by Denise Daye
Esther let out a sigh. Not only had this little boy saved her, but he was also right about every darn word he just said. Esther might know how to shoot and had a mouth that matched her confidence, but what knowledge did she have about the slums of New York? None whatsoever! How about surviving with little to no means? Nada again!
Esther took her coat off and wrapped Milton’s shivering little body in it when she heard giggling from behind her. What she was about to find could not have surprised her more. A little gang of dirty faces poked from the darkness and out of the ground from what seemed to be a lower level in the floor of some sort at the other end of the courtyard. Esther counted three of those little wildlings as far as her eyes could see.
Milton jumped back up on his feet. “Come meet the rest,” he said.
“Milton has a girlfriend,” a little boy chuckled from across the courtyard, pointing at Esther. The rest of the little gang now tuned in to make a chant of it. “Milton has a girlfriend, Milton has a girlfriend,” they happily teased him, making kissy faces with duck pointed lips, giggling in innocent laughter like only children could. Milton shook his head in annoyance, but it had an undertone of love in it. It was clear that he cared for those kids dearly.
“When they shut up,” he added in reference to introducing her. He walked over to them, followed by Esther. The lower level the kids were dancing on turned out to be a heating vent of one of the buildings. It was several feet deep and wide and covered with a blanket which Esther guessed was some sort of makeshift roof, illuminated only by a single small flame that flickered on a tiny candle.
Esther almost dropped her purse at the sight of the little shadows that came closer, their dark faces huddled tight together in the light of a candle that barely had any warmth to give. Behind them were makeshift beds of straw, boards, and dirty blankets. The whole place was littered with tin metal cans scattered about.
"Do you live here?" Esther mumbled, barely able to hold herself together. The little shadows bobbed their heads in response.
Milton jumped down into the vent space, breaking off the awkward conversation. Esther leaned closer as her eyes and lips widened at the sight of the four-year-old actually holding an infant who must have been barely one and was wrapped in a dirty blanket. That Luigi-snatcher-whatshisname may not have harmed her, but the sight of all of this was like a punch in the gut. Looking at all these dirty faces, poorly dressed and with barely any skin on their fragile bones, tore a piece out of Esther’s heart.
“That’s Miki,” Milton said, pointing at the four-year-old who held the infant. Miki was a dark-haired boy with blue eyes and incredibly cute. He grinned at her with a shy, sweet smile.
“Those are the twins, Tom and Jeff.” Milton continued the introduction and pointed at two boys that could not have looked more different. One was blonde and awfully skinny while the other one was dark-haired and on the bigger side. Esther looked confused so Milton added, “They are both six and always stick together, so I call them twins. Found them together too. At the shore.” Tom, the blond one, stepped forward and grabbed Esther’s hand to shake it.
“Miss,” he said with a grin, watching Esther’s arm shake wildly in rhythm with his hand, causing the other kids to giggle again.
Milton rolled his eyes. “And this is Arab,” Milton said, taking the infant from Miki. Arab was now smiling at Esther and sucking on his thumb. “Found him in the trash at Five Point,” he continued.
“A—Arab?” Esther heard herself stutter, the first word she was able to get out since this heart-breaking introduction started.
Jeff nodded his head. “Street Arabs is what the people call us,” he blurted proudly as if he’d just taught Esther something new, which he had. He seemed to have no idea how awful it was that people called them that and that little Arab was now named after this unethical insult—at least for now.
“How terrible. How can people call you that!” Esther complained, anger clogging up her throat like badly chewed food. The little troupe looked at each other as if they had done something wrong. Esther felt ashamed and hastily clarified. “You have done nothing wrong. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at this harsh world you were forced to live in.”
“We don’t name kids until their first birthday. Most of them don’t make it out of here.” Milton gave a sad smile, gently caressing the little infant he held in his arms.
“Like baby Emily. She's in heaven now,“ Jeff said as they all went silent with their gaze falling to the floor, seemingly speechless and at the same time clueless of their uncertain future.
“But Arab almost made it, so we started thinking about names,” Milton said in a cheerful voice, trying to shoo away the gloomy mood.
Esther didn’t think that she would be able to feel any worse than she already did, but meeting this little gang of homeless children was by far the saddest thing that she had ever witnessed. She scanned them, one dirtier and skinnier than the other, living on top of a heat vent with nothing but a wet cover over their heads. How was this possible? She knew about poverty from her charity donations, but she had no idea that it was this bad.
Esther moved closer toward the beds and leaned down to pick up a teddy bear. It was missing a leg and an arm, with barely any stuffing left, but Little Arab immediately stretched his hand out, small fingers squirming their way toward it while making tiny cooing sounds. She hesitated to hand it over as it was straight out filthy.
“Don’t you have any family?” she asked with a deeply saddened voice.
“We are a family,” Miki said.
Ok, so that meant no adults, Esther guessed. “What about orphanages?” All of a sudden, their faces turned pale and wide as if a ghost had just asked the question. Milton’s mouth fell wide open as Tom and Jeff ran behind him to hide, holding on to him tightly.
