The ride was exhilarating. Feeling the wind push against me so rapidly made me briefly believe that everything in my life was okay. The dimming sun occasionally blinded me, even with the helmets visor down, it was just annoying enough to give me a slight headache. I'd want to let go of the bike to shield my eyes but then he'd cranked up the speed and rev his engine. I'd quickly grab the bike once more. People would angrily shout as we weaved through traffic. Left, right, blast through the yellow light. I would be frightened and let go of the cycles seat to clutch onto him tighter, It was spine chilling…yet so…. Relieving. This old, crippled man, yet he still had the skills of a young biker. I let out a cackle and then started shouting joyously. It was like everything boiling inside me just built up into one explosion. Like a thrill ride at the amusement park that was almost off the rails but suddenly corrected. The bike revved down and we pulled into a mall parking lot. I yanked my helmet off.
"That….was…INSANE!" My voice cracked with excitement.
"Thanks. It fits my personality well." I looked toward the large structure. A behemoth with multiple financial traps residing amongst its innards.
"What are we doing here? I thought we were getting glasses?" The old man shook his head as he grabbed his cane from his side holder.
"By this rate we might have to get your head checked. Robert hit you a few too many times in the noggin?" He said snobbishly. I got off the bike and walked a couple steps away, turning my back.
"That's not funny." I could hear him sigh.
"sorry…" he mumbled under his breath. "You don't need glasses, but you do need new clothes." We began to walk to the mall entrance.
"What are you? A sugar daddy?"
"Why? Do you know someone who wants one? I do get awfully lonely." I shiver. "Your clothes have always been ragged and torn and…." He flailed, "wrinkled! Have some class, young sir!"
"This coming from a guy who looks like he just got out of the nursing home?"
"How'd you know?" he smirked. I laughed. I like this guy. Maybe the clerk was right, I had met my match. The doors open and my jaw dropped. A two story shopping center with everything you could imagine and not be able to afford, Aeropostale, Abercrombie, that one goth store, and all kinds of new age 'beige mom' aesthetics. It was like a beautiful nightmare. My expression must have been immense as he asked, "What? Never been to a mall?" I shook my head no. It's not like my mom ever had the funds and Robert could care less. "Not even with friends?" I look down, "do you even have friends?"
"I try to keep people at a distance." He nodded and paused, straightened himself, then motioned for us to wonder. "Well…" I thought for a while "while I'm not against getting new kicks, If I come home with stuff and no glasses…" The old man quickly approached a vendor that resided in the middle of an aisle and pointed to a rack of funny glasses.
"How much are these?"
"$15" the clerk responded.
"For this quality?!" He grimaced. The clerk nodded. He shuffled then grabbed his wallet. He snatched a pair of those typical black square frames with a big nose and mustache. "What I do for needy kids, huh?" He pointed to me. The exchange was complete. He continued to walk as he ripped the fake nose and mustache off the glasses and threw them behind him. I looked back briefly wondering if I should retrieve them. He handed me the glasses, "Here. New pair." I scoffed,
"Well if I'm going to be receiving gifts from you, I should at least know your name.'
"I told you, it's James Wilson." I stepped Infront of him impeding his path and stood firm.
"You're real name." He rolled his eyes. "Ya know, I have a real good case of kidnapping right now." He shoved me out the way.
"Fine, it's Luke."
"Luke?" I ask doubtfully.
"Luke N. Laura."
"That doesn't sound real."
"Well it's not, but that's what my official state ID says." He pulls out his drivers license.
"Is this fake?"
"Nope! Real as you and me…." He switches his eyes around, "are we real?" I am bewildered as we shuffle into a store and look through racks of clothes. "It's amazing what the DMV believes." I push a few shirts aside to see him through the rack.
"Why didn't you want the police involved?" He shoves clothes back together to block my view, "Are you a kidnapper? Should I actually be worried right now?"
"Why do you like medicine?" He grabs a pair of jeans and puts them up against me.
"You changed the subject!"
"Trust me, nothing I say you're going to believe anyways, so it's better that I do." He throws the jeans over my face. I pull them down and study them. These are actually pretty nice.
