Out of Character

Nothing about Bernard Calloway's appearance was sinister. Halfway through his life, he was six feet tall with medium length thinning blond hair, and gray-blue eyes. He was slimly built and featured a well-groomed mustache that he had been growing for over fifteen years. His voice was unassuming, slightly above the average man's pitch. Air scraped against the bottom of his top teeth upon its exit, giving his s's a breathy quality.

Despite appearances and sounds, anyone who knew Bernard judged him to be an exceptionally terrible man. In the workplace, he never returned the greetings of his peers. Neighbors loathed his habitual practice of parking over the left-line of the condominium's parking spots. When he went out to eat, he never tipped. When he walked down the street, he would turn around and accost anyone who brushed against him. As a manager, he was cut-throat. As a son, he was inconsiderate. He was a friend to none. When he was a child he enjoyed dumping his food onto the floor. As an adolescent, he enjoyed shooting cats with his pellet gun. In high school, rumor had it that he was to blame for the fire set in the boy's dormitory. He made right turns on red lights when he should not have. As a teenager, he made a game of seducing young women. As a man, he made a game of seducing married women.

For all of his misdeeds, Bernard had an uncanny way of benefiting from situations. He was ever mindful of avenues for advancement. He took credit for returning a dog that had been reunited with the owner's anonymously, earning him $50 in reward money when he was ten. Bernard cheated his way through college. He took many pennies throughout his life and left none. Years ago as he was making his start, he would "rent" items from stores--buying them, using them temporarily, and returning them for full refunds. He forged the signature of his ailing father on a check in order to procure the funds necessary for a down payment on his first car. He pilfered the jewelry of his ailing mother years later to pay for three new Calvin Klein suits. He caught the eye of all of his superiors by making his coworkers look incompetent. He once blackmailed a vice president of a rival company into giving him insider information that, when acted upon, earned him his first vacation home. Even after amassing a small fortune, Bernard would not hesitate to relieve a lost wallet of its cash. It's what they deserve for being so careless.

Virtues became vices in Bernard's heart. Normally, to have egalitarian leanings is commendable. In his case, it was despicable. Bernard loathed all people equally. Being a highly competitive person, he viewed everyone as a rival for the world's limited resources. He justified his maniacal behavior as being natural. We are all struggling to survive. My way of struggling is more efficient than average. I not only keep myself going, but hinder others along the way. Bravery is employed on both sides of a war. Bernard was proof that it took courage to fight for evil as well. He risked apprehension and punishment in order to win the greater rewards of underhandedness.

He maintained his ways at home and abroad. He relished the anonymity that traveling afforded him. It is preferable to take advantage of a person you would never see again. There's less mess. On a business trip during his fifty-second year, Bernard acted out of character. He had packed his belongings into his overnight bag, complained of the smell of smoke in his non-smoking room (which he had put there by smoking a cigar upon his arrival) while checking-out, received a free breakfast and a discount on the room, and made his way to the street. A mob of people was clamoring for a taxi, so Bernard opted to move eastward to catch a westbound car earlier. Two blocks down, passing under emerald awnings and by wrought iron patio furniture, he stopped in front of an apartment complex.

A flustered woman with a small, wheeled black suitcase in tow descended the concrete steps and stood next to Bernard. She pulled at the ends of her shirtsleeves and ran her fingers through her hair. Exhaling loudly, she smiled at Bernard and said, "Some morning, huh? Something always comes up when you're in a hurry."

"That's the way it goes," Bernard responded as he turned his attention back to the busy avenue. He stepped off the curb and hailed the approaching cab. It decelerated and turned towards the customers-to-be.

"I'm sorry, but do you mind? I'm terribly late already. Could you, please?" In the cloud-filtered morning light, the twinkle in her eye she used to flash men was hardly noticeable. Still, the look was enough to disorient Bernard. Unlike the strangers he usually wronged, her humanity was convincingly established by the delicacy of her voice. Unlike the people that knew him, she had not assumed the worst of him. She simply and humbly asked him for a favor after recognizing her need for assistance.

Bernard stepped back. The woman opened the back door, slid her bag in, and followed after it. He watched the cab weave through the congested street until, after a right turn, it left his field of vision. He walked down another three blocks to a corner where a car with the white sign reading "Taxi" glowed, idled. Bernard cut off a man approaching it with a number of bags in his arms. As Bernard climbed in and shut the door, he heard the muffled string of expletives flowing from the burdened man outside the window. He stared back at him coldly.

"LaGuardia," Bernard commanded the driver.