Neighborhood Hero (2024)

The "Neighborhood Heroes" list published in The Weekly that year included all kinds of people, even ones you might not expect: single mothers, former cops, teen alcoholics, communists, hell, even I made the list last year. The last name on the list was Peter Zulch, the fifth security guard that Family Bottles on 10th and D had hired that year. The first two quit after a week, and the third tried unsuccessfully to sue for unlawful termination after getting fired for cutting deals on bottles with several minors.

Every day besides Sundays, Peter would arrive at the back door around 7 PM for the changing of the guard. Steph had steadfastly refused to work any more night shifts since last Christmas when a fight broke out between several teenagers in which gunshots were fired and a passerby was injured. She probably wouldn’t have been able to walk again had the owner not personally driven her to the hospital as soon as he heard her screams. Raf continued giving her 50% off all bottles until she moved to a different neighborhood five years later. “You will always welcome here, my friend.” He fully believed that honesty and hard work were the virtues that earned him God’s blessing of owning a thriving business, and so he never said anything without meaning it.

It would be a beautiful Wednesday evening in March the next time blood stained the Bottles parking lot. “I don’t even know why I picked a job like this, in a place like this, you know? I’m surprised they were even down to hire me, cause I’m so skinny and like, non-threatening, you know? Yeah. I bet they would hire anyone, to be honest. I’m just glad this isn’t like the only thing I’m doing with my life. I’d be so pressed. Honestly, I feel like they’re going to fire me every time I come in. It’s not like I’m even that bad of an employee. I don’t understand why it’s so bad to go on my phone when nothing is even happening. It’s not like there’s gonna be a freakin’ shootout every day. Who shoots up a place during the day? I’d be afraid of cops coming and like arresting me. Not that I’d ever do something like that or that I have like a reason to do something like that. I don’t know. I feel like it should be enough that I show up every day, mostly on time. I know I’m not perfect, but at least I’m not like the last guy that worked here. Did you meet him? I guess probably not, huh? I don’t know why you would have. Sorry. I know I talk a lot. You don’t talk much, do you? I kind of like that about you. Anyways, I hope you have a good shift, Pete!”

“Thanks, you too.”

Peter liked Steph because he liked the sound of her voice, and because she was too self-involved to judge him in any way. She didn’t care that he had been in prison for decades, nor was she afraid of him because he murdered someone. “I think everybody can change, you know? If somebody tried to judge me for what I did twenty years ago I’d be like, are you serious? Like you didn’t poop your pants too.” Both her and Raf were like family to him, in the sense that he couldn’t get away from them and usually didn't really want to, as much as he dreaded seeing them at times. “Whatever you do in the past is your business. Today we look to the future. And it is a bright future my friend.” Although he was flattered to be called a friend, Peter hadn’t been much for conversation since his time in solitary confinement. “I need you to love me, I need you to love me”, he had once said to the guard in charge of transferring him to the medical unit after he slashed his wrists with a smuggled razor blade, obscuring the guards’ view of his cell with an opaque layer of crimson brushstrokes. He continued begging for affection even as punches and baton strikes rained down upon his weakened body. “Like some sort of fag.”

When business was slow, the owner would come out to the parking lot to smoke. “Come here my friend.” Raf gestured towards a black sports car, vaguely reminiscent of a Ford Mustang, but with a more boxy face. “This is what hard work can get you. Honest work. Honest pay. It doesn’t happen overnight. You must take God's blessings, and build your own Ark. You must do this. Even you can do it, I know this. You come a long way, Peter. I used to be like you. It’s nothing wrong with that. You are a fine young man, Peter. Sure you make a mistake. I made mistakes too, when I was young like you." Raf was five years older than Peter at most.

