"Aye, you can't sleep here!"
Ingrid woke with a start as a club came clashing down on the bench beside her head. She stared in sleepy confusion at the blue blob that hovered over her. Wiping her eyes, she quickly realized that it was actually a police officer.
"You understand me girl?"
She nodded and began gathering her things. When she stood, a small hand clasped hers. Ingrid glanced down at the young boy standing beside her, his curly blond hair tousled from sleep and a scared look on his face. She gave him an assuring smile and squeezed his hand.
"Alright then, off you go," the officer instructed, turning down the path. "Girls and their babies sleepin in the park. What's the world comin to?"
His last comments were not intended for Ingrid's ears, but she heard them nonetheless. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at his assumption. Glancing down at the little boy, a small smile crept onto her lips.
His blue eyes reflected the dim light that was cast onto the street from the streetlamps. Sometimes she was relieved that he understood very little English, a fact that sheltered him from comments like that of the police officer. Ingrid envied the innocence that this afforded him.
She cast him another quick smile before the reality of the situation at hand sunk in: they had nowhere to sleep. And after dark in New York City, that posed a real problem. Scanning the streets, she spotted a dock sticking out into the East River not far off. There were palettes and boxes piled along the length of the dock which Ingrid concluded would serve well as a cover if necessary. She directed the small boy down the dock to an alcove between some boxes.
"God natt," he said softly before curling up against one of the boxes.
"Søte drømer, Gunnar." She removed the thin cloak from her shoulders and laid it over the boy. She smiled at him sadly and repeated her words in English. "Sweet dreams."
Ingrid barely slept that night. Instead, she sat at the edge of the dock, staring out at the reflection of the moon in the river. When dawn finally came over the eastern horizon, she fished through her pocket for a cigarette. Smiling to herself, she struck a match in the edge of the dock. She took a long drag and chuckled as she exhaled a puff of smoke. Her mother once told her that smoking was unrefined.
"What would she think of us now?" Ingrid wondered aloud, flicking the ash from her cigarette into the river.
Gunnar stirred behind her and she quickly took another drag before tossing the half-smoked cigarette into the water. She preferred that he not see her smoke.
"Damn shame, that's a waste of a perfectly good smoke."
Ingrid nearly fell off the dock when she heard a voice coming from behind her. Spinning quickly, she saw a teenage boy walking down the dock toward her. Through the hazy dawn, she could see the cherry of his cigarette as he took a drag. Exhaling, he leaned on one of the dock supports just above her. The early morning sun lit his face, making his blue eyes sparkle as he grinned down at her.
"Watcha doin down here this early?" he asked as she got to her feet.
"I'm sorry," she replied as she moved to Gunnar, shaking him lightly. "We will be gone in a moment."
The boy eyed her curiously. "Did ya sleep here last night?"
Ingrid took Gunnar's hand and brushed passed the young stranger.
He moved so that he blocked their exit. "Hey now, wait jist a minute. Ain't ya got a place to stay?"
Ingrid easily sidestepped him and pulled a sleepy Gunnar up the dock behind her.
Spot stood a bit dumbfounded at the end of the dock, thumbing his cigarette absently as he watched the mysterious girl disappear into the city. Rubbing his eyes, he turned his attention back to the river. When he walked down to the dock for his morning smoke, the last thing that he expected was to stumble upon a pretty blond.
He took another drag on the cigarette and glanced to where the boy had been sleeping. A flicker of sunlight caught on an object lying forgotten on the dock. Flicking the spent cigarette into the dark water below him, Spot knelt down. Upon further inspection, he saw that it was actually a jack that must have fallen from the young boy's pocket.
Spot turned his gaze back to the river, shaking the jack in his hand like a dice. For a moment, he considered tossing it into the river, but an image of the young boy flashing in his mind made him think better of it.
"Spot, gotta get a move on!"
Spot glanced up at the shore. Striker, his right hand man, stood waiting with a few other boys. Taking a deep breath, Spot scanned the river once more, settling his gaze finally on the jack in his hand.
"Spot!" Striker called, growing impatient.
Without giving it too much thought, Spot shoved the jack into his pocket with his shooting marbles. "I'm comin!"
