her face lit up when he said he would give her a banana. Her smile made his day. Happy children have a glow that is hard to duplicate…and it usually takes so little to make them smile.
“I’m Tyreshia. My brother is named DeWayne, and my big sister is Malika. We are from Detroit.”
“Oh, quite a move from there down here to our little Southern Town.”
“Yeah, lots more White people.”
Mr. O’Malley laughed. Kids are so honest, but without malice or angst. Just the facts as they see them. He shook his head and went inside to get a banana…and one for her brother. He wondered how it felt to be one of only Two Black families on the street. He hoped it didn’t matter much. It didn’t to him.
*****
It took only a week for Mr. O’Malley to realize something. All five of his nearest neighbors were now Single Mother Households. He wondered how that happened. When his wife Debbie was alive, there were no single Mother Households on the whole street. (When he thought of her name, he looked up at Heaven and smiled. He hoped she caught it.) He also noted something else…every one of those Single Mother’s were working at least one Full time Job, and one Part time job…just to make ends meet. He didn’t know how they did it. He wished he could help. Somehow.
“Do you have a Banana, Mr. O?”
All the kids called him Mr. O now. It made him smile. He looked down at little Tyresha - she still had that look that warred between hope and not getting a banana.
“Well, of course I do. You just wait here, I will be right back.”
She plopped her little self down on one of the chairs on his front porch and dangled her feet. Looking around at the small plants, and the little table brightly surrounded by white chairs with Sesame Street characters painted on them. She wondered who they were for. She never saw any children at Mr. O’s house.
She liked the chairs tho…and her imagination placed three imaginary friends at it, with her serving them tiny cakes. She was still thinking that when Mr. O came outside with a banana.
“Why do you have that small table out here?”
He looked where she pointed.
“Oh, those are for my grandkids when they come over.”
“Are any of them my age, or old like DeWayne?”
Mr. O’Malley gave out a hearty laugh. It startled Tyresha.
“Tyresha, I hardly think that ten years old is really old.”
“It is to me!”
“I guess it would be, and they shared a laugh.”
“How old are you, Mr. O ?”
“Me? I am seventy one years old.”
Tyresha took another bite of her banana. Her face scrunched in quiet concentration. Finally she looked up after a few minutes.
“I just counted to seventy one in my head. That took a long time. How come you’re not dead?”
This time Mr. O’ Malley howled. He loved kids. Tyresha beamed when he complimented her on being able to count that high.
“I can count to a hundred!”
“Well, show me.”
And she did. When she hit one hundred Mr. O’Malley clapped his hands in glee.
“You, young lady, are very smart.”
She smiled and ran home to tell her brother all about how smart she was.
*****
Mr. O’Malley pulled in his driveway. He couldn’t help but notice that huddled on his neighbor’s porch were four children. All between the ages of seven and eleven. He waved at them. What in the heck are they doing on the porch at seven O’clock at night. It was already dark…and cold. The rain was intermittent and it too, was cold. He turned off the car, got out, and made a quick decision.
He marched over to where the children were huddled in the corner out of the wind.
“Tyresha, DeWayne, why are you outside your house, and who are your friends?”
Tyresha was near tears.
“Mommy had to work over time. We were supposed to go to their house and wait for her. (Pointing at the two children, both boys) But their Mother is running real late. We forgot our key. And they don’t have one.”
“Do you have a phone?”
The one little boy Mr. O’Malley did not know, but had seen playing in the yard with DeWayne a few times, held out his Smartphone.
“I do.”
“Okay, then first you call your Mom and let me talk with her. Then I will use my phone and call Tyresha’s Mom. “
A few minutes later, after talking to both Mother’s, Mr. O’Malley herded the whole clan over to his house. He quickly made hot chocolate for everyone and within seconds, tiny hands were holding steaming mugs up to their faces to get warm.
“Your house is cold!”
“Yes, I like it that way. I like to sleep when it is chilly out.”
David, the boy who had showed him his smartphone, spoke up:
“Our house is cold too. Mommy says to put clothes on if we want to be warm. She isn’t turning the heat up…she can’t afford it.”
All four kids nodded, so did Mr. O’Malley. He remembered his own childhood, where cash money was in short supply.
“I can turn up the heater if you would like.”
“We like!”
They yelled in unison. It made Mr. O’Malley smile. He would just shut the vents to the back of the house, and just heat up the tiny living room and kitchen.
