Disclaimers: Usual. Again, thanks for the reviews, it means so much to know that people actually enjoy something that I wrote.
Chapter 6
Without wasting barely any time, Jack and Blink were able to scoop Kloppman up and bring him swiftly into his own room, where they laid his on the bed. "Race, call da doctah." Jack ordered, feeling the old man's neck for a pulse. He looked at Moira. "He's still alive. But…" He trailed off and looked at the ground. Blink picked up a crocheted afghan from the chair in the corner and placed it on top of him, covering him up to his shoulders. Moira sat down on his left side and held his hand, while Jack did the same on the other.
"Grandpa?" She whispered, "can you hear me?"
"Kloppman. Klopp, wake up." Jack said, leaning in closer than Moira had. Kloppman stirred, and then opened his eyes, taking a ragged breath. Jack smiled. "Hey, Klopp."
"Hey dere, Cowboy." The old man said, his voice barely a whisper. He looked at Moira, who had tears streaming silently down her face. "Oh, don't waste dose tears on me, darlin'." He put his hand on her cheek, and shakily wiped one of the tears away. "I love you, Moira."
"I love you too." She choked out. "Grandpa, please, don't go." He only shook his head,
"I'm gonna see Wendy again." Wendy was Moira's grandmother, who had died when she was only a few years old.
"You tell her we said hi." Blink told him, from the foot of the bed.
Kloppman took Jack's hand and placed it, palm up, on his chest. He then took Moira's hand, placed it Jack's and closed the cowboy's fingers around hers. The dying man then rested his own hands at his sides, a small smile on his face. Moira stared at her hand, joined with Jack's as neither made a movement. They watched together as their hands rose up and down with each of Kloppman's shallow breaths, until finally, they just stopped all together. It took Moira a few minutes to realize what had happened. She pulled her hand quickly from Jack's and began shaking the old man, tears streaming , yelling and screaming incoherently, begging him to 'wake up' and be all right.
Kid Blink took her quickly in his arms, burying her face in his shoulder as Jack covered Kloppman's face with the cover. She stopped screaming, and just continued sobbing. Kloppman was gone. Her grandfather, Francis Kloppman, was gone. Just like that. She'd had breakfast with him that very morning. They'd talked about muffins. Muffins. It seemed odd to her how something so insignificant could become something as important as one of the last conversations she would have with her grandfather.
"Here, give her ta me." She heard Jack say to Blink, who handed her over. He wrapped his arms around her in a brotherly sort of hug, suddenly, her hatred toward Jack became childish and silly, he wasn't her enemy, but her lifeline. Someone who had known and loved Kloppman just as much as she had, if not more. Moira clung to him, like one who was lost at sea would cling to a buoy.
The next hour was a blur. Moira sat in the common room with the other newsies. Some were crying and trying to hide it, but no one cared at that point. Kathryn was on the other side of the room, staring straight ahead, not looking at anything. Moira wanted more than anything to run over, hug her mother, and tell her that everything would be all right. But she couldn't. So she didn't. Instead, she sat on one of the old couches, in between Racetrack and Mush, looking at the ground.
The doctor walked in, roughly an hour and a half after Kloppman had died. He claimed it was because he was held up at his office, but everyone knew it was because the LH was poor, and had been at the bottom of his priority list. He couldn't do much but he pronounced Francis James Kloppman officially dead and then asked to speak to his next of kin. Moira glanced at her mother, who had barely heard him, and stood up.
"That would be me." She said, wiped under her eyes. The doctor nodded and led her into the office.
"First of all, let me say I'm terribly sorry to hear about Mr. Kloppman."
"Yes, so am I."
"Surely you've been preparing yourself for this for awhile now. After all, he's been sick for almost…two years now."
"Excuse me?" Moira asked, shocked. Two years?
"He'd gotten worse lately, started coming to see me almost everyday. I told him to relax, take things easy. But no, he had the boys, and the house, and his family to take care of." The doctor continued to check off a list, (which by the standards of modern medicine would equal out to heart disease,) but Moira wasn't paying attention. Her grandfather had been sick for two years. How had she never known? He didn't just run errands everyday, he had been sneaking off to see the doctor. She felt tears come to her eyes. He'd needed rest and relaxation, but instead, she'd moved in and just given him one more thing to worry about. She focused back in on the doctor as he was talking about funeral preparations. "Now, if you're looking, I know that Frank had a friend, a preacher at that church he used to go to, I would put money on the fact that he'd given him a proper funeral. For free, no doubt." Moira nodded and thanked him before he left.
She leaned against the nearest wall and slid down it. Putting her head in her hands, Moira took a deep breath and once again began to sob bitterly.
***
The doctor had been right- and the funeral cost the newsies hardly anything. It was small, of course, with just the newsboys, the Jacobs, Moira and her mother, and a few of Kloppman's other friends. Once the prayers had been said, and The Good Book read from, the preacher asked Jack to come up and say a few words about the deceased.
He stood at the podium, pushing his hair out of his eyes nervously. "Uh, I ain't too good at t'ings like dis, but I'se gonna try me best. I, uh, I remember da foist night after I gots outta da Refuge, and Klopp gave me a place to live. He just sorta…took my hand and showed me where ta go. He nevah hounded me for me mont'ly rent when I didn't have it, nevah got on my back about stuff he knew he couldn't change about me." There was a long pause as Jack struggled to think of something else to say. "I guess what I'se tryin' ta say is dat Kloppman…he was a good guy. A real good guy. And ya don't find too many good guys anymore. But maybe, I was thinkin,' dat maybe because we'se all knew Klopp, we might be good guys too. And somet'in else dat's been sorta chewin' on my mind, is dat…I nevah got to thank Klopp for everyt'ing he gave me. He gave me a home, and a family, and a job, maybe even a future. So," Jack paused and looked up at the ceiling, "thanks, Klopp. Thanks a lot."
***
That night, after everyone had gone to bed, or out, or whatever it was that they were planning to do, Jack climbed the stairs that led out to the roof. As he opened the little door and stepped out, he noticed Moira, sitting on the very edge. Immediately seized with panic, He ran over to her, staying a few feet back, just in case she did something drastic.
"Whatever it is-it ain't woith it, Moira." He said. That sounded good. She turned around and looked at him, confused.
"I'm just sitting here." She told him, swinging her feet back and forth, hitting them against the brick of the building.
"Oh, okay. Sorry." He went to go back inside.
"You can stay out here, if you want."
Jack turned around again and sat down next to her on the edge. They were silent for a few minutes, before Moira broke it. "Is this how it feels, to have no one in the world?" She asked, looking down at the street.
"What are ya talkin' about? You gots people? You gots ya mudda, at least."
"Yes, my mother." She said, in a tone that Jack couldn't quite detect. More silence.
"Ya know, Moira. I been t'inkin'."
"What about?"
"I t'ink, dat if you really t'ought about it, I bet Klopp just wanted up to be friends." She thought about this for a minute.
"I think you might be right." More silence, only the sound of their heels, bouncing off of the building.
"So…what do you say we try dat."
"What?"
"Bein' friends." Jack looked at her, giving her a small smile. "For Klopp." She smiled back.
"For Klopp." They shook hands on it. Neither made a move to go back inside as Moira looked up at the stars, where she knew that somewhere up there, her grandfather was looking at the two of them and smiling.
