Ella's Shelter

Steven Gallagher stood in front of his already critical peers as he tried to muster the courage to reveal the highest point of his indisputably stellar career. Ironically, his only duty for that particular evening was to portray a healthy balance of deserved arrogance and pseudo humility, while accepting an award for exceling in a field that praised self-promotion.Being held in such high regard by those who demanded nothing short of exceptional entrepreneurial success, was not lost on Steven’s overinflated ego.Having pursued a greater life for not only himself, but for his faithful wife Elizabeth and cherished daughter Ella, Steven directed his career towards a financially extravagant one.The work itself proved to be nothing more than the manipulative selling of expensive rhetoric to individuals who had equally lost their grasp on what was considered excessive to the majority of the working class. However, Steven still admired himself for reaching a plateau of vast wealth.

The foundation of his empire had been based on scouting seemingly worthless establishments, then over evaluating them to opportunistic investors for a hefty profit when he saw fit.Steven understood this concept with ease and utilized his innate talents to collect unprecedented finder’s fees.Although he never actually owned even a square foot of green space or a single brick that constituted one of the many eye sores that plagued the city’s skyline, Steven possessed the gift of making people believe he had something they needed.This profitable gift was inherited through the Gallagher gene pool, as his father Shea Gallagher, was also known to use his charismatic way of speaking to gain the undeserved trust of anyone who had the misfortune of crossing his malevolent path.

Steven would think, from time to time, about the persuasive traits he had replicated from his father’s character- especially during moments of great achievement.Consequently, on the day Steven had been honored by his envious peers for his unmatched success in the real estate field, he felt inclined to reminisce on the days when Shea Gallagher would fill his only son’s head with priceless tricks of the trade, intending to mould Steven into the expert con-man, he himself, had embodied.Unlike the other boys in the neighbourhood who had learnt valuable life lessons from their fathers concerning saving an appropriate percentage of allowance money for a rainy day, or how to re-align a bicycle chain when it had fallen off, Steven was given instruction on how to manipulate the vulnerabilities of those closest to him.

Thinking back to an age when he had been at his most impressionable, Steven felt nostalgic remembering the first of the many days when his idol of a father pulled him out of his third grade classroom.The first bonding experience consisted of a field trip to the local supermarket as a type of field experience in the ways of grifting.Never realizing that Shea rarely left the house at the same time every morning (or that he never even left the house at all some days) like the fathers of his friends who occupied steady employment, Steven glossed over the tell-tale signs of criminality and looked upon his father with ignorant admiration.Amidst a naïve sense of pride in his father, Steven welcomed the idea of spending the day with his dad at the supermarket, rather than spending countless hours in a classroom setting that would only, in the words of Shea, “leave a kid thinking with a book instead of his own wits.”Shea always had a way of phrasing his nonsensical fleeting thoughts into a way that made people around him question their own beliefs- an acquired quality that Steven would later use to his advantage.

Steven stood next to his influential role model, out in the parking lot of the local supermarket, while they both watched housewives and househusbands load groceries for the week in a variety of trucks, SUVs, and even the odd luxury sedan.Anticipating a trip into the supermarket in hopes of getting to choose his favorite cookies and cream chocolate bar, as an added bonus of the father and son bonding experience, Steven remained disappointed as his father instead offered some questionably valuable advice regarding the purpose of why they were watching their neighbours pull in and out of the parking lot.As Steven looked up at his father from a knee-high perspective, hoping that his lips would begin to form letters that would constitute a word indicating the promise of chocolate, he instead heard his first lesson concerning different classes of people. Shea explained that it was always important to remember that people in the older, dirtier cars should be left alone, because they –unlike the people fortunate enough to afford the luxury of a classy vehicle, who flashed cash at any problem that came their way- deserved to keep every hard earned dollar they had to their name.A classist remark that was spouted off as casually as commenting on the weather or the outcome of a football game, was one that never left the impressionable mind of young Steven.He agreed with his morally bankrupt father that the more money a person had, the more vulnerable it made them to the street savvy, working class.

