She put her wallet and keys in her pocket, turned off the lights, left the apartment, and took the elevator downstairs. And a moment later she was walking through the snow on Eighty-ninth Street, heading east toward the river, taking deep breaths of the freezing air as the snow continued to fall around her. Long plumes of frost sailed into the air when she exhaled. She walked along the overpass to the river, then stood at the railing looking at the boats drifting by—a tugboat and two barges, and a party boat all lit up for someone’s Christmas party. It looked festive as it went by, and she could hear music and laughter in the crisp night air.
There was almost no traffic on the FDR Drive while she stood looking down at the water, as images of Chris and Mark forced their way into her mind again and she thought about what her life had become since their deaths. It was a life that she had dedicated to others, a life that served someone at least, but, as her sister had guessed, she hadn’t cared if she lived or died, and had lived accordingly, taking outrageous risks. People thought she was brave, but only she knew how cowardly she was, hoping to get killed so she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of her life without her husband and son.
As she looked down at the water shimmering beneath her, she thought about how easy it would be to climb over the railing and slip into the river. It would all be so much simpler than living without them. Feeling strangely calm, she wondered how long it would take her to drown. She was sure that there were currents in the river, and with her layers of clothing on, she would be pulled under quickly. And suddenly the idea seemed immensely appealing. She didn’t think of her sister or father. Becky had her own life and family, they never saw each other, and her father wouldn’t understand that she had died. As she mused about it, it seemed like the perfect time to make an exit.
She was considering climbing over the railing when a sudden movement in her peripheral vision at her left caught her eye and startled her, and she turned her head to see what it was. The hood of her parka partially blocked her vision, and all she saw was a flash of white dashing into a small utility shed as she heard the door slam. Clearly, someone was hiding inside it, and she wondered if whoever it was had been intending to attack her. Jumping into the river and drowning seemed simple and reasonable to her in her current state of mind—getting mugged by a hoodlum hiding in a utility shed seemed more unpleasant and she’d still be alive, presumably, at the end of it. But she didn’t want to leave. She had her plan to carry out, to jump into the river, and she didn’t want to wait until the next day. There was something poetic that appealed to her about dying on the same day they had, even if it was three years later. Her sense of good order dictated that she should kill herself tonight. It never occurred to her that her thinking was distorted, her judgment paralyzed by grief. It all made perfect sense to her. And she didn’t want to run away and give up her plan just because someone was hiding in the shed. In fact, it was annoying her that whoever was in there didn’t come out but continued to hide. She stood waiting for someone to emerge, so they couldn’t startle her or attack her. And she refused to leave and stood her ground, determined to carry out her plan. Having made the decision gave her a sense of relief from pain. She had chosen a way out.
It seemed very silent in the shed, and then she heard some shifting around and muffled coughing. Her curiosity got the best of her. If they were coughing, maybe whoever it was in there was sick and needed help. That hadn’t occurred to her before. She stared at the shed for long minutes, and then boldly walked up to it and knocked on the door. She wondered if it was a woman after all, although she thought she’d seen a man out of the corner of her eye, but whoever it was had moved very quickly into the shed and closed the door.
She stood in front of the shed for a minute, then knocked cautiously on the door again. She didn’t want to pull it open and startle them. There was no answer, so she knocked a third time. She was going to offer help if the person was sick. And once she had tended to their needs, she would address her own. She had it all worked out in her head. She was a classic suicide about to happen. She knew people did things like it every day, and it no longer seemed shocking to her.
“Are you all right?” she asked in a firm voice. There was still no answer, but as she started to walk away, a small voice finally spoke up.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” The voice sounded very young. It could have been male or female, she couldn’t tell. Her instincts took over then, and she forgot about herself.
“Are you cold? Do you want something to eat?” There was a long, long pause, as the person in the shed thought about it, and finally answered again.
“No, I’m fine.” It sounded like a boy that time, and then he added, “Thank you.” Ginny smiled. Whoever it was, was polite. She started to walk away, and thought about her plan again, although the interruption had slowed her momentum and distracted her. She didn’t feel quite as determined as she had a few minutes before, but she started to walk back to the railing, wondering who was in the shed and what they were doing there, when she heard a voice in the distance behind her shout “Hey.” She turned in surprise and she saw a boy who looked about eleven or twelve in a T-shirt and torn jeans, and high-top sneakers, with his hair uncombed and a little wild. He was looking at her with wide eyes, and even from the distance she could see that they were a bright, almost electric blue in a pale light-coffee-colored face. “You got food?” he asked her, as she stood looking at him, shocked at how little he was wearing in the snow.
“I could get some,” she answered. She knew there was a McDonald’s nearby. She bought breakfast or dinner there often herself.
“Nah, that’s okay,” he said, looking disappointed and shivering in the cold, standing near the shed. It belonged to the city, but clearly someone had left it unlocked, and he was using it as shelter and a place to sleep.
“I could bring you something,” she offered. He hesitated, then shook his head, and disappeared back into the shed, as Ginny went back to the railing to gaze down at the river. By then she was beginning to feel awkward about what had seemed so right only moments before. She was about to go home when he was suddenly standing beside her with his bright blue eyes and jet-black hair.