"When I was young, there was once a girl. She was everything to me, Peter. The most beautiful eyes, most beautiful face. We live in the same town, go to the same movies. She reminds me of her, Melanie, sometimes." Peter knew he was referring to Steph. “I lost her. To the son of a bitch." His furrowed brow gestured towards the faded COMPACT letters by the curb on which he stomped out his cigarette. "You can never work too hard, Peter." He lit a second cigarette. "That is how I learn. Nothing is more important than hard work. The son of a bitch, he worked a big company. Always had cars, shoes. But I had something you cannot buy. Do you know what that is, Peter?"

"No, sir."

"I had my family. And now, you are my family. The son of a bitch, he goes to the army. Doesn't come back. Thank God. Now I pray that she comes back. I still believe she comes back. Sometimes God has a way of taking care of us. As a family, we are God's most precious, never forget this. Only God forgives."

"Thank you, sir."

"You know you remind me of myself when I was young." Peter continued looking at his shoes. "It is a compliment, Peter."

"Thank you," Peter said, "for the compliment."

"Smile, Peter. God has blessed us with a beautiful evening."

"He sure has," Peter replied. "See you, Raf." The purple sky faded to black as Raf returned to the register and a lone street light illuminated the asphalt and all its markings. A face appeared from the darkness, enlarging at a constant rate. A young man kicked up his skateboard and whipped it around his side. Peter would never sell a drop of liquor to a minor, but he had a stupid expression of kindness that would often fool people into thinking they could take advantage of him.

"I heard you killed somebody, is it true?" "No," Peter said without hesitation. "Well, you look like you could."
"Okay."
"I want a bottle, old man. Let me in." "Are you 21?"
"Obviously."
"Can I see your ID?"

"Here you go." The young man handed over a laminated plastic card.

The technology for creating fake IDs had clearly improved since Peter's heydays. But he still knew a few telltale signs. What would a young man from Chicago be doing on a skateboard at Family Bottles at 10 PM? What were the chances? Pretty decent, Peter supposed. "What's your address?"

"One-two-one-one-five-North-Park-Road."
"And your date of birth?"
"Three-two-nine-nine." Peter took another look at the ID. "Alright, come on in."

"Heh, thanks!" The young man hopped on his skateboard to cover the five-foot distance between Peter and the door, and slammed his face straight into the light post. Peter winced. Raf rushed out the door. The damage was surprisingly bad. The young man was severely injured, and even the street light began to dim and flicker.

"Why you're bleeding?!"

As blood poured out of the young man's face onto the curb, he could not stop himself from screaming. "I'm gonna fucking sue you! Who the fuck puts a fucking lamp post right in front of the door?!"

"You stay here my friend, I call nine one one. You will be okay my friend." Raf went back inside to the counter. "No service? At my own store? T-mobile son of a bitch! Peter, my friend. You call nine one one now. We will save this young man. You call right now."
"Okay."
"God has a plan for us all, Peter."
As the sirens got lower and quieter, darkness fell over the parking lot. Raf spoke to a friend over the phone as Peter attuned his ears to the buzz emanating from the newly damaged streetlight. At midnight, his phone's vibrating alarm went off to remind him that in two more hours, he would finally be able to go home. He called in sick for the rest of the week. On days when Peter wasn't in, Raf would close the shop at the end of Steph's shift.

"Hey Pete, I saw you're a Neighborhood Hero! Oh my god, that is so awesome. I wanna be more like you some day. What did you like, have to do to be on that? Did you save someone's life? Was it someone here?" Steph was over the moon.

"Sort of, yeah."
"Wow, that's so awesome. MY coworker is a hero!"

"Not really, but thanks."

"Aw, come on, Pete, you don't have to be such a downer! You know, God has a plan for all of us. I really believe that. Wow. You're actually way cooler than you look. Especially for like, a criminal."

"Thank you, Steph".

"Yeah! Of course! No problem." She began typing out a post on her phone as she walked away: "just found out my coworker is a literal hero... 0.o literally so gagged rn"

"Goodbye, Melanie!" Raf yelled out the door. "Nice girl."