bottle wobbled.
Carl frowned. He heard the echo of Christmas music and a group of voices in the
distance. He figured someone was having a Christmas party in the neighborhood. Carl
pointed to the young man and said, “He really should go to the emergency room. He’s
very sick. I doubt that cough medicine is going to help at all.”
Helena sighed. “I’m glad to see that you have some feelings left, Carl.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Carl said. “I can see that the boy is seriously ill.”
Then the young man stretched out his legs. When one leg went forward, his pant
leg slid up and exposed a metal prosthesis. He took a deep breath and opened the cough medicine. He lifted the bottle to his lips slowly, as if moving his arms was too painful to
bear. When he took a long swallow and gulped, he started to cough again. Cough
medicine sprayed from his mouth and landed on his thin denim jacket. The perimeter of
his lips was coated with shiny red syrup. The bright red against his pale gray complexion
made him look even sicker.
When he stopped coughing, he dropped the medicine in the snow without
replacing the lid. It tipped on its side and red syrup spilled into the white snow. He rested
his head back against the brick wall and closed his eyes. When he tried to take a deep
breath, his chest heaved forward and his eyes squinted.
Carl stepped toward him and leaned over. “If he falls asleep like this, he’ll die.
Why doesn’t he just go to the emergency room?”
Helena put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “Because he’s still a minor,
Carl. He’s only fifteen years old. He’s terrified to go to the emergency room because
they’ll have to report him. He ran away from the foster parents who abused him. Among
many things, they beat him regularly with straps, they refused to buy him new shoes, and
they kept him locked in dark closets for long periods of time throughout his childhood.
He doesn’t want to go back there. He’s terrified. And he knows that if he does go back,
they will only punish him even more for running away.”
Carl turned fast. “There must be something we can do. He’ll die like this. What
about his real parents? Surely they can do something ?”
“He never knew his biological father,” Helena said. “And his mother was run over
by a taxi when he was just a baby. This boy had no one in the world, and no one is going
to miss him.” Carl bent down to get a better look at the young man’s face. His jaw was strong
and square, his nose small and thin. Though his head had been shaved, there was an
evident layer of dark brown hair sprouting from his scalp. Carl stared at his ears. They
were small and delicate, just like Carl’s own ears. Then he stared at the young man’s fake
leg.
He jumped up and jogged toward Helena. His heart was pounding and his chest
was heaving. He grabbed her elbows and said, “This is my son, isn’t it? He’s the boy I
saw in the dream, isn’t he?” He shook her hard and shouted, “We can’t let him stay here.
We have to get help. He’s going to die.” Then he faced the boy and shouted, “I can’t let
him die. He’s not all alone in the world.”
Helena pulled her elbows out of his hands and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry,
Carl. There’s nothing we can do for him. We aren’t real. Ghosts don’t get second chances
like people who are alive.” Then she reached for Carl’s hand and squeezed it hard.
“I don’t want to leave him here,” Carl said. “I can’t do it. He’s my son.” He tried
to pull his hand out of hers, but she wouldn’t let go. “Please don’t do this. He’ll die. I’ll
pay you. I’ll give you any amount of money.”
* * * *
The next thing Carl knew he was standing inside the hollow vestibule of an old
building. It looked like a New
Carl frowned. He heard the echo of Christmas music and a group of voices in the
distance. He figured someone was having a Christmas party in the neighborhood. Carl
pointed to the young man and said, “He really should go to the emergency room. He’s
very sick. I doubt that cough medicine is going to help at all.”
Helena sighed. “I’m glad to see that you have some feelings left, Carl.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Carl said. “I can see that the boy is seriously ill.”
Then the young man stretched out his legs. When one leg went forward, his pant
leg slid up and exposed a metal prosthesis. He took a deep breath and opened the cough medicine. He lifted the bottle to his lips slowly, as if moving his arms was too painful to
bear. When he took a long swallow and gulped, he started to cough again. Cough
medicine sprayed from his mouth and landed on his thin denim jacket. The perimeter of
his lips was coated with shiny red syrup. The bright red against his pale gray complexion
made him look even sicker.
When he stopped coughing, he dropped the medicine in the snow without
replacing the lid. It tipped on its side and red syrup spilled into the white snow. He rested
his head back against the brick wall and closed his eyes. When he tried to take a deep
breath, his chest heaved forward and his eyes squinted.
Carl stepped toward him and leaned over. “If he falls asleep like this, he’ll die.
Why doesn’t he just go to the emergency room?”
Helena put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. “Because he’s still a minor,
Carl. He’s only fifteen years old. He’s terrified to go to the emergency room because
they’ll have to report him. He ran away from the foster parents who abused him. Among
many things, they beat him regularly with straps, they refused to buy him new shoes, and
they kept him locked in dark closets for long periods of time throughout his childhood.
He doesn’t want to go back there. He’s terrified. And he knows that if he does go back,
they will only punish him even more for running away.”
Carl turned fast. “There must be something we can do. He’ll die like this. What
about his real parents? Surely they can do something ?”
“He never knew his biological father,” Helena said. “And his mother was run over
by a taxi when he was just a baby. This boy had no one in the world, and no one is going
to miss him.” Carl bent down to get a better look at the young man’s face. His jaw was strong
and square, his nose small and thin. Though his head had been shaved, there was an
evident layer of dark brown hair sprouting from his scalp. Carl stared at his ears. They
were small and delicate, just like Carl’s own ears. Then he stared at the young man’s fake
leg.
He jumped up and jogged toward Helena. His heart was pounding and his chest
was heaving. He grabbed her elbows and said, “This is my son, isn’t it? He’s the boy I
saw in the dream, isn’t he?” He shook her hard and shouted, “We can’t let him stay here.
We have to get help. He’s going to die.” Then he faced the boy and shouted, “I can’t let
him die. He’s not all alone in the world.”
Helena pulled her elbows out of his hands and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry,
Carl. There’s nothing we can do for him. We aren’t real. Ghosts don’t get second chances
like people who are alive.” Then she reached for Carl’s hand and squeezed it hard.
“I don’t want to leave him here,” Carl said. “I can’t do it. He’s my son.” He tried
to pull his hand out of hers, but she wouldn’t let go. “Please don’t do this. He’ll die. I’ll
pay you. I’ll give you any amount of money.”
* * * *
The next thing Carl knew he was standing inside the hollow vestibule of an old
building. It looked like a New
Similar Books
