A/N: Hey y'all! It's Shortstack again. Fishface and I are SOOOO sorry
that we haven't updated in so long, but we had some trouble with writer's
block. But the chapter is finally ready, and it's a long one! I was going
to try and do cookies, but they'll just have to wait till the next A/N,
sorry. Well, enough of my rambling, on to the long chapter!
* * * *
I woke, half-expecting to let the light fall down on my face and have to put up with Fishface's incessant giggling. Yet as I opened my eyes, I realized that everything was dark, and that there was someone sleeping with me. I smiled. Kerry was breathing steadily as he slept, his hand wrapped around my waist. As I moved, his eyes fluttered open.
"You're awake," He said groggily. I nodded, he seemed to be tired, and I smiled as I remembered why. He grinned back sleepily, and then closed his eyes, bringing his face close and resting his forehead on mine.
I didn't want to break the blissful silence of the moment, but I had to. "We should probably be gettin' outta here soon," I whispered softly.
"Mmhmm..." was his quiet reply as his eyes remained closed, making me smile again.
I wondered what time it was, and hoped to God that Spot Conlon wasn't back from selling the morning edition. Just as I was about to say that we should leave again, he opened his mouth and said quietly, "Sorry I slept so late, I would have brought you flowers..."
I bit my lip, not knowing exactly what to say. Kerry had brought me flowers every morning since the first time he'd told me he loved me, excepting the morning that Buttons had told him I was sleeping with Spot. I had heard him talking with Fishface about how he gave up food for them. I sighed, his lips were almost touching mine as we talked, and the fear that Spot Conlon would suddenly burst in and find the two of us lying in his bed naked and entangled in each other's arms was growing on my mind. "You don't need to buy me flowers, Kerry. Use your money on something more important."
"But it is important," He sighed, then gently kissed my lips, his eyes opening, "What could be more important?"
"You eating, Kerry," There. I had said what I wanted to say. I trailed my finger down the side of his face, I added, "I heard you and Fishface talking..."
He closed his eyes again and gave me an agreeable murmur. "So instead of flowers today," He said thoughtfully, "Hows about we go and get some breakfast together?" He grinned, opening his eyes and planting a firm kiss on my forehead before he rolled over off of Spot Conlon's mattress onto the floor.
I watched intently as he pulled his trousers on, then his undershirt and the green plaid shirt that he always wore. He looked like the same old Kerry as he pulled on his boots, except for the fact that his hair was falling all over his face, and he kept pushing it away. Slowly I opened my hand, where I held the bit of cloth that usually held the hair out of his face. He turned and smiled at me, taking it and tying his hair back in a ponytail.
I too decided that I had to begin moving, just in case someone came. I slowly pulled on my calico skirt, and then buttoned up my blouse all the way to the top. Kerry took his jacket that had been thrown to the side the night before and wrapped it around my shoulders and he began buttoning the edges of his sleeves, "It's going to be cold."
I could already tell from the temperature in Spot's room that it was a cold February morning, and was, in fact, glad that he'd left me to freeze to death in his clubhouse all alone... with Kerry. I smiled.
When we entered the restaurant, there was hardly anyone there. From the way the dew was almost dry, I assumed that it was late morning. I thanked God that Kerry and I weren't late sleepers. But COULD a newsie be a late sleeper? Kerry smiled as he rummaged through his pocket for some money when the waiter brought us our plates of eggs and sausage. He managed to scrounge up a quarter to pay for the meal, and grinned triumphantly.
As soon as the waiter walked away, Kerry hunched over his food and started greedily stuffing it into his mouth. I stared at him for a moment before picking up my fork and taking a bite of the eggs. Honestly, they weren't all that good, but I supposed I should have just been happy it wasn't that disgusting mush that Spot had fed me.
I frowned, "It's not going to run away from you, Kerry." I said, trying not to worry about the way he was acting.
He suddenly blushed and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, "Sorry. Just really hungry, you know..."
I nodded, then thought for a moment, "Kerry, when was the last time you ate?"
He frowned and glanced upward, starting to count on his fingers, "Tuesday I think?" He asked himself, "No wait, Monday night." He said firmly, nodding, "Monday night, Anabeth," He said to me, smiling and taking another bite of his sausage, this time with a little more finesse.
"MONDAY?" I demanded, "Kerry, that was four days ago!"
Kerry frowned, "I know." He then smiled and leaned over, kissing my forehead, "It's alright though. As long as I got me smile, me dreams, and me love, it's alright."
I smiled, "How can you be so sure of everythin'?" I wondered, more to myself than to Kerry. He just shook his head, chuckling silently to himself.
"I ain't sure of anythin' anymore, Bonnie."
Well that made two of us.
Wouldn't you know it, at that moment the one and only Spot Conlon came through the door, but not with his usual arrogant stride. He was practically hunched over, sneezing twice as the little bell jingled above him. Recovering, he looked up and his tired eyes found me sitting across the restaurant. Kerry's back was to the door, so he hadn't seen his leader walk in.
He stumbled over towards us, grabbing an extra chair from an empty table. When he reached us, he pushed the chair up to the table and sat down casually. Kerry looked at him curiously, and I looked down at my plate, trying not to meet his eyes.
"Mornin'," Spot yawned.
"Mornin', Spot," Kerry nodded politely, taking another bite of his breakfast. I didn't say anything, and I think Spot took notice of it.
"You don't look too good," Kerry continued.
"Yeah, I'm kinda sick, knew I would be." Spot looked over at me sharply, and I only saw it out of the corner of my eye.
Kerry always seemed like the type to avoid a conflict, and I suppose that's what he was doing now. He glanced at the Spot and then at me, and gulped. "Look, I better go," he stood up. "I got um.. stuff to do."
