by Paige Dearth
For fuck’s sake, it’s just dirt. I’m not gonna give your kid the plague, Joon thought.
She breathed a sigh of relief when the door next to the receptionist opened and a nurse came out. “Joon?”
She stood up quickly and rushed over to the nurse, who seemed not to notice how filthy she was. All Joon wanted to do was get on the other side of that door and leave her shame in the waiting room. But to Joon’s horror, the nurse didn’t move.
“Mr. and Mrs. Herr? You can come back too.”
The nurse opened Dr. Becker’s office door and stood to the side. “Go on in and have a seat.”
Joon followed her instructions and was relieved to see Dr. Becker’s bright smile as she entered his office. She sat quickly and peeked back at Christy and her parents as they waited to be led to another room.
The nurse gave the Herrs a bright smile. “You can go in and have a seat too.”
Dr. Becker greeted them as they entered.
“Dr. Becker, I think we’d rather wait until you’re done with this,” Mr. Herr said seriously, “um…this…young lady and then we can see you. We don’t mind waiting.”
“Daddy, her name is Joon,” Christy interrupted.
“That’s right, Christy. Her name is Joon,” Dr. Becker confirmed.
“Seriously, Dr. Becker,” Mrs. Herr said. “We want our privacy.”
Dr. Becker stood from behind his desk. “You’re absolutely right. You deserve your privacy, so I’ll get my nurse to take you back to the waiting room.” The couple stood and crossed to the other side of the office with Christy, as Dr. Becker turned to Joon. “Mr. and Mrs. Herr have a foundation that helps children and adults fund the cost of kidney transplants.”
“Dr. Becker,” Mrs. Herr said. “May I speak to you for a moment?”
The doctor approached, and Mrs. Herr leaned close to his ear. “You know that Christy’s susceptible to germs, and that girl is, well, I assume she’s homeless. Her fingernails alone are carrying a small country of germs; our foundation was created to help people who are in dire need, not for lazy people who choose to live in squalor.”
Dr. Becker turned away for a moment to gain his composure. When he looked at the couple again, his mouth was open, and his tongue was pushing slightly forward, as if he was having a battle with the words that wanted to escape. “You’re a smart, successful couple. I’m sure you’re aware that not all homeless people are lazy or choose to live on the streets. Sometimes life isn’t kind to everyone like it has been to the three of us.”
Dr. Becker looked back at Joon. He could see her sorrow in the deep creases around her eyes and mouth. She had literally shrunk herself into the corner of the sofa as she sheepishly looked at her own appearance.
The doctor turned back to the Herrs, shoved his hands into his pants pockets, and tilted his head back. “Before I call my nurse to take you back to the waiting room, I thought you’d like to meet the person who saved Christy’s life. You said you wanted to meet her.” He turned and walked across the room and sat beside Joon. “This young lady, Joon, is the person who gave Christy one of her kidneys.”
Mrs. Herr put her hand over her mouth and tears sprung to her eyes. “Oh my God.”
Christy pulled her hand away from her mother’s and walked over to Joon. The child climbed onto the sofa next to the young woman. The moment was bittersweet. Joon was thrilled to see the healthy child and started to cry, but her thoughts also drifted to Lulu. Though she hadn’t been able to save her friend, Joon had vowed to herself that she would help someone who could use her kidney. She looked up at Christy’s mother.
Dr. Becker knelt in front of them. “Christy, Joon gave you her kidney. Because of her, you will live a long and healthy life.”
Christy threw her arms around Joon as Dr. Becker turned to the couple and raised his eyebrows.
Mr. and Mrs. Herr walked over to Joon, their shame palpable, and the mother put out her hands to help Joon off the sofa. She pulled Joon up and embraced her, Mr. Herr wrapped his arms around both women.
“We are so sorry,” Mrs. Herr began. “There is no excuse for what we just put you through. We are both mortified and deeply humbled.” Her voice was wavering with emotion as she spoke. “Thank you for sharing your life with our daughter. Because of you, our child is well again. We can never thank you enough. If there is anything that you ever need…”
Joon shook her head and bent down to look into Christy eyes. Through her tears, she said, “We will always be related. No matter where we are, you and me, we will know that we share something very special. I’m a part of you and you’re a part of me now.”
