The Charity Chip

by Brock Booher

  Julio could see what looked like a row of doorframes just before the exit. He nodded.

  “As you pass through one of those sensors before the exit, they detect each of the items you have selected and charge your money chip accordingly. It is the ultimate in customer convenience. Shop. Scan. Enjoy.”

  “How does it know what I have purchased?”

  “Simple,” continued the clerk with a smile. “All the items in the store have been electronically tagged. The sensors pick up on all the items in your bags or on your person, automatically.”

  Julio held up the bottle of soda and the candy bar. “You mean if I walk through one of those doorframes with these two items, the sensors will know automatically and charge my money chip?”

  She continued to smile. “Yes, sir. You can even get a receipt if you like.”

  Julio thanked her and headed for the sensors. Just beyond the row of sensors, he could see several store clerks attending shoppers on their way out. He also noticed several security guards posted by the exit. He fell in behind a woman pushing a cart full of items. She eased her cart through the sensor without hesitation, tapped a screen to get a printed receipt, and rolled her cart full of goods out the door.

  Julio had one eye on the security guards near the exit when he passed through the sensors. He wasn’t sure if he would try to explain himself or make a run for it, but he kept a close eye on the men with the black weapons. He cringed and waited for someone to start yelling at him, or chasing him, but nothing happened. He looked at the small screen the woman had tapped. Would you like a printed copy of your receipt or via email? Julio selected the printed copy and took it with him as he headed for the exit.

  He kept his head down and looked straight ahead. He was sure that the guards were watching him. He didn’t dare look anyone in the eye until he was standing on the sidewalk outside the supermarket. He looked back at the store. Nobody was yelling at him or chasing him. He looked down at the bottle of Inca Kola and the candy bar in his hands, and then held up his left hand and eyed the small wound between his thumb and forefinger.

  He laughed to himself, hurried across the street, and took a seat on the same park bench he had stood on to watch the grand opening of the supermarket. He ripped open the candy bar and ate half of it in the first bite. The chocolate exploded in his mouth. He let the chocolate melt on his tongue, swallowed, and then shoved the other half into his mouth.

  The bottle of Inca Kola hissed as he twisted off the cap. He could smell the sweet fruity essence as he lifted the bottle to his lips. He took a long draw from the bottle and washed away the lingering chocolate paste. After the first drink, he drank slowly and enjoyed it. When he finished, he burped as loud as he could, and then laughed out loud.

  He took off his backpack and leaned back on the bench. As he watched the evening traffic pass by, a strange feeling came over him. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t looking at the passing traffic as a potential begging opportunity. He didn’t feel the nagging demand to light his juggling batons and hurry into the intersection looking for sympathy. He wasn’t sizing up passing shoppers as potential marks for a snatch. He didn’t feel the gnawing pit in his hungry stomach or worry about how he would get enough food for dinner. He felt satisfied.

  After a few minutes of watching traffic, Julio rummaged through his backpack and pulled out his juggling batons. He didn’t light them, but he stood in front of the bench and began juggling. He didn’t worry about who was looking, or if he looked destitute enough to evoke sympathy. He didn’t worry about the timing of the traffic light. He wasn’t thinking about how many soles he needed to collect in order for him and Raúl to eat. All he thought about was keeping the batons in the air.

  The wound from the charity chip was throbbing when he shoved the batons back into his backpack, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t remember feeling this carefree since Mamá had died. A great burden had been lifted from his back, and instead of just surviving, he felt like maybe he could really live now. He had growing confidence that he could keep his promise to Mamá. With any luck he might even achieve his dream of becoming a doctor. He plopped himself down on the bench and relaxed.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Julio saw a familiar face. Carmen, the lunch lady from Caritas, was walking his way. She was smiling and the gap from her missing tooth seemed to be bigger than before. Her eyes were locked on Julio, and she was walking straight for him. His first impulse was to pretend he didn’t see her and skate away, but once again a familiar feeling tugged at him. He smiled back and stood up to greet her.

