I headed home and during the walk home I thought about the newsboy I had bumped into. I couldn't shake him out of my mind. I walked up two flights of stairs and I walked into the apartment. I walked into the kitchen to find Papa sitting by the table. I smiled joyously partially because I was happy to see him, and partially at the thought of the newsie.
"Morning papa." I greeted him with a kiss on the forehead. " I bought you a newspaper." I replied setting it on the table in front of him. I then walked over to the stove and placed a kettle over the stove.
"Thank you Candi," He smiled. He feebly reached for the paper and was about to read it, when he started coughing mildly. I quickly ran and got him a cup of water and rushed it over to him. I stayed by his side to make sure he was o.k., but I knew his condition was getting worse. He soon stopped coughing and looked over at me.
"You know it wasn't always like this," he replied.
"What are you talking about Papa?" I asked confused and wondering if it was just his condition talking.
"Our lives. When I first met your Mama, I knew I loved her." He smiled remembering the way she looked. "You know your Mama's a good person, a good person." He paused. "You look a lot like her, chère. The day she left she broke my heart."
"Papa," I pleaded for him to stop. I knew how hard it was for him to talk about her.
"I don't blame her for leaving. She was a young Parisian girl, who lived a fine luxurious life, and I was ten years older than her, and idealistic. I had no right to ask her to leave Paris behind." He talked of her as if they were the best moments of his life, but to me they were hurtful, painful thoughts, that I didn't want to remember. "I know you must hate her for leaving us, chère, but if nothing else you must remember she loved you, and it wasn't your fault she left, it was mine."
"No Papa," I assured him. I took his frail hands into mine and held them tight. "It wasn't anyone's fault." I replied gazing into his loving eyes. Just then the kettle started hissing and I quickly diverted my attention from Papa to the stove. I ran towards it, and closed the fire. I then realized the tears that were beginning to fall from my eyes and I quickly brushed my sleeve over my eyes removing the futile tears that had begun to appear.

That night I couldn't sleep. Thoughts of Mama, Papa, and our old lives crept in my mind, making it hopeless for me to fall asleep. I walked onto the balcony and felt my heart ache. I had lost Mama years ago, and now I was about to lose Papa. It seemed unrealistic. My head was foggy, and I had to get out of the apartment for a little while, so I decided to climb down the fire escape and take a walk. It was about eleven o'clock and I knew papa would be asleep, so I didn't hesitate. The streets seemed calmer at night, and tranquil. I spent about an hour wandering the streets not really paying attention to anything. My mind was a complete ocean filled with thoughts and questions. By the time I regained consciousness I didn't know where I was. I walked around a little bit more looking for any trace of evidence that seemed familiar, but there was nothing familiar about the place. I couldn't take it any more, all these thoughts were echoing in my mind, and now I was utterly lost. All my emotions got the best of me, and I began to cry. I sat down on the curb next to me under a lamppost and cried over everything.

"Miss, 're youse awright?" A voice asked from behind me. I quickly wiped my tears and turned to see who the stranger was.
"You?" I replied, a little surprised to see the newsie from this morning.
"And youse." He smiled, just as surprised to see me.
"You remember me?" I replied surprised he remembered me out of all the other people he had probably sold papers to that day.
"Of coise, I neva fo'get a pretty face." He replied taking a seat by me. I smiled back, a little flattered by his rendition of me. "So what's da matta?"
"Nothing." I replied as I began to get up. I wasn't the kind of person who spilt their guts out to a complete stranger.
"It didn't look like nuting." He replied standing up.
"Well you saw wrong." I corrected him. I then began to walk away not wanting to further the conversation. I had no sooner taken two steps when I realized the newsie walking right by my side. I immediately stopped. "What are you doing?" I asked a little annoyed.
"Well I'se can't let a pretty goil like youse walk home at dis time of night alone." He replied determined.
"I'll be just fine, thank you." I replied a little insulted.
"Youse sure?"
"Positive." I replied sharply and determined. I took another two steps before I remembered I was lost. "Can you point me in the right direction of where Manhattan is?" I asked reluctantly, not wanting to admit I needed his help.
"Manhattan! Youse a long way from home." He replied shocked. "Youse in Brooklyn."
"Brooklyn! Zout Alors. C'est incrèable. Que'est que je peux faire." I muttered in French as my eyes widened in astonishment at how far I had walked.
"O.k. calm down, your speak French."
"Sorry." I replied not realizing I was speaking French.
"Well don't sweet being lost, I'lls escort youse back ta Manhattan." He offered.
"Thank you..." I finally realized I had no idea who he even was.
"Spot Conlon." He replied proudly. "And youse 're?"
"Candice Lorien, but everyone calls me Candi." I stated extending my hand.
"Pleasure ta meet ya." He replied as he tried to kiss it, but luckily I quickly snatched my hand back before he could.
"Please save your charm and wit for some other girl. I know boys like you, and don't think I'm going to fall for any of your moves." I warned him. He simply nodded his head and we began to walk back to Manhattan. As we began to walk something about his name sounded familiar. I played it over and over in my mind.
"Spot Conlon... your not the leader of Brooklyn are you?" I asked remembering a name I heard of through a conversation with a neighbor of mine.
"The one and only. So I'se sees youse hoid of me" He replied smugly.
"Don't get too cocky, I heard that you're a real heartbreaker and pain in the ass." I corrected him.