Happiness

Have a great day and keep smiling!   The sign above the cash register was now faded, but it was still proudly hung where his father nailed it to the wall nearly forty years ago.

The ‘have a great day’ part of the sign made sense. It was a business and customer service was a paramount concern.  It was important for the customer to feel cared for, so it was an obvious choice. What business didn’t wish their customers a great day?

“Keep smiling” however, was more than just a banal platitude on a sign, it was an absolute law in their family. 

There’s nothing that can’t be solved with a good night’s sleep and a good laugh, he’d been told his entire life. It was a non-negotiable matter of family pride.  He’d been told to smile as long as he could remember. Smile when there are problems. Smile when faced with pain. Smile, no matter what was happening.

His father’s insistence of maintaining a constant state of happiness was just another part of his complete control over the family. He would hear no complaints, no opposition and would rage at the sight of anything but a smiling face.  The lack of a smile was seen as a betrayal of his father personally so whenever his dad entered a room, he and his mother would immediately welcome the head of the household with radiant, happy faces. There was no other option. 

While anyone outside the family might have credited the man for having such a happy family, his father’s eyes betrayed the terror that lay within him. One of his first memories of his father was a series of hard slaps across the face for not smiling while his mother was coaching him from the sides to get the punishment to stop.

“Smile, baby,” she pleaded to her child as she herself was smiling. “Just smile and it will be over.” 

“Why aren’t you happy? You should be happy!” his father would scream with each slap.  “Smile, damn it!”

He smiled.  And after that day, he never stopped smiling. Happiness at all costs.

All costs.

His mother died when he was only twelve after a brief, but excruciating illness. Even in the face of his wife’s terrible suffering, his father could allow no emotion to be present, save happiness.

“Smile, Annie, I told you it will help with the pain,” he would command.  He might have even believed it to be true.  He said that laughing in the face of pain and suffering diminishes it and allows you to take control of any situation.  He said it was a technique taught to him from his parents and their parents before them in the old country.  Smile when it hurts. Smile when it’s hard. Smile just to show them they can’t touch you. 

At his mother’s funeral, he and his father stood beside her casket as it was lowered into the ground, each grateful for the rain that day; the son, so he could continue to maintain a smile while the rain hid the tears running down his face and his father, so he could avoid having to see them.

With her gone, it was down to just him and his father.  By that point, he’d learned to obey the family rules so it was peaceful for the most part.  A few slips here and there during his rebellious teenage years, but the smile was plastered on his face as though he was made of stone.

Year after year, he would tend to the store with his father as they greeted each customer with shellacked grins.  Many customers would remark about how much they loved coming into their store.  This kind of congenial service doesn’t happen everywhere.  Some shopkeepers never even greeted customers properly, let alone smiled at them.  What an absolute joy it must be to be in your family, they would say.  He often marveled at how much people couldn’t see, even when it was right in front of them.

His joyful expression should have been welcoming, but it brought him isolation. A smile became like a marble tomb inside which all real emotions were hidden and sealed away from the world. The smile and their little store was eventually his only world. It had been six years since his father passed.  Like his mother, his father’s illness was brief.  His death should have brought relief to both he and his son, but there was none.

“Never stop smiling,” were the old man’s last words. No words of love or adoration for his only child, just another opportunity to impart his continued curse on his son as he passed.  And as if by command, the son continued to do just that. 

He’d been smiling for so many years that his face knew no other expression.  His muscles were contorted now, frozen into an endless pantomime.  He even smiled in his sleep.  There was no rest or escape from his servitude of happiness.

The bell at the shop door rang and he stopped stocking the cigarette racks behind him to turn and face the customer. The man who stood in the doorway wore a black hat, pushed low on his face, and a long grey coat.  Though well dressed, he looked uneasy and disheveled. If one were to look closely, a few drops of blood were on his collar.  The shopkeeper was not looking closely enough yet.

“Good day to you, sir! Welcome to Smiling Jack’s” he boomed across the store at the customer. “How can I help you today?”

