CHAPTER TWO
New York City - 2061
She poked at him.
"Hey Mister? Mister?"
He flinched awake. His dark brow furrowing.
She poked him again. Waking him.
"Are you alright?"
He opened his eyes. His breath sharp. As he looked at the little girl. Carrying a cat. White. And fluffy.
"Who are you?" He whispered. His voice so thin. But she didn't hear.
"I thought you were dead."
"Why?"
"You weren't breathing. Plus you smell really bad."
"Have I been here long?" He realized he was on the floor. Propped up against the wall. He remembered this position.
"I brought your cat in. Then I saw your blood. Were you shot?"
She poked at his chest. Her finger in a hole in his shirt. A blossom surrounding it. Her fingertip creating pain.
He unbuttoned the top part of his shirt. Pulling it away to blood. And a necklace. Dark. A cross. And blue.
"I don't remember."
"Does it hurt?" She asked. Pulling back her hand.
"Yes." He continued to push at his wound.
"Are you on drugs?" She stood and walked away from him. Grasping the cat. Admiring the room. Fancy pictures. Well furnished. Spacey. Expensive. Apparently. The thought came to him. It was his.
"I don't think so."
"I bet you are." She dropped the cat. "Your eyes are all dil-dila- small..." Her big blue eyes in his. Brown. And dark.
She went into the kitchen. Starting to open cupboards. Looking for what she found. Bread. Mayonnaise. And bologna.
"You have the shits?"
"What?"
"My mom says that drugs cause you to have the shits."
"No. I don't think so."
"And she says that a good sandwich can fix the shits. Do you like sandwiches?"
"I can't remember."
"I bet you do." She spread the mayonnaise. And piled on the bologna. Coming back over. And giving him the sandwich.
"You look tired. And your skin's all white. Are you tired?"
"I don't think so." He looked down. The cat was licking his fingers.
Her lips curled. Her eyebrows dipping.
"You're weird."
He looked at the sandwich. But didn't feel like eating.
"I bet if I called my mom. She'd fix you. And figure out what's wrong with you." Then. To herself. "I bet it's drugs."
He sat there. Staring at the cat. Who was now eating his sandwich. Then he looked at an upholstered chair. Some feet away from him. Expensive. While he sat on the floor.
"You want me to call her?"
He looked at her. Not knowing what to say.
She shrugged. And went for the board phone.
"How did I get here?"
"I don't know. You were here when I came here."
"How did you get here?"
"I crawled through your window. You left it unlocked."
"I did?"
But she wasn't listening. She was talking. To her mother.
He sat there silently. Eyes on the little girl. Not really seeing her. Or hearing her words. Not listening. His mind blank.
He didn't see. But he was watching. As she flipped the board phone around. Her mother seeing him. Sitting in the corner. Blood on his shirt. Then flip it back around. And closed it.
She turned. "Are you coming?"
"To where?"
"To my house?"
"Why?"
"Because my mom says to bring you over."
"Alright..."
He still sat there.
"You need help up?"
"I don't think so."
"Then get up."
"I can't."
"Here." She stuck out her hand. But he didn't reach for it. So she picked up his. "You have to get up to move."
Looking at her. He pushed himself up. Her pulling. As he rose to his feet. He stumbled. And landed against her.
"Ow! Mister!" His hand was on her head. While his legs toppled over each other. She shoved him off. And he fell against the wall. Unable to stand without support.
He huddled there. Bringing in his arms. A coldness inside of him. One he'd never felt before. It burned so cold. Like metal.
"Come on mister." The kid said. Holding out her hand once more. But still. He didn't reach out to take it. She grabbing his.
He followed on tottering legs. Towards the door.
She paused.
"Do you have a real car? Those [autos] are so boring."
"I don't remember."
"I bet you do! You're rich enough to!"
She pulled him out the door.
And stopped at the driveway. Licking her lips at the automobile. A Lexus. Silver. With cherry red siding. Brilliant. And shining.