Still avoiding Spot's gaze, I smiled up at Kerry. "Okay, see ya later." He leaned over and kissed my cheek and then turned towards the door. Opening it, he stopped, turned, and grinned at me. Then he was gone.
Spot didn't waste any time finishing off Kerry's breakfast, and I rolled my eyes at him. Holding the fork halfway up to his mouth, he shrugged and said, "He left, fair game." All I could think of to do was sigh again and take a last bite of my eggs. "So," he started, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "sleep well last night?"
His sarcastic tone aggravated me, and I thought to myself, 'You have no idea, Conlon.' But I nodded lightly and said "Not too bad. How 'bout you?"
"Same as always. Not the best mornin', though." With that, he sneezed again.
"Poor baby," I teased him, and he gave me a small half-smile. It made me develop a sudden infatuation with folding and unfolding my napkin.
"I'm too sick to sell today, thanks to you." He only wanted to get a rise out of me, so I denied it to him and didn't reply. But I did look up across the table at him, and immediately noticed how remorseful he looked. Inwardly I groaned, he must have been thinking about Fishface again.
Suddenly I gasped, but I don't think he heard it. Fishface. She must have noticed that I didn't come upstairs to sleep last night. If she saw me at all later she'd ask a bunch of questions, I knew that. So I made the resolution to avoid her if at all possible. But how was I going to stay away from Spot's clubhouse all day? I had another strange idea, those were becoming more and more frequent with me.
Standing up, I started to try and pull Spot out of his chair. "Come on, we're taking a walk."
As I started walking towards the door, I heard him stand up and groan, "Not again..."
I left the restaurant and stood outside for a moment, thinking which way I needed to go. I chose left, and started walking again, this time I knew where I was going. Even though I didn't once look behind me, I knew Spot was still following me. It was one of those things that you just know.
After about an hour of turning various streets and once again crossing familiar roads, I finally reached the brick building that I knew all too well. Stopping at the metal gate outside, I let Spot catch up with me while I looked through to the other side.
"There it is," I said vaguely.
"There what is?"
"My convent." It seemed like the proper name to give it, despite the sign a few feet away that read 'St. Teresa's'.
Looking at it, I could tell he wasn't impressed. The bricks were old and worn, the windows were extremely dirty, and the shutters were about to fall completely off. Most of the shingles on the roof had been pulled away by bad weather. There wasn't really much left to the tiny building, but it still held most of my memories within its walls. My childhood was trapped inside the bricks and behind the trees, almost singing of afternoon games of hide-and-seek when the sisters weren't looking.
Without a word, I opened the gate, and Spot grimaced at the loud creaking that emerged from the iron hinges. As I walked quickly up through the small yard to the door, I knew again that he was following me. In my mind, I could see him glancing around curiously, and was certain that he was wondering how I could spend my life in a place so small. But then I had wondered once and a while how he could spend his years as a newsboy, though I had never asked.
Softly, I knocked on the door, afraid that if I hit it too hard the entire thing would fall down, it looked as though it would. I heard some excited chattering inside, but no one answered the door for a moment, so I knocked again a bit more firmly.
"Just a minute!" I smiled at the familiar voice that I could hear from behind the door, and when it was opened I was completely pulled into the arms of Sister Agnes.
She almost took the breath out of me clutching me around the waist, and I tried to return her embrace, but she had my arms almost pinned to my sides.
"Anabeth Meyers," she laughed disbelievingly. "Well, child, this is either a blessing or a punishment." She stepped back and gave me a once-over, grinning as if she wasn't sure whether I was real or not.
"I missed you, Sister." I was still smiling, trying to catch my breath from her leap at me. Sister Agnes had always been the cheeriest woman around the convent, I don't think she believed in having a bad day. Seeing her round face grinning from ear to ear and her green eyes shining with friendliness, I remembered all the days when I'd been sick and she'd taken care of me specially, or when she would let me stay up just a few more minutes to finish reading a book.
"Oh, it hasn't been quite the same without you around here, Anabeth. You wouldn't believe how the little girls cried for the first week after you left." Feigning irritation, she shook a finger at me. "Which, by the way, gave us quite a fright, young lady. Did you really think a note was the proper way to let us know you were leaving? And in the middle of the night, no less!" Now she was just exaggerating, and she dropped her facade of anger and smiled again. "Well, come in, tell me how you've been!" She beckoned me with the huge sleeve of her habit, and I turned back to Spot, who was now gazing intently at Sister Agnes. "You, you can come in too." He nodded mechanically, unsure of what else to do. Perhaps he thought he'd be damned if he refused an invitation from a nun. I could tell that he hadn't been around many of them. And I knew that Sister had only invited him in to be polite, she hadn't been around a young man in years undoubtedly.
We came through the doorway, and the first thing I did was look around and take note of how the hallway hadn't changed at all. The same crucifix was still hanging above the entrance to the dining room, the light above the stairway leading upstairs was still dim, and the sound of a dripping faucet still came forth from the kitchen, ever-droning loudly and steadily.
"Come on," Sister's voice brought me back from my thoughts, "let's go in the library."
Hearing that, I ran ahead of her and listened to the creaking of the wooden floor as my boots pounded across it. When I reached the door to the library, I couldn't get it open fast enough. Nearly throwing it, I felt blinded standing there surrounded by the books, hundreds of them. Well, maybe it wasn't hundreds of books, but it was certainly more than I could remember seeing anywhere else. I stood there and inhaled the smell of them, the scent of thousands and thousands of pages filling my senses. There's nothing in the world like the smell of a book, especially a room full of them.
I looked around, it seemed smaller than I remembered. Now I realized that it had never been very big at all, but I still loved it.
Hearing Sister Agnes coming through the doorway, I turned to see her carrying two chairs under her arm. As she pulled them into the middle of the room, I instinctively grabbed the one at the desk against the wall and hauled it over, sitting in it as soon as the legs touched the floor again. Spot had been close behind her, and as she set the chairs down, she motioned with her arm again for him to sit down, and he did so tentatively. She seated herself, and looked around pleasantly.
