Identity

The day was inconsequential, the timing, worse than horrible when Allan Potofsky walked into me. I know what you must be thinking, no, that is not a grammatical error, for he didn’t walk into my life, but right into me, as if I were invisible (though I assure you I am far from it). At roughly 26, with an average height, average build, average colour, he was truly, well- average.

So average indeed that if the timing had been any better, I would’ve have forgotten his face within seconds, but alas it was not to be! His face was etched into my very mind for as long as I can remember for he chose to crash into my life at the very moment, timed precisely to seconds, when I was about to be hit by a bus.

Once again you read correctly- he walked into me right when the bus was about to hit me- the shell shocked driver hit the breaks, the bus spiraled, tyres screeched, its rear end lunging forward unbelievably fast- at that moment I had the horrible revelation that it was going to hit him. I tried to shout, to warn him, but all sounds failed me. Time slowed down as if to mock me in my misery, so I could experience every single detail of the end- the precise moment of the hit, like when you jump from a cliff face down, knowing exactly when to intake your last breath- except in this case I knew it not for myself but for this average guy who had just walked into me.

Relativity is a bitch, and just as time had slowed down, it exploded with the speed of a thousand years, and before I could see it happening, it was over, my eyes slowly adjusting to the monochromatic pale of the hospital. As my eyes opened, there was only one question haunting my mind, although deep down I already knew the answer. A lady in white was approaching; my brain struggled to process the information and slowly the response came- the nurse. ‘What happened to the….man who…’ my voice trailed off, I was unable to complete the sentence. ‘ I am sorry sir, was he a friend?’ ‘No, I didn’t know him’- further guilt like tiny menacing rats clawing at my insides- a complete stranger- whom I had branded as average and forgettable- died saving me- even when I didn’t want to be saved- what a sad waste of a life.

Another question popped- ‘Have you indentified…what was his name?’ ‘No, there was nothing left of his face to get a positive ID, besides he didn’t even have any documents on him. We are trying to place him, but it seems improbable. You didn’t happen to see his face did you?’ ‘No’ the reply came automatically- I don’t know why I had lied- every little intricate detail of his face was etched in my memory. As I was about to rectify the lie- a hundred good reasons sprang up in my mind as to why I shouldn’t- unnecessary questions, maybe trips to the police station and more importantly digging up of my past- something I did not want to deal with. Lost in my thoughts I almost didn’t hear the nurse ‘so how did it happen? What were you doing in the middle of the road?’

 I began remembering. A damp February morning I returned home, my mood starkly contrasting the gloom in the weather. I was going to meet my parents after quite a while and decided to give them a surprise, by making dinner for them. The delicious aroma tickled my nostrils and teased my stomach- ‘any minute now’ I told myself to curb my hunger minutes passed and then hours, I was worried by now and started calling, there was no reply, and then two Law Enforcement Officers entered. ‘We are very sorry to inform you that there has been an accident.’ My senses went numb. I travelled to my happy place, oblivious to the world. Denial overtaking, the agony however wasn’t convinced. I too felt like id been hit by a truck- hyperventilation, shock, brain freeze, and gradually the pain of acceptance hit. Neither had survived. I was now an orphan. ‘Orphan’ I pondered over it- every time the phrase was used it seemed so distant; I had never imagined it would ever be applicable to me. I lost all track of time, day turned into night and then it was dawn, but the gloom never left the weather or my heart.

I don’t know how much time had passed; it was yet another damp day when two grim looking people entered. Heavily built and extraordinarily tall, they were nothing less than giants. ‘We know this is probably a bad time but your father was under heavy debt’. Confusion. ‘Are you from some bank?’ ‘No, the bank couldn’t, lend him money as he had no assets, so he borrowed from our boss, Mr. Polakov. With his unfortunate demise you now owe Mr. Polakov hundred thousand zloty plus interest.’ ‘A hundred thousand! - But what would he do with...’ I stopped midway- my education of course. I had wondered how he was suddenly able to arrange money to pay the exorbitant amount, but he simply wouldn’t discuss it with me. ‘ Where will I get a hundred thousand from?’ ‘Well you can begin with your house of course. In light of recent events, Mr. Polakov has allowed you one week’s time, even though your grant expired a month ago.’ ‘ What if I am unable to pay?’ ‘Mr. Polakov doesn't believe in inability, simply excuse. Oh and don’t try to run.’ The larger of the men flashed a vicious smile and then they left.