As Shea and Steven stood in the shadows of the overcrowded supermarket parking lot, Steven determinedly stared out amongst the chaos as if to show his father that he knew what they were looking for.Forcing a concentrated look on his juvenile face, Steven became so preoccupied with his façade that he had not realized that his father had begun walking into the parking lot row closest to the supermarket doors.Unable to hide the eager sprint that led Steven to catch up with his father, he followed closely until he was firmly attached, back at Shea’s hip.Excited with the fantasies of the undoubtedly exhilarating activity that Shea had planned for their outing, Steven was lost in his own mind considering the endless possibilities of fun the two would inevitably share.Due to an increasingly vivid and over active day dreaming experience, Steven had not possessed the clarity to notice the blue Jaguar swiftly backing up towards him.

Before Steven could let out a flinch or gasp, he was struck by the nearsighted driver and propelled backwards onto his right shoulder; ripping his favorite burgundy, collared t-shirt.Only thrown a couple of feet, Steven was able to absorb the shock of the unexpected collision.He couldn’t, however, absorb the sheer embarrassment of being bumper-checked to the pavement in front of what seemed like thousands of concerned adults.Quick to jump back on his feet, hoping that his speedy rebound would erase the pitiful looks from the crowd of intervening stay-at-home parents, who welcomed the tragic excitement as a way to consume some time before they were thrust back into the mundane life of waiting for their children and/or spouses to return home.Not having to look far for his guardian, Shea had jumped into the scene of the collision without hesitation to address the trauma of his bashful son.

Hoping that Shea would first come to inspect the possibility of any abrasions or contusions on his trembling torso, Steven was confused by his father’s diverted attention to the stunned motorist.The motorist, who jumped out of his car just as quickly as Shea made his way over to the driver side door, was a greying elderly man with quivering bifocals that seemed to vibrate to the end and back of his unusually large nose.As the overtly shaken-up man walked over to see if Steven was hurt in any way, he was intercepted by Shea, who approached him in a highly confrontational manner.Standing aside as a forgotten victim, Steven watched as his father laid into the apologetic man, increasing the tone and intensity of his voice with each additional accusation of stupidity.In one string of insults, the man, who was pathetically near tears by this point- reaching his emotional capability of absorbing criticism- was subject to Shea not only attacking the man’s ability to drive, but also his character.Nearing the end of his accusations, Shea was able to lead the man to believe his criticisms and to accept that he may have very well caused irreparable damage to his son’s physical well-being.Meanwhile, Steven stood watching his father berate the man, with nothing more than a scraped shoulder; a minor injury that equalled the seriousness of falling off a stationary bicycle.

Unable to hear any more attacks to his character, now believing that he may have caused trauma of paraplegic proportions to the poor boy, the motorist reached into the back pocket of his corduroy pants and opened his black leather wallet towards Shea- who was in the middle of shouting slanderous remarks to the limits of his respiratory capacity.The teary sixty-something year old man tried as quickly as possible to remedy the situation by compensating the father and son for future medical examinations- which would ultimately never take place.Shea looked in the elderly man’s wallet and scooped up every last bill into a tight fist.After securing the several hundred dollars in the front pocket of his denim shirt, behind a half empty pack of cigarettes, Shea slowly calmed the ferocious expression on his face and took Steven by his injured arm, leading him away from the crowd of rubbernecking shoppers.Leaving the visibly tormented elderly man to fixate on the traumatic experience that had just transpired, Shea and Steven left the scene of the incident without regard for how that that single event would haunt the vulnerable man for the rest of his limited days.

As the two Gallaghers circled around the corner, out of sight from the curious crowd, Shea brushed off his son’s shoulder and gave him a smile.Steven would see this smile more frequently as time progressed, bringing the two of them closer together- not as father and son, but as business partners.Other than handing his son a single bill out of the easily acquired stack, Shea had not addressed what Steven had just been a part of.With a naïve mind, Steven asked his father if they were on the way to see a doctor, assuming the money would be used as the elderly man intended.Shea explained that he would be fine without any medical examination and that rich people always rushed to the doctor even for the smallest scrape.He continued to reassure his son that he was stronger than that and would prefer to spend the money on treats for his “little partner”.More than intrigued by the suggestion of candy, Steven suddenly forgot his desire to have his wound tended to and followed his father to the nearby corner store where a bounty of delicious treats waited for him.

