River Runs Through It
Chapter 1:
My papa was in jail. Ma was ... well, who knew where she was. She went wherever she pleased, and just three days ago she left me. Again. I never knew where she disappeared too- she never thought to inform me-, but always, a few days or so later, she'd return. This time, though, I had the feeling she wasn't coming back. Oh well. I can't really say I missed her. It sounds wrong to say, I know. Some kids don't even know their ma, some lost theirs at a young age, so I should consider myself lucky I knew her. But I don't, really. See, it was always more like I was taking care of Ma, rather than the other way around. She was a nice lady, don't get me wrong, but she was flighty like the birds. And she was... loose with her morals, to put it nicely. Now, I'm not saying I've got the best morals, not by a long shot. But Ma was always one that others looked at with a raised brow.
So, I was pretty much alone in the world now- no one to turn to, nowhere to go. It was something I had expected.
I glanced around the crowded, dirty tenement that Ma and I had shared with another family ever since Papa had been thrown in jail for who knew what by then. It was an Irish family- the Mac Liam's- with eight children, friendly in their own right, but a group we weren't personal with, despite living in the same three rooms. Daniél, the youngest of the Mac Liam family, was screaming at the top of his head with a snotty nose needing wiping and Caitlyn, the oldest, was trying to balance the twins in her arms and care for him and the others while their mother and father worked on something. Basically, it was as if I wasn't there anyway. They were as used to Ma's comings and goings as I was, and they usually left me to my own devices, something I was most often grateful for. Aoife Mac Liam ordered her daughter to do something, probably attend to Daniél, since Caitlyn set the twins down and wipe his nose. Basically, it was a nice, family routine.
I packed up what few belongings I owned- a spare skirt and blouse, a set of undergarments, a scarf for my hair, a tattered copy of Alice in Wonderland that I almost knew by heart, and a ratty doll I called Penny- in an old bag and glanced at the family again. "Well, Geralt, Aoife I'm off. See y'all someday, maybe." I gave them a brief wave.
Aoife looked at me and smiled, muttering something in Irish. Geralt just waved back and replied to his wife. Of course they didn't understand me. I shrugged, tossed them a smile, and wandered out of the room, down the dark, smelly staircase, out onto the hot, smelly streets. I wrinkled my nose at the smell- a mix of trash, urine, animal dung, and sweat. I didn't know which was worse, the smell of the tenement or the streets which included the scent of heavy frying food, and something that reminded me of dirty, wet dog.
With a sigh, I hefted my bag over my shoulder and walked down the street, nodding my head politely to those who greeted me, ignoring those who didn't. Down a block of so, a group of boys and girls sat in the middle of the walk, playing a game. I crouched next to them and watched. It was something with marbles. They didn't invite me to join their little game and I didn't ask. It didn't really matter. They seemed to be having fun, and a bit of gambling was going on- marbles, candies, a penny here and there, anything that most of us considered valuable to some extent.
After a few minutes of watching, I stood and patted the redhead kid's shoulder- I was crouched next to him and he hadn't noticed me the entire time- and left. I wandered through Brooklyn casually. After a while, I started wondering where I was going to go. I didn't want to be stuck going home again. "Ain't so smart, are ya now, Eleanor..." I muttered, folding my arms over my chest. "Gotta go leave wit' nowhere in mind t' go." So, without a clue, I continued to wander about.
* * *
Sweat dripped down my face and made loose strands of hair stick to my neck. My shirt stuck to my back, and I shifted uncomfortably. 'Jeez, how long've I been wanderin'?' I wiped my arm across my forehead. It was so hot! I felt gross, so sticky and all. And my stomach growled at me. It was probably past lunchtime. Off in the distance, I saw the Bridge and sighed. I made it that far? I had been walking that long and still had no idea where to go? I shook my head.