I began walking- to nowhere in particular. I needed time, time to think, time to process. In a daze I ran through all the facts again- mama and tata dead, me-penniless, heavy debt, no means to pay- loud honks and whizzing colours brought me back to physical reality. Oh god! I was in the middle of the road. My first instinct was to run to safety, but a second more powerful thought took over- safety- what safety? They were going to kill me anyway if I couldn’t repay my loan, my chances of survival were nil, at least this way I could die on my own terms. I heaved a deep breath, saw the bus approaching- its yellow earth shades were somewhat calming to my nerves. I resigned myself...fully aware that this was it when that man walked into me.

 

To the nurse, however, I replied ‘Oh I was busy on my phone and didn’t realize where I was walking’ ‘Well, you were in luck, though I cant say the same for the other man, May God bless his soul. Anyway I just spoke to the doctor and since you weren’t hurt, you're being discharged. Some officers came to talk to you but you were unconscious, besides they’ve already marked it is an accident, so I don’t think they will bother you. Should I call someone from your family to pick you up?’ ‘Family’ it seemed like such an alien term. ‘No I’ll be fine. Thank you.’

I got out of bed and left the hospital with a single resolution in mind. I had to find out who he was, I had to make sure his family knew, I really wanted to help them before I gave up on my life. With a sketch from a professional, it was a surprisingly easy task to place him. I began from the place of the accident, and a local shopkeeper almost immediately identified him as Allan Potofsky. ‘Allan Potofsky’, I repeated to myself, taking in the flavor of the name, exploring it, feeling its depths. I now had a name to go with the picture in my mind. I talked to others in the vicinity that could identify him; they pointed me to his apartment. As far as anyone knew he lived alone, however no one could be certain for he had recently shifted here.

Desperate to find out more, I went to the state archive of Warsaw and typed in his name. The results were numerous. I jumped form photo to photo, my heartbeat increasing at every new result in anticipation of seeing his face, but to my dismay, he wasn’t there. I checked and rechecked through all state listings in Poland, even in the foreign immigrants, but to no avail. It was beginning to seem like Allan was a ghost.

My curiosity got the better of me- I had to find out, I decided to break into his flat. Thank God for Google and you tube, I learnt all about bump keys and it was easy enough to get in. His apartment had the basic bare minimums necessities, indicating that either he had hardly been here long, and wasn’t planning on staying either. There was no computer, laptop, or phone and once again I began a thorough search. I searched through his cupboard and drawers, I almost turned his place upside down but it was no help. Finally frustrated I was going to walk out, when I heard a creak. I bent down to investigate the sound, and realized it was a loose floorboard. I had an intuition and pried the floorboard away. There hidden from view was a small biscuit can. I opened it and turned it upside down. Out came various things, among them a passport- more specifically Allan Potofsky’s passport, but curiously enough there was no picture on the passport.

I found this strange and rummaged through the other contents- an old torn passport size photo of a face I didn’t recognize, some thousand zloty, a few coins, a stamp, and a new passport photo of the man I knew as Allan. I opened the stamp, and once again to my absolute stupefaction it was exactly the one stamped over the photo on the passport!

 

Dire confusion- too much information- my brain once again struggled to cope-and then it slowly came- Allan wasn’t Allan at all! As this sunk in, all my troubles seemed to vanish- no debts to pay, no suicidal thoughts, no worries in life- everything fit perfectly into place like pieces of a puzzle. Anything else about Allan, I didn’t know, except he was an angel sent by God. The most important question- who is Allan Potofsky? – That is me!