Ingrid woke with a start as a club came clashing down on the bench beside her head. She stared in sleepy confusion at the blue blob that hovered over her. Wiping her eyes, she quickly realized that it was actually a police officer.
"You understand me girl?"
She nodded and began gathering her things. When she stood, a small hand clasped hers. Ingrid glanced down at the young boy standing beside her, his curly blond hair tousled from sleep and a scared look on his face. She gave him an assuring smile and squeezed his hand.
"Alright then, off you go," the officer instructed, turning down the path. "Girls and their babies sleepin in the park. What's the world comin to?"
His last comments were not intended for Ingrid's ears, but she heard them nonetheless. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at his assumption. Glancing down at the little boy, a small smile crept onto her lips.
His blue eyes reflected the dim light that was cast onto the street from the streetlamps. Sometimes she was relieved that he understood very little English, a fact that sheltered him from comments like that of the police officer. Ingrid envied the innocence that this afforded him.
She cast him another quick smile before the reality of the situation at hand sunk in: they had nowhere to sleep. And after dark in New York City, that posed a real problem. Scanning the streets, she spotted a dock sticking out into the East River not far off. There were palettes and boxes piled along the length of the dock which Ingrid concluded would serve well as a cover if necessary. She directed the small boy down the dock to an alcove between some boxes.
"God natt," he said softly before curling up against one of the boxes.
"Søte drømer, Gunnar." She removed the thin cloak from her shoulders and laid it over the boy. She smiled at him sadly and repeated her words in English. "Sweet dreams."
Ingrid barely slept that night. Instead, she sat at the edge of the dock, staring out at the reflection of the moon in the river. When dawn finally came over the eastern horizon, she fished through her pocket for a cigarette. Smiling to herself, she struck a match in the edge of the dock. She took a long drag and chuckled as she exhaled a puff of smoke. Her mother once told her that smoking was unrefined.
"What would she think of us now?" Ingrid wondered aloud, flicking the ash from her cigarette into the river.
Gunnar stirred behind her and she quickly took another drag before tossing the half-smoked cigarette into the water. She preferred that he not see her smoke.
"Damn shame, that's a waste of a perfectly good smoke."
Ingrid nearly fell off the dock when she heard a voice coming from behind her. Spinning quickly, she saw a teenage boy walking down the dock toward her. Through the hazy dawn, she could see the cherry of his cigarette as he took a drag. Exhaling, he leaned on one of the dock supports just above her. The early morning sun lit his face, making his blue eyes sparkle as he grinned down at her.
"Watcha doin down here this early?" he asked as she got to her feet.
"I'm sorry," she replied as she moved to Gunnar, shaking him lightly. "We will be gone in a moment."
The boy eyed her curiously. "Did ya sleep here last night?"
Ingrid took Gunnar's hand and brushed passed the young stranger.
He moved so that he blocked their exit. "Hey now, wait jist a minute. Ain't ya got a place to stay?"
Ingrid easily sidestepped him and pulled a sleepy Gunnar up the dock behind her.
Spot stood a bit dumbfounded at the end of the dock, thumbing his cigarette absently as he watched the mysterious girl disappear into the city. Rubbing his eyes, he turned his attention back to the river. When he walked down to the dock for his morning smoke, the last thing that he expected was to stumble upon a pretty blond.
He took another drag on the cigarette and glanced to where the boy had been sleeping. A flicker of sunlight caught on an object lying forgotten on the dock. Flicking the spent cigarette into the dark water below him, Spot knelt down. Upon further inspection, he saw that it was actually a jack that must have fallen from the young boy's pocket.
Spot turned his gaze back to the river, shaking the jack in his hand like a dice. For a moment, he considered tossing it into the river, but an image of the young boy flashing in his mind made him think better of it.
"Spot, gotta get a move on!"
Spot glanced up at the shore. Striker, his right hand man, stood waiting with a few other boys. Taking a deep breath, Spot scanned the river once more, settling his gaze finally on the jack in his hand.
"Spot!" Striker called, growing impatient.
Without giving it too much thought, Spot shoved the jack into his pocket with his shooting marbles. "I'm comin!"