Blue (5 page)

She took a cab downtown to the West Side, and signed up when she got there. They assigned her to the kitchen for the first two hours, carrying the heavy pots full of vegetables, mashed potatoes, and soup. It was hot, backbreaking work, and then they put her on the front lines, helping to plate and serve meals. There were mostly men that night and a few women, and people were in good spirits, wishing each other merry Christmas. All she could think about was Blue as she worked, and how cold he must be in the shed. It was nearly midnight when she finished and signed out again. The last stragglers had left by then, and volunteers were setting up the long tables for breakfast. She wished everyone merry Christmas and left, and stopped at a church on the way home, to catch midnight mass and light candles for Mark and Chris, Becky and her family, and their father. And at one in the morning, she took a cab the rest of the way home. But as soon as she got out at her address, she knew what she wanted to do.

She walked the short distance to the shed. There was no one around, and she kept an eye out for anyone who might attack her. It was late, but there was no one in sight. The wind had come up again, and it was freezing. The cabdriver had said that it was ten degrees with the wind chill factor. She saw the railing where she had stood trying to get up the courage to jump the night before, and she walked straight to the shed and knocked softly, but loud enough to wake him up, since he was probably asleep. She had to knock several times before he answered, and he sounded sleepy when he did.

“Yeah? What?”

“I want to talk to you,” Ginny said, loud enough so he could hear her, and a moment later he stuck his head out the door, and made a face in the bitter wind.

“Shit, it's cold out here,” he said as he squinted at her, still half asleep.

“Yes, it is. Why don't you spend the night on my couch? It's Christmas. And it's a lot warmer in my apartment than it is here.”

“No, I'm fine,” he said. He had never thought about staying with her, and he didn't want to take advantage of her, she had already been so nice. He didn't want to abuse it, but Ginny had a determined look in her eye.

“I know you're fine. But I want you to come home with me. Just for tonight. They say it's going to be even colder by tomorrow. I don't want you to turn into an icicle out here. You'll get sick.” He hesitated, and then as though he didn't have the strength to resist, he opened the door wide, stood up with all his clothes and shoes on, rolled up his sleeping bag, and followed her down the street to where she lived. He was too tired to argue with her, and didn't want to anyway. The thought of a warm place to sleep was appealing, and she seemed like a good person, with good intentions.

They went back to her apartment, and she made him a bed on the couch with two pillows, sheets, and a blanket. It was the closest he'd had to a bed in months. She handed him a pair of her own pajamas, and told him he could change in the bathroom. And when he came out, he looked like a little kid in his father's pajamas, as he stared at the neat bed she had made him on the couch.

“Will you be okay here?” she asked, looking concerned, and he grinned.

“Are you kidding? This is a lot better than my sleeping bag.” He couldn't understand what had happened to him, and why she had appeared to shower bounty on him. It was beyond his wildest imagination. But he was going to enjoy it while he could. She watched him slip under the covers, and then she turned off the lights and went to her own room to change and read for a while in bed. It was strange how comforting it was to know that there was someone in the apartment with her, another human presence, even if she couldn't see him from her bedroom, but she knew he was there. She peeked out once, and saw that he was sound asleep, and then she went back to bed, smiling to herself. It had turned out to be a very nice Christmas Eve after all, the best in years. And for him, too.

Ginny was making herself a cup of coffee the next morning, when Blue wandered into the kitchen, still wearing her pajamas, and looking like one of the Lost Boys from
Peter Pan.
She turned and smiled when she saw him.

“Did you sleep okay?” she asked him.

“Yeah, like a baby. Did you wake up really early?”

She nodded. “I'm still on some other time zone. Are you hungry?” She hadn't stopped feeding him since they met, but he looked as though he needed it, and he was a growing boy.

He looked embarrassed when he answered. “Kind of. But I'm okay. I usually only eat one meal a day.”

“Out of necessity or choice?”

“Both.”

“I make fairly decent pancakes, and I have some mix here. Do you want some?” She had bought it one day in a fit of nostalgia and never used it. She tried not to think of the Mickey Mouse pancakes she used to make for Chris. The last time she'd made pancakes had been for him. She knew she'd never make the Mickey Mouse ones again.

“That sounds good,” Blue admitted, and she got out the mix and made them for him. She had butter in the freezer and maple syrup in the cupboard. And when they finished them, she called Becky to wish them all a merry Christmas at the house in Pasadena. Alan answered and she talked to him for a few minutes, and then Becky got on.

“Should I speak to Dad, or will that just confuse him?” Ginny asked her sister. She wasn't sure her father would know who she was, and if he did, she didn't want him to get upset, asking her to come out.

“He's a little scrambled today. He keeps thinking I'm Mom, and that Margie and Lizzie are you and me. He won't know who you are on the phone, or even if he saw you today.”

“That must be tough to deal with,” Ginny said, feeling instantly guilty that she wasn't there.

“It is,” Becky said honestly. “What about you? What are you going to do today?” She could only imagine how rough Christmas was for her, with no one to spend it with, and the ghosts of Christmas past.