  “I thought you lived in my neighborhood,” said Carmen, nodding her head as she drew close. A young girl with dark eyes followed close behind her. She wore sandals and Julio could see a bandage on her left foot. It was the girl he had stitched up just a few days ago. Carmen shuffled the girl forward and put her hands on the girl’s shoulders. “My niece, Susana, says you did a nice job sewing up her foot.”

  Julio’s stomach jumped into his throat. If Carmen knew about that, then she probably knew about Raúl. He forced a smile and asked, “How is the wound healing?”

  Still too shy to talk, Susana simply held her foot up for Julio to see. He knelt down and feigned a serious look. “Like I said, the wound that heals doesn’t hurt.” He stood and made like he was in a hurry.

  “Is that something your mother used to say?” asked Carmen.

  Julio slipped on his backpack as if he were about to leave.

  “I’m sorry Doctor Barilla couldn’t save her,” said Carmen, still holding Susana close to her. “She was a good woman.”

  Julio stared at Carmen with his mouth open. “You knew Mamá?”

  Carmen shrugged. “I didn’t really know her, but I knew who she was. It’s a small neighborhood, and almost everyone knew your mother because your father’s death was so well-known.” She let out a sigh. “Everyone knew about your father’s death. He was a martyr for a cause, but that didn’t help your mother much as she tried to raise twin boys.”

  Julio felt the blood drain from his face. He tightened his jaw and asked, “Are you going to tell Isak?”

  “Ha! Tell Isak what? That you have a twin brother?” She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “As far as I’m concerned, the less Isak knows, the better. Don’t get me wrong. He’s a good man and tries to help, in his own way, but sometimes he acts like he owns the children in the program.” She held a finger up to her lips. “Your secret’s safe with me.” She patted Susana on the head. “Besides, I owe you for sewing up my niece.”

  Julio felt a wave of relief. “Do you live near Doctor Barilla?”

  “I live the next alley over toward Sebastian Barranca, the green house at the mouth of the alley, right next to the tire shop where my husband works. Stop by if you need new tires for your skateboard.” Carmen smiled and laughed, exposing the gap in her smile. “Bueno, I guess I better get Susana home before my brother starts to worry.” She took her niece by the hand and began to walk away but then stopped. “If you come early to Caritas and help me with the food deliveries, I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Julio gave her thumbs up. He waved at Susana and she smiled, exposing a row of perfect white teeth. Feeling more confident, he marched across the street and into the supermarket like he owned the place. This time he took the advertisements from each of the clerks at the entrance and grabbed a shopping cart. At first he started for the bakery to buy some bread for Raúl, but then he remembered Graciela’s advice and headed to the clothing section.

  He was overwhelmed by all of his choices. Most of his life he had worn cast off clothing. Usually the articles were either too big or too small, but that didn’t stop him from wearing them. He pushed his empty cart through the aisles, staring at the stacks and racks of clothing, feeling overwhelmed and not knowing where to begin. Then he saw the blue and white Alianza Lima jersey.

  Julio didn’t remember much about his father, but he did remember his father yelling at a small port
able television as he watched Alianza Lima play soccer. He remembered riding on his father’s shoulders as he danced a victory dance and sang the Alianza anthem. It was one of the few memories of Papá, and those memories made Julio and Raúl Alianza Lima fans.

  He grabbed the blue and white jersey from the rack and held it up to his chest to check the size. It was too big, so he put it back and picked a smaller one. He draped the new shirt over the edge of the shopping cart and stripped off his backpack, jacket, and shirt. He grabbed the jersey and slipped it over his head. The first thing he noticed was the smell. Usually by the time he got clothing, somebody else’s smell was woven into the fabric. New clothes smelled clean. The blue and white jersey fit as good as it smelled.

  “Excuse me, sir,” said a store clerk, pointing at the fitting area, “but the fitting rooms are right over there.”

  Julio looked down at the jersey and then up at the young woman. “This one fits just fine, doesn’t it?”

  The clerk suppressed a smile. “It fits you perfectly.”

  “Great, I’ll take two of them.” Julio started to remove the jersey.

