Blue

by Danielle Steel

  “My aunt has three kids in a one-bedroom apartment uptown.” By uptown she could guess that he meant Harlem. “And her place looks better than this.” They both laughed at what he said, Ginny even harder than he did. It was the ultimate damning statement when a homeless boy thought her apartment looked like a dump. And looking around, she couldn’t disagree.

  “Try the recliner, it’s pretty comfortable.” She pointed to it and handed him the remote for the TV. She felt totally at ease having him there. There was nothing dangerous about him, and she felt the connection of a kindred soul. They were both homeless in their own ways. He walked around the room for a minute before he sat down, and noticed the photograph of Mark and Chris on her desk. He looked at it for a long moment and then glanced back at her.

  “Who are they?” He could sense that they were important to her and there was a story behind the photo. He had surprised her with the question, and it took her breath away for a minute before she answered as calmly as she could.

  “My husband and son. They died three years ago. The anniversary was yesterday.” She tried to keep her voice even as she said it.

  Blue didn’t answer for a beat and then nodded at her. “I’m sorry. That’s really sad.” But it was no sadder than losing his parents and winding up homeless on the streets. She wasn’t officially homeless, but Mark and Chris’s deaths had changed her life forever, too, and left her adrift.

  “Yes, it was. It was a car accident. That’s why I travel so much now. I have no one to come home to.” She hated how pathetic it made her sound. “Anyway, I like what I do, so it works out.” She didn’t tell him that they’d had a beautiful home in Los Angeles, with decent furniture, that she’d had a great career that she’d abandoned, and that she actually used to dress up every day in real clothes, not army surplus. It didn’t matter anymore. All of that was over and history now. Now she lived in this tiny apartment with threadbare mismatched furniture she’d found abandoned on the sidewalk or at Goodwill, as though to punish herself for what had happened. It was her version of sackcloth and ashes. But he was too young to understand that, so she said nothing while he turned on the TV and channel-surfed for a while. She saw him glance at her laptop, too. Someone else might have worried that he’d steal it. The thought never crossed her mind. And after he’d watched TV for about an hour, he asked her if he could use her laptop, and she told him he could.

  She saw him check several Web sites for homeless youth where they could pick up messages people left for them. He didn’t write anything, but she had the impression he was looking for something as he scanned the screen.

  “Do friends leave you messages on there?” she asked with interest. His was a world she knew nothing about. He seemed to know his way around the Web sites as well as the streets.

  “My aunt does sometimes,” he said honestly. “She worries about me.”

  “Do you ever call her?”

  He shook his head. “She’s got too much on her mind already. Her kids, her job. She works nights at a hospital, and she has to leave the kids alone. I used to baby-sit for them at night.” But from what he said, four people living in a one-bedroom apartment sounded difficult. But at least he kept in contact with her on the Internet, Ginny thought.

  He went back to watching TV then, while Ginny checked her own e-mail and had none. A little while later her sister called her, and apologized profusely for not calling her the day before, on the anniversary. She had meant to but never got around to it.

  “I’m so sorry. The kids drove me crazy all day, and Dad had a bad night the night before. I never got a moment to myself. He was agitated all day yesterday, he wanted to go out, and I didn’t have time to take him. It makes him nervous being in the car with the kids. They play their music too loud, and they talk all the time. He does better when things are quieter and he can rest. He has trouble sleeping at night, though, and I worry that he’ll go outside in the middle of the night. He gets worse after dark, more confused and angry sometimes. They call it sundowning. He’s better in daytime hours.”

  Listening to her sister made Ginny realize how little she knew about his illness, and how much Becky had to do to cope with it. It made her feel guilty hearing about it, but not enough that she wanted to share the burden of taking care of him. She felt overwhelmed just listening to her.

  “What are you doing tonight?” Becky asked her. She hated knowing that Ginny was alone on Christmas Eve.

