I Need a Good Ending for This!!! Help!!!

The alarm clock blared, shocking Liam into consciousness. Reluctantly, he pushed away his warm quilt and sat up in bed. He put his feet down on the ground next to his bed and instantly curled his toes. It was freezing. He had always hated cold weather, a fact that his mother had always found amusing because he was born in January on what she said was the coldest night of the century. Blindly, Liam shuffled towards his alarm clock, which was perched precariously on top of a mountain of research books. He stuck his hand out to press the button that would turn off the confounded beeping, but in the process caused the entire pile of books to topple down onto his feet.1

He considered cleaning up the mess for a grand total of two seconds, but soon decided it wasn’t worth the effort and continued to shuffle off to the bathroom. He washed his face with a quick splash from the sink and looked into the mirror. Though he didn’t know what he had been expecting, Liam was disappointed with his reflection. He didn’t look a day older than eighteen. Happy Birthday. He searched for a gray hair in his mane of fire red hair or a wrinkle around his dark blue eyes. As it had been for close to three centuries, there was nothing there. He hadn’t aged one bit.2

Apathy conquered Liam as he looked at his rumpled hair and several days’ worth of beard scruff. No one cared anyways. He’d shave tomorrow. After brushing his teeth, Liam tugged on a pair of old, comfortable jeans, boots and a sweater. He stopped in front of his apartment door to put on his weathered bomber jacket and warm wool scarf, and then he was gone. 3

It was a quarter mile walk in the snow to the diner that Liam had frequented for a quarter century. The sun was just coming up, but people were already hustling through the streets to work or school or whatever they had planned for the day. It was relatively warm for a winter day, and the sun was finally peaking out after a couple of days of cloudiness. The bright light of the sun reflected off the snow all around Liam, casting minute prisms all across the ground at his feet.4

Though the sun was beautiful against the snow, like all good things, this couldn’t last. The snow was beginning to melt, turning the gutters along side the street into muddy rivers. Liam saw the remnants of a Christmas wreath in the gutter as he walked. The vibrant green of the wreath had faded into a sad brown and the cheerful red ribbon waved in the muddy snow stream, turned brown by the mud. Liam stopped to look at the sad spectacle. Just a few days before the wreaths had proudly been displayed on every door of every home and business in the city, but now it was nothing. The season was over. Christmas was gone. As Liam gazed intently on the wreath and the mud and the gutter, the people around him continued to whiz by, indifferent about what was going on around them. Somebody bumped into Liam as they passed, jerking him out of his cynical brooding. Realizing that he was in the way of the humans around him, he reluctantly continued on towards the diner.5

He knew it was just because it was his birthday, but Liam was feeling particularly sullen that day. The Christmas glow had worn away from the city, it seemed to him, leaving things dull and gray. It had only been a few weeks ago that people had been preaching goodwill and cheer, but now everyone seemed to had forgotten about it and moved on, forgetting those lessons until next December. Poor, little humans. He watched the parents hauling their well-bundled children behind them as they scurried down the street and mused about how little time all the people around him had. Eighty years wasn’t a long time. Barely a blink of an eye. But for them it was, literally, a lifetime.6

The old diner was a dingy old establishment set at the corner of a busy intersection. They had yet to take down their customary string of Christmas lights that adorned the front window. The old strands of lights drooped across the front window in places where the staples had fallen out, a sad testament to the post-Christmas atmosphere. But, the sides of the window were fogged with steam from the inside of the diner, giving it a warm and inviting air. 7

It was already packed full inside the diner when Liam reached it. He stepped in and was instantly engulfed with warm air and the aroma of pancakes and fresh coffee. The dull roar of conversation cancelled out the weak chime of the bell over the door that announced Liam’s entrance into the building. Pushing through the people around him, Liam walked towards his chair in the corner. His usual seat was a sad little table with a single chair and a wobbly leg and a view that looked off at the edge of a dumpster. Something about it attracted Liam though; it was probably the solitude, the invisibility it gave him. When Liam reached his table though, he was dismayed to find that someone was already sitting at it. A middle aged woman with graying, curly hair and fingerless gloves was situated in the lone chair with twenty or thirty pages of loose-leaf paper covered in tight, miniscule writing sprawled out in front of her. Sighing, Liam turned and went to the bar, merging with the hubbub of the diner.8