Joon and the child embraced again for several moments, and Mr. Herr put his hand on Joon’s shoulder. “You’re an amazing young woman. We had waited so long for a matching donor, and…we don’t know how to thank you.”
“You already have thanked me,” Joon said. “I’ve done something good with my life. If it’s the only thing I ever do, I already know that I, little, old, homeless Joon, changed one person’s life. I did something remarkable. I made a difference. That’s all I ever wanted—to make a difference.”
When it was time to leave Dr. Becker’s office, Joon gave him a tight hug. “Thank you,” she whispered.
As she turned to leave, the Herrs offered to take her to lunch, but she declined. “I’m way too emotional to eat right now. I’m sorry.”
“Can we walk you home?” Mrs. Herr offered. “We would like to spend a little more time with you.”
Joon looked at Dr. Becker, who gave her a quick nod. “Sure. You can walk me back to where I sleep. My home is everywhere…and nowhere.” She smiled at the family. “That’s the way it is when you don’t have a real home,” she said, feeling comfortable with her situation. She had given Christy something her parents’ money couldn’t buy, and this gave Joon a sense of peace.
Joon and Christy walked hand in hand. The Herrs followed behind them as Joon led them to the place under the bridge where she had first slept with Ragtop. She had moved back there after her recovery, and since the weather was still warm, she planned to stay under the bridge for as long as possible. Joon looked at the Herrs and then up at her space, she raised her hands into the air, and said, “This is it. Home Street Home.”
Joon shimmied up the concrete and pulled Christy along with her. Mrs. Herr slipped out of her high heels, and together, she and her husband climbed onto the ledge and sat down.
Christy was sitting next to Joon and tugged on her arm. “Do you actually live here?”
“Yeah, I do,” Joon said, taking the girls hand. “You see a home doesn’t mean anything. That’s just a place to live. It’s making your mark in the world that really matters. Sharing what I have with you was the best thing I have ever done. If I wasn’t here tomorrow, that would be okay because you will live a long life, and I will always be with you.”
When the time came for the Herrs to leave, they hugged Joon and promised to see her again. Joon watched until the family walked out of sight, then she sat under the bridge and smiled for a long time.
Later that afternoon, when she went to visit Skinner and Gunther, she could barely contain her excitement as she told them what had happened with Christy and her parents. Gunther had secured a construction job and moved them into a low-income apartment. The two young men had taken Lily in and were raising her as their own. Joon had wanted so much to raise her but knew that Lily would be better off with them. Lily had been deeply scarred by Aron, but Skinner made it his sole purpose in life to help heal the child. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a life that Skinner, Gunther, and Lily loved. Joon visited for a while, then she returned to her concrete home.
That night, Joon thought about Christy. The child looked so healthy. She had tried for months to donate her kidney, and when Dr. Becker said he’d found someone, Joon had been so happy. As she fell asleep, she held on to an image of Lulu. In Christy, Joon saw what could have been for her friend, and the gratifying peace of helping anothe
r person washed over her.
Two Weeks Later
It was early on Tuesday morning, and Joon was sleeping soundly—she had slept well since she’d met the Herrs and saw with her own two eyes the good she’d contributed to the world. As she dreamed, she felt blissful and smelled something wonderful. Still sleeping, she breathed in deeply…there was that smell again. She opened her eyes and blinked.
I must still be dreaming, Joon told herself.
“Hey, baby,” the silky voice sang. “I got you a hot chocolate. Just like the one I got you on your first morning in this very spot.”
Joon sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Ragtop?”
“Alive and well,” Ragtop said, beaming.
Joon studied the older woman. Her hair was in perfect, long braids. She wore clean clothes that fit her, and she even had makeup beautifully applied to her dark skin. Before she knew what was happening, Joon was crying.
“You don’t have your bandana anymore.”