  Ginny didn’t tell her that she had picked up a homeless boy, fed him twice, and brought him to her apartment for the day. She had done it for him, but he was company for her, too. But she knew that Becky would be panicked if she told her. The idea of a homeless boy she didn’t know in her apartment would have sent Becky into a tirade of warnings, worry, and fear. But Ginny felt confident, and was convinced he would do no harm. She had gotten much braver and more adventuresome in the past few years, after her many experiences in strange places abroad. It wasn’t something Ginny would have done a few years earlier, either, but in the context of how she lived now, she was at ease, and he had been very polite, respectful, and well behaved.

  She told Becky about her plan to serve meals at a homeless shelter that night, and a few minutes later, they hung up. Ginny and Blue both got hungry around three o’clock, and she asked him what he’d like to eat. His eyes lit up when she suggested Chinese food, and she ordered them a feast that was delivered in an hour. They sat down at her table in two of the ugly, unmatched chairs and devoured most of it, and then sat back, too full to move. Blue headed back to the recliner, watched some more TV, and fell asleep, while Ginny moved quietly around the apartment, putting things away from her trip. He woke up at six and saw that it was dark outside. He stood up with a grateful look at her. They had spent a nice day together, and she had enjoyed having him there. It added a warm feeling to the apartment, which usually seemed cold and impersonal to her. And it had been a godsend for him. He didn’t have to hang around the bus terminal or Penn Station, looking for a warm place to sit and wait for the day to go by so he could go back to the shed for another night. That was his home now, as it had been for several weeks. He knew he’d have to give it up eventually when some city worker discovered him, but for now he was safe in the small shed where he spent his nights.

  “I’ve got to go now,” he said and stood up. “Thanks for all the food and the nice day.” He looked as though he meant it and seemed sad to leave.

  “Do you have a date?” she asked, teasing him with a wistful smile. She was sad to see him leave, too.

  “No, but I should get back. I don’t want anyone taking my shed,” he said as though fearing squatters in a palatial home. But he knew that safe, cozy spots like that, where he could be undisturbed and undiscovered, were hard to come by on the streets.

  He put her parka on as she watched him, and it tore at her heart as he went to the bathroom and then came back and put his sleeping bag under one arm. “Will I see you again?” he asked her sadly. Most people were transitory in his life. This was the longest he had spent with anyone in months, since he’d been on the streets. People disappeared, went to shelters or other cities, or found shelter somewhere else. It was rare to meet up with someone again.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go to a shelter for the night?” She had checked the Internet while he was sleeping, and had found that there were several for young people that offered bed space, free meals, and even job opportunities, and reunification with their families if they wanted, which she knew Blue didn’t. At least he could have a real bed in a warm place, but he was adamant about not going to a shelter.

  “I’m fine where I am. What are you doing tonight?” he asked her as though they were friends.

  “I’m going to volunteer to serve dinner at a homeless shelter. I’ve done it before when I was in New York. I thought it would be a good way to spend Christmas Eve. Do you want to come with me?” He shook his head. “The food is pretty good.” He had eaten a lot of the Chinese food and
said he wasn’t hungry. “Breakfast tomorrow?” she offered, and he nodded and walked to the door. He thanked her again, and then he left.

  She thought about him while she got dressed. She knew it would be hard work carrying heavy pots and ladling out hundreds of dinners. The shelter served thousands every night, and she welcomed the opportunity to exhaust herself so she wouldn’t think about how things used to be.

  She took a cab downtown to the West Side, and signed up when she got there. They assigned her to the kitchen for the first two hours, carrying the heavy pots full of vegetables, mashed potatoes, and soup. It was hot, backbreaking work, and then they put her on the front lines, helping to plate and serve meals. There were mostly men that night and a few women, and people were in good spirits, wishing each other merry Christmas. All she could think about was Blue as she worked, and how cold he must be in the shed. It was nearly midnight when she finished and signed out again. The last stragglers had left by then, and volunteers were setting up the long tables for breakfast. She wished everyone merry Christmas and left, and stopped at a church on the way home, to catch midnight mass and light candles for Mark and Chris, Becky and her family, and their father. And at one in the morning, she took a cab the rest of the way home. But as soon as she got out at her address, she knew what she wanted to do.