"So Anabeth, tell me everything, how have you been since you left? Did you find your brother? How is he? Are you living with him in Manhattan or are the two of you staying somewhere nearby? Is he still working as a newsboy?" She was talking so fast that I was struggling to process each question. Seeing her smiling so widely and talking so fast made me think of how alike she and Fishface were, as energetic as puppies. Finally she stopped asking questions and looked at me expectantly, and my mind frantically tried to remember them all.
"Well, um... I'm fine, there really isn't much else to say about that. I... yes, I did meet up with Patrick, the day after I left actually, I couldn't find him during the night." I decided to leave out the parts about being taken to Spot by Kerry, it would probably be wise to leave out Kerry in general. "He seemed great, his usual self, happy as anything. I'm not staying with him in Manhattan, though. I'm actually staying with Spot," I gestured towards him slightly, "here in Brooklyn until Patrick finds somewhere for me to stay with him." That wasn't the brightest thing to say, she might raise questions about my staying with Spot, such as to whether we were alone.
"Spot?" Sister Agnes turned to him and seemed to really notice him for the first time.
"Yeah," he nodded apprehensively, "Spot Conlon." She nodded, confused, and he frowned. I laughed, he was obviously disappointed at meeting someone who had never heard of him.
"Well," I changed the subject. "Where is everyone?"
Happy to talk about something she knew of, Sister waved her arms and said, "Oh, they all went to chapel. The worship hours were changed a bit. I stayed behind to make lunch." Then she gasped loudly. "Lunch! I forgot!" Jumping up, she quickly apologized, "Excuse me," and hurried out the door towards the kitchen.
Since she had left, I took the opportunity to get up from my chair and look around the bookshelves, admiring the worn spines of the books and running my fingertips along the tops of them absentmindedly. Squinting to read the worn titles on them, I recognized books that I'd read years ago, most of them several times. After a moment, my hand came across the book that I had said so long ago reminded me of Spot Conlon. I picked it up off the shelf, turning it over and over in my hands. Cautiously, I looked up at him, but his eyes were distantly staring out the small window between the shelves. He was almost completely different from the boy I had met when I first came to Brooklyn, but not so different that I didn't recognize him. Yet I couldn't help thinking that maybe he wasn't who I had thought he was, perhaps there was much more to Spot than he allowed people to think. I was still staring at him, and I suppose he finally felt it. His eyes shot up and met with mine, and I quickly darted my gaze back to the book I was holding, feeling my face flush lightly.
At that moment Sister Agnes came back in, a bit out of breath. "Sorry, I'd forgotten that bread was still in the oven."
I was still clutching the book, almost protectively. "Um..." Sister looked at me pleasantly. "Sister... do you think I could have this?" I held up the book, and she walked over and took it from me, examining it. It was worn, close to falling apart, so I thought that she wouldn't mind if I kept it.
"Well," she handed it back to me, "I suppose. Nobody ever reads it anymore, anyway. Just don't tell anyone I let you have it." With a wink, she added, "If anyone notices, I'll just say it got torn and thrown away."
"Thank you." I grinned.
I barely remember the rest of the visit, all we really did was talk about our favorite memories of my ten years in the convent. Spot said nothing, he only smiled faintly once and a while, like when Sister mentioned the time I locked myself in the library and refused to let anyone in until I'd organized all of the books by genre and author. I hadn't realized what a strange child I had been until that afternoon.
We had been there for nearly two hours when the rest of the sisters brought back all of the girls from the chapel service. Of course I had to go out into the hallway and politely say hello, so Sister Agnes and I left Spot alone in the library for a few minutes while I hugged everyone. Old jokes were traded, and I received a blessing from each of the sisters. It was time for them to have lunch, so I decided that Spot and I should take our leave. I went back into the library to get him, and was surprised to find him hunched over a shelf, reading some of the book titles.
"Hey," I said softly, and he jumped up, startled. "Everyone's about to eat lunch, so I figured we should leave."
"Okay," he replied. Neither of us moved.
Then I remembered something. "Hey, you wanna see somethin'?" I walked over to him.
"Okay..."
I took a few books off one of the shelves and placed them on the desk next to it. I pointed to the area where they had been, and he squinted, trying to read the scratches that had been hidden behind them. After a second, I saw on his face that he understood them, and he smiled. The night I'd left, I'd clumsily scratched my name into the wood of the shelf behind those books with a knife from the kitchen. We both straightened up and shared a small laugh as I replaced the books where they had been resting.
"So I guess we should go back to the docks."
I was still trying to avoid Fishface, and said quickly, "No, I'm not ready to go back." He raised that eyebrow at me, but it didn't vex me so much as it once had. Then he sneezed, and it sent me into a light laugh again.
"Well, what else is there to do?"
"Hmmmmm..." I pretended to be thinking. "There's always church?" I suggested playfully.
"I don't think so, Doll-Face."
Then we were silent, trying to find something else to say. I gave the room a last glance around, inhaling the smell of the pages again.
"Let's go." I turned and walked out the door, knowing yet again that he was behind me this time.
Poking my head into the dining room, everyone looked up at me. "We're leaving now, it was wonderful to see all of you again." The sooner I could get rid of this uptight way of talking, the better. "I'll miss you."
Not waiting for a reply, I left and headed towards the front door where Spot was waiting for me. I suddenly had the urge to get out of there quickly. But as I had my hand on the doorknob, Sister Agnes came hurrying down the hall from the kitchen holding something folded in a napkin.