“What can I get you?” Lisa, Liam’s usual waitress asked him.9

For the twenty five years Liam had been visiting the diner, Lisa had been serving him for twenty three of them. He had seen her come in as a recent high school graduate, determined to earn enough money for college. He had seen her dreams be replaced by a simple, gold ring on the fourth finger of her left hand in the span of just a few years. She had been pregnant a couple of different times, and later carried toddlers to and from the restaurant. The kids had left for college or for real life by then and Lisa wasn’t the glowing teenager she used to be. But, that was the way things went. 10

“I’ll have a cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich, hold the cheese.”11

He had ordered the same thing every morning for twenty five years, but, Lisa never did remember his order or even his face.12

“Here you go, sweet heart,” Lisa said out of habit as she put down Liam’s cup of coffee.13

Liam ate his breakfast and drank his coffee, cautious of the rushing people who bumped and jostled them as they hurried to scarf down a hasty breakfast or sprint off to an early meeting. When he had finished eating, he paid the bill and left a two dollar tip for Lisa. After finishing the last cold dregs of his coffee, Liam headed out of the diner. He meandered down the street, towards the older section of town, his hands in his pockets. Cars were honking all around him and angry drivers waited in traffic, nervously tapping the gas, anticipating the light change.14

The streets were crowded by then, seas of people surrounded Liam on either side. He stood out among the people; his head of flaming, crimson hair peeking up above his forest green scarf was laughably like a beacon among the masses of people with hats and gray or black coats around him. Liam cut through the crowds when he reached a group of glass fronted stores. He entered one, ‘Murphy’s Antiques’.15

“ ‘Mornin’ Liam,” said Mr. Murphy from behind the counter, not looking up from his newspaper, “You’re right on time, as always.”16

“Yes sir,” Liam said, hanging up his coat and scarf.17

Mr. Murphy looked up at Liam. He was an old man, as far as humans go, up for retirement in a couple of years or, at least, was if the economy picked up a little. He had a head of wispy white hair and massive, thick glasses that magnified his watery brown eyes. 18

“Well, we have a lot of cataloging to do this morning and I have a doctor’s appointment this afternoon so you’re going to have to run this ship.”19

“Yes sir,” Liam said as he started to head towards the back of the store, where all the items that needed cataloging were being kept. Mr. Murphy met up with him at the front desk and he patted Liam’s shoulder:20

“You’re a good kid, you know that don’t you, Liam? You’re one of the best of your generation I’d say. Most kids these days don’t know anything about hard work and responsibility, but you,” he said, shaking his finger, “you know what’s what, kid.”21

Liam smiled, “Thank you, sir.” He had to stop himself from laughing. He was centuries older than his boss.22

“I need some help, son,” Mr. Murphy said, grabbing onto Liam’s shoulder as they walked, “the leg’s been acting up and I can’t seem to remember where I left my cane.”23

Mr. Murphy was a World War II veteran who had been taken prisoner in Germany. He had been hit with some shrapnel in the leg and had never quite regained mobility. Liam had fought in the same war, decades before, and he had his own battle scars, though of course he could never tell anyone about them. No one would believe an eighteen year old with stories about the Dresden bombing.24

Mr. Murphy and Liam worked in the back room without any sort of interruption until lunch. Things were slow at the antique store recently; with the economy slumping, people certainly didn’t have enough money to buy silly little reminders of the past.25

“Well, I’d better get going,” Mr. Murphy announced, checking the time on an old grandfather clock.26

Liam helped the man out to his car on the curb and then returned to the front desk. He liked being alone in the antique store, looking around at all the long forgotten technology that he could remember at its peak. But, it was a sort of bittersweet enjoyment that he remembered; it seemed like for every positive memory he had, there was one he would do anything to forget. The rifle the store had acquired the week before was a dead twin for the gun Liam had carried during World War I, back when he was still living in the old country. The gun had saved his life on multiple occasions during the war, but it had also taken away the few short years his enemy soldiers had left to live.27