“I think I'm going to spend it with a friend,” Ginny said pensively. She had told Blue he could use the shower, and she could hear him in her bathroom. She was going to run his clothes through the washing machine and dryer in the building, so he'd have clean clothes.

“I thought you didn't have friends in New York.” Becky sounded puzzled. She had given up encouraging Ginny to meet people—she never did and didn't want to. She said she met enough people on her assignments and didn't need to know anyone in New York, since she was always there so briefly, only weeks. And her situation was always too hard to explain. She didn't want anyone's pity, nor to share her story with them. It was none of their business, and you couldn't have friends if you weren't willing to be open with them, which she wasn't. She was sealed tight like an oyster. She had said more to Blue about Chris and Mark than to anyone in years.

“I don't have friends here. I just met him,” Ginny said vaguely.

“A guy?” For an instant, Becky was shocked.

“Not a guy, a boy,” Ginny explained and wondered if she should have.

“What do you mean, ‘a boy'?”

“He's a homeless kid. I let him spend the night here.” And as soon as she said it, she knew she shouldn't have. She and Becky hadn't been on the same wavelength for years. Becky had a life, a family, and a home, and a lot to risk. Ginny had nothing, and didn't care.

“You let a homeless boy spend the night there?” Becky said, horrified. “Are you sleeping with him?”

“Of course not. He's a child. He slept on the couch. He was living in a shed near my apartment, and it's ten below here. You can die of exposure on nights like that.” She didn't think he would, he was young and strong, but anything was possible.

“Are you insane? What if he kills you in your sleep?”

“He's not going to do that. He's about eleven or twelve, and a very sweet boy.”

“You have no idea who or what he is, and maybe he's older than he says, and a criminal of some kind.” The vision of Blue as a criminal in the too-big pajamas was beyond absurd. She hadn't even bothered to lock her bedroom door the night before. She had thought about it, and dismissed the idea. Nothing about him scared her.

“Trust me. He's a sweet kid. He's not going to hurt me, and I'm going to try and talk him into going to a youth shelter. He can't stay on the streets in this weather.”

“Why should he agree to that, if you let him stay in your apartment?”

“For one thing, because I'm leaving in a few weeks, and he can't stay here.” Blue had appeared in the doorway of her bedroom, back in the oversize pajamas, and he was carrying his clothes for her to wash, as she had suggested. “Anyway, I can't talk to you about it now. I have to do laundry. I just called to wish you a merry Christmas. Give Alan and the kids and Dad my love.”

“Ginny, get that boy out of your apartment!” Becky almost shrieked at her. “He's going to kill you!”

“No, he's not. Trust me. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Kiss Dad for me.” She got off the phone a minute later, and in Pasadena Becky looked at her husband with an expression of panic.

“My sister has lost her mind,” she said, nearly crying. “She let a homeless boy sleep in her apartment.”

“Holy God, she is insane.” He was equally worried and strongly disapproving. “She has to get back to some kind of normalcy before she gets herself killed.”

“Yeah, but what can I do about it? I'm here, trying to keep Dad from getting lost or run over by a truck crossing the street. Now I'm supposed to keep my sister from being murdered by homeless boys she lets sleep in her apartment? She should be locked up.”

“It could come to that one day,” Alan said with a grim look. He had always worried that she would eventually lose her mind over the death of her son and husband. But Becky was right, they couldn't do anything about it.

And in New York, Blue was just as worried. “Who was that?”

“My sister in California,” Ginny said as she took his clothes from him to put in the washing machine in the basement. “I used to live in L.A.,” she explained, as he stared at her unhappily.

“You're leaving again soon?” he asked with a sorrowful look. He had heard what she had said to Becky. He had just met her, and now he was about to lose her, too.

“Not for a while,” she said calmly. She could see fear of abandonment on his face and in the deep blue eyes. His hair was clean, and he looked immaculate in her pajamas, as they sat down on the couch. “I might go sometime in January, but I don't know yet. But then I'll come back. I always do.” She smiled at him.

“What if you get killed?” She was about to say “no one will miss me,” but she could see in his face that he would, although they hardly knew each other. He looked panicked at the thought of her leaving.

“I won't get killed. I've been doing this for two and a half years. I'm good at it. And I'll be careful. Don't worry. Now let's talk about what we're going to do today. We both hate Christmas, so let's do something that has nothing to do with the holiday. What do you like to do? Go to movies? Go bowling? Do you ice-skate?”

He shook his head in answer, still worried. “I used to bowl with my aunt Charlene, before…before she got too busy.”

Ginny could tell that there was something he wasn't telling her, but she didn't want to pry. “Want to try it?”

“Okay,” he said, smiling slowly.

“And then we can go to the movies, and have dinner.” It sounded like a slice of heaven to him. She wanted him to have a good time while he was with her. She had no idea what would happen after that. All they had to do was get through the day, and make it a decent Christmas for both of them. She had been planning to stay in bed and read and finish her report, but that wasn't in the cards now. She could do it later.