Maybe a dip in East River would do me some good. Or at least it would make me feel a bit better. I went on towards the river. Imagining how good that cold water would feel, I started to run. The sooner I jump in and cool off, the better.
Suddenly, I crashed into a dark lump that popped up in front of me. I ended up tumbling head over heels once before coming to a stop on my stomach. The sleeve of my blouse ripped and my arm beneath it was bleeding. I winced, blowing on it a bit. It stung like the dickens. The man I had run into had been knocked over as well, and he sat up, glaring at me.
"Watch where you go, kid!" he yelled in a strong Italian accent, climbing to his feet and dusting the dirt from his clothes. Then he walked away, muttering what I guessed were curses in Italian.
"Th' nerve! He didn't even help me up!" I muttered, clambering to my feet as well. I forgot my annoyance when I looked towards the Bridge, and I started running again. Come to me, cold water!
"Hey! Stop, you! You stole my money! Girl! You stole my money!"
I stopped, looked back, and saw the Italian man running after me. And he certainly wasn't at any disadvantage to me. My eyes widened- I was shocked by the accusation, and the fact that he was gaining on me so quickly- and I did the first thing that came to mind: I ran. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. It was pretty fast for me, considering I had to deal with a skirt tangling around my legs. I dashed through a nearby alley, between a row of tenement buildings, beneath lines of drying laundry, and he was still after me! 'Jeez... what'll it take for him t' get offa my tail?!' The next thing I knew, I ran into the rail on the Bridge and almost flipped over from the momentum. I stopped and turned, watching as the Italian man slowed and stopped a few feet in front of me, with his arms over his chest.
"Give my money!" he yelled in broken English, glaring angrily at me.
"I don't have it!" Dropping my sack, I shook my skirt and then looked at him. "See? No money here!"
"You stole it, girl! Give it back to me. I get police if you don't."
I stared at him. Would they believe an Italian immigrant over me? Probably. I winced, not liking the prospect of being tossed in a jail. I'd heard what they did to girls in there, and it wasn't pretty. I gripped the rail behind me. "I don't have it. Ya must've dropped it somewhere."
"I no lose my money! You stole! Give it to me!" He advanced towards me, cracking his knuckles. I thought I heard him mutter something about lying American girls, but I could have been wrong.
I glanced around wildly. There wasn't anywhere for me to go. He was too close for me to get far. Desperate, I climbed up on the rail and teetered dangerously in the direction of East River below. My arms pinwheeled wildly behind me and I threw myself forward to keep from falling.
The man stopped and looked at me almost nervously. "Now... you get down and give money," he said somewhat timidly.
"Get it through ya skull! I don't have it!" I shook my skirt again and stomped around on the rail, just barely balanced. "I don't have it, I don't have it, I. Don't. Have. It!"
He came closer, looking annoyed. "Give my money! That money is earned hard!"
"One step closer an' I'll jump!" I threatened. Wait a minute? Where did that come from? Well... it got him to back off, anyway.
He took a step back. "Give my money."
I ignored him and looked down at the brown, rushing river. I hadn't heard of anyone living after they had jumped off the Bridge. I thought of that for a moment. 'Well, I guess it ain't such a bad idea anyway. What do I gotta live for anyway? Ma left. Papa's in prison an' who knows when he'll get out. An' if he'll even care 'bout me bein' 'round.' I looked at the Italian who again demanded that I return the money I didn't have. I glanced towards Brooklyn. Who would care if I was no longer around? The Mac Liam's? I'm sure they could use the extra room. Ma probably had some sellable things that could help them pay rent. And other than Ma and Papa, I didn't have any living relatives. Who would care? I didn't. I looked at the Italian again. Then, turning my back to him, I spread my arms and leaned forward. "God bless New York!" I cried as my weight carried me over the edge of the rail. Behind me the Italian was screaming hysterically.
I plummeted to the river. I kept my eyes closed, afraid to see the river rushing to meet me. "Goodbye," I whispered. And then I felt-