Chapter IV: Mother
"Jimmy, darling. It's time to wake up."
He opened his eyes to dazzling sunlight and a smiling face.
"Good morning, sunshine," she said sweetly.
Jimmy grinned up at her and spent a minute just staring at her pale face, bright blue eyes, and golden flowing hair. The sunlight shining through the window behind her made her look like she was glowing and Jimmy knew that if there were really such things as angels, they would look like her.
"Morning, mommy."
The boy pushed himself up off the floor and into his mother's loving arms. He completely ignored the starchy feeling of her pale, worn dress, the stench of the room they were in, and its grimy four walls and sparse floor. They were material things. Unimportant things. All he ever needed in his life was her, and her beautiful face.
They'd lived in that single room apartment for a while, just mother and son. At least they weren't on the streets anymore. How his mother came across this particular place was a mystery to the boy, and he'd learned to ignore the smells of death and decay as well as the callings of the landlord or any sort of authority figure. His mother had taught him that.
At six he wasn't old enough to understand much about what went on his life. He knew his mother was poor and that their life was far from luxurious. He attributed this to the fact that she was so much younger looking than any other mother he'd ever seen and that he had no father that he knew of. He'd asked her about his father a number of times and was told stories about what a brave, caring man he was, but was never told where he was or why he wasn't with his family. It didn't really matter to Jimmy—as long as he had his mother, he was content.
"Come on, sweetie," his mother said as she tucked her hair into a cap that hid her face in shadow. "Time to go to work." She threw a shawl over her shoulders and left the apartment through the window with Jimmy holding tightly to her hand.
Hey mister," young Jimmy called as he tugged on an older man's coat tails. "Mister, mister! Wanna see something neat for a dollar?"
The older man turned his wrinkled face to the young boy in front of him. He grinned down at the sweet looking street urchin. "Sure, sonny."
Jimmy smiled and immediately started a little tap dancing jig that his mother had taught him. Though he was a small boy, his feet moved fluidly as he danced and clapped his hands. The man chuckled, obviously impressed. Before long, a dozen people had made a tight crowd around the boy, clapping and cheering him on while he danced. None of them noticed as a dark figure moved systematically through their pockets as they tossed their change to the boy's feet.
When the boy finished his dance, he bowed deeply and sweetly thanked everyone that had tossed money his way. He scooped up the coins and few bills and dashed down the street, leaving the group of smiling adults oblivious to how empty their pockets and purses now were.
He turned down one alleyway in particular that was especially secluded and hidden in shadow. His mother always picked the darkest, emptiest meeting places—places that would have scared Jimmy if she ever wasn't there to meet him.
"Jimmy," she said with a wide smile as she embraced her son. "That was wonderful! You danced beautifully."
He beamed proudly and held out a fist full of bills. "I got four dollars and seven cents!"
She kissed his cheek. "Good job, Jimmy! And look," she said as she emptied her own pockets. "Another thirty two dollars!"
The boy screwed his face up in thought. "We have…thirty six dollars and seven cents!"
His mother's smile grew even wider as she hugged him tightly. "That's right, sweetheart! I am so proud of you!" She lifted him up off the ground and spun around while he shrieked for joy. She set him back on his feet and squeezed his hand tightly in her own. "Now let's go get some lunch."
They skipped hand in hand down the dingy city streets, Jimmy beaming over his mother's compliments. She taught him everything he knew. She may not have been the best off, but at one point his mother must have been to school. He didn't need school—she was the smartest lady in the world. She taught him how to add and subtract, and was reading to him every night so much so that he could practically read and write by himself already.
And although Jimmy did know that stealing and conning people was wrong, his mother had taught him that as long as they only took what they needed to survive, then God would forgive them in the end.
They'd lived like this for as long as Jimmy could remember—sometimes they'd be in the streets, or hiding out in abandoned apartments, spending their days together while at night Jimmy's mother would disappear and not return again until the morning. Some days she would return with a decent sum of money, but somehow she always looked sad and almost worn out after her night's work. Jimmy was sure whatever she did at night was what made her sick.
He was ten years old when she fell ill. She'd spent months coughing, but always managed to keep a smile on her face for her son's sake. But eventually it got worse to the point where she could barely get up in the morning because of her fever. Jimmy would get money and food for himself when she told him to, though most of the time she just slept with her son in her arms.
One rainy morning, Jimmy awoke, but she didn't.
"Mom?" he'd said as he tried to shake her awake, but she did not respond. "Come on, mommy," he whimpered. "It's time to get up…"
But she didn't wake up. She was as pale and stiff as a marble statue, looking very much like she was sleeping, though her skin was icy cold. Jimmy just sniffled and curled up against her, knowing from experience that the best way to keep warm was to be close to someone. He figured she was just sick and needed him to keep her warm. Then she would wake up.
The days passed slowly, and Jimmy never left his mother's arms, even as he was starting to feel just as cold and sick as she looked. He would later find that he'd been in that house with his decaying mother for almost three days. Had he been there much longer and not taking care of himself like he was he would have died too.
But someone in the apartment building must have eventually started to smell something and called the police. Needless to say they were shocked at what they saw. Jimmy was taken to a doctor and his mother was taken away in a bag, though where or if she was even buried was a mystery to Jimmy. No one ever told him anything about her.
He was sick for a while after that, physically and emotionally. He had ended up in some kind of orphanage where the people barely acknowledged his existence. This was the Jazz age, after all. The so called "Roaring Twenties." Every day was a party. No one wanted to pay attention to a grieving boy. No one besides his mother had ever cared about him, and he feared no one ever would again.
Hayes sat in the dark with his head lolling back against the wall. He'd been sitting there all day, ever since Lumpy and Choy fixed Jimmy's arm. The boy was still asleep in Hayes' bed, with the first mate keeping a watchful eye on him from the other side of the room. But it was getting very late and the boy still hadn't woken up. Hayes was about to give in to his own exhaustion and fall asleep where he was sitting when he heard a soft rustling of sheets.
He sat up straight and had to resist the urge to rush over to the boy, who was now weakly shifting on the cot. Hayes had assumed Jimmy was waking up, but Jimmy turned to his left side with a whimper as he cradled his splinted right arm to his chest.
As quietly as possible, Hayes arose from his seat and was about to talk to the boy and maybe get him something for the pain in his arm when he saw that Jimmy was shaking again. All Hayes could see was the boy's back, but soon he could hear the choking, gasping breaths and quivering sobs. The first mate froze as the emotion of the situation turned his blood cold. The boy was crying and Hayes had no idea what he could possibly do to help him.
He cleared his throat and shifted nervously from one foot to the other, but Jimmy was oblivious to his presence. After a full minute of doing nothing Hayes finally forced himself to go over to the edge of the bed and sit down. He hesitantly reached a hand out to pat the boy's back.
"Hey," he said as soothingly as he could, thought it sounded more like a growl than anything else. "It's alright, Jimmy…"
Jimmy's left hand was over his face as he tried to stifle his sobs. Hayes' attempt at comforting the boy only seemed to make it worse as Jimmy cried even harder as he curled further in on himself. It broke Hayes' heart to see the boy so distraught, but all he could do was rub gentle circles against Jimmy's back and listen to the desperate sobbing.
"It'll be okay, Jimmy," he whispered gently. "You'll be okay..."
Chloroform induced flashback for you guys :)