"Wait, Anabeth." As she reached me, she pushed the napkin into my hand, and I tried to hold both it and the book at the same time. "Some bread for later, just in case you get hungry." For some reason, her gesture made me frown slightly. "Tell your brother hello for all of us, and take care of yourself, all right?" I nodded, and she pulled me in for another tight hug. As I pulled away and grabbed the doorknob again, she smiled at Spot, a simple regard and nothing more. "And remember, if you ever need anything, you know where we are."
"Okay," I turned around and headed out the door, Spot nearly stepping on my heels behind me. We walked down to the gate, and I turned back and waved at her round figure still in the doorway. She simply called out a blessing, smiled once again, and then shut the door. As I closed the iron gate behind us, I think I knew in my heart that I would never come back again.
Spot and I walked lazily back up the street towards the main part of Brooklyn, since we were a bit out of the way from the city. After a few moments, he attempted to start a conversation.
"So... what book did ya get?"
I handed it to him, and he studied the cover for a moment, then handed it back to me.
"What's it about?"
Blushing slightly, I responded, "It's that book that I said you reminded me of. Remember?"
"Yeah. The one about the evil king and the good twin?" I nodded in reply. Silent once again, his hand drifted up to the gold tip of his cane, ever- hanging from his belt loop. I was relieved, at least he wasn't walking with it again. That would've been quite annoying, I thought.
"Well, what do ya wanna do now?" he asked.
"Um... what is there to do?"
"I don't know. I'm usually sellin' now." He was quiet for a second, and then seemed suddenly struck with an idea. "We could go up to Manhattan?"
"Nah, I don't feel like it." I slowed my pace, liking the leisure of our walk. As I looked up at the sky, I thought that perhaps if it weren't so cold and cloudy, it would have been a rather nice day. Hopefully it wouldn't rain again. "Wait, I have an idea."
I grabbed his wrist to lead him this time, all the way to a park not far from the docks. Amidst all the children running around chasing each other, I spotted an empty bench nearby and headed towards it. Reaching it, I sat down and motioned slightly for him to join me. He just gave me a curious glance and complied, sitting down stiffly.
Unfolding the napkin Sister Agnes had given me, I found a good-sized piece of bread and tore it in half. Handing one half to him, I took a bite out of the other.
"So," Spot took a bite and then continued with his mouth full, a habit which disgusted me, "what are we doin' here?"
Swallowing the bread in my mouth, I put the book in my lap and grinned playfully. "I'm gonna read to ya."
He nearly choked. "WHAT?"
"You heard me, we're gonna sit here and I'm gonna read some of this book to ya. And you'd better enjoy it."
"I really think you're crazy..." He took another bite and I smiled. Even if I was crazy, there was nothing he could do about it.
So we spent an afternoon in the park, basking in our idleness. Before I could start to read, I had to explain to him what had already happened in the story, since it was the final part of a long series. At first he was rather bored, but when I mentioned murders and assassins and swordfights, his interest was grabbed. I had to familiarize him with all of the characters and all of the events that had already happened, and that alone took over an hour. Finally around three in the afternoon, I opened the book and began reading the first chapter.
A couple of hours passed, but don't even try to ask me exactly how many. Even if Spot wasn't listening to the book, I was enthralled with it and lost myself among the words as I let them flow across my tongue. At some point, I leaned back against Spot in an effort to find a more comfortable sitting position. About four pages into the fourteenth chapter, I was distracted though.
"'Friendship, I repeat, is nothing but a mere unsubstantial shadow and a lure, like everything else in this world which is bright and dazzling.'" Finishing this sentence, I glanced up and noticed that the sunset was almost over, and paused for a moment to watch it as always. I wasn't sure if Spot was paying any attention, he may have even fallen asleep. So I was content to watch the sunset on my own.
It occured to me at that moment how much being with Spot then reminded me of lazy moments with Kerry. I leaned back a bit more, and everything felt just right. Thinking of Kerry for the first time in hours, I briefly compared him to the Brooklyn leader I was sitting with. Of course Kerry was more gentle and tender than I could ever imagine Spot to be, but suddenly they didn't seem so different. Each was probably as noble and caring as the other, it just wasn't in Spot's nature to show that. Besides, being with Spot, something was missing that I had with Kerry. Or perhaps, I thought in the deepest part of my mind, there's something more.
Closing my eyes, no longer watching the sun sinking beneath the horizon, I tried to put the thoughts out of my mind. I loved Kerry, it was as simple as that. Whatever I felt for Spot Conlon, it couldn't possibly be love. Maybe it was compassion, maybe I pitied him. I didn't love him, I kept repeating it over and over in my mind in the silence. But suddenly I was aware of that tiny twinge of guilt which contains the unescapable truth.
It was pitch dark when we approached the docks, I carried the book under my arm, and Spot sauntered steadily behind me, this time at least not stabbing his cane into the ground. To replace his usual tap of the cane, he did, however, add in a usual sniff of the nose. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my handkerchief, sticking it up against his nose, giving him the command: "Blow."
He raised that oh-so-arrogant eyebrow at me, "Blow?" He questioned.
"Yes. Blow your nose. I'm sick of hearing 'sniff sniff sniff' all the time, now blow." I pushed the handkerchief up farther on his nose as we walked, but as we neared the dock, I dropped it in shock, just as he blew snot onto the ground and all over himself.
"My God..." I neared the figure of a young man, stooped over on the ground, coughing, "Who the hell is that? What happened?" I ran towards the man, and as he looked up, I gasped when I recognized the familiar face. "Kerry..."
As he tried to speak, I examined his face. His mouth was bleeding and there were bruises all along his cheeks, but I was certain by the way he was hunching over that his face wasn't what was hurting the most. His arm was wrapped around his chest, and he grimaced, "A-abeth, I' sorry..." his speech slurred and I turned around and looked at Spot, who had a horrified look on his face.
"How..." He stuttered, "What happened MacKilligan?"
Kerry just groaned.