“I’m just going to look around,” said the man as he quickly glanced in both directions out the store windows down the street.  

“You betcha,” he continued. “Our foods and essential items are down that way, magazines behind you, snacks over here and smokes are behind me.” As always he smiled as he spoke.

The customer stared at him, ignoring the store contents as he’d been directed. He was trying to size him up.  He didn’t like the storekeeper already and it had been a long night.  He hadn’t slept at all and had been walking the streets since he got separated from his men and he didn’t want a conversation.

“Like I said, I’m just going to look around,” he said as he moved to the magazine racks. He picked up magazine after magazine as he stared out the window rather than looking at the contents. He considered his options.  The police were likely out in full force looking for him by now.  He couldn’t go home.  Being separated from his men, and more succinctly, his ride meant he couldn’t get to the safe house either.  He was trapped inside this store.  Just him and the shopkeeper.

He looked over his shoulder and there he was just standing at the counter with a smile.  He didn’t move. 

“You can just go about your business,” the man said as he turned his attention back towards the magazines.

“You are my business,” the shopkeeper replied with a joyful countenance that was obviously out of place.

The customer turned to face him. What was this guy meaning? Was it possible he recognized him?

“Do you know me?” he asked as he walked slowly towards the shopkeeper. 

“No, sir. What I do know is that it’s my job to serve you,” the shopkeeper said, the broad grin never leaving his face. 

“Have you ever seen my face before?” the customer asked suspiciously. “Like in a newspaper or something?”

“Newspapers!” the shopkeeper said as he shot up right finger as if pointing out a great idea. “We’ve just got today’s newspaper delivered little more than an hour ago.  Are you in it?”

The customer wondered if this guy was playing with him.

“Why are you smiling so much?” he asked the shopkeeper.

“Oh it’s a family tradition, I’m afraid,” he answered, pointing up at the sign.

“The sign is bullshit,” he replied after reading it.

“Well now, that sign has been up there since my father hung it himself in 1939 and those are some good words to live by,” he said.

“I’ve got a good mind to wipe that smile off your face,” he shot back. He wasn’t in the mood for lectures and this shopkeeper was stepping all over his last nerve.

The shopkeeper slowly realized exactly who this man was.  He had thought he recognized him when he first entered the store, but now that he was closer, he was certain.  This was a dangerous man in his midst.  

The torment that was his life raced through his mind as he watched this wanted criminal who was now in his shop. His father had tormented his entire life and he was now at the mercy of another violent man. The shopkeeper wondered if he was brave enough for a dangerous plan. 

“Did you hear me?” he commanded. “I should wipe that smile off your face.”

“See that you do,” the shopkeeper said, still smiling.

The customer took a step back. What was this guy’s game? He could hear a siren heading down the street so he walked quickly back towards the window to watch the car race past the store.  He still had time. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sir,” the shopkeeper’s voice came from behind him, “weren’t you about to wipe the smile off my face?”

The customer turned from the window to face the shopkeeper once again, this time with a look of complete confusion.

“I’d like you to wipe the smile off my face, please,” he said with a nod.  The customer walked back towards him.  They stood eye to eye with just the counter between them.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked the shopkeeper.

“I would just like the smile wiped off my face. Please,” he answered.  The customer was bewildered.

“What?” the customer asked, unable to even phrase a question in this odd exchange.

“It would be great if you could take the smile from my face,” the shopkeeper replied as if he was giving consent to just having “a little taken off the top” for a haircut. 

“Just stop smiling,” the customer said, feeling really uneasy. He felt like he was being played, but couldn’t understand how just yet.

“I’m sorry, but I will need you to do that for me,” he said.  His smile was just as broad as the moment the customer had first entered the shop.

“Are you asking me to hit you or ...?” the customer asked. “Listen, are you crazy or something?”

“Oh no, sir.  I don’t want you to hit me,” he responded.

The customer breathed a sigh of relief. He’d beat up plenty of guys and had no ethical objection to it, but nobody ever asked for it. He didn’t beat up the insane.  He was a criminal, but had ethics. 