  The clerk held up her hand and smirked. “No need to remove the jersey. You can wear it out of the store.” She stepped over to the rack of jerseys. “What size do you need?” Julio shrugged. “You were a medium,” she said as she selected a matching Alianza jersey from the rack and offered it to Julio. “We have a wide selection of pants and shoes on sale as well.”

  Julio looked down at his pants and shoes and blushed. He wanted to rush over and buy a cart full of new clothes and shoes, but he was worried about having enough for Raúl as well. He decided to settle for the two jerseys today and shop around for more clothing tomorrow. He took the matching jersey from the clerk, thanked her, and hurried to the bakery aisle.

  He stuck to the basics and grabbed fresh bread, cheese, and two one-liter bottles of milk. He also grabbed two new toothbrushes and a small tube of toothpaste. He passed so many things he wanted to buy but held back because he wanted to buy for two. But when he passed the Inca Kola display, he couldn’t resist and grabbed two more bottles. A little celebration was in order.

  This time he was calm as he approached the sensors. He bagged his purchases, slipped on his jacket and backpack, and slipped through the nearest empty sensor. A light flashed over his head and a bell chimed. Julio froze as two of the guards left their posts and approached him. He eyed the black weapons on their hips and calculated his chances of getting past them, but then he just sighed and stood there waiting.

  A uniformed clerk with a tablet stepped between Julio and the approaching guards. “I’m sorry, but it appears that two of the items in your bag are unauthorized purchases.”

  “Unauthorized purchases?” asked Julio.

  The clerk looked down at the computer screen and touched it. “The two bottles of Inca Kola are not authorized.”

  “Inca Kola? I should have plenty of money on my chip for those.”

  The clerk frowned. “You have plenty of money for the purchase, but the protocols on your chip are not allowing the purchase.” The clerk looked up from the computer in his hand and looked Julio up and down. “You’re new to smart chips, aren’t you?”

  Julio nodded.

  “Whoever installed the chip and loaded it with money also placed restrictions on its use.” The clerk stepped forward and took the bag with the bottles of Inca Kola out of Julio’s hand and then looked him straight in the eye. “Make sure you understand the restrictions on your chip before you make your next purchase,” said the clerk in a low voice. Then he stepped back from Julio and gave him a patronizing smile. “Enjoy your purchases.”

  The two guards moved aside, and Julio shuffled for the exit clutching the remainder of his bags. The moist night air felt good on his flushed face when he exited the supermarket, and he looked back over his shoulder and let out a sigh of relief. His hands were shaking as he pulled his skateboard from his backpack and skated for home. His heart didn’t stop pounding until he turned on to Unanue.

  When he shoved open the door into the stairwell, Julio realized that the new Alianza jersey and the fresh food from the supermarket would make Raúl suspicious. He took his time climbing the stairs, trying to think of a viable story, and stopped just outside the black plastic door listening for Raúl. It was quiet inside. He set the bags in the corner of the stairwell and poked his head inside their apartment. It was dark. Raúl wasn’t back yet.

  Julio grabbed the bags and slipped past the black plastic. He tossed his backpack and skateboard into the corner and set the bags on his sleeping mat. He lit a candle and dumped everything out of the supermarket bags onto his bed and stuffed the bags under his sleeping mat. He smoothed out the Alianza jersey across Raúl’s bed and tossed one of the toothbrushes on top of it. He set out the dinner of bread, cheese, and milk on the plastic tray between their foam mats. It wasn’t a feast, but they wouldn’t go to bed hungry.

  After a few minutes, he heard noises in the kitchen below and decided to pay Doctor Barilla a visit to tell him the good news. He slipped past the black plastic and down one flight of stairs. When he tapped on the door and then entered without waiting for an invitation, he was surprised to find the kitchen as clean as he had left it this morning. Doctor Barilla sat at the table with the bottle of wine Julio had procured for him that morning.

  “Julio! Come in. Come in.” Doctor Barilla motioned to the seat across from him. “Come have a seat and celebrate with me.” The doctor had already opened the bottle and poured himself a glass of wine. A plate of cheese and grapes sat beside the bottle.

  “What are we celebrating?” asked Julio as he took the seat across from Doctor Barilla.

