Money
"Thank you, sir," David mustered up a smile as he accepted the penny for his last newspaper from a well-dressed man on his way home from work. The cool metal pressed into his warm hand, but his skin seemed to shrink away from it. Why was it so cold? This is what he wanted, money to support his family. He liked helping them. Liked the responsibility of bringing home a large portion of his family's income. Liked knowing food was on the table because of him. He did like it, didn't he?
He certainly enjoyed seeing the proud looks from his parents each time he walked into the apartment and dumped his earnings onto the kitchen table. His father was particularly proud. He reminded David of how long he had needed to find his factory job and earn the same amount as, or even less than, David earned. However, his father was still optimistic about his injury and felt sure that David would resume school soon. In the mean time, he was pleased that his son was being exposed to working.
His mother never mentioned his attending school again, but touched his shoulder softly whenever his father spoke of it. Though David valued his father's respect most, his mother's gratitude was very dear to him. She made certain to say how lucky she was to have David's income and mentioned how she had used it for each meal or piece of clothing she made for the family. David knew she felt he would not be able to attend school again and that she was trying to tell him he was worth just as much, with a finished education or not.
Les looked up to him, much more so now that they worked together. Money was something Les could understand more than intelligence. It was tangible proof that his brother could do something worthwhile. While his hero had been Jack, after the strike, Les drifted towards his brother. Jack did not sell with them after the first day, so David was left to build upon Jack's initial lesson in selling. David became the authority on selling, as he was Les' main source of information. As easy as a young boy's respect was won, David appreciated it.
Sarah never talked about work with David, but they understood one another. Between the two of them, the majority of the family's money was brought in. They each knew the other didn't particularly enjoy working, but they were willing to do it.
Working made David's family proud of him. He earned their respect. It brought them together, each supporting the other in a different way. The money he brought home was exchanged for love, respect, and other warm feelings. Why, then, was it so cold?
Could it be the source that made it cold? Was it only cold when it arrived and made warm by its association with the Jacobs?
David had to admit that he did not see his customers as warm people. Rarely did he receive a 'You're welcome' in return to for his 'Thank you'.
He was like a machine to those who bought his papers. He was there for their convenience, to sell them papers. Most never thought of where their money was going, only of what they exchanged it for. How many of his customers bought a paper out of pity rather than a desire to read the paper? Somehow, David was sure the majority just wanted to read the news.
David even felt that some customers hated him. They resented his presence in their lives and streets. They thought he was inferior to them because they were prosperous and he was poor. They felt it was his fault, his choice, that he lived in poverty and associated with lower class people. He felt their anger, their hate, towards him. Despite its irrationality, in David's mind, he knew it existed.
The source of the money was cold. They either felt nothing or hate towards him. Nothing was cold, certainly. They spared none of their pity and love for the poor newsie selling papers on the corner. Those who felt something usually felt anger. While anger and hate are warm emotions, they are also selfish ones. They have no effect on anything other than the person who feels them. The money came from a cold place, but did that make it cold?
Was money itself a cold thing? Did nothing make any changes to it? Was money just as cold whether it was used to buy food for a poor family or spent to decorate for a lavish party? The idea of payment was not the kindest. It meant that something was required in order to buy what survival required. It meant that those who could not afford the price would go without. It meant that survival depended more on a substance than on a person's worth. Besides these hard, cold realities of a society that required payment, the idea was cold for other reasons. It came from human selfishness. A price meant that people could only have what they could afford. No one could act upon his or her selfishness and take everything. Money was not a pleasant thing on its own.
David opened his fist and stared at the coin. It appeared so small and innocent, as though it had done nothing wrong in its existence. He was almost willing to ignore the bad it did and slip it into his pocket without another thought... but it was so cold.
A/N: Hm... that was a bit more serious than I had intended. Anyway, I'm not really sure where the idea for this came from. All I know is that I hadn't written a David story and felt like writing one, so I started. I guess it just took off from there.
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