A Second Chance第二次機會

瑞安·金塞拉

The sun glaring through the window woke me up. I got out of bed and got dressed. I proceeded into the kitchen where I ate cold cereal for breakfast， just like every morning for the past 3 years.

It was time to go to work. I stepped outside and walked at a leisurely pace down Madison Ave. It was the best time of year for my line of work： the summer when all of the tourists came to New York.

I got to the city square， and as usual， the very same cliques2 were there， and in numbers today.? “It looks to be a very good day，” I thought as I smiled to myself. I saw a white man in his late 30’s. Guessed he looked kind of lost. “Perfect，” I thought to myself. “Time to work.” I calmly and confidently stepped up to the man.

“Hello， sir. Can I help you？”

“Yes. I am looking for the Madison Hotel.”

“Yes， yes... Oh， okay. Go three blocks down， and take a right. It will be on your left. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good day sir.”

I walked away with not only a smile on my face， but with the man’s wallet in my pocket. I opened it up to see 48 dollars， a Discover 3， and a MasterCard. A couple of hours and 4 wallets later， I decided to get lunch. So far， I had acquired 6 credit cards， 726 dollars， and several patent leather， hand-made Italian billfolds4.

I decided to go to my favorite place a little bistro called daVinci’s. They have the best pizza. But then， I saw the man. He was about 6 feet tall， with a dark chocolate complexion. He was actually walking in circles—even an amateur could easily recognize that he was lost. Perfect.

I cautiously approached him， like a lion stalking his prey.

“Hello， sir. Can I help you？”

“Yes. Do you， by any chance， know where the movie theater is？”

“Ah， yes. No problem. Go down 52nd Ave. and take a left. It’ll be right there. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you， so much.”

“No problem， sir. My pleasure.”

I was practically bouncing up the street as I opened up the man’s wallet. I found three hundred dollars and three credit cards. I glanced at the name on one of the cards.

“Mr. Johnson，” I thought. “Thank you very much， Mr. Johnson.” I arrived at the restaurant feeling very good indeed. After my 4-course meal Italian feast， I privately made a toast to Mr. Johnson. “May he increase his own happiness like he has mine.”

I decided I was done for the day， and started on my way home. Little did I know， something was about to happen that would change my life forever.

On my way back， I passed through a small alley. As I got to the end of the small alley I saw him， I saw my gracious benefactor. A little white girl had fallen down， and Mr. Johnson was kindly helping her up. The mother saw what was going on， and started to scream and yell for help. The mother started to hit Mr. Johnson with her bag and continued to scream. Mr. Johnson tried to explain to her that he was just trying to help， but she would not listen， and incessantly panicked.

A few men heard the noise， and came barreling out of a house carrying a couple of bats. The 3 men， who were all white and each about 5 or 6 feet， started yelling at Mr. Johnson. One of the white men hit Mr. Johnson across the face. They all started punching him and hitting him with the bats. They just would not stop. They kept swearing at him， and spitting on him.

I wanted to scream： “Stop！ Stop！ What are you doing？” But I could not. I just stood there， frozen， and was unable to say anything. He was only trying to help—only trying to help a little girl up off of the street.

Then， one of the white men pulled out a knife and proceeded to stab Mr. Johnson several times. Then， the three white men ran away， dropping the bats as they ran.

There， he was the man I had stolen from， laying dead in his own pool of blood—alone in a dark alley.

It was unfair I had stole from this man when he was looking for my help， and because of this， he is dead. Then it hit me： I killed him. He probably came looking for me when he was killed. I was responsible.

I heard the sirens and I ran. I just ran. I realized that I had not only stolen his wallet—I had stolen his life. Tears streamed down my face as I ran.

God had given me a second chance to realize what I had done. Yes， God had given me a second chance， and Mr. Johnson had paid for it.

