Recollections of an old man by Tracie Ooi

It had been a long time since I last visited my friend. Yet, he was only a mere child and I, a young man, when I first met him. My feet shuffled unsteadily as I made my way past the wrought iron gates. A smile tugged at my heartstrings as I remembered the time when I first met Joshua…

I was but a young man with an average job as a security guard. The only special thing about it was that I was assigned to a governor's house. The Goodchild family was a family of politicians, many of whom rose to powerful positions in the hierarchy. Sadly, they were a power-lusting, scheming organisation with money at their disposal. The common, such as I, had to serve hand-and-foot, at their bidding. Democracy was but a vulgar word in their eyes. There was no such thing as middle-class in the wake of their exploitations. The irony of it was that I could not bring myself to pull the trigger on them as much as I was to guard them.

It was the third summer of my duties at the Goodchild residence when I was assigned to keep an eye on Joshua. I was unwilling at first for such chores could be easily done by house servants.

"…but Mr Goodchild, sir, there is hardly any need for such high security to be imposed on Master Joshua. My duties are to guard the house…" I protested.

"As well as the occupants inside, Mr Archer." Herr Goodchild cut me off with a dismissing wave. "The boy almost killed himself with a dinner knife and since he is my only heir, I expect him to continue the family business and not lying his lazy bum in a coffin!" With that he puffed out a ring of putrid smoke and waddled off.

I knocked on the ebony doors of the room and heard a small squeak from behind it. Sighing at my unusual and annoying task of babysitting, I promptly went inside. There stood Joshua, a small boy of ten. I could still remember that doe-eyed fascination on his countenance while looking at me.

He had offered me a challenge – a game of chess. Back then, I played all sorts of games and chess was my forte, there was nothing else to pass the time other than sitting idly. He set up the game with professional efficiency and not the childish clumsiness that most children his age would. I felt he was somewhat a clever child. And we commenced…

We talked about a few subjects while playing and I found him to be highly intelligent. While child would openly and candidly talk about current affairs as if he were reading the back of his hand? I knew he was special, but it was a pity he was a Goodchild.

It was towards the end of the game when he blurted out, "Mr Archer, what do you think of my father, honestly?"

I was taken aback by his sudden and heavy question, stuttered in surprise, but he continue in his business-like demeanour, speaking with the maturity of an adult. I had never seen a child speak with that level of wit and determination.

He understood the plight of people like me, how we felt. The words he spoke held disgust to his family. He contemplated suicide and running away but stopped as he knew his current situation – underage and vulnerable. But what I revered him most was the blaze of determination in his blue eyes.

"Mr Archer, I'm going to be a politician, just like Old Man," he declared. "but I will not be him. I don't want to rule with money. I find it an utter senseless way of gaining power. Maybe people like you would live better, don't you think? Besides, money is temporary, trust is not."

I listened intently to his impromptu avowal, adoration in this peculiar boy filled me. He turned back, resuming his move, his white knight moved dangerously close to my black king.

" Master Joshua…" I started unevenly.

"Yes?" He looked up.

"Don't be like your father." I moved my king back one step.

He simply smiled and nodded his head.

"Oh, and Mr Archer…" he said, picking up his knight yet again and setting it in a L-position from my king, " Checkmate."

Simple were his words, his declaration, but powerful was his dream. He was more logical than us adults, even more, he achieved it. Now, I rest in the future Joshua had affirmed and built. Indeed, he held a special place in my heart.

Joshua lived until 53 years of age before dying of severe pneumonia, but the new government he established stood firm in its foundations as its maker to his dreams. I never expected to live past my dear friend (who still called me Mr Archer occasionally), it was as if he created it for me and left in a flash.

I stood in the middle of the cemetery beyond those iron gates. Kneeling down shakily, I lay the bouquet of flowers on the engraved cement tablet that proved my friend's existence, 'Joshua Ardel Goodchild. 1935-1988'. Not long would I follow after, in the weakened state I was in. Whispering softly for the winds and the grasses to hear, I started my one-sided conversation.

"Hello Joshua," I began, "I still remembered that day I first met you. Back then..."

End