At about two, the store’s bell rang and Liam came out of the backroom, where he had been continuing to catalogue. He was surprised when he saw a group of teenagers standing right inside the store, looking at an old phone.28

“Get a look at this crap,” one of the boys said, laughing, pointing at a phonograph off in the corner. The others came and shared in their comrade’s amusement, running their fingers over the old piece of equipment, trying to figure out how it worked.29

Liam coughed loudly to get the kids’ attentions, “Can I help you kids with anything?”30

They all looked around at Liam like deer caught in the headlights.31

“Yeah,” one of them, a blond girl, said, “We’re doing a play at school, Pygmalion, and we need some props for it. You know, old stuff.”32

Liam remembered when that play came out. He had been close to four hundred years old.33

“Well, I can try to help you,” Liam said, “We have a lot of items from the early nineteen hundreds.”34

“Cool,” one of the boys said, nodding.35

“If you just follow me to the back,” Liam continued, “I can show you a few things.”36

The kids followed him into the back room, talking and giggling as they walked. As they walked, Liam caught a glimpse of himself in an old, smudged mirror. He realized that he wasn’t any older than any of the teenagers around him, at least, in the physical sense. He realized that he appeared the same age as the children around him, smacking gum and flirting amongst themselves. But, at the same time he wasn’t the same. Even in the one quick glance at the mirror that was clear. Anyone would have been able to see that he was different, that he didn’t belong with other teenagers. He was too somber, and his demeanor was strange. He had seen to much to b e like them. But at the same time, he was no where near Mr. Murphy or any other adult. The old man, as well as the rest of the world, still saw Liam as a youngster, an inferior, a little one. There wasn’t anything he could do about it. He was stuck the way he was for the rest of forever.37

“Hey,” Liam said, coming out of his thoughts, pointing at the kids who were messing around with a vase, “Don’t touch that. It’s fragile.”38

They rolled their eyes, practically in unison, when they thought that Liam wasn’t looking and started to mess around with a bunch of clothes.39

“When you’re ready to check out, come to the front,” Liam told the kids, “I’ll be at the check out.”40

Liam had to leave the kids. He didn’t feel comfortable with them. He felt old, but he felt young at the same time. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly that was wrong with him. He stood behind the front desk and stared out into the snowy, crowded streets. As he watched all the people, walking together in an unending stream, seeming so much the same and so comfortable around one another, Liam realized what was wrong with him. He had been completely alone in the world for centuries, drifting somewhere between childhood and adulthood, trapped in the middle somehow because of his immortality, and he had never realized what the nagging, dissatisfied sensation at the bottom of his stomach was. He was lonely.41

Numbly, Liam checked out the pile of clothes and props the teenagers had chosen to buy and put them into bags. As they walked out, Liam noticed that one of the boy’s pockets was bulging unnaturally. It definitely hadn’t been like that when he came in.42

“Hey, you!” he exclaimed, starting after the kid, “You can’t just take things.”43

“Run!” the kid said, pushing his way through his friends and running out onto the streets. All the others were soon behind him. They blended into the herd of people outside, making it impossible for Liam to see where they went. Whatever the boy had taken was gone forever. Liam glowered, maybe it wasn’t so bad to be different from these humans.44

Time seemed to drag on, but eventually, five came and Liam closed up the store. He was still absorbing the depth of his discovery as he started to amble home in the cold. He climbed up the long flights of stairs to his apartment, remaining distrustful of elevators despite the fact that long decades had passed since their invention. He was surprised to see a note pinned to his door when he reached his home. It was just a white piece of printer paper, but someone had scrawled a hasty note.45

‘Happy Birthday, Liam! Love, Angie.’46

Angie was the grad student that lived across the hall from Liam. She was currently working on her dissertation about culture during the late nineteenth century in hopes of finally earning a doctorate. She and Liam had become close ever since she had discovered that her neighbor was a resident history expert.47