  She walked the short distance to the shed. There was no one around, and she kept an eye out for anyone who might attack her. It was late, but there was no one in sight. The wind had come up again, and it was freezing. The cabdriver had said that it was ten degrees with the wind chill factor. She saw the railing where she had stood trying to get up the courage to jump the night before, and she walked straight to the shed and knocked softly, but loud enough to wake him up, since he was probably asleep. She had to knock several times before he answered, and he sounded sleepy when he did.

  “Yeah? What?”

  “I want to talk to you,” Ginny said, loud enough so he could hear her, and a moment later he stuck his head out the door, and made a face in the bitter wind.

  “Shit, it’s cold out here,” he said as he squinted at her, still half asleep.

  “Yes, it is. Why don’t you spend the night on my couch? It’s Christmas. And it’s a lot warmer in my apartment than it is here.”

  “No, I’m fine,” he said. He had never thought about staying with her, and he didn’t want to take advantage of her, she had already been so nice. He didn’t want to abuse it, but Ginny had a determined look in her eye.

  “I know you’re fine. But I want you to come home with me. Just for tonight. They say it’s going to be even colder by tomorrow. I don’t want you to turn into an icicle out here. You’ll get sick.” He hesitated, and then as though he didn’t have the strength to resist, he opened the door wide, stood up with all his clothes and shoes on, rolled up his sleeping bag, and followed her down the street to where she lived. He was too tired to argue with her, and didn’t want to anyway. The thought of a warm place to sleep was appealing, and she seemed like a good person, with good intentions.

  They went back to her apartment, and she made him a bed on the couch with two pillows, sheets, and a blanket. It was the closest he’d had to a bed in months. She handed him a pair of her own pajamas, and told him he could change in the bathroom. And when he came out, he looked like a little kid in his father’s pajamas, as he stared at the neat bed she had made him on the couch.

  “Will you be okay here?” she asked, looking concerned, and he grinned.

  “Are you kidding? This is a lot better than my sleeping bag.” He couldn’t understand what had happened to him, and why she had appeared to shower bounty on him. It was beyond his wildest imagination. But he was going to enjoy it while he could. She watched him slip under the covers, and then she turned off the lights and went to her own room to change and read for a while in bed. It was strange how comforting it was to know that there was someone in the apartment with her, another human presence, even if she couldn’t see him from her bedroom, but she knew he was there. She peeked out once, and saw that he was sound asleep, and then she went back to bed, smiling to herself. It had turned out to be a very nice Christmas Eve after all, the best in years. And for him, too.

  Chapter 4

  Ginny was making herself a cup of coffee the next morning, when Blue wandered into the kitchen, still wearing her pajamas, and looking like one of the Lost Boys from Peter Pan. She turned and smiled when she saw him.

  “Did you sleep okay?” she asked him.

  “Yeah, like a baby. Did you wake up really early?”

  She nodded. “I’m still on some other time zone. Are you hungry?” She hadn’t stopped feeding him since they met, but he looked as though he needed it, and he was a growing boy.

  He looked embarrassed when he answered. “Kind of. But I’m okay. I usually only eat one meal a day.”

  “Out of necessity or choice?”

  “Both.”

  “I make fairly decent pancakes, and I have some mix here. Do you want some?” She had bought it one day in a fit of nostalgia and never used it. She tried not to think of the Mickey Mouse pancakes she used to make for Chris. The last time she’d made pancakes had been for him. She knew she’d never make the Mickey Mouse ones again.

  “That sounds good,” Blue admitted, and she got out the mix and made them for him. She had butter in the freezer and maple syrup in the cupboard. And when they finished them, she called Becky to wish them all a merry Christmas at the house in Pasadena. Alan answered and she talked to him for a few minutes, and then Becky got on.