I bit my lip, "Spot. Go back to the convent. Tell them we need a doctor." He faltered for a moment until I snapped at him, "GO." And turned back to Kerry, pushing some of his hair out of his face and pressing my lips lightly to his forehead.
* * * *
I woke, half-expecting to let the light fall down on my face and have to put up with Fishface's incessant giggling. Yet as I opened my eyes, I realized that everything was dark, and that there was someone sleeping with me. I smiled. Kerry was breathing steadily as he slept, his hand wrapped around my waist. As I moved, his eyes fluttered open.
"You're awake," He said groggily. I nodded, he seemed to be tired, and I smiled as I remembered why. He grinned back sleepily, and then closed his eyes, bringing his face close and resting his forehead on mine.
I didn't want to break the blissful silence of the moment, but I had to. "We should probably be gettin' outta here soon," I whispered softly.
"Mmhmm..." was his quiet reply as his eyes remained closed, making me smile again.
I wondered what time it was, and hoped to God that Spot Conlon wasn't back from selling the morning edition. Just as I was about to say that we should leave again, he opened his mouth and said quietly, "Sorry I slept so late, I would have brought you flowers..."
I bit my lip, not knowing exactly what to say. Kerry had brought me flowers every morning since the first time he'd told me he loved me, excepting the morning that Buttons had told him I was sleeping with Spot. I had heard him talking with Fishface about how he gave up food for them. I sighed, his lips were almost touching mine as we talked, and the fear that Spot Conlon would suddenly burst in and find the two of us lying in his bed naked and entangled in each other's arms was growing on my mind. "You don't need to buy me flowers, Kerry. Use your money on something more important."
"But it is important," He sighed, then gently kissed my lips, his eyes opening, "What could be more important?"
"You eating, Kerry," There. I had said what I wanted to say. I trailed my finger down the side of his face, I added, "I heard you and Fishface talking..."
He closed his eyes again and gave me an agreeable murmur. "So instead of flowers today," He said thoughtfully, "Hows about we go and get some breakfast together?" He grinned, opening his eyes and planting a firm kiss on my forehead before he rolled over off of Spot Conlon's mattress onto the floor.
I watched intently as he pulled his trousers on, then his undershirt and the green plaid shirt that he always wore. He looked like the same old Kerry as he pulled on his boots, except for the fact that his hair was falling all over his face, and he kept pushing it away. Slowly I opened my hand, where I held the bit of cloth that usually held the hair out of his face. He turned and smiled at me, taking it and tying his hair back in a ponytail.
I too decided that I had to begin moving, just in case someone came. I slowly pulled on my calico skirt, and then buttoned up my blouse all the way to the top. Kerry took his jacket that had been thrown to the side the night before and wrapped it around my shoulders and he began buttoning the edges of his sleeves, "It's going to be cold."
I could already tell from the temperature in Spot's room that it was a cold February morning, and was, in fact, glad that he'd left me to freeze to death in his clubhouse all alone... with Kerry. I smiled.
When we entered the restaurant, there was hardly anyone there. From the way the dew was almost dry, I assumed that it was late morning. I thanked God that Kerry and I weren't late sleepers. But COULD a newsie be a late sleeper? Kerry smiled as he rummaged through his pocket for some money when the waiter brought us our plates of eggs and sausage. He managed to scrounge up a quarter to pay for the meal, and grinned triumphantly.
As soon as the waiter walked away, Kerry hunched over his food and started greedily stuffing it into his mouth. I stared at him for a moment before picking up my fork and taking a bite of the eggs. Honestly, they weren't all that good, but I supposed I should have just been happy it wasn't that disgusting mush that Spot had fed me.
I frowned, "It's not going to run away from you, Kerry." I said, trying not to worry about the way he was acting.
He suddenly blushed and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, "Sorry. Just really hungry, you know..."
I nodded, then thought for a moment, "Kerry, when was the last time you ate?"
He frowned and glanced upward, starting to count on his fingers, "Tuesday I think?" He asked himself, "No wait, Monday night." He said firmly, nodding, "Monday night, Anabeth," He said to me, smiling and taking another bite of his sausage, this time with a little more finesse.
"MONDAY?" I demanded, "Kerry, that was four days ago!"
Kerry frowned, "I know." He then smiled and leaned over, kissing my forehead, "It's alright though. As long as I got me smile, me dreams, and me love, it's alright."
I smiled, "How can you be so sure of everythin'?" I wondered, more to myself than to Kerry. He just shook his head, chuckling silently to himself.
"I ain't sure of anythin' anymore, Bonnie."
Well that made two of us.
Wouldn't you know it, at that moment the one and only Spot Conlon came through the door, but not with his usual arrogant stride. He was practically hunched over, sneezing twice as the little bell jingled above him. Recovering, he looked up and his tired eyes found me sitting across the restaurant. Kerry's back was to the door, so he hadn't seen his leader walk in.
He stumbled over towards us, grabbing an extra chair from an empty table. When he reached us, he pushed the chair up to the table and sat down casually. Kerry looked at him curiously, and I looked down at my plate, trying not to meet his eyes.
"Mornin'," Spot yawned.
"Mornin', Spot," Kerry nodded politely, taking another bite of his breakfast. I didn't say anything, and I think Spot took notice of it.
"You don't look too good," Kerry continued.
"Yeah, I'm kinda sick, knew I would be." Spot looked over at me sharply, and I only saw it out of the corner of my eye.
Kerry always seemed like the type to avoid a conflict, and I suppose that's what he was doing now. He glanced at the Spot and then at me, and gulped. "Look, I better go," he stood up. "I got um.. stuff to do."
Still avoiding Spot's gaze, I smiled up at Kerry. "Okay, see ya later." He leaned over and kissed my cheek and then turned towards the door. Opening it, he stopped, turned, and grinned at me. Then he was gone.