“No, Miss, please. Don’t put us there!” Tom cried in a squeaking voice.
“The men there do bad things to children. Bad, bad things.” Milton's voice trembled, more terrified now than when Luigi had threatened them with his knife.
Esther raised both hands in a gesture of peace and surrender. “I won’t put you there,” she hastily said, worried they might run away at any moment. She had no idea that orphanages were such monstrous places.
“Promise it!” Miki yelled at her with tightly drawn eyebrows and his little fists clenched in anger.
Esther kneeled in front of him and gently placed a hand on his little, tense shoulder. The hard feeling of skin and bones poked her fingers, which felt like another stab into her already shattered heart.
“I promise,” she almost whispered, her own voice trembling at the verge of tears.
Milton stared into her eyes, then gave a nod before turning toward his fellow mates.
“She is a good Miss. You can trust her,” he announced in a strong voice that still squeaked like a child. Little Miki stared at her for a few more seconds before he nodded in relief, bringing the color back into his scrawny face with a faint hint of a smile.
Milton wrapped Esther’s coat around Arab. “Are your parents dead too?” he asked, lost in thought as if he was walking his own memory lane of misery.
His words hit Esther deeply, instantly creating a feeling of a deep connection to these children despite all their differences.
“Yes, they are.” She tried to sound strong. It was not her place to burden these kids with another sad story.
“Then you can live with us now. It’s warm over the vent here,” Tom said, grabbing her hand. Esther was about to ask if this was truly where they were living when all of a sudden little Arab started coughing. It turned the group’s little happy faces into worry. His cough wasn’t just a little cough, but a deep whistling sound as if his lungs were tearing up from the inside. Esther instantly walked over to Milton and placed a hand on little Arab’s forehead.
“He's burning!” she gasped anxiously.
“Does that mean he is warm? That's good, right?” little Miki asked innocently.
“Where is the closest doctor?” she asked, determined.
“We don’t have money,” Jeff said, embarrassed.
“Yes, we do.” Milton held out the bank note Esther had given him earlier above his head which almost seemed shimmering under the moonlight while the kids stared in awe.
“Are we rich now?” Tom shouted in excitement.
“Far from it.” Esther smiled as the gleaming faces looked at her. “This money is for proper winter clothing for all of you.” She reached over to take little Arab out of Milton’s arms. To her surprise, the little infant not only held on to her, but instantly buried his face into her neck, craving the touch of a mother-figure like flowers crave the sun. An overwhelming feeling of protective instincts flooded through her whole body like somebody had just opened a dam that was somewhere hidden inside her without her knowledge.
She had no idea how to care for a child. At twenty, she was barely an adult herself… But none of that mattered now. Her bubble of a fantasy to live with endless money and no worries was over. Somehow, she would manage. Somehow, they would manage.
“Jeff, can you take us to the doctor?” she asked.
“All of us?” Tom clarified.
“Yes, all of us. And after the doctor we won’t come back here. We will stay in a real house.”
Tom, Jeff, and Miki excitedly jumped into the air. “A real house!” they shouted.
“But where?” Milton wondered. Esther tilted her head, pressing little Arab closer to her body. “Is there a cheap but clean place any of you know of?”
They all stopped jumping to start thinking, scratching their little heads and biting their little lips in deep thoughts.
“What about Beth’s?” Miki suggested to Milton. He seemed to think about it for a moment, but then started nodding.
“Yes, Beth is trustworthy. She always buys newspapers from me although she can’t read.”
“Splendid,” Esther said, heading toward the hole in the wall. “Grab your things and let’s go before it gets any darker than it already is.”
Miki, Jeff, and Tom all gathered their few belongings in a hurry, with smiles on their cute little faces so big, it could melt an iceberg. They already were half across the courtyard when they heard Milton shout from behind them.
“Wait!” They all turned around to find that Milton hadn’t moved an inch.
“What is it?” Esther asked.
Milton twisted his lips as if he wasn’t sure how to say it. “We can’t go before we fix the problem,” he said.
“Ye-e-e-e-e-s…” Miki, Jeff, and Tom simultaneously agreed, knowing exactly what he was talking about.
“The problem…” Miki echoed Milton’s words.
“The problem?” Esther inquired with a blank look on her face. They all nodded their little heads in seriousness.
“You have to be like me,” Miki said in an attempt to clear things up only to confuse Esther even more.
“I am afraid I don’t understand.” She turned toward Milton.
“It’s not safe here as a woman,” Milton said pulling at his collar.
“Well that is why we are leaving here,” Esther replied in an understanding tone.
“Here is New York,” Milton clarified.
Was he saying that she was not safe anywhere in New York as a single woman?
“Are you saying that I won’t be safe anywhere in New York as a woman?”
Milton nodded. “At least not in these parts.”