After she took them to the machines in the basement, Blue's clothes were clean and dry an hour later, and they went downtown to a bowling alley that she called to make sure was open. Neither of them was good at the game, but they had a ball playing, and then they went to a movie. She picked an action film in 3D she thought he'd like, and he loved it. He had never seen 3D before, and he was mesmerized by it. And then they had hot dogs for dinner at a deli, and stopped at a small grocery store for food before they went back to her apartment. It was dark and snowing again when they got back to her place. She asked if he'd like to sleep on the couch again, instead of going back to the shed, and he nodded. She made the bed up for him, and she left him there, watching TV, and went to her bedroom. Becky called her as soon as she lay down.

“You're still alive? He hasn't killed you yet?” She was only half-kidding. She had been worried sick about her all day, about her mental state and poor judgment to have done something so dangerous.

“No, and he's not going to. It's Christmas, Becky, give the kid a break.” She had given him more than a break, she had given him a great time, and they had both loved it.

“Will you get him out of there tomorrow?”

“I'll see. I want to get him to the right place. He's afraid of shelters.”

“Oh, for chrissake. I'm afraid for your life. Who cares if he's afraid of shelters? Where's his family?”

“I don't know yet. His parents are both dead. He used to live with his aunt, but something went wrong there.”

“This isn't your problem, Ginny. There are millions of homeless people in the world. You can't take them all in. You can't heal all the broken and wounded in the world. Just take care of yourself. Why don't you look for a job in New York? I think all this humanitarian work you do gives you a Mother Teresa complex. Instead of picking up homeless orphans off the street, come and visit your father.” Ginny ignored the tart remark. Becky sounded tired.

“I don't have a family to come home to, Becky,” Ginny reminded her. “It allows me to dedicate my life to others.”

“You have us. Move back to L.A.”

“I can't. That would kill me,” Ginny said sadly. “And I don't want a desk job in New York. I like what I'm doing. It fulfills me.”

“You can't run around the world for the rest of your life. And if you want a family to come home to, you have to stay somewhere for more than ten minutes and stop going to war zones, and working in refugee camps. You need a real life, Gin, while you can still have one. If you do that stuff for long enough, you won't be able to settle down again.”

“Maybe I don't want to,” she said honestly. Then Becky had to drive her younger daughter to meet a friend, and mercifully got off the phone, and Ginny spent the rest of the evening reading, while Blue watched TV in the living room. She went to check on him at ten o'clock, and he was sound asleep in his bed on the couch, with the remote still in his hand. Ginny gently took it from him and put it on the trunk in front of him, covered him with the blanket, and turned off the light. Then she went back to her bedroom and closed the door, and read until midnight. She thought about what Becky had said to her, and she knew they were convinced she was crazy for taking Blue in, but it felt right to her for now, at this moment. She would figure it out later. She wanted to convince him to contact his aunt, and let her know he was okay. And then she wanted to get him into a good shelter where they could help him. For now, he was her mission. And by the time she left again, she wanted to know he was in good hands. She was convinced there was a reason their paths had crossed, and she was sure that was it. She was meant to get him to safe harbor, and she vowed to herself that she would. She turned off the light, and two minutes later she was sound asleep.

While Ginny cooked Blue breakfast the next day, he went on the Internet again and logged onto various sites. She noticed him on several youth and homeless sites again, where people posted messages for each other. And she saw him frowning as he read one of them more carefully than the others. As she set his plate of scrambled eggs down next to the computer, she saw that it was from someone named Charlene, who was asking him to call her, and it was obviously his aunt, since he had mentioned her name. Ginny looked at the site carefully without seeming to, so she could get back to it if he went out. Ginny wanted to contact her to learn more about Blue, and figure out what to do with him when she left New York.

She said something to Blue after breakfast about where he was going to stay in the future.

“You can't go back to the shed, Blue. It's too cold. And sooner or later someone from the city will lock it up again.”

“There are other places I can stay,” he said, jutting out his chin defiantly. Then he looked at her and the expression in his eyes grew soft. “Not as nice as this, though.”

“You can stay with me as long as I'm here,” she said generously. She didn't realize how agonizingly lonely she had been before he arrived. Now she knew. “But I have to go back to work next month, and I'll be gone for a while. Let's find a good place for you to stay before I go.”

“Not a shelter,” he said, looking stubborn again.

“There are long-term places for homeless kids. Some of them sound pretty good—you can come and go as you want.” She had been checking them out on the Internet. It wouldn't be an ideal situation, but it would afford him shelter, a place to stay, meals, counseling, and job placement if he wanted that. But he wasn't really old enough to work.

“You just get ripped off in shelters, and most of the kids are on drugs.” She could tell that he wasn't, which was remarkable given his hard life.

“Well, we'll have to figure something out. I can't take you with me.” It was as though she had adopted him, and was determined to solve his housing situation, when in fact he was a fragile bird who had come to light on her branch, and was perched next to her for now. But he had no choice but to fly away again when she did, and she wanted him to be safe after she left.