Burying the Village Well, Digging up Regret

I had just gotten home from work when my phone buzzed with a video call from Grandpa, which I answered right away.

But Grandpa didn't appear on the screen. Instead, it was the angry, flushed face of Peggy Mitchell, one of the residents at the village Grandpa lived in, that showed up. A crowd of other villagers had gathered behind her.

"Fred Sherman! Look at the mess you made!" Madam Mitchell screamed into the phone, her spit splattering onto the lens.

"The water from the village well stinks! All we're pumping out now is muddy water! Everyone who's been drinking the water got diarrhea, and now, the whole village is here! You must've cut corners and pocketed the kickbacks when you handled this project.

"But now that the pipes are destroyed, the water's contaminated, and the entire village is in chaos, you happily hide away in the city to enjoy your riches? You'd better get your ass here now and put up the money to dig us a new well!"

All the way in the back, Grandpa was being shoved around, and he had to press himself against the wall in the corner.

The other villagers started chiming in as well.

"That's right! Make him come back to the village and dig us another well!"

"He conned his own neighbors out of their money! How shameless of him!"

I was completely dumbfounded. My mind went blank.

I was an orphan. After my parents died, Grandpa took me in. He relied on scavenging recyclables and bartering with the neighbors to keep me fed and clothed until I was all grown up.

After I'd finally established myself in the city, I wanted him to move in with me so he could enjoy a comfortable life. But he insisted on staying in the village, claiming he wasn't used to city life.

As for the well, I'd specifically hired a construction crew from Sunshire, the state capital, to set it up in our village, Hopeville, three years ago. I also paid to install a water pump and lay pipes that ran directly into every house.

The entire village got to use the water infrastructure for free.

To ensure Grandpa could live comfortably in the village, I did everything in my power to win over the rest of the villagers. I also paid to build a senior activity center for them. During the festive season, I hauled truckloads of groceries back to the village and gave them out door-to-door.

I always assumed that no one was made of stone. If I respected the villagers as my elders and treated them well, surely they would return my sincerity with kindness of their own.

"Madam Mitchell, the water from the well got contaminated because of the heavy rains. It has nothing to do with the quality of the construction." I did my best to restrain my anger and explain the situation to her.

"Don't give me that nonsense!" Madam Mitchell refused to listen to me. "Don't take us for fools just because we're from the countryside! You must've used lousy pipes! If you don't get back here today, dig a new well, and make this right…"

She whipped her head around and jabbed a finger at Grandpa. "Then that old bastard of a grandpa of yours can forget about having a moment of peace in this village! We'll come over and cause a scene every day. I can't wait to see how long he can stay alive under such circumstances!"

The call cut off abruptly, and when I called back, the phone had been turned off.

I didn't even change out of my pajamas before grabbing my keys and shooting out the door. I drove as fast as I could. All I could think of was the sight of Grandpa, cowering and trembling against the wall.

I never should've been kind. I should've known that some people didn't deserve an ounce of generosity.