Apple Fritter

"You're a good person," he said. And I laughed.

"What does that mean?"

---

We were walking home from my friends apartment. It was almost midnight and the cool SF air felt crisp and awake in my lungs. Bob's Donuts was kinda (not really) on the way, so we decided to take a mini detour to satisfy our midnight sugar cravings.

As we walked, we continued to dodge the surprisingly large groups of people wandering the streets. I didn't remember there being so many homeless people, even for SF. I guess the pandemic made it worse. I guess. I readjusted my mask. Safety first, right? Right???

We walked the final block uphill and watched the warm, familiar glow of Bob's Donuts spill into the street. Yes yes yes. Donuts. I was so excited.

And then a man approached us. He was dressed in scraggly black clothes and had scarily long finger nails. His hair seemingly grew whichever way the wind blew and he pulled his hands up into a praying gesture. "Please could you get me something to eat? Please?"

Dodge.

"Please, I'm just hungry."

Dodge. We walked past Bob's. Are we not getting donuts?

The man walked away dejectedly. We turned around and walked into Bob's to pick out our donuts, as an expectant shadow filled the doorway.

"Please?"

"I'll get you a donut. Which one do you want?" I asked him. Honestly, I was just as surprised as my friend was. I don't know if I should be or should have been surprised. I don't know.

"Oh thank you. Uhhhh... the crumble?"

"You want the crumble one?"

"Uh, actually can I get the apple fritter?"

"Yeah, of course."

We went inside and I bought a ridiculous amount of donuts (by which I mean like 5). I asked them to bag the fritter separately and handed the man the bag.

"Thank you so much," he said. And he took off.

"Of course."

We started walking back to the residence. My friend didn't buy himself any donuts.

We talked a while as we strolled up the hilly city. The air was still cool and I felt a little lighter. I had so much work to do, but in that moment, it felt like all the really mattered in life was donuts. And that was okay.

"You're a better person than I am," he said finally, and I laughed.

"No I'm not."

"Ok, let me rephrase that without the qualifier. You are a good person." And I didn't really know what to say.

A couple weeks before this conversation, I was sitting with a different friend in a park eating a steaming bowl of fresh noodles. A homeless person approached us and asked us for some food. When we declined, the person began to yell at us for how inconsiderate we were being. My friend passed over a couple of pieces of chicken and the person thanked us, as they walked away. Later, my friend told me that he gave the food away because he knew the homeless person wouldn't leave otherwise. "Huh," I thought to myself. That's the reason. I explained away my inaction too. "All I could think about was Covid and how they didn't have a mask on. I just froze. It was because of that." That was my reason for not being a good person.

Later, when I was narrating the noodle experience to my old roommate, she told me about a similar experience she had. She told me she did buy someone food. In fact, she paid something like $12 for it too. When I asked her why, she said it was because if someone were to do the same for her, she wouldn't think about whether it was out of fear or to absolve their guilt or whatever. "I would just feel grateful," she said. "If that was me, I would just feel grateful."

G r a t e f u l.

Shouldn't I feel grateful? I have so much. So much. In fact, I make a bit of money for myself now too. Granted, they're like three different low stakes jobs, it's not as if I have no money that I earned for myself. So what's my excuse? When will I become rich enough to give back? When do I qualify to donate to charity?

The answer is what we already knew, isn't it. The answer is never. Giving is a choice. To give unconditionally, expecting nothing in return. To give even though you have little. To stop and ask yourself whether this situation is really about you. To spend a second less in fear and a second more in compassion. To just give a little, Amulya. Is that really so hard? No. I don't think it is. What are you so afraid of?

We talk a big game in philosophy class with all our high morals and whatnot. We speak like we are the true arbiters of morality, like we are entitled to judge because we debated right and wrong, like we are good people because we asked the right questions. But I think ultimately, that's the shortcoming of academia. We ask and ask and ask for so long that the people we were asking about are already long gone. We let those who are suffering, to continue to suffer in our long, arduous process of sorting out the saints from the sinners. And isn't it strange how we're never on the dark side? I'm sure it's just coincidence. Right? Right???

I don't know if I'm a good person. I'm not sure I really believe that "good people" exist or that if they do, that they don't do "bad" things from time to time. Maybe that's just my hopeless bid to make "goodness" more attainable, or maybe the truth really is that life gives few honest answers. A part of me really wants to believe that the Apple Fritter is who I am, all I am. But to be honest, I am also the person who refused to hand over my noodles when I know full well I could have. I am both of those people - right now. But I'm trying to be better.

I am trying. I think that's got to count for something.