"I like to help people and it's a useful knowledge. I'd like to be a doctor someday." I chuckled, "maybe of oncology like your fake badge said." He got very still a quiet.
"That wasn't fake." His whole body language changed, almost like he's sad…or angry? Have I struck a nerve? What did I say? "The cancer field is overrated, everyone always has the same thing – cancer!" He states lightheartedly. He grabs a couple more shirts and sizes them up to me. One states "I am stupid." He gives that one to me. I squint my eyes and throw it back on the rack.
"So, were you actually a doctor?"
"Still am! Or well, Luke N. Laura is. OBGYN." He winks. "Can't seem to retire. My specialty beforehand was in diagnostics. Loved to solve a case. Was like a mystery every time."
"What If you couldn't solve one?"
"Well then they died." He shrugged. He purchased a few items and walked out the shop with his bag. We wondered up the escalators and into another store. It was one of those custom wood making pop up events. He headed straight for the counter.
"And….you were okay with that?" Behind the counter was a doorway. The view was partially obstructed but you could smell fresh pine coming from the back. A lean man walked passed with carpentry goggles then took a step back. The old man waved which prompted a smile from goggle dude. The old man grinned then looked at me from the side,
"If you want in medicine, you'll have to understand one thing – everyone dies." The goggled man brought out a cane and displayed it like it was a new sword being presented to the queen. "Not me though, I'm like a cat." He studied the cane. It was deep oak stained, with a white collar connecting the handle to the shaft. The handle sharply hooked, with the tip being so pointy It could gauge somebody's eyes. There was a black door knob like element on the opposite end, right where your index and thumb would meet.
"Yeah?" I looked up at him curiously from the cane. "Even still, they only have 9…How many lives are you on?" He smirked then spun the cane.
"Perfect!" He pulled out his wallet and began to pay the clerk.
"You plan on fighting with that thing?"
"Well I'm just a fragile old man, I have to have some sort of defense." I shook my head as he shoved his old cane into my chest. "Here. A souvenir." We walked out the store. I continued to carry his cane. "You want to go into medicine because you want to help people, so you volunteer at the nursing home."
"I never told you that!" I jarred.
"Didn't have to."
"You really have been stocking me."
"You can help people in other ways. Feeding the homeless, giving to charities, but you chose the nursing home. You chose to help old people swallow foods like they're babies."
"So? You think they don't deserve help because they're incompetent?"
"No." He stopped and leaned over me. "I think you chose them because they're incompetent." I was stunned. "Daycares and after school programs have adults constantly worrying about minors, they'd peg your situation in a just a few days, but nursing homes…" He let out an exasperated sigh, "SHOO! Too over worked and under paid and are just thankful to have an extra hand to notice a 14 year old boy with constant bruises when they have 8 rooms that are about to code on a daily basis, and the patients?" His face contorted as if to shout yikes, "Well we won't go there." I began to think about what he was saying as we continued moving. I hung my head, he was too smart. "You chose something safe, but beneficial. While the CNA's are thankful you're there to do their dirty work like feed and clean their oversized infants, the nurses think you're just so cute and love showing you how to bandage old and fresh wounds." I was silent. He was right. I chose something safe. "What? No questions or retorts? Isn't that something." It was almost quite amusing how he could figure everything out. I was actually impressed. No one had ever taken this much interest in me. I thought for a good while on how to respond,
"I guess…" I began somberly, "I kinda had no choice but to know medicine. I've had to patch my mom up since I can remember. It was a skill I had to learn out of necessity…but I had to in silence. So many nights would I take cover under her bed as they fought in the other room, scanning pictures of health magazines I'd stolen to figure out how to apply gauze to a swollen lip or wrap a sprained arm…this was a way I could learn in broad daylight…without hiding… and if I could help someone and not have to be discrete…" I looked straight into the old man's eyes. "Well, I guess that's something."
The silence was deafening. People scurried passed us, rushing to their next locations. For a singular moment, I was completely honest and open. My insides exposed right in the center of rush hour, yet no one paid attention or noticed…except for this old man. It was a familial feeling I could never seem to grasp, even with my own mothers. He needed no protection or required anything of me…but…why?
"You hungry?" He asked. He motioned to follow him.