Esther thought about it for a moment. She was a woman of facts and logic. What Milton said made perfect sense considering it had taken less than an afternoon for her to almost get robbed and God knows what else could have happened. If it wasn’t for Milton, who knows where she would have ended up by now. And on top of all of this, she wasn’t exactly street smart like these kids. Until today, she didn’t even know these parts of New York even existed. How could she take care of these kids if they constantly had to rescue her from another attacker?
“So, what are we supposed to do?” Esther asked, desperate for ideas. But Miki jumped next to her and pulled on her dress. “You just have to be like me,” he grinned as the group nodded.
“A child?” Esther asked, wrinkling her forehead. They all busted out in laughter.
“No! Silly!” Jeff tried to catch his breath. “Not a kid. A boy. You have to be a boy.” Esther froze. If she wasn’t holding the baby, she would probably sit down to digest that better.
“D-dress like a b-boy? I—impossible!” she stuttered. “No-one would believe it.”
“Yes, they will. They think I’m a boy too,” Miki said.
“Wait! You are a girl?”
“Mhmm.” Miki proudly pounded her chest with her tiny fist. “As a boy, bad men don’t look at me no more.” She grinned.
“People see what they want,” Milton added. “And boys are safer out here than girls.”
Esther raised her eyebrows. All of this was starting to get to her. This day had been more eventful than the rest of her life combined. If it wasn’t for the kids, God knows, she might as well go back to the pub and have a few drinks to calm her nerves. But then, the more she thought about it, all while staring at Miki who had fooled her all along, the craziness of this whole idea slowly faded to make way for common sense. Looking back, Luigi would not have picked her so easily if she was a man. And then there was Morris, who also wasn’t looking for a man. In this time and age, men had doors opened wide for them while women had to fight for everything. And now with five kids—she shook her head in disbelief that she now had five kids—but with five kids she would fare far better posing as their brother or uncle rather than their single, attractive, easy to scam mother or sister.
The group was staring at her in great anticipation.
“Well,” she finally said, “after the doctor’s we shall stop at a clothing store to get warm men’s clothing for all of us.”
All of the kids, except Milton, now wiggled happily in their places. He smiled as well, but it was obvious that years in the streets had forced him to grow up a bit faster than the rest of them, than any kid ever should.
“And one more thing,” Esther said, making her way to the wall. “I want you all to think of a real name for our little love here. The times of calling any of you Arab are over, once and for all!”
Miki, Jeff, and Tom jumped ahead to move the box out of the way that covered the hole in it. Milton was right behind them, gathering his things.
They all turned around one more time, looking over to the vent that they once called home for God knows how long, before crawling through the little opening one by one. The evening had turned dark with snow clouds forming. Esther looked to the sky as if her father were there looking down on her. Deep in thought, she kissed little Arab on his hair that was probably brown underneath all that filth. In less than a day she had lost her father and her inheritance, had had to run and find a way to hide until she was twenty-one, become the mother of five street children, and to top everything off, now also had to turn into a man. She couldn’t help but grin sarcastically—at herself. If her parents were up there looking down on her, would they be laughing, or crying? Both were possible, considering both of them were as humorous as they were kindhearted.
“Hurry, before it gets too dark,” she heard Milton shout from the other side of the wall.
Esther shook her head to return to her new real
ity, proud of herself for having just as much of her strong mother in her as her father had always told her she did.
“I’m coming,” were Esther's last words before she handed the baby to Milton through the wall and crawled from the small, dusty wasteland into a new adventure, forever leaving her old life and self behind.
Chapter 4
G eorge put his mug down and nodded at the waitress for a re-fill. The beer was warm and stale, but he didn’t expect much better from a pub in Park Slope, which was one of the poorer Irish Quarters in New York. He wasn’t much of a drinker anyway, but tonight was an exception. He scouted the place for his source. The pub was quite typical for an Irish pub: red brick walls, wooden tables, packed with rowdy drunk Irishmen singing along to some guy fiddling on his violin day and night.
The waitress, a big-breasted woman in her thirties wearing a tiny blouse that meant nothing less than to advertise her little side hustle, filled his mug then sat down on the chair next to him.
“Is dare anythin' else oi can chucker for an 'andsum paddy loike yer?” With a seductive grin on her face, she leaned over the table making her breasts almost fall out of the shirt that looked like it was about to burst.
George’s face reddened in discomfort. “I’m afraid not,” he said with friendly smile and handed her a coin nonetheless, which she happily made disappear in her corset.
“Your loss, fella.” She pouted, curling her lips like a duck.
He didn’t mean to be rude; the woman was just trying to make ends meet. But he was never the sort of man who paid for pleasure. To him, using a woman to please his manly urges never had its appeal.
He took another deep sip of his beer and ran a hand through his golden hair before his gaze caught another woman, almost too young to be called that, making a try for it by throwing him a kiss from halfway across the stuffy room. She was well kept and dressed in what looked like a rather expensive dress. Probably a lady for the upper classes, he thought. His beautiful blue eyes threw her a wink, followed by a but-no-thank-you headshake.