Spot didn't waste any time finishing off Kerry's breakfast, and I rolled my eyes at him. Holding the fork halfway up to his mouth, he shrugged and said, "He left, fair game." All I could think of to do was sigh again and take a last bite of my eggs. "So," he started, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "sleep well last night?"
His sarcastic tone aggravated me, and I thought to myself, 'You have no idea, Conlon.' But I nodded lightly and said "Not too bad. How 'bout you?"
"Same as always. Not the best mornin', though." With that, he sneezed again.
"Poor baby," I teased him, and he gave me a small half-smile. It made me develop a sudden infatuation with folding and unfolding my napkin.
"I'm too sick to sell today, thanks to you." He only wanted to get a rise out of me, so I denied it to him and didn't reply. But I did look up across the table at him, and immediately noticed how remorseful he looked. Inwardly I groaned, he must have been thinking about Fishface again.
Suddenly I gasped, but I don't think he heard it. Fishface. She must have noticed that I didn't come upstairs to sleep last night. If she saw me at all later she'd ask a bunch of questions, I knew that. So I made the resolution to avoid her if at all possible. But how was I going to stay away from Spot's clubhouse all day? I had another strange idea, those were becoming more and more frequent with me.
Standing up, I started to try and pull Spot out of his chair. "Come on, we're taking a walk."
As I started walking towards the door, I heard him stand up and groan, "Not again..."
I left the restaurant and stood outside for a moment, thinking which way I needed to go. I chose left, and started walking again, this time I knew where I was going. Even though I didn't once look behind me, I knew Spot was still following me. It was one of those things that you just know.
After about an hour of turning various streets and once again crossing familiar roads, I finally reached the brick building that I knew all too well. Stopping at the metal gate outside, I let Spot catch up with me while I looked through to the other side.
"There it is," I said vaguely.
"There what is?"
"My convent." It seemed like the proper name to give it, despite the sign a few feet away that read 'St. Teresa's'.
Looking at it, I could tell he wasn't impressed. The bricks were old and worn, the windows were extremely dirty, and the shutters were about to fall completely off. Most of the shingles on the roof had been pulled away by bad weather. There wasn't really much left to the tiny building, but it still held most of my memories within its walls. My childhood was trapped inside the bricks and behind the trees, almost singing of afternoon games of hide-and-seek when the sisters weren't looking.
Without a word, I opened the gate, and Spot grimaced at the loud creaking that emerged from the iron hinges. As I walked quickly up through the small yard to the door, I knew again that he was following me. In my mind, I could see him glancing around curiously, and was certain that he was wondering how I could spend my life in a place so small. But then I had wondered once and a while how he could spend his years as a newsboy, though I had never asked.
Softly, I knocked on the door, afraid that if I hit it too hard the entire thing would fall down, it looked as though it would. I heard some excited chattering inside, but no one answered the door for a moment, so I knocked again a bit more firmly.
"Just a minute!" I smiled at the familiar voice that I could hear from behind the door, and when it was opened I was completely pulled into the arms of Sister Agnes.
She almost took the breath out of me clutching me around the waist, and I tried to return her embrace, but she had my arms almost pinned to my sides.
"Anabeth Meyers," she laughed disbelievingly. "Well, child, this is either a blessing or a punishment." She stepped back and gave me a once-over, grinning as if she wasn't sure whether I was real or not.
"I missed you, Sister." I was still smiling, trying to catch my breath from her leap at me. Sister Agnes had always been the cheeriest woman around the convent, I don't think she believed in having a bad day. Seeing her round face grinning from ear to ear and her green eyes shining with friendliness, I remembered all the days when I'd been sick and she'd taken care of me specially, or when she would let me stay up just a few more minutes to finish reading a book.
"Oh, it hasn't been quite the same without you around here, Anabeth. You wouldn't believe how the little girls cried for the first week after you left." Feigning irritation, she shook a finger at me. "Which, by the way, gave us quite a fright, young lady. Did you really think a note was the proper way to let us know you were leaving? And in the middle of the night, no less!" Now she was just exaggerating, and she dropped her facade of anger and smiled again. "Well, come in, tell me how you've been!" She beckoned me with the huge sleeve of her habit, and I turned back to Spot, who was now gazing intently at Sister Agnes. "You, you can come in too." He nodded mechanically, unsure of what else to do. Perhaps he thought he'd be damned if he refused an invitation from a nun. I could tell that he hadn't been around many of them. And I knew that Sister had only invited him in to be polite, she hadn't been around a young man in years undoubtedly.
We came through the doorway, and the first thing I did was look around and take note of how the hallway hadn't changed at all. The same crucifix was still hanging above the entrance to the dining room, the light above the stairway leading upstairs was still dim, and the sound of a dripping faucet still came forth from the kitchen, ever-droning loudly and steadily.
"Come on," Sister's voice brought me back from my thoughts, "let's go in the library."
Hearing that, I ran ahead of her and listened to the creaking of the wooden floor as my boots pounded across it. When I reached the door to the library, I couldn't get it open fast enough. Nearly throwing it, I felt blinded standing there surrounded by the books, hundreds of them. Well, maybe it wasn't hundreds of books, but it was certainly more than I could remember seeing anywhere else. I stood there and inhaled the smell of them, the scent of thousands and thousands of pages filling my senses. There's nothing in the world like the smell of a book, especially a room full of them.
I looked around, it seemed smaller than I remembered. Now I realized that it had never been very big at all, but I still loved it.
Hearing Sister Agnes coming through the doorway, I turned to see her carrying two chairs under her arm. As she pulled them into the middle of the room, I instinctively grabbed the one at the desk against the wall and hauled it over, sitting in it as soon as the legs touched the floor again. Spot had been close behind her, and as she set the chairs down, she motioned with her arm again for him to sit down, and he did so tentatively. She seated herself, and looked around pleasantly.