“No, baby. I got myself all cleaned up,” she said proudly.
Finally, Joon threw her arms around the woman’s neck. “What happened to you?”
“Got myself fucked up on drugs. I left you alone, and I’m so sorry. I’ve been looking for you whenever I’m not working. For the first couple of years after I got outta rehab, I came back here a lot looking for ya. Then, today, something told me to check again. When I saw ya sleeping here, my chest got tight and I could hardly breathe. I thought maybe I was seeing things, but seeing you again for real made me so happy—it made me feel whole again. So I went and bought you a hot chocolate…a stupid-ass peace offering, but to let you know I never forgot about you.”
“Thank you,” Joon said, looking at the cup in Ragtop’s hand. “What did you mean by working? Are you still prostituting?”
“No, sugar. I got myself a real job. I work and live in Camden. After rehab, they helped me get a job and a place to stay. I’ve been employed for over three years. Got an apartment that has enough room for two people. That’s why I’ve been searching for you. Came to see if you wanna come back and live with me. Can’t think of a better roommate than you,” she said, smiling at Joon.
Joon bowed her head and cried.
Ragtop put her arm around her shoulders. “Is that a yes?” she asked quietly.
Joon looked at her, the blue of her eyes blazing with life. “Yeah. It’s definitely a yes.”
As the two waited for a bus that would take them over to Camden, Joon started telling her about how she’d donated a kidney and how surprised the family was that she, a homeless person, was the donor, and as she thought of Lulu and why she’d done it, she realized just how far back the story began. “I have so much to tell you,” she said.
“We’ll have a lot of time to talk, and I want you to tell me everything,” Ragtop said, taking Joon’s hand and drawing in a long breath. “I’m really sorry I let you down. I promise it won’t happen again.”
Joon couldn’t have been happier. She was back with the only mom she’d ever known since her own mother had died. The future looked bright for the first time in as long as she could remember, and Joon was genuinely optimistic.
She squeezed Ragtop’s hand. “I wanna make something good out of my life, and I’ve already started by donating my kidney. Now, I wanna go to school and learn. I don’t know exactly what I want to do yet, but I know I want to do something to help others. I know it’s gonna be a long road, but I’m willing to travel that road until it leads me to the life that has always belonged to me.”
Ragtop hugged Joon tight to her chest. “You’re home, baby. We’re both finally home.”
Continue Reading…
Read about Tony’s story and how he became the man who helped Joon, from my novel, Mean Little People. Read a sample of Mean Little People here…
The Beating Path
Seven-year-old Tony Bruno feared the dark hands of death were reaching for him. His small feet pounded against the hot pavement as he tried to get away from the boys chasing after him.
In midstride two of the seven-year-old boys snatched Tony by the back of his worn-out T-shirt. His arms flailed spastically. He tried to make contact with his small fists. One boy got angry and yelled, “Knock it off, Bruno, ya little queer.”
Tony was dragged through the trash that lined the sidewalk.
“Leave me alone,” Tony cried in a high-pitched voice.
“Shut up, Bruno. I swear if ya open your mouth again, we’ll kill ya,” Vincent snapped.
Tony twisted and pitched against the boys. He fought with everything he had in him, but he was no match for the kids who used bullying as an after-school activity.
Tony’s eyes fixed on his surroundings as if he were seeing them for the first time. He looked into the open lot, taking in the small patch of trees and overgrown grass. On either side of the lot were brick buildings with broken windows that revealed the lifeless blackness within. Vines clung to the exterior as if they’d grown there from the inside out. Tony never walked between the buildings. It was taboo. This place scared him. This was the place where the monsters lived. He’d heard the groan of drunks coming from deep inside the cavity of the broken-down buildings when he’d walked by months before with his mother.
Tony fixated on his mother’s words now.
“There are googamongers that live in that place. Do ya know what a googamonger is?” Teresa had said.
Tony had shaken his head, scanning the trees and buildings, waiting for a humanlike creature to come after him.