"Oh wow!" She let got of his hand. And he stood there. Feeling nothing. Looking at the car. Apparently his.
"This is so cool!" She reached out and touched it. Running her hand over the hood. His palm smoothing along metal silk. Cherry red. And silver.
"Get in!" She cried. Opening the passenger door. And climbing inside.
He did so. She bouncing in the cushioned chair. Her eyes wide. Roving over buttons.
"I've never been in one of these."
He sat silently.
She looked to him. But he did nothing.
"Can you drive?"
"I don't remember."
She looked in the back. Seeing his coat. Folded in the seat.
"Your coat's here. So obviously you did."
He put his hands on the wheel. Noticing. For the first time. The black brace on his left hand.
He looked at it.
"Did you hurt yourself?"
"I don't remember."
"You don't remember a lot of stuff do you?"
"I guess not."
"Please say you remember how to drive though."
"I don't think I can."
"Dammnit." She crossed her arms.
"Can you drive?"
She turned. "Are you kidding? I'm only six."
She threw her head back into the seat. Sighing hard. After a moment. She hit the door open. Mad.
"Come on."
"Where are we going now?"
"To my house."
She started down the path. And he almost followed. Until she turned around.
"Get your coat."
"Why?"
"Because our walk's going to be cold." She said. Miffed.
He grabbed for his coat. Got out of the car. Put it on. Buttoned it up. And felt a strange bulge in his chest pocket.
Reaching in. He plucked out a pair of glasses. Black. Thin framed.
"Do I wear glasses?"
"What kind of question is that?" She was halfway down the path. Walking fast.
"I can't remember if I do." He followed. Examining them.
"Can you see right now?" She turned. And stopped. Waiting for him to catch up.
"Yes."
"Then you don't."
"Then why are they in my pocket?"
"I don't know. Put them on."
He did so.
"Can you see me?" He saw her with crisp clarity. She waved her hand.
"Yes."
"Better?"
"Yes."
"Then I guess you do." She turned. And began walking again.
New York City - 2061
She poked at him.
"Hey Mister? Mister?"
He flinched awake. His dark brow furrowing.
She poked him again. Waking him.
"Are you alright?"
He opened his eyes. His breath sharp. As he looked at the little girl. Carrying a cat. White. And fluffy.
"Who are you?" He whispered. His voice so thin. But she didn't hear.
"I thought you were dead."
"Why?"
"You weren't breathing. Plus you smell really bad."
"Have I been here long?" He realized he was on the floor. Propped up against the wall. He remembered this position.
"I brought your cat in. Then I saw your blood. Were you shot?"
She poked at his chest. Her finger in a hole in his shirt. A blossom surrounding it. Her fingertip creating pain.
He unbuttoned the top part of his shirt. Pulling it away to blood. And a necklace. Dark. A cross. And blue.
"I don't remember."
"Does it hurt?" She asked. Pulling back her hand.
"Yes." He continued to push at his wound.
"Are you on drugs?" She stood and walked away from him. Grasping the cat. Admiring the room. Fancy pictures. Well furnished. Spacey. Expensive. Apparently. The thought came to him. It was his.
"I don't think so."
"I bet you are." She dropped the cat. "Your eyes are all dil-dila- small..." Her big blue eyes in his. Brown. And dark.
She went into the kitchen. Starting to open cupboards. Looking for what she found. Bread. Mayonnaise. And bologna.
"You have the shits?"
"What?"
"My mom says that drugs cause you to have the shits."
"No. I don't think so."
"And she says that a good sandwich can fix the shits. Do you like sandwiches?"
"I can't remember."
"I bet you do." She spread the mayonnaise. And piled on the bologna. Coming back over. And giving him the sandwich.
"You look tired. And your skin's all white. Are you tired?"
"I don't think so." He looked down. The cat was licking his fingers.
Her lips curled. Her eyebrows dipping.
"You're weird."
He looked at the sandwich. But didn't feel like eating.