"So Anabeth, tell me everything, how have you been since you left? Did you find your brother? How is he? Are you living with him in Manhattan or are the two of you staying somewhere nearby? Is he still working as a newsboy?" She was talking so fast that I was struggling to process each question. Seeing her smiling so widely and talking so fast made me think of how alike she and Fishface were, as energetic as puppies. Finally she stopped asking questions and looked at me expectantly, and my mind frantically tried to remember them all.
"Well, um... I'm fine, there really isn't much else to say about that. I... yes, I did meet up with Patrick, the day after I left actually, I couldn't find him during the night." I decided to leave out the parts about being taken to Spot by Kerry, it would probably be wise to leave out Kerry in general. "He seemed great, his usual self, happy as anything. I'm not staying with him in Manhattan, though. I'm actually staying with Spot," I gestured towards him slightly, "here in Brooklyn until Patrick finds somewhere for me to stay with him." That wasn't the brightest thing to say, she might raise questions about my staying with Spot, such as to whether we were alone.
"Spot?" Sister Agnes turned to him and seemed to really notice him for the first time.
"Yeah," he nodded apprehensively, "Spot Conlon." She nodded, confused, and he frowned. I laughed, he was obviously disappointed at meeting someone who had never heard of him.
"Well," I changed the subject. "Where is everyone?"
Happy to talk about something she knew of, Sister waved her arms and said, "Oh, they all went to chapel. The worship hours were changed a bit. I stayed behind to make lunch." Then she gasped loudly. "Lunch! I forgot!" Jumping up, she quickly apologized, "Excuse me," and hurried out the door towards the kitchen.
Since she had left, I took the opportunity to get up from my chair and look around the bookshelves, admiring the worn spines of the books and running my fingertips along the tops of them absentmindedly. Squinting to read the worn titles on them, I recognized books that I'd read years ago, most of them several times. After a moment, my hand came across the book that I had said so long ago reminded me of Spot Conlon. I picked it up off the shelf, turning it over and over in my hands. Cautiously, I looked up at him, but his eyes were distantly staring out the small window between the shelves. He was almost completely different from the boy I had met when I first came to Brooklyn, but not so different that I didn't recognize him. Yet I couldn't help thinking that maybe he wasn't who I had thought he was, perhaps there was much more to Spot than he allowed people to think. I was still staring at him, and I suppose he finally felt it. His eyes shot up and met with mine, and I quickly darted my gaze back to the book I was holding, feeling my face flush lightly.
At that moment Sister Agnes came back in, a bit out of breath. "Sorry, I'd forgotten that bread was still in the oven."
I was still clutching the book, almost protectively. "Um..." Sister looked at me pleasantly. "Sister... do you think I could have this?" I held up the book, and she walked over and took it from me, examining it. It was worn, close to falling apart, so I thought that she wouldn't mind if I kept it.
"Well," she handed it back to me, "I suppose. Nobody ever reads it anymore, anyway. Just don't tell anyone I let you have it." With a wink, she added, "If anyone notices, I'll just say it got torn and thrown away."
"Thank you." I grinned.
I barely remember the rest of the visit, all we really did was talk about our favorite memories of my ten years in the convent. Spot said nothing, he only smiled faintly once and a while, like when Sister mentioned the time I locked myself in the library and refused to let anyone in until I'd organized all of the books by genre and author. I hadn't realized what a strange child I had been until that afternoon.
We had been there for nearly two hours when the rest of the sisters brought back all of the girls from the chapel service. Of course I had to go out into the hallway and politely say hello, so Sister Agnes and I left Spot alone in the library for a few minutes while I hugged everyone. Old jokes were traded, and I received a blessing from each of the sisters. It was time for them to have lunch, so I decided that Spot and I should take our leave. I went back into the library to get him, and was surprised to find him hunched over a shelf, reading some of the book titles.
"Hey," I said softly, and he jumped up, startled. "Everyone's about to eat lunch, so I figured we should leave."
"Okay," he replied. Neither of us moved.
Then I remembered something. "Hey, you wanna see somethin'?" I walked over to him.
"Okay..."
I took a few books off one of the shelves and placed them on the desk next to it. I pointed to the area where they had been, and he squinted, trying to read the scratches that had been hidden behind them. After a second, I saw on his face that he understood them, and he smiled. The night I'd left, I'd clumsily scratched my name into the wood of the shelf behind those books with a knife from the kitchen. We both straightened up and shared a small laugh as I replaced the books where they had been resting.
"So I guess we should go back to the docks."
I was still trying to avoid Fishface, and said quickly, "No, I'm not ready to go back." He raised that eyebrow at me, but it didn't vex me so much as it once had. Then he sneezed, and it sent me into a light laugh again.
"Well, what else is there to do?"
"Hmmmmm..." I pretended to be thinking. "There's always church?" I suggested playfully.
"I don't think so, Doll-Face."
Then we were silent, trying to find something else to say. I gave the room a last glance around, inhaling the smell of the pages again.
"Let's go." I turned and walked out the door, knowing yet again that he was behind me this time.
Poking my head into the dining room, everyone looked up at me. "We're leaving now, it was wonderful to see all of you again." The sooner I could get rid of this uptight way of talking, the better. "I'll miss you."
Not waiting for a reply, I left and headed towards the front door where Spot was waiting for me. I suddenly had the urge to get out of there quickly. But as I had my hand on the doorknob, Sister Agnes came hurrying down the hall from the kitchen holding something folded in a napkin.
"Wait, Anabeth." As she reached me, she pushed the napkin into my hand, and I tried to hold both it and the book at the same time. "Some bread for later, just in case you get hungry." For some reason, her gesture made me frown slightly. "Tell your brother hello for all of us, and take care of yourself, all right?" I nodded, and she pulled me in for another tight hug. As I pulled away and grabbed the doorknob again, she smiled at Spot, a simple regard and nothing more. "And remember, if you ever need anything, you know where we are."
