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C’mon, Man, That’s Hurtful

12/1/2025

The wind was biting more than the forecast had suggested. ‘I’ll wear the fleece hat tomorrow, no matter what the forecast says.’ Gary grumbled as he trudged up the sidewalk toward the Miller home. He had their letters in hand, typical mix for early December. Some bills, some ads, a few greeting cards. No sooner than he flipped the lid shut than Tanya Miller popped the door open.

“Hi, Gary.”

“Good morning, Tanya. How are you?”

“If I’m being honest, I’m quite upset.”

“Gee, I’m sorry to hear that. What’s the matter?”

“Is it true you dropped Teddy? Is he okay?”

Gary stood there dumbfounded. “What?”

She dashed inside and returned with a newspaper. “Isn’t this you? That looks just like Teddy.”

His mouth flapped without producing words.

“Gary, how could you drop that angelic baby? What happened?”

“The strap broke, and Teddy was falling. I tried to catch him. I did.”

“The strap broke? I hope you’re going to sue the manufacturer. That’s horrible.”

“Yes, it is. Look, Teddy’s okay. This superhero kid caught him, so everything’s alright. I’m going to get back to my appointed rounds.”

“Please be careful with that precious angel, Gary. I couldn’t live in a world where something happened to him.”

“Thank you.” He practically raced down the sidewalk. ‘I didn’t see any cameras, but there were phones everywhere. Rats, what paper even was that? You certainly can’t go back and ask.’ He grabbed the stack for the Adamczyks and took several deep breaths as he approached their porch. He inserted the mail and closed the box as quietly as he could.

‘Coast is clear.’

He continued deep breathing until he got back into his carrier rhythm.

Morriseys, Welkers, Trabkas, Steins, Gajewskis. ‘Oh no, Tina is always home.’

He prayed for peace and for her not to have read whatever paper Mrs. Miller had as he slid their mail into the box.

“Hi, Gary.” Tina Gajewski opened the door. “Want to try an oatmeal cookie?”

“With or without raisins?”

“I have some of each and these breakfast ones.”

“Breakfast oatmeal cookies?”

“They’ve got Craisins and orange zest.”

“Oh, that’s fancy. I’ll try one of those. Thanks.”

She pulled up a blob of a cookie with deep red spots.

He smiled as he took a bite. She was watching him with worried anticipation.

To his surprise, the orange zest enhanced the cinnamon-tinged sweetness without being pushed over the top by the tangy bite of the Craisins. “That’s marvelous, Tina. Thank you for sharing that with me. That recipe is definitely a winner.”

“Do you think Myron will like them?”

“I’m sure he will. They’re wonderful. You’ll have to send that recipe to Abby. I could eat a bunch of these.”

“I’m so relieved.”

‘So am I.’ He turned to continue on his route.

“Gary?”

The hair stood up on the back of his neck. “Yes?”

“Myron didn’t want to ask you, but he’s been wondering if you’d be open to switching places.”

“For the Eucharist?”

“Yes, maybe rotating on a quarterly or monthly basis.”

“I don’t see why not. If that’s something he wanted to try, we could bring it up with Father Nowak. I don’t see why he’d oppose it.”

“Thank you, Gary. He’s been so concerned about asking you.”

“Really? Why?”

“I’m not certain. You seem perfectly reasonable to me.”

“I try to be. Yeah, all he had to do was ask. I’m very open to it.” He pressed on down the sidewalk. ‘Myron thinks I’m too hardheaded to even ask? Where did that come from?’

“Look, Matt.” Joe raised his eyes from saying Grace and crossed himself. “I love you like my brother from another mother. You know that.”

Matt crossed himself and looked at Joe. “Right back at you.”

Joe took a deep breath. “I feel like I need to stage an intervention here.”

“Over what?”

“Bro, look at your plate. Who does that?”

Matt looked down at his dinner. Smothered chicken, cornbread, mixed vegetables. He looked at Joe and shrugged in confusion.

“Matt, nothing is touching. It’s like you used a ruler to space everything three eighths of an inch from everything else. It’s like a TV dinner without the little compartments. You made your own compartments on a flat dish. How does that even happen?”

“Portion control and precise delivery. I don’t want my stuff to touch. Big deal.”

“It’s truly concerning.” Joe shook his head as he dug into his vegetables. “It’s almost as bad as throwing cold water on that complete smoke show, Sheila.”

“She’s nice.”

“Very.”

“She’s into me.”

“As obvious as daylight.”

“She’s not the one.”

“Bro, you lost me.”

“We weren’t vibing. I tried to get her interested in you. You’re very nice. There’s no reason why she shouldn’t dig you as much as me.”

“I appreciate that, but why? When a drop-dead hottie like that wants to bear your children that obviously, you get a second date. Heck, a first date. You shut her down before she even played half of her cards. That’s crazy.”

“It wouldn’t be polite to string her along, Joe. Yeah, she’s pretty. No argument here.”

“So?”

“She’s not the one.”

“But this imaginary blonde you are only kind of sure you haven’t imagined is?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve got to put some time in praying about it. If I can figure out where I know her from, maybe I’ll know why I couldn’t encourage Sheila.” He shrugged. “It felt like cheating. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. I don’t even know who this girl is, but it felt like I would be cheating.”

Joe shook his head as he cut his chicken. “You’re something. You are really something.”

“I’ve been called worse.” Matt scored his cornbread with surgical precision and took a piece without a loose crumb escaping.