Liam had just taken off his shoes when someone started banging on his door.48

“Lee! Lee! It’s Angie!“ 49

Liam went over to the door and opened it. Standing there was Angie with a cake box extended in front of her.50

“Happy birthday!” she gushed as she pushed the box towards Liam.51

Liam took the box, “Thanks, Angie.”52

Unexpectedly, Angie wrapped her arms around Liam’s neck in a rib cracking hug, unaware of the box in between them. When she realized what she was doing, she jumped back.53

“Crap!” she exclaimed, “I didn’t mean to crush your cake. I just…well, you know, forgot it was there.”54

Liam laughed; Angie was a constant source of amusement for him. She had obviously just been outside: her cheeks were bright pink and the smell of fresh air still clung to her. She had a hat pressed down on top of her curly brown hair and a scarf hid her chin. There were speckles of ink all across her face; a clear indication that she had been researching and taking notes all day.55

“Do you want to come in?” Liam asked.56

“Yeah,” she said, “But I can only stay for a couple of minutes. I’m supposed to be at the college by six for a lecture about the military campaigns of George Washington.”57

“Oh, well, fun,” Liam commented, a little sarcastically.58

Angie scowled playfully, but didn’t say anything. They both went into Liam’s apartment and Liam put the cake down on the table. 59

“I have had a crazy time trying to get that thing to you, Lee,” Angie announced, nodding at the cake, “I tried to get it to you this morning but I forgot that you leave so early. Then, I decided to try and catch you at your office before my lecture, but the stupid people around me wouldn’t move fast enough and I just missed you. I couldn’t just wander around with the cake, so I decided to come back here and see if I could finally find you,” she smiled, “and it worked!”60

“You really didn’t have to go through all that trouble…” Liam began.61

Angie cut in, “Don’t be ridiculous it’s your birthday! Come to think of it…how old are you Lee?”62

Liam grinned and avoided the question, “Do you want some cake.” 63

Angie looked at the cake box and then back at Liam, “Of course. But, that doesn’t mean you get to dodge my question.”64

Liam cut two pieces of cake for them and he and Angie sat at the table.65

“You never answered my question?” Angie observed as she licked icing off of her fork, “How old are you?”66

“Old,” Liam said honestly. 67

Angie laughed. She always said she hated her laugh because she snorted, Liam thought it was refreshing.68

“You’re probably younger than me, kiddo,” she said.69

“Maybe, maybe not.”70

“Ooooh, mysterious,” Angie rolled her eyes comically, “If you’re this secretive now, imagine how bad you’re going to be when you hit forty.”71

Liam remembered being forty. Henry VIII had just been made king. He smiled to himself at the memory.72

“Anyways, how was your day, birthday boy?”73

“Same old.”74

“You are probably the most depressing person to talk to in the entire world,” Angie said, a little frustrated.75

Liam laughed, “I suppose.”76

Angie looked up at the clock hanging on Liam’s wall. 77

“Oh crap!” she said, standing up so fast that she knocked her chair over onto the floor, “I’m going to be late!”78

Liam stood up with considerably more grace.79

“Well get going,” he told her.80

“Right. That would be the most logical course of action wouldn’t it?” she beamed, but then she looked down at the table, “I don’t want to leave you with the dishes though…”81

“Get going!” Liam said good-naturedly, “Don’t be silly. I’ll get the dishes.”82

“Well, alright,” she came over and hugged Liam again, “Happy birthday, Grumpy. It’s great to have you around.”83

Without saying another word, Angie took off out the door of the apartment. Liam smiled. As he started to pick up the used dishes, he thought about everything that had happened that day. He thought about the abandoned Christmas wreath, the robbery, and the busy, unconcerned people who brushed by him every day on the street. But, he also thought about Mr. Murphy, who had lost so much fighting for his country and spent the rest of his life preserving what was best and beautiful from the past so a new generation could learn and admire it. 84

here's where i come to my problem. i need Liam to have a sort of epiphany about the world, to understand that there is indeed a great deal of evil in the world, but all the evil is worth the tiny shining bit of good that people like Mr. Murphy and Angie have, but i don't know how to do it!!!!!