“They’re real big. Bigger than your father. They got long claws for fingers and real pointy teeth. They like to eat children ’cause every time they eat a kid, they grow stronger. So you keep your skinny ass outta there.”
Tony was paralyzed with fear thinking about the googamongers. He kept fighting against his tormentors, but they dragged him deeper into the forbidden lot. Vincent and his friends forced Tony into the shadow of a small grouping of trees. Tony peed himself, imagining the googamongers watching him, getting ready to eat him. His stomach turned with a wispy emptiness. Tony made one final attempt to free himself and got one arm loose. Vincent punched Tony in the gut, and a few seconds later, Tony’s head slammed against a large oak tree.
Vincent poked his index finger into Tony’s sternum. “Give us all your money.”
“I ain’t g…g…got no money.” Tony stared into Vincent’s rich brown eyes through the jet-black hair that fell in front of them.
Frankie grabbed Tony around the waist and threw him to the ground. Then he pulled Tony’s T-shirt over his head and threw it off to the side.
“Look!” Frankie stood over the boy. “Bruno peed himself.”
The boys stood in a circle around Tony and laughed.
Vincent turned to his best friend, Patton. “Grab the bucket we left in the grass.”
Patton stared for a moment as if he was trying to read Vincent’s mind. He jumped up and down and clapped his hands together. “Yeahhhhhh…” he sang as he ran into the tall grass.
Patton raced back to the noisy circle of boys. Vincent pulled the old plastic clothesline they had stolen from the neighbor lady they called Mrs. Mean. He handed the line to Patton, who threw it over a tree limb while another boy turned the bucket upside down.
A few minutes later, Tony was standing on the bucket with the plastic cord around his neck. His fingers clawed at the cord with frantic desperation. His body shook. In the heat of the day, Tony’s teeth chattered. He couldn’t think. His mind went blank. While Tony didn’t comprehend the possible consequences of the boy’s actions, he felt he was in grave danger.
Vincent looked at Tony and smiled. “He looks just like that cowboy in the movie. They hung ’im from a tree; then one of the guys kicked the horse he was sittin’ on, and the guy fell off. He was swingin’ by his neck. It was so cool—his legs were movin’ like he was ridin’ a bike, and he was twitchin’ and stuff.”
The energy in the small group of boys was a blend of mor
bid curiosity and fear of the unknown. Tony’s motions were jerky. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. The more his fear showed outwardly, the higher the energy level rose through the circle of boys.
“I need to go home,” Tony cried. “My ma will be lookin’ for me.”
“You’ll go home when we say ya can,” Patton hissed. Then he picked up a long stick and whacked Tony on his bare back. The rough, bark-covered branches dug into his tender flesh and left bloated, red welts.
“Wow! Let me try that,” Vincent said, picking up a branch and slashing it across Tony’s abdomen.
Tony continued to pull at the cord around his neck. Each time one of the boys whacked him with a stick, he flinched, and the rope tightened. After a short time, Tony’s muscles went limp, and he welcomed the numb feeling inside his head. His eyelids drooped, and he stopped fighting. His shoulders flopped forward, and his head hung. With a lack of oxygen, death crept upon him, bringing him the closure he longed for.
“Hey! What the hell are ya boys doin’ over there?” A male voice boomed.
Vincent turned and saw a delivery-truck driver at the edge of the lot; he was coming toward them.
Vincent screamed, “Run!”
The boys took off in different directions, but Patton hesitated for a moment and kicked the bucket from under Tony’s feet before he took off.
The cord was just long enough so Tony landed on his tippy-toes, but the initial fall tightened it around his neck, jarring him awake. Tony tried to suck in a breath, and when nothing came through, his panic heightened, and he lost his balance. He lost his battle against the strangling cord. His windpipe betrayed him, and the lack of oxygen gave him comfort again.
The deliveryman reached Tony right before he slipped out of consciousness. He lifted Tony’s small body and held him on his hip, as though he were a toddler. The man quickly loosened the rope around Tony’s neck. Tony gulped air into his lungs, and the bluish color in his face shortly returned to normal.