陽光透過窗子照進來， 喚醒了我。我迅速起床，穿好衣服，走進廚房，吃了點冰冷的麥片權當是一頓早餐。過去三年來，每天早晨我都是這么過的。

現在該去上班了。我走出家門，在麥迪遜大街上悠閑地逛著。對于干我這一行的人來說，現在正是一年當中最佳的時機：旅游者大都在夏天前來紐約觀光。

我來到了城市廣場，和往常一樣，今天這里又是游人如織，成群結隊。“看來，今天日子不錯。”想到這兒，我暗自笑了笑。這時候，我看見一個年近40歲的白人男子。看他的樣子像是迷路了。“棒極了！”我心里暗想，“該出手了。”我鎮靜而又自信地朝那人走去。

“你好，先生。需要幫忙嗎？”

“對。我在找麥迪遜酒店。”

“哦，哦……好的。往前走過三個街區，然后再向右轉。麥迪遜酒店就在你的左邊。你肯定會找到的。”

“謝謝你！”

“不用謝。祝你過得愉快，先生。”

我帶著微笑走開了，順手也帶走了那人的錢包。我打開錢包，發現里面有48美金，1張發現卡，還有1張萬事達卡。之后的幾個小時，又偷到了4個錢包，于是，我決定去吃午飯。到現在為止，我已經得到6張信用卡，726美金，幾個意大利手工制作的名牌真皮錢夾。

我決定去一家叫達·芬奇的小餐廳，我平時就喜歡去那兒。那里有全城最好的比薩。可就在這時，我看見了那個人。他身高大約六英尺，膚色如巧克力般黝黑。其實，他一直在那里繞圈子——顯然，這人也迷路了。這連一個門外漢也能看出。太棒了！

我小心翼翼地向他靠近，就像一頭獅子一樣悄悄地跟上了它的獵物。

“你好！先生，需要幫忙嗎？”

“是的。你知道電影院在哪兒嗎？”

“嗯，知道。我當然知道。順著第52號大街一直往前走，再往左拐就到了。你肯定會找到的。”

“多謝了。”

“不用謝，先生。我很樂意為你效勞。”

說著，我走上大街，一邊打開那人的錢包。我發現里面有300美金和3張信用卡，我瞥了一下其中一張卡上的署名。

“多謝了，約翰遜先生。”我心中默念道。我到了那家餐館，感覺相當不錯。吃完了四道菜的意大利大餐后，我舉杯暗自為約翰遜先生干杯。“祝愿他和我一樣一天比一天快樂。”

今天收獲不小，我決定收工。于是，我踏上了回家的路。可我沒有料到，一件意外的事情就要發生了，它永遠改變了我的生活。

在回家的路上，我穿過一條小巷。走到小巷的盡頭，我看見那位仁慈的大恩人。突然，一位白人小女孩摔倒了，約翰遜先生正要好心地扶她起來，恰好被女孩的母親看見。她尖叫了起來，高聲呼救。與此同時，那位母親還用挎包擊打約翰遜先生。約翰遜先生竭力向她解釋，他只是想幫助女孩，可她聽不進去，反而更加恐慌。

很快，幾個男子從一座房子里循聲魚貫而出，每個人手里握著一根短棍。三個身高約有五六英尺的白人男子開始朝約翰遜先生怒吼起來。其中，一個白人男子朝約翰遜先生的臉上猛擊了一拳。隨后，他們紛紛用短棍朝他猛砸。他們不停地辱罵他，朝他的身上吐著口水。

我想大喊：“住手！住手！你們要干什么？”可是，我不能。我只是站在那里，束手無策，也無話可說。他只是想幫忙——只是想將一個女孩從地上扶起來。

這時候，一個白人男子拔出一把刀子，向約翰遜先生狠狠地捅了幾下。隨后，那三個白人扔下了手中的短棍跑了。

在那里，在那條幽暗的小巷，被我偷了錢包的約翰遜先生，躺在血泊之中，孤獨地死去了。

當他向我尋求幫助時，我卻偷走了他的錢包，這不公平！正是因為這，他死了。是我殺死了他。他可能是因為回來找我而被人殺了。我有責任。

這時候，警笛聲響了，我跑開了。我就這么跑了。我意識到，我不僅偷走了他的錢包，我還偷走了他的性命。跑著跑著，我的眼淚順著面頰流了下來。

上帝給了我第二次機會，讓我認識到自己的所作所為。是的，上帝給了我第二次機會，而約翰遜先生卻為此付出了沉重的代價。