By the time he turned sixty, Cliff was filled with regret over the mistakes of his youth. Lately, memories of his past missteps kept creeping into his mind, as if age had sharpened their edges. No matter how hard he tried to push them away, they clung stubbornly.
From childhood, Cliff had a hot temper. His sense of justice burned fiercelyhe couldnt stand unfairness and would fly into a fight at the slightest provocation. As he grew older, he became the unofficial arbiter of disputes among the lads in his village.
«Cliff, settle this for us,» theyd say. «If Pete and Billy sneaked into old Mr. Thompsons orchard to nick apples, and Billy got caught while Pete scarpered, then Billy dobbed Pete in, and Pete walloped him for itwhos in the wrong?»
Cliff handled these squabbles with ease, earning the boys respect. But when he was in Year 9, a real injustice stung him. Cliff was a natural athletetop of his school in football, volleyball, and especially cross-country skiing. When the district skiing competition came around, the school held trials. Cliff won easily, leaving the others in the dust.
«Course its you going, Cliff,» his mate Pete said. «Who else would the PE teacher pick?»
But the PE teacher had other ideas. He gave the spot to Greg, the son of a friend, with a smug grin. The class murmured in protest, but the teacher shut them down. Cliff, fists clenched, confronted him.
«Whys this fair?»
«Gregs leaving school after this year. Youll go next time. Now move along.» He gave Cliff a nudge toward the door.
On the way home, Cliff cornered Greg. He didnt think hed hit him that hardbut Greg never made it to the competition. Neither did Cliff. The fallout was brutal, especially since Gregs mother taught history at the school. From then on, both teachers made his life miserable. Cliff lasted till Year 10, then quit. His parents argued, but he refused to go back.
«Mum, lay off. I cant take itIll lose my temper again,» he said. She knew his anger and dropped it.
Jobs in the village were scarce, so Cliff ended up at the farm, shadowing old Mick, the vet. He had a knack for it, and Mick saw promise in him.
«Shame you didnt stay in school, lad. Youd have made a fine vet,» Mick often said.
«I like working with animals,» Cliff admitted.
But fate had a cruel twistGreg qualified as a vet and took Micks job when he retired. Cliff watched silently as Greg fumbled through his duties. Book learning was one thing; experience was another.
He never interfered. «Hes got the diplomahe must know better,» Cliff reasoned.
Then the farm manager ordered Greg to vaccinate all the livestock. Even Cliff could do thathed learned from Mick. Greg panicked and went to the old vet for help, but Mick had a broken leg and was stuck at home.
«Ask Cliff,» Mick said. «He knows the ropes.»
Swallowing his pride, Greg did.
«Help me with the jabs. I cant manage alone.»
But Cliffs old resentment flared. «Youre the expert. Youll get paid for itkeep the cash.» He walked away.
The next day, the manager tore into Greg in front of everyone. Humbled, Greg came back, half-drunk, nearly in tears.
«Cliff, Im sorryabout everything. Please help.»
Cliff relented. He couldnt hold a grudge forever. They finished the job swiftly, and the manager praised them. But Greg thanked him with a bottle of whiskey. Cliff stared at it, then smashed it against a stone.
«A simple thanks wouldve done,» he muttered, leaving Greg behind.
Years passed. Cliff became the villages unofficial taxi, driving neighbours to town for hospital visits or errands. He never asked for money, but they slipped him what they could. Then Nigel, envious, started charging fixed rates, badmouthing Cliff.
«Whyre you fleecing folks?» Cliff confronted him.
«Whats it to you? Theyll pay if theyre desperate.» Nigel smirked.
Cliffs fist flew. Nigel tried to stir up trouble, but no one backed him. The village stuck with Cliff.
Another time, Cliff and Sam dug septic tanks. Business boomed, so they hired help. When Cliff fell ill, Sam finished the joband kept the cash.
«Wheres my cut?» Cliff demanded.
«Archie paid me peanutsI gave the lads scraps,» Sam stammered. «Spent the rest in town.»
Cliff lost his temper again. After that, they were enemies.
But as he aged, guilt gnawed at him. He went to church, where the vicar spoke of sin and repentance.
«Maybe I was wrong,» Cliff thought. «Hitting people wasnt justice. Sams dead nownot because of me, but still I shouldnt have done it.»
Now, with sixty looming, regret fills his nights.
«Maybe thats why I cant sleep,» he muses. «If someone hit my sons, Id be furious. I thought I was right, but I wasnt. Too late to fix it now. One crisp morning, Cliff walked to Sams grave, cleared the weeds, and placed a small stone on the markerhis way of saying what he couldnt in life. He visited Greg too, not to speak, but to nod at the man now bent with age, tending his mothers grave. That evening, he sat by the window, watching children play in the square, their laughter carrying on the wind. For the first time in years, the weight in his chest loosened, just a little. He picked up the old photo of his younger selfjaw set, eyes blazingand whispered, We did our best, didnt we? Then he tucked it away, boiled the kettle, and opened the door to a neighbour in need.