  Doctor Barilla jumped up, grabbed another glass from the cabinet, and set it front of Julio. “Bueno, after I left you, I went to see an old colleague at the Hospital Edgardo Rebagliati.” The doctor poured wine in the glass in front of Julio until it was about half full. “I told him I was ready to go back to work full-time.” He corked the bottle. “He took pity on me and offered me a job. I start work tomorrow.” Doctor Barilla raised his glass. “Salud!”

  “Congratulations,” offered Julio, leaving his glass of wine on the table. “What will you be doing?”

  Doctor Barilla took a sip of the wine. “Doctor of Postmortem Pathology.” He picked a piece of cheese and winked. “I’ll be helping in the morgue.” He laughed as he bit into the cheese. “They don’t want a doctor with my reputation around any live patients,” he said through a mouth full of cheese, “but at least it will be steady work.”

  “Steady work is good. Will you still continue seeing patients here?”

  “In the mornings, as my schedule permits. I’ll be working afternoons and evenings in the morgue.” Doctor Barilla finished the piece of cheese. “How did you fare at Caritas after I left?”

  Julio slid his left hand across the table. “I am now an official member, charity chip and all.”

  Doctor Barilla slipped on his reading glasses and examined Julio’s hand. “The wound is so small, but you can see a slight bump where the chip is.” He ran his fingers over the chip. “Is it uncomfortable?”

  “It still throbs a little, and the skin around it is tight, but it’s nothing.”

  “Well then,” said Doctor Barilla, releasing Julio’s hand and raising his wine glass, “we have a double cause to celebrate. Salud!” This time the doctor took a gulp of the wine from his glass.

  Julio eyed the glass in front of him but didn’t join in the toast.

  “Drink up, my boy. Celebrate!”

  “I really don’t think I should,” said Julio. “I’m only fourteen.”

  “Bah! It is wine—grape juice with bubbles, the blood of Christ. Drink up!” Doctor Barilla stood and raised his glass. “To Julio, may you never go hungry again.”

  Julio stood and raised his glass. “To Doctor Barilla, may you wear the title of doctor proudly.”

  “Salud!” said Doctor Barilla an
d finished off the wine in his glass.

  “Salud!” echoed Julio and drank the wine. The grape juice with bubbles went down easy. As soon as Julio set down his glass, Doctor Barilla poured it half-full of wine again.

  Doctor Barilla filled his own glass and raised it up. “To the future!”

  “To the future!” echoed Julio. The second glass of wine was better than the first. It felt good to finally be celebrating something for a change. He set his glass down on the table in anticipation of another toast, but before the doctor could recharge the glass, the stairwell door scraped against the uneven concrete announcing the arrival of Raúl.

  “Bueno, Raúl is home. We should invite him in for the celebration,” said Doctor Barilla.

  “No. We can’t,” said Julio. “I haven’t told him about Caritas yet.”

  “Invite him in, and we’ll tell him. I’ll get another glass.”

  “No, no, I don’t want to do that.” Julio grabbed his glass and put it in the sink. “I want to wait a couple of weeks and make sure that Caritas is as good as they say it is.” He backpedaled for the door. “Congratulations on the new job, Doctor.”

  Doctor Barilla held up his wine glass and shrugged. “Salud, Julio.”

  Julio nodded at the doctor and hurried up the stairwell. When he pushed past the black plastic, he saw Raúl sitting on his sleeping mat holding up the jersey to the candlelight. Then Raúl looked up and saw Julio wearing the identical blue-and-white jersey.

  “Are you hungry?” asked Julio. “I got us dinner.” He sat down across from Raúl, broke himself a piece of bread, and offered the loaf to Raúl.

  Raúl put down the shirt and took the bread. “Buen provecho,” he offered as he tore a chunk of bread from the loaf. He set the bread on the tray and helped himself to a slice of cheese. “Looks like you had a successful day.”

  Julio took a bite of his bread and opened his bottle of milk. “It was a very productive day. How about you? What did you get today?”

  “It was slow. Nothing really. We played a little soccer and skated at the plaza for a while. El Infierno was a bit slow tonight.” He grabbed the other bottle of milk and asked, “Where did you get the jerseys?”