“I could come with you,” he suggested, in answer to her earlier offer of dinner. “I’ve got money to pay.” It was a clear sign, as she looked at him, trying hard not to shiver, that she wasn’t meant to leap into the river and die that night. She was meant to feed this child instead. She started to take off her parka to offer it to him, but he bravely declined. They began walking away from the river side by side. She had intended to die moments before, as the final escape from her sorrows, in a bout of cowardice that was rare for her, and now she was going to dinner with this unknown boy.
“There’s a McDonald’s about two blocks away,” she said to him as they walked. She tried to walk quickly so he wouldn’t get too cold, but he was shaking visibly when they got to the restaurant and she got a good look at him in the bright lights. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, in a sweet, still childish face that gazed at her full of innocence. It felt as though their paths had been meant to cross that night. It was warm in the restaurant, and he jumped up and down to warm himself. She wanted to put her arms around him to help him but didn’t dare.
“What would you like?” she asked him gently. He hesitated. “Go for it,” she encouraged him. “It’s almost Christmas, live it up.” He grinned and ordered two Big Macs and fries and a large Coke, and she ordered a single Big Mac and a small Coke. She paid for it, and they went to a table to wait for their order, which was ready a few minutes later. By then he’d warmed up and had stopped shivering. He dove into the food with a vengeance, and was halfway through the second burger before he stopped to thank her.
“I could have paid for it myself,” he said, looking mildly embarrassed, and she nodded.
“I’m sure you could. My treat this time.” He nodded.
She watched him, wondering how old he was, still startled by how blue his
eyes were. “What’s your name?” she asked cautiously.
“Blue Williams,” he answered. “Blue is my real name, not a nickname. My mama named me that because of the color of my eyes.” She nodded. It made perfect sense.
“I’m Ginny Carter,” she said, and they shook hands. “How old are you?” He looked at her suspiciously then, suddenly afraid.
“Sixteen,” he said instantly, and she could tell that he was lying. He was obviously worried that she’d report him to Child Protective Services. At sixteen he would have been exempt.
“Do you want to go to a shelter tonight? It must be cold out there in the shed. I could drop you off, if you want,” she offered. He shook his head vehemently in answer and drank half the Coke, having already finished both burgers and most of the fries. He was starving and ate as though he hadn’t had a meal in a while.
“I’m fine in the shed. I have a sleeping bag. It’s pretty warm.” She considered that unlikely but didn’t challenge him.
“How long have you been out on your own?” She wondered if he was a runaway someone might be looking for. But if so, whatever he had run away from had to be worse than what he was experiencing on the streets, or he’d have gone home.
“A few months,” he answered vaguely. “I don’t like shelters. There’s a lot of crazy people in them. They beat you up, or rob you, and a lot of them are sick,” he said knowledgeably. “It’s safer where I am.” She nodded, willing to believe it—she’d heard stories about violence in shelters before. “Thank you for dinner,” he said, smiling at her, looking more than ever like a little boy, and nowhere near sixteen. She could see that he didn’t shave yet, and despite the life he was leading, he had the appearance of a child, a very wise child, but still a child.
“Would you like something else?” she offered, and he shook his head, and they left the table. She stopped to order two more Big Macs and fries and another Coke, and handed the bag to him when she got it, to take with him. “In case you get hungry later.” His eyes were wide with gratitude as he took the bag, and they left the restaurant and walked back the way they had come, hurrying along the street in the cold. It was still snowing, but the wind had died down. They got back to the shed quickly, and when they did, she unzipped her parka, took it off, and handed it to him.
“I can’t take that from you,” he objected, trying to refuse it, but she gave it to him, standing in her two thick sweaters in the falling snow. It was freezing, and she could only imagine how cold he was in the thin T-shirt and nothing else.
“I’ve got another one at home,” she reassured him, and he slowly slipped it on gratefully. It was thickly padded and insulated and he smiled as he looked at her.
“Thank you, for dinner and the coat.”
“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked him, as though he had a heavy social schedule, and wasn’t just trying to stay alive in the shed, and she wondered if he really did have a sleeping bag as he claimed. “Can I interest you in breakfast? Or drop something off for you?”
“I’ll be around. I usually go out in the daytime, so they don’t see me here.”
“I could come by in the morning, if you want,” she suggested, and he nodded, with a puzzled look.
“Why are you doing this? Why do you care?” he asked, looking suspicious again.
“Why not? See you tomorrow, Blue.” She smiled, and waved. She walked away and headed toward her apartment, as he disappeared into the shed, wearing her parka and carrying the extra meal she had given him. She had completely forgotten about wanting to jump into the river. And as she thought about it, it no longer made sense. She was smiling to herself as she walked along in the snow. It had been a strange encounter. She wondered if he’d be there when she came back the next day. She realized that he might not be, but whether he was or was not, he had given her far more than she had given him. She had given him a parka and dinner, and she knew with absolute certainty that were it not for Blue suddenly appearing out of nowhere, she would have been at the bottom of the river by now. And as she walked into her apartment, she realized with a shiver how close she had come to ending her life that night. It had seemed so easy for a minute, and such a simple thing to do, to just climb over the railing, let the waters close over her, and disappear. And instead she had been saved by a homeless boy called Blue with brilliant blue eyes. She thought of him as she fell asleep that night, and she slept peacefully for the first time in months. She had survived the anniversary thanks to him, and he had saved her life.
