David and Crutchy had been roommates ever since they quit being newsies. Mush said that the apartment wasn't too far away from Tibby's, only half a mile. I was a little nervous knowing I would see them again but at the very least, the people I recognized so far weren't hostile. That was a good sign. I also knew that Crutchy was friendly and that David was rational. I figured that they would be good-natured like the others I met that day.
We walked through a neighborhood that appeared to have hit hard times. Most of the stores were empty and the buildings didn't look good. They were falling apart. The air was dreary and gray, thick with depression. Even the people milling around looked unhappy. Not that I could blame them. That place used to be alive, and full of energy. Now it was only a shadow of its former glory. And it became harder and harder to remember what it once was like.
Then I saw Oscar Delancey walking out of a shop. He was carrying two suitcases, one in each hand, to a carriage parked on the sidewalk. I didn't know if it would be in my best interest to talk to him or not, but I wasn't the one to decide that. He looked at me and said, "Jack Kelly."
I waved hello and walked towards him. "You're going on a trip somewhere?"
"Yeah." He put his two bags on the seats. "I'm moving to Ohio to live with Morris."
The word "Why?" just spurted out of my mouth. I honestly didn't and still don't know why I cared.
"I used to own a butcher shop." He gestured to the place he stepped out of. "But Alex Barone's gang made me pay a hundred a month and I couldn't afford to keep the place open anymore. He threatened to hurt me and my family. I hate that man. I call him Bones. Everyone scared of him does." Oscar Delancey scared? I never thought I'd see the day.
"So I had to leave," he continued. "And Morris was the only person I could go to…But I guess it could be worse. I'll figure out a way to get my own place soon enough. Maybe I'll even be able to come back." There was a pause. In that little gap of time, I could tell just how upset he was. "Are you ready, Isabelle?" A very pregnant woman, his wife, nodded and came out of the shop. Oscar helped her into the carriage. Two other children, a young boy and girl, were waiting as well.
"I'm so sorry about what happened." I never thought I would see a Delancey scared and I never thought I would feel any sympathy for a Delancey either, but I did. It wasn't fair that he had to leave his home and go bankrupt because of a gang.
His mouth was a straight line. He spoke with no emotion. "Thank you." He climbed into the driver's seat and the Delancey family rode away.
"Alex Barone and his buddies have been terrorizing the Lower East Side for the past two or three years. It's gotten really bad," Mush told me. "And the Refuge is back up too."
"What?"
"Yeah. Blink works there."
"Why would he do that?" He had heard countless horror stories from people that used to be there. He knew about the starvation and the overly harsh punishments and how awful the guards were. I saw the Refuge's poison with my own eyes back when I was there, and Blink understood it better than most people. I couldn't understand why he would want to be a part of that. A shiver went down my spine.
"He needs the money, I guess. He'd been out of work for a long time and it was the only job he could get. But if it's any consolation, he's one of the nicer guards there." I was still upset, but that was slightly comforting. "It's a good thing too. Snipeshooter and Tumbler got arrested." They had been such nice kids and I got a little upset. I couldn't bear to imagine them in prison, especially knowing that a lot of the so-called 'crimes' to get arrested weren't that bad. I don't know what's happened to them since, but I hope they're okay. "Skittery too…Except he's too old for the Refuge. He's in the state penitentiary." Oh look, more good news, I thought bitterly.
Skittery handled the mental trauma of jail a lot better than most people did, but his reputation was tarnished and he died penniless on the streets less than a year after he was freed. Friends had offered him food and a place to stay, but he didn't want to accept charity. Legend has it that he met Weasel in jail too, but David dispelled the rumor and told me that Weasel died of pneumonia eighteen months before my visit and had worked at a bookstore every moment following the strike.
I asked myself a question that was so scary, I didn't even want to address it. But I knew I couldn't ignore it. "Is the Refuge as bad as it was before?" Mush didn't say anything. But, as I found out later, the answer was yes.
It wasn't long before we got to the apartment. "Hi," Mush greeted when the door opened. "I have the food." Apparently, (this was mentioned in a letter later), he would act as a deliveryman for Crutchy and David when David was too busy working.
It was Les that let us in. He motioned inside, and Mush put the stuff on the dining table. "Jack?" It must've been surprising to see me after so long. "David, come here." I walked inside, and noticed that he was sitting at his desk writing, probably an article for the paper. He didn't seem happy with having to put his work down, but he did it anyway. He smiled when he saw me, but it didn't seem genuine. There was sort of a cold tone to it. Even Les didn't seem too excited that I was there. He was definitely surprised, but I wasn't exactly sure how he felt. I understood why they would be mad at me. I had left them out of nowhere. But at the same time, seven years had passed. I thought that they would've gotten over any anger.
David only said, "Hello," before going back to what he was doing before.
Mush and I walked farther into the apartment. "Crutchy is through there," Mush explained to me. I peeked through the door but didn't go inside. Crutchy was underneath the covers of the bed and I wasn't sure if we should bother him if he was asleep. "Just knock. He's always like that." It was like Mush had read my mind.
I tapped the door. Crutchy started to stir, until he eventually sat up. He was paler than I remembered. Everything about him seemed older and more tired. Except for his grin, which hadn't changed at all. He had kept his positive attitude.
"How you doing, Crutchy?"
"Getting on by," he replied. It was his way of evading an actual answer. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm in the city for the day, and just thought that I'd stop in."
David interrupted us. "It's time to eat."
Mush and I let ourselves out. "He's been sick the past few months. They say he's getting worse and that it's only a matter of time before…" A lot of the people I know have seen or dealt with death before. That still didn't make it an easy subject to talk about. Crutchy could very well die. How soon, I didn't know. The idea made my stomach churn and my palms sweat. No wonder Crutchy hadn't said anything. "Who's 'they'?"
"Doctors. David took out some money from his savings." How noble. "Sorry. I guess I should've warned you."
"No that's fine, Mush. Just fine."