"I bet if I called my mom. She'd fix you. And figure out what's wrong with you." Then. To herself. "I bet it's drugs."
He sat there. Staring at the cat. Who was now eating his sandwich. Then he looked at an upholstered chair. Some feet away from him. Expensive. While he sat on the floor.
"You want me to call her?"
He looked at her. Not knowing what to say.
She shrugged. And went for the board phone.
"How did I get here?"
"I don't know. You were here when I came here."
"How did you get here?"
"I crawled through your window. You left it unlocked."
"I did?"
But she wasn't listening. She was talking. To her mother.
He sat there silently. Eyes on the little girl. Not really seeing her. Or hearing her words. Not listening. His mind blank.
He didn't see. But he was watching. As she flipped the board phone around. Her mother seeing him. Sitting in the corner. Blood on his shirt. Then flip it back around. And closed it.
She turned. "Are you coming?"
"To where?"
"To my house?"
"Why?"
"Because my mom says to bring you over."
"Alright..."
He still sat there.
"You need help up?"
"I don't think so."
"Then get up."
"I can't."
"Here." She stuck out her hand. But he didn't reach for it. So she picked up his. "You have to get up to move."
Looking at her. He pushed himself up. Her pulling. As he rose to his feet. He stumbled. And landed against her.
"Ow! Mister!" His hand was on her head. While his legs toppled over each other. She shoved him off. And he fell against the wall. Unable to stand without support.
He huddled there. Bringing in his arms. A coldness inside of him. One he'd never felt before. It burned so cold. Like metal.
"Come on mister." The kid said. Holding out her hand once more. But still. He didn't reach out to take it. She grabbing his.
He followed on tottering legs. Towards the door.
She paused.
"Do you have a real car? Those [autos] are so boring."
"I don't remember."
"I bet you do! You're rich enough to!"
She pulled him out the door.
And stopped at the driveway. Licking her lips at the automobile. A Lexus. Silver. With cherry red siding. Brilliant. And shining.
"Oh wow!" She let got of his hand. And he stood there. Feeling nothing. Looking at the car. Apparently his.
"This is so cool!" She reached out and touched it. Running her hand over the hood. His palm smoothing along metal silk. Cherry red. And silver.
"Get in!" She cried. Opening the passenger door. And climbing inside.
He did so. She bouncing in the cushioned chair. Her eyes wide. Roving over buttons.
"I've never been in one of these."
He sat silently.
She looked to him. But he did nothing.
"Can you drive?"
"I don't remember."
She looked in the back. Seeing his coat. Folded in the seat.
"Your coat's here. So obviously you did."
He put his hands on the wheel. Noticing. For the first time. The black brace on his left hand.
He looked at it.
"Did you hurt yourself?"
"I don't remember."
"You don't remember a lot of stuff do you?"
"I guess not."
"Please say you remember how to drive though."
"I don't think I can."
"Dammnit." She crossed her arms.
"Can you drive?"
She turned. "Are you kidding? I'm only six."
She threw her head back into the seat. Sighing hard. After a moment. She hit the door open. Mad.
"Come on."
"Where are we going now?"
"To my house."
She started down the path. And he almost followed. Until she turned around.
"Get your coat."
"Why?"
"Because our walk's going to be cold." She said. Miffed.
He grabbed for his coat. Got out of the car. Put it on. Buttoned it up. And felt a strange bulge in his chest pocket.
Reaching in. He plucked out a pair of glasses. Black. Thin framed.
"Do I wear glasses?"
"What kind of question is that?" She was halfway down the path. Walking fast.
"I can't remember if I do." He followed. Examining them.
"Can you see right now?" She turned. And stopped. Waiting for him to catch up.
"Yes."
"Then you don't."
"Then why are they in my pocket?"
"I don't know. Put them on."
He did so.
"Can you see me?" He saw her with crisp clarity. She waved her hand.
"Yes."
"Better?"
"Yes."
"Then I guess you do." She turned. And began walking again.