him,” Carl shouted. “If these kids think they can steal and get away
with it, they won’t stop. I’d be mortified if someone came into my shop and stole an
antique.”
Helena laughed right in Carl’s face. “Kids don’t steal antiques , Carl. Only greedy,
mean adults do that. Like the chair in your front window with that horrible murdered
zebra print. You stole that from the woman in Brooklyn. And from what I’ve been told,
you stole a dollar just this afternoon.”
Carl clenched his fists tighter. “That chair was a good bargain. I paid her one
hundred dollars for it, fair and square. And the dollar bill was just an accident. I didn’t
plan that, so it’s not officially stealing.” Carl raised his right hand and ran his fingers
across the white fur on Helena’s coat. He smirked and said, “And I suppose this soft
white fur is nowhere near as horrible as my murdered zebra skin.”
Helena shook her head, tossed it back, and laughed. “This isn’t real fur, you
asshole. Nothing about me is real, Carl. I’m a ghost.”
While Carl was still staring at the white fur, the young man picked up a small,
inexpensive magazine and crossed to the counter. Carl and Helena followed him. When
he reached the counter, he placed the magazine in front of the clerk and said, “I’ll take
this.” Then he coughed again. This time it was such a deep, throaty cough he had to turn
and bury his face in his elbow. His entire body shook and his eyes began to water.
When he regained control of his breathing, he reached into his back pocket and
pulled out a wrinkled five-dollar bill. He handed it to the clerk and forced a smile.
“Here it comes,” Carl said. “This is where the clerk is going to bust him for
stealing the cough medicine.” He started to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. But the clerk just smiled and sat back in his chair. He folded his arms across his
chest and said, “Take the magazine, kid. It’s on the house. Consider it a Christmas
present.”
Carl blinked twice and said, “I thought you said the clerk saw him steal the cough
medicine.”
Helena smiled. “He did see him do it. He’s just not saying anything.”
The young guy’s head went up and he stared at the clerk. “Are you sure? I don’t
mind paying.”
The clerk waved his hand. “Naw, kid. Just take it and leave. And take care of that
cough, too. It doesn’t sound good. You might want to go over to St. Vincent’s and pay a
visit to the emergency room.”
The young guy rolled the magazine up and put it under his arm. As he turned to
leave, he looked back at the clerk and said, “Merry Christmas, man.”
The clerk smiled. “Merry Christmas to you, too, kid.”
“Ah well,” Carl said. “I guess because it’s Christmas it’s okay to steal. I think I’ll
go over to the Mercedes dealership and see if I can walk out with a free car tomorrow.”
Chapter Nine
Carl and Helena followed the young guy out of the shop. The snowflakes were
smaller now and visibility had worsened. The boy limped about six blocks through the
heavy snow, hunched over with his head down and his hands in his pants pockets, and
turned right into a dark alley. He leaned back into a brick wall and pulled the cough
medicine out of his pants. He tore the box open and pulled out a plastic bottle filled with
dark red liquid.
While he tried to remove the childproof cap, he started coughing again. He
dropped the bottle into the snow, doubled over in pain, and coughed so hard he wound up
on his knees. Then he sat down on the cold, snowy ground and rested his back against the
hard brick wall. His face had grown even paler, his sneakers were soaked with wet snow,
and there was a patch of snow on his head. When he reached for the medicine, his hands
were shaking so much the
with it, they won’t stop. I’d be mortified if someone came into my shop and stole an
antique.”
Helena laughed right in Carl’s face. “Kids don’t steal antiques , Carl. Only greedy,
mean adults do that. Like the chair in your front window with that horrible murdered
zebra print. You stole that from the woman in Brooklyn. And from what I’ve been told,
you stole a dollar just this afternoon.”
Carl clenched his fists tighter. “That chair was a good bargain. I paid her one
hundred dollars for it, fair and square. And the dollar bill was just an accident. I didn’t
plan that, so it’s not officially stealing.” Carl raised his right hand and ran his fingers
across the white fur on Helena’s coat. He smirked and said, “And I suppose this soft
white fur is nowhere near as horrible as my murdered zebra skin.”
Helena shook her head, tossed it back, and laughed. “This isn’t real fur, you
asshole. Nothing about me is real, Carl. I’m a ghost.”
While Carl was still staring at the white fur, the young man picked up a small,
inexpensive magazine and crossed to the counter. Carl and Helena followed him. When
he reached the counter, he placed the magazine in front of the clerk and said, “I’ll take
this.” Then he coughed again. This time it was such a deep, throaty cough he had to turn
and bury his face in his elbow. His entire body shook and his eyes began to water.
When he regained control of his breathing, he reached into his back pocket and
pulled out a wrinkled five-dollar bill. He handed it to the clerk and forced a smile.
“Here it comes,” Carl said. “This is where the clerk is going to bust him for
stealing the cough medicine.” He started to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet. But the clerk just smiled and sat back in his chair. He folded his arms across his
chest and said, “Take the magazine, kid. It’s on the house. Consider it a Christmas
present.”
Carl blinked twice and said, “I thought you said the clerk saw him steal the cough
medicine.”
Helena smiled. “He did see him do it. He’s just not saying anything.”
The young guy’s head went up and he stared at the clerk. “Are you sure? I don’t
mind paying.”
The clerk waved his hand. “Naw, kid. Just take it and leave. And take care of that
cough, too. It doesn’t sound good. You might want to go over to St. Vincent’s and pay a
visit to the emergency room.”
The young guy rolled the magazine up and put it under his arm. As he turned to
leave, he looked back at the clerk and said, “Merry Christmas, man.”
The clerk smiled. “Merry Christmas to you, too, kid.”
“Ah well,” Carl said. “I guess because it’s Christmas it’s okay to steal. I think I’ll
go over to the Mercedes dealership and see if I can walk out with a free car tomorrow.”
Chapter Nine
Carl and Helena followed the young guy out of the shop. The snowflakes were
smaller now and visibility had worsened. The boy limped about six blocks through the
heavy snow, hunched over with his head down and his hands in his pants pockets, and
turned right into a dark alley. He leaned back into a brick wall and pulled the cough
medicine out of his pants. He tore the box open and pulled out a plastic bottle filled with
dark red liquid.
While he tried to remove the childproof cap, he started coughing again. He
dropped the bottle into the snow, doubled over in pain, and coughed so hard he wound up
on his knees. Then he sat down on the cold, snowy ground and rested his back against the
hard brick wall. His face had grown even paler, his sneakers were soaked with wet snow,
and there was a patch of snow on his head. When he reached for the medicine, his hands
were shaking so much the
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