As Steven anxiously burst through the store’s glass door, leaving an imprint of the hanging bell in the drop-down ceiling tiles, he meticulously scanned the variety of chocolate on the shelf underneath the cashier’s till.On his knees, picking up and placing down each and every bar and aluminum wrapper in front of him, Steven tried to choose wisely- as he didn’t know the next time his father would show such generosity.He looked up at his distracted father, who was eyeing the half-displayed front cover of that month’s adult magazine, and asked his father for his advice on which one he should choose.With his divided attention, Shea mumbled that he shouldn’t just pick one and to “go nuts”.Upon hearing this invitation to acquire as much chocolate as his sugar depraved heart desired, Steven began grabbing every piece of candy he could hold onto; even the ones he didn’t particularly like.The foil from the jagged edges of the various chocolate bars began to irritate the tender insides of his small hands, which indicated that he had enough to place in front of the blatantly intoxicated cashier.

After tallying the mountain of chocolate, the cashier looked to Shea and told him that the total was nine dollars and eighty-eight cents.Ecstatic with this grand total and impressed by how much he had just spent on candy, Steven waited for his father’s gazing eyes to avert back to the important matter at hand.After a simultaneous tug on his denim shirt from Steven and an exaggerated cough from the impatient cashier, Shea’s attention finally circled back to where it was needed and with a startled expression, he waved his hand in front of Steven’s face and said “well go ahead…pay the guy.”Stricken with confusion and grief, Steven begrudgingly unfolded the crumpled ten dollar bill from his jeans pocket and painfully handed it across the counter, only to receive a measly twelve cents in return.He still enjoyed brushing the pile of chocolate into a deep brown paper bag, but didn’t bask in its glory as much as he would have if his father had paid.To add insult to injury, Shea reached down to his young son’s candy bag and retrieved a the only cookies and cream chocolate bar- the single chocolate that Steven had desired the most; so much so that he had planned to save that particular one for last, hoping to savor the rich flavors long after his sugary treasure had been devoured.Shea added that Steven should save the caramel one for his mother and that it might make her feel better.This act of selfishness tore Steven up inside, but found serenity in the fact that he could treat his parents to a treat; an action that made him feel more like a man than ever.

Chocolate in hand, Steven was able to avert his attention from what had happened to him moments earlier.More importantly, with a combination of the sugary snacks and a youthful mind that had the tendency to only see the good in the people he loved and admired, particularly his father, he possessed the convenient oversight to glance over what had actually taken place during his father-son trip to the supermarket.In hindsight, Steven would daydream and deconstruct the events of that day in an attempt to gain some matured clarity into his relationship with his father.Never knowing for sure, even as an adult, Steven couldn’t bring himself to accuse his departed father of putting him in harm’s way for a quick payout.Accusations aside, Steven knew that it was entirely possible that his father had ulterior motives for their questionable bonding experiences in lieu of attending school, however it was beyond him to accept himself as a pawn in someone else’s con game.

Steven continued to reminisce about his father and the time they had spent together- no matter how troubled he would get after jumping to some very plausible conclusions concerning their potentially superficial relationship.As he sat in his chair at the head table of the banquet hall, surrounded by shallow chatter among his colleagues and acquaintances, he could not muster enough interest to involve himself with any business related conversation.Instead, Steven found solace in the back of mind, surrounded by memories of events that shaped him into the person he became.He found the effect of those memories to be quite baffling since the same memories moulded him into that certain type of person for the majority of his life, then into a wildly different, although more respectable, man he saw in the mirror that very morning.Steven speculated that it wasn’t the memories that changed his character, but the perspective with which he reflected on his past.With that logic, he surmised that his memories did not change his perspective, but quite the opposite.

Following years of the same outlook, it seemed odd to Steven that his perspective would change without so much as a slight indication- he believed he might have welcomed his new persona more enthusiastically had it been a gradual process.Nevertheless, Steven had no choice but to embrace his newfound perspective and bury the personality he had grown to admire, despite the inevitable backlash from those around him.He knew that his colleagues and business partners would definitely not understand his swift change of priorities, but what worried him was the fact that he suspected his wife, Elizabeth, would be equally resistant to his intrinsic awakening.