Chapter 3
Ginny woke up early the next day, and saw that it had stopped snowing. There was a foot of snow on the ground, and the sky was still gray. She showered and dressed quickly, and was back at the shed at nine o’clock. She knocked on the door of the shed politely and a sleepy voice answered. It sounded as though she had woken him up. He poked his head out a moment later, wearing her parka and holding his sleeping bag.
“Did I wake you?” she asked apologetically, and he nodded with a grin. “Do you want to go to breakfast?” He smiled at the question and rolled up his sleeping bag, to take with him. He didn’t want to leave it in case someone invaded the shed and took it away. And he had a small nylon gym bag with all his worldly possessions in it. He was ready in two minutes, and they walked back to McDonald’s. He headed for the bathroom as soon as they got there, and when he came out, she could see that he had brushed his hair and washed his face.
They ordered breakfast and went back to the table where they’d had dinner the night before.
“Merry Christmas, by the way,” she said as they dug into breakfast. She had coffee and a muffin, and he had two Egg McMuffins with bacon and fries. He had a healthy appetite like any growing boy.
“I don’t like Christmas,” he said softly as he drank hot chocolate with whipped cream on top.
“Neither do I,” she admitted with a distant expression.
“Do you have kids?” He was curious about her.
“No,” she said simply. “I used to” would have been more information than he needed or she wanted to say. “Where are your mom and dad, Blue?” she asked him, as they finished eating and she sipped her coffee. She couldn’t help wondering how he had wound up on the streets.
“They’re dead,” he said quietly. “My mom died when I was five. My dad died a few years ago, but I hadn’t seen him in a long time. He was a bad guy, my mom was a really good woman. She got sick.” He looked at Ginny carefully. “I lived with my aunt, but she’s got kids and she doesn’t have room for me. She’s a nurse.” Then he looked at Ginny suspiciously again. “Are you a cop?” She shook her head in answer, and he believed her. “A social worker?”
“No. I’m a human rights worker. I fly to countries a long way from here, to take care of people in war zones or bad places where they need help. Africa, Afghanistan, Pakistan, places like that. I work in refugee camps, or where people have gotten hurt or are sick, or are being treated badly by their governments. I work with them for a while, and then I go someplace else.”
“Why do you do that?” He was intrigued by what she’d said. It sounded like a hard job to him.
“It seems like a good thing to do.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“Sometimes. But I think it’s worth it. I just got back two days ago. I was in Angola for four months. That’s in southwest Africa.”
“Why’d you come back?” Her job sounded mysterious to him.
“Someone else took my place, so I came home. The foundation I work for moves us around every few months.”
“Do you like doing it?”
“Yes, most of the time. Sometimes I don’t like it so much, but it’s only for a few months at a time, and even if it’s scary or uncomfortable, you get used to it.”
“Do they pay you a lot?”
She laughed at that. “No, very little. You have to do it because you love what you’re doing. It’s pretty rugged most of the time. And sometimes it’s very scary. What about you? Do you go to school?
”
He hesitated before he answered. “Not lately. I used to, when I lived with my aunt. I don’t have time now. I do odd jobs when I can.” She nodded, wondering how he survived on the streets, with no family and no money. And if he was as young as she suspected, he had to avoid being reported to Child Protective Services if he didn’t want to be taken to juvenile hall or put in the state system. It made her sad knowing he wasn’t in school and was on the streets fending for himself.
They talked for a few more minutes and then walked out of the restaurant. He said he was going back to the shed later, after it got dark. It seemed like a depressing place to spend Christmas Eve, and as she looked at him, she made a decision.
“Do you want to come to my apartment for a while? You can spend the day there before you go back to the shed tonight. You can watch TV if you want. I have nothing to do today.” She was planning to volunteer to serve dinner at a homeless shelter that night. It seemed like a good way to spend it, serving others instead of feeling sorry for herself and waiting for the holiday to pass. Blue hesitated when she asked him, still not sure if he could trust her, or why she was being kind to him, but there was something about her that he liked, and if everything she said was true, she was a good person.
“Okay. Maybe I’ll come for a while,” he agreed, and they walked down the street together.
“I live a block away,” she explained, and they were there a few moments later. He followed her into the hallway when she unlocked the door, and they went up in the elevator. She opened her apartment door with her key, and they walked in. Blue looked around as they did, and he took in the tired furniture and bare walls, and then grinned at her in surprise.
“I thought you’d live somewhere nicer than this.” She laughed at what he said. He was polite but truthful, with the honesty of youth.
“Yeah, I haven’t done much decorating since I moved here. I’m away a lot,” she explained with a sheepish smile.
Blue Page 3