"Okay," I turned around and headed out the door, Spot nearly stepping on my heels behind me. We walked down to the gate, and I turned back and waved at her round figure still in the doorway. She simply called out a blessing, smiled once again, and then shut the door. As I closed the iron gate behind us, I think I knew in my heart that I would never come back again.
Spot and I walked lazily back up the street towards the main part of Brooklyn, since we were a bit out of the way from the city. After a few moments, he attempted to start a conversation.
"So... what book did ya get?"
I handed it to him, and he studied the cover for a moment, then handed it back to me.
"What's it about?"
Blushing slightly, I responded, "It's that book that I said you reminded me of. Remember?"
"Yeah. The one about the evil king and the good twin?" I nodded in reply. Silent once again, his hand drifted up to the gold tip of his cane, ever- hanging from his belt loop. I was relieved, at least he wasn't walking with it again. That would've been quite annoying, I thought.
"Well, what do ya wanna do now?" he asked.
"Um... what is there to do?"
"I don't know. I'm usually sellin' now." He was quiet for a second, and then seemed suddenly struck with an idea. "We could go up to Manhattan?"
"Nah, I don't feel like it." I slowed my pace, liking the leisure of our walk. As I looked up at the sky, I thought that perhaps if it weren't so cold and cloudy, it would have been a rather nice day. Hopefully it wouldn't rain again. "Wait, I have an idea."
I grabbed his wrist to lead him this time, all the way to a park not far from the docks. Amidst all the children running around chasing each other, I spotted an empty bench nearby and headed towards it. Reaching it, I sat down and motioned slightly for him to join me. He just gave me a curious glance and complied, sitting down stiffly.
Unfolding the napkin Sister Agnes had given me, I found a good-sized piece of bread and tore it in half. Handing one half to him, I took a bite out of the other.
"So," Spot took a bite and then continued with his mouth full, a habit which disgusted me, "what are we doin' here?"
Swallowing the bread in my mouth, I put the book in my lap and grinned playfully. "I'm gonna read to ya."
He nearly choked. "WHAT?"
"You heard me, we're gonna sit here and I'm gonna read some of this book to ya. And you'd better enjoy it."
"I really think you're crazy..." He took another bite and I smiled. Even if I was crazy, there was nothing he could do about it.
So we spent an afternoon in the park, basking in our idleness. Before I could start to read, I had to explain to him what had already happened in the story, since it was the final part of a long series. At first he was rather bored, but when I mentioned murders and assassins and swordfights, his interest was grabbed. I had to familiarize him with all of the characters and all of the events that had already happened, and that alone took over an hour. Finally around three in the afternoon, I opened the book and began reading the first chapter.
A couple of hours passed, but don't even try to ask me exactly how many. Even if Spot wasn't listening to the book, I was enthralled with it and lost myself among the words as I let them flow across my tongue. At some point, I leaned back against Spot in an effort to find a more comfortable sitting position. About four pages into the fourteenth chapter, I was distracted though.
"'Friendship, I repeat, is nothing but a mere unsubstantial shadow and a lure, like everything else in this world which is bright and dazzling.'" Finishing this sentence, I glanced up and noticed that the sunset was almost over, and paused for a moment to watch it as always. I wasn't sure if Spot was paying any attention, he may have even fallen asleep. So I was content to watch the sunset on my own.
It occured to me at that moment how much being with Spot then reminded me of lazy moments with Kerry. I leaned back a bit more, and everything felt just right. Thinking of Kerry for the first time in hours, I briefly compared him to the Brooklyn leader I was sitting with. Of course Kerry was more gentle and tender than I could ever imagine Spot to be, but suddenly they didn't seem so different. Each was probably as noble and caring as the other, it just wasn't in Spot's nature to show that. Besides, being with Spot, something was missing that I had with Kerry. Or perhaps, I thought in the deepest part of my mind, there's something more.
Closing my eyes, no longer watching the sun sinking beneath the horizon, I tried to put the thoughts out of my mind. I loved Kerry, it was as simple as that. Whatever I felt for Spot Conlon, it couldn't possibly be love. Maybe it was compassion, maybe I pitied him. I didn't love him, I kept repeating it over and over in my mind in the silence. But suddenly I was aware of that tiny twinge of guilt which contains the unescapable truth.
It was pitch dark when we approached the docks, I carried the book under my arm, and Spot sauntered steadily behind me, this time at least not stabbing his cane into the ground. To replace his usual tap of the cane, he did, however, add in a usual sniff of the nose. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my handkerchief, sticking it up against his nose, giving him the command: "Blow."
He raised that oh-so-arrogant eyebrow at me, "Blow?" He questioned.
"Yes. Blow your nose. I'm sick of hearing 'sniff sniff sniff' all the time, now blow." I pushed the handkerchief up farther on his nose as we walked, but as we neared the dock, I dropped it in shock, just as he blew snot onto the ground and all over himself.
"My God..." I neared the figure of a young man, stooped over on the ground, coughing, "Who the hell is that? What happened?" I ran towards the man, and as he looked up, I gasped when I recognized the familiar face. "Kerry..."
As he tried to speak, I examined his face. His mouth was bleeding and there were bruises all along his cheeks, but I was certain by the way he was hunching over that his face wasn't what was hurting the most. His arm was wrapped around his chest, and he grimaced, "A-abeth, I' sorry..." his speech slurred and I turned around and looked at Spot, who had a horrified look on his face.
"How..." He stuttered, "What happened MacKilligan?"
Kerry just groaned.
I bit my lip, "Spot. Go back to the convent. Tell them we need a doctor." He faltered for a moment until I snapped at him, "GO." And turned back to Kerry, pushing some of his hair out of his face and pressing my lips lightly to his forehead.