“I’m afraid it will have to be more permanent than that,” the shopkeeper insisted.  

The customer took a full step back as the words hit him and the request being made became clear. This guy was asking to be killed.

Again, the customer also had no moral objection to killing, after all he’d killed someone just last night, but he wasn’t going to kill someone without a good reason. He killed based on necessity, not by demand. This only confirmed the shopkeeper was insane. 

He ignored the lunatic and walked back to the window partly to assess the situation outside and partly to end the conversation.

“Sir?” the shopkeeper began as the customer cut him off mid sentence.

“Shut the fuck up. I’m not talking to you anymore,” the customer said.

“Sir, I can’t help but feel that we had an agreement. You told me to stop smiling or you’d wipe the smile off my face. And, as you can see, I’ve kept smiling.” he said as he motioned to his mouth to support his argument. “Now, I’ve upheld my end of the bargain, so you should probably uphold yours.”

The customer ignored him and looking out the window. The police were now parked just a few doors up the street and had started canvassing the area.  He knew they would be asking about him.

“Sir?” the shopkeeper said in an attempt to bring the customer back into the conversation.

“I said shut up!” he commanded.

The shopkeeper could sense the customer’s agitation and although he couldn’t see what was happening up the street from his location, he could tell that whatever the customer was seeing was making him very nervous and he knew his opportunity was growing very short.

“Sir, I think it important for me to let you know that I know exactly who you are,” he said as the customer turned his attention back to him.  It was working.  “And I feel it’s only right to tell you that I have a telephone right here. I plan to immediately alert the authorities.”

He picked up the telephone receiver. The customer started walking towards him.  Although faint music was playing through the speakers in the store, the customer could hear the rotary dial of the phone as if it were the only sound in the room.

“Are you threatening me? You?” the customer said incredulously.

“Yes, sir. I believe I am,” the shopkeeper said as he continued to dial.  He was terrified, but only he knew that. To the customer, he was showing only his normal countenance of happiness.

“You want to die?” the customer asked.

“Yes sir, I believe I do,” he answered.

“What? Why?”

“I’m tired of being happy,” he answered with a hint of sadness in his voice. The customer stared at the shopkeeper as he tried to understand. 

“Nobody is ever tired of being happy,” he said finally.

“I am,” the shopkeeper assured him.  From the corner of his eye, he could see the police crossing the street.  They would be at his shop soon and his chance would be gone. 

“Well, let’s get this done, sir”, the shopkeeper said as hung up the phone and slapped both hands on the counter. “I’ll just come around to your side.  Where should I stand?”

“Get lost,” the customer said looking at the door.  He was now aware the police would enter the shop in seconds. 

“I’m ready,” the shopkeeper said as he stood beside the customer.

“Get away from me! I’m not doing it,” the customer said as he pushed the man.

But the shopkeeper had enough.  He wanted the customer to fulfill his end of the agreement. 

“You said you would. You need to keep your word,” he said as he grabbed the customer, all the while still smiling. He thought if he could just anger him enough...

“I said get lost!” the customer screamed as he tried to push the shopkeeper away. The store bell rang as the police entered the shop.  They immediately saw the two men struggling and most importantly, they saw their man. 

“Hands up,” screamed one of the officers as the two men kept fighting.  The customer got the upper hand and pushed away the shopkeeper.  However, just as the police issued revolver was fired, the shopkeeper stepped in front of the customer.  He felt the bullet tearing through him and he could feel his muscles spasming, but the smile never left his face. 

“He’s crazy!” the customer shrieked as the other officer placed him in handcuffs. 

The officer who fired the shot was now on his knees at the side of the man he felled.  He radioed for medical assistance. 

“Just hang on, mister,” the officer begged. “I’m so sorry, I had a clear shot! What were you doing?”

“It’s ok, I’m so happy,” he said as he smiled up at the officer.  He felt his life draining away as a peace washed over him.