By the time the two very grateful young Mother’s showed up to retrieve their children, Mr. O’Malley had learned quite a bit about life in a Single Mother household. Enough to take some small steps to help out. The Mother’s were delighted to see the kids had been fed a nice supper, with cake as desert. And Mr. O’Malley had made supper for the two Mom’s too.”
“You two sit here. You have been on your feet all day. I will get you some Hot chocolate, and then get you Supper.”
“Oh, please, don’t go through all that trouble. We can just take our kids and go home.”
“Do you have a hot meal waiting?”
Both Mother’s shook their heads…a sad smile on their faces.
“Well, then you just sit. It isn’t any trouble.”
Just like their kids, they brought the mugs of steaming hot chocolate to their faces. Letting the steam warm their cheeks and hearts. Both closed their eyes. Just taking the few seconds without any thing to do and savoring each second. They ate every bit of their meal, and both had seconds on cake. He surprised them when finally all the kids and the two Mom’s got up to shuffle out the door and go back home.
He handed each child a lunch bag, with their name written on it in clear block letters. Then he handed one bag each to the Single Mom’s. They were surprised and a bit curious.
“What’s this?”
Mr. O’Malley blushed. You could tell he was Irish, because when he blushed tomatoes got jealous.
“Well, I was talking with the kids, and they told me they don’t get lunch very often. And that you sometimes don’t eat at work. I make pretty good sandwiches - healthy and tasty. I learned how from my wife and daughters. So I figured, if you don’t mind, I can make them lunches and you two too- and you can just pick them up when you come home from work on School days. I hope I didn’t offend you.”
The two Mother’s both hugged him with tears in their eyes. Any embarrassment caused by their children revealing that they couldn’t always make lunches for them…lost in gratitude.
“Oh, that would be…be…wonderful!”
And that is how it began. It spread to the other Single Mom’s. So much so that it took almost all afternoon to get the Sandwiches and fruit packed and ready. Tyresha and David would often come over to help. He made them wash their hands before they could touch the food. They learned how to make sandwiches they never thought they would like, let alone try.
David asked one time:
“Mr. O, how do you make the salad on a bun sandwiches. I tried to tell my Mom…but I forgot.”
“Oh, that’s easy. Simple to make really.”
Before he could say another word, Tyresha chirped up:
“Rye bread, cucumbers, Olive Oil Mayonnaise, Alfalfa Sprouts…or Clover…some black pepper and you have a nutritious delicious salad on a bun!”
Mr. O laughed out loud. He gave a light fist bump to Tyresha.
“That’s correct!”
“And don’t forget to add a Banana!”
They all laughed. Tyresha would eat an apple, or peach, or pear, the fruits that Mr. O insisted on putting in every lunch, even the adult lunches. But a Banana was her favorite. She realized after a while why Mr. O didn’t always give her a banana. She had to learn to like a variety of things. It was healthier that way. Mr. O said so, and she believed him.
Over the next year, more and more of the kids on the street wanted to have Mr. O’s Super Lunches (as they came to be called). Mr. O had to recruit a few of the neighbor kids to set up an assembly line. It got to where the “team” could make thirty sandwiches in less than an hour, and that included bagging the sandwiches, adding fruit, and a drink. Usually chocolate milk, or a bottled water. No sodas. No sugary drinks. No fruit juice. They all learned from Mr. O:
“You eat your fruit, you don’t drink it. Your body needs the fiber.”
The kids all learned to like eating their fruits: Cherry’s, apples, grapes, peaches, pears, and, of course, bananas. When they were in season, juicy watermelon, cantaloupe, and honey dew melons. Once in a while, sliced pineapple. On really rare occasions, usually Friday's lunches…chocolate chip cookies!
The years flew by. The TV channel did a “feel good” piece on “Mr. O and his Super Lunches”. It backfired, as some Trolls on FACEBOOK brought it to the attention of the Health Department. Mr. O’Malley was not licensed to run a restaurant. The Community came to his rescue…one highly regarded Lawyer - who just happened to be a Single Mother, donated her time and expertise to overturn both the fines, and free Mr. O’Malley from any further Legal action.
“He just makes sandwiches for the kids he knows…and their Mothers. He doesn’t charge for any of them. He doesn’t make a profit. And he isn’t expanding to anyone outside his neighborhood. He is not a business. He is a Saint.”
The Applause was deafening at the Public Verdict.
Years later, Tyresha came over to help Mr. O make lunches. They stood side by side. One old man, one young woman who just got her Doctorate in Mathematics. She made him laugh when she showed up unexpectedly earlier that day.
She got out of her car and said:
“Do you have a banana?”
His face lit up.
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