  “Should I speak to Dad, or will that just confuse him?” Ginny asked her sister. She wasn’t sure her father would know who she was, and if he did, she didn’t want him to get upset, asking her to come out.

  “He’s a little scrambled today. He keeps thinking I’m Mom, and that Margie and Lizzie are you and me. He won’t know who you are on the phone, or even if he saw you today.”

  “That must be tough to deal with,” Ginny said, feeling instantly guilty that she wasn’t there.

  “It is,” Becky said honestly. “What about you? What are you going to do today?” She could only imagine how rough Christmas was for her, with no one to spend it with, and the ghosts of Christmas past.

  “I think I’m going to spend it with a friend,” Ginny said pensively. She had told Blue he could use the shower, and she could hear him in her bathroom. She was going to run his clothes through the washing machine and dryer in the building, so he’d have clean clothes.

  “I thought you didn’t have friends in New York.” Becky sounded puzzled. She had given up encouraging Ginny to meet people—she never did and didn’t want to. She said she met enough people on her assignments and didn’t need to know anyone in New York, since she was always there so briefly, only weeks. And her situation was always too hard to explain. She didn’t want anyone’s pity, nor to share her story with them. It was none of their business, and you couldn’t have friends if you weren’t willing to be open with them, which she wasn’t. She was sealed tight like an oyster. She had said more to Blue about Chris and Mark than to anyone in years.

  “I don’t have friends here. I just met him,” Ginny said vaguely.

  “A guy?” For an instant, Becky was shocked.

  “Not a guy, a boy,” Ginny explained and wondered if she should have.

  “What do you mean, ‘a boy’?”

  “He’s a homeless kid. I let him spend the night here.” And as soon as she said it, she knew she shouldn’t have. She and Becky hadn’t been on the same wavelength for years. Becky had a life, a family, and a home, and a lot to risk. Ginny had nothing, and didn’t care.

  “You let a homeless boy spend the night there?” Becky said, horrified. “Are you sleeping with him?”

  “Of course not. He’s a child. He slept on the couch. He was living in a shed near my apartment, and it’s ten below here. You can die of exposure on nights like that.” She didn’t think he would, he was young and strong,
but anything was possible.

  “Are you insane? What if he kills you in your sleep?”

  “He’s not going to do that. He’s about eleven or twelve, and a very sweet boy.”

  “You have no idea who or what he is, and maybe he’s older than he says, and a criminal of some kind.” The vision of Blue as a criminal in the too-big pajamas was beyond absurd. She hadn’t even bothered to lock her bedroom door the night before. She had thought about it, and dismissed the idea. Nothing about him scared her.

  “Trust me. He’s a sweet kid. He’s not going to hurt me, and I’m going to try and talk him into going to a youth shelter. He can’t stay on the streets in this weather.”

  “Why should he agree to that, if you let him stay in your apartment?”

  “For one thing, because I’m leaving in a few weeks, and he can’t stay here.” Blue had appeared in the doorway of her bedroom, back in the oversize pajamas, and he was carrying his clothes for her to wash, as she had suggested. “Anyway, I can’t talk to you about it now. I have to do laundry. I just called to wish you a merry Christmas. Give Alan and the kids and Dad my love.”

  “Ginny, get that boy out of your apartment!” Becky almost shrieked at her. “He’s going to kill you!”

  “No, he’s not. Trust me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Kiss Dad for me.” She got off the phone a minute later, and in Pasadena Becky looked at her husband with an expression of panic.

  “My sister has lost her mind,” she said, nearly crying. “She let a homeless boy sleep in her apartment.”

  “Holy God, she is insane.” He was equally worried and strongly disapproving. “She has to get back to some kind of normalcy before she gets herself killed.”

  “Yeah, but what can I do about it? I’m here, trying to keep Dad from getting lost or run over by a truck crossing the street. Now I’m supposed to keep my sister from being murdered by homeless boys she lets sleep in her apartment? She should be locked up.”