Joe’s eyebrows knitted, and the color rose in his face. “You know what?” He took his fork and scrambled Matt’s mixed veg with the gravy from his smothered chicken before stabbing the corn bread into uneven morsels. “Take that.”

“Come on, man, that’s hurtful.”

Gary sat in the Bronco with his arms crossed over the steering wheel, his head resting on his sleeves.

“Gary, are you still with me?”

“Yes, Isidore. I’m just breathing. I need to catch my breath before I go inside. Trying to breathe.”

“Gary, it sounds as if you’re having a panic attack. Perhaps I should notify Abigail to–”

“No, I don’t want to worry her. She’s got enough on her plate.”

“If you sit here in the car, trying to catch your breath instead of going inside, she’s bound to worry.”

“I didn’t mean to drop him. That’s the last thing I wanted, and now it’s front-page news.” Gary tried to suck a deep breath, but his chest was so tight he could barely manage a shallow wheeze.

“Gary, if you cannot breathe, I will not only call Abigail but 911 as well.”

“Too late, she’s already coming.”

“So much the better.”

Gary rolled down the window. “Hi.”

“What’s the matter? Do I need to call 911 for you?”

“I’d recommend it.” Isidore said.

“Don’t listen to him. I just need to…” Gary struggled to breathe.

“Dad, look at me.”

He turned to find her cheeks wet with tears.

“I am going to call 911 unless you pull yourself together and come inside.”

He blinked his eyes and wheezed.

“That’s it. Isidore, call 911. He’s going to the hospital. I’m going to get Teddy.”

“Abigail, please wait for medical assistance to arrive. Your father’s condition may be treatable here.”

“Well, I can’t leave Teddy inside by himself. Dad, stay awake. I’ll be right back. Talk to Isidore.”

Gary struggled to breathe, but his chest was so tight. It felt like a tourniquet was being tightened around his ribcage.

“Gary, we’re going to pray now. I understand you currently can not breathe properly, but I want you to follow along. Lord, stay with me, for night is at hand and the day is now past. Guard me against the terrors of the night; grant me rest of mind and body, that awake I may watch with Christ, and asleep rest in His peace. Amen.”

‘Amen.’ Gary took a shallow breath, but his chest tightened at the sound of approaching sirens.

“Saint Paul wrote to the Church in Philippi telling them, Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

‘Amen.’ Gary breathed a little more deeply, but his chest tightened at the sight of flashing lights painting his house.

“Gary, my name is Nate, and I’m here to help you. I understand you’re having some difficulty breathing. Can you tell me your full name, sir?”

Gary wheezed and shook his head slowly.

“I’m going to open your door so we can bring you out here where we can help you better. Nod if you understand.”

Gary was sitting in his easy chair with the footrest raised, covered in a blanket. Teddy slept on his lap, cradled in his grandpa’s arms.

Abby paced around the living room, chewing her thumbnail as members of the church family slowly took their leave.

“Why don’t you take Teddy to his crib?” Father Tom said. “I’d like to have a word with your dad.”

She looked at the two of them. She picked up the baby and slipped down the hall.

The priest pulled an ottoman up to Gary’s chair. “It’s time for a talk.”

Gary dipped his head.

“Lord, may my words bring comfort, solace and wisdom.”

“Amen.” Gary said.

“What was that?”

“They said it was a panic attack. So did Isidore.”

“What do you think it was?”

“If they say it was a panic attack, I guess it is.”

“Come along, Gary. A panic attack is a symptom. You’re darned lucky it wasn’t a heart attack or worse. What is happening?”

“Terror, anguish, uncertainty. My fear was crushing me, Father. Sitting in my front seat, behind the steering wheel, suffocating like King Kong had a grip on me.”

“And what did the angels tell the shepherds?”

“Fear not.”

“Oh, you are listening in church. Very good.”

“What are people going to think of me?”

“What do they already think of you? Postman, involved at church, loving father and grandfather, nice guy.”

“That stupid newspaper…” Gary winced at the constricting sensation.

“Put it in Teddy’s collection. Saved by a superhero? He’s too young to remember it, so it will be good to have proof.”

“Proof that I’m a failure. I dropped him.”

“Abby said the thing snapped. How does that make you a failure?”

“He was right in my arms. I should have caught him.”

“With both your hands carrying all the bags? She’s not pregnant anymore, Gary. You need to let Abby share the load.”

“She’s taking care of Teddy. That’s all I ask of her.”

“Then let her. She told you not to change that harness, and you didn’t listen. If you want her to take care of the baby, you need to listen when she says something isn’t safe.”

“I could have killed him, and it’s all over the news.”

“But you didn’t.” Fr. Tom took his hand. “Let go of ‘could have’ and ‘almost’ and whatever people are saying about you in the rumor mill. Forget it. It’s not your concern.”

“Of course it is.”

“No.”

“No?”

“It is not your concern. People will talk. Some of it will be true. Most of it won’t. So what?”

“I have an image to uphold.”

“A lie?”

“How is it a lie?”

“Are you perfect? Is anybody other than Jesus? People put these filters on their cameras and post only the good. A lie of omission is still a lie. They can brag about their Caribbean cruises and ski vacations, but they don’t post about marital squabbles and toenail fungus.”

“Unfortunately, some of them do.”

“Yes, crazy people tend to share too much, but we’re talking about you. You need to mind your own business and focus on being authentic.”

“Authentic.”

“Yes, no putting on airs. Just be Gary. People like Gary. It’s okay to be you. Take tomorrow off and just pray for the strength to just be Gary.”