Cigarettes and His Mother's Eyes
One
The lodging house was dark and silent, aside from the occasional snore or creak of a mattress as someone rolled over. People slept peacefully, for the most part, thin and tattered blankets warding off the frigid, pre-winter air. It was a calm scene, probably the calmest point in the newsies day: the time when they were all asleep.
All except one.
Kid Blink rolled over and stared upwards at the wooden frame and sagging mattress that made the top bunk of his bed. He arranged the pillow under his head, trying to get comfortable, but his attempts failed sorely. He let out a deep, frustrated breath. It wasn't a lack of comfort keeping him from sleeping, as Blink usually fell asleep the moment he lay down and didn't wake until someone dragged him out of bed.
The only time he ever laid awake at night was when something was really bothering him. Finally, guiltily, he rolled over and looked at the bottom bunk next to his. It was empty, the only one in the lodging house without at least a person in it. Odd, especially given that a handful of beds held two people.
But that was an unspoken rule of the lodging house: the longer people had been there, the more entitled they were to a bed of their own; if one of the really regular, long-time newsies was gone for a night, the bed he usually had was left alone. If he wasn't there the next night it was open season for anyone who wanted it, but there was a little respect shown. Blink always took this same bed (though returned to find it gone a few times a month, his own fault for staying out too late) and Mush had slept in the one next to him for years, as long as they'd been best friends. Nearly six years now…
Blink wondered where Mush was, as he had all night long. It was so odd; Mush almost never disappeared like this, he usually told someone he'd be gone beforehand, and he and Blink had never really fought before…
Yeah, he's "disappeared," Blink thought to himself. 'Cause I told him to. Christ, what was I thinking?
He knew the answer, though; he hadn't been thinking. He'd been shocked and angry, he felt betrayed, and he'd said stupid things, things he regretted now. Mush always tells me I'm too impulsive, got a big temper. It cools down real quick, but I don't think when I'm mad…
I shoulda listened to you, I shouldn't a' walked away…
He took a deep breath. Dwelling on it ain't gonna help any, he told himself, but he couldn't help it. It was cold outside and he figured Mush was sleeping in an alley somewhere. Probably freezing. Maybe he hadn't eaten dinner. It was hitting the time of year between fall and winter when it was hardest to sell papers; the time when it was cold enough that no one wanted to stop for the second it took to buy one, it got dark earlier and no one liked walking around in the dark trying to sell, and the holidays were far enough away still that no one felt all that generous yet. It was this time of year that Mush and Blink always began to pool their money; neither one did all that well on his own, but together they could usually afford to split a meal and both sleep inside. Blink usually had enough on his own, but somehow doubted Mush had, since he'd bought Mush's lunch that afternoon.
Where are you, Mush? he wondered for the thousandth time.
He shut his eye and imagined Mush lying in the next bed over, sleeping comfortably, his usual peaceful smile in place. He could see it so well in his mind that it almost felt like it could be real, but when he opened his eye again, the bed was still empty.
*
"You wanna talk about it?" Mush offered.
Blink glanced up and shrugged. That was his usual answer; he'd say he didn't want to talk, or he'd shrug, and a minute later he'd start talking anyway. Mush slid down the back wall of the lodging house to sit next to his friend, and glanced around. He wondered for a moment how many conversations they'd had back here. It was more private in this side alley than out in the square in front of the lodging house, and usually also more private than in the house itself.
And through the four years they'd been in the lodging house together, this was where they always came to talk. Blink's instinct was to be alone when he was upset, and this was the best he could do. Nothing would have stopped Mush from following him when he needed space, and at first he'd resented it, but then discovered Mush had an uncanny knack for helping him sort out his thoughts and deal with whatever was bothering him. Which is why when Mush took his usual position next to Blink, Blink felt a little relieved already.
"Okay," Mush said, and waited.
Blink reached into his pocket, pulled out and lit a cigarette, and offered it to his friend. Mush accepted, and they shared it. Finally, after a long silence, Blink took a drag, exhaled, and started.
"That woman," he said. "It ain't like the guys think."
"So what's it like, then?" Mush asked. He knew the woman Blink meant, he'd heard about it from Jack and Racetrack earlier. They'd walked past Blink, who'd been staring up at a window in one of the apartment buildings, and everyone could see a girl inside. She was somewhere in her twenties and pretty, though that was all anyone knew about her. Race and Jack had spent the next hour mocking Blink for being a peeping tom, while he got more and more annoyed at them, but refused to explain just why he'd been staring.
"She…" He trailed off. "Ain't you never looked in a window, seen someone an' wondered what it's like to have a family? Seen 'em eating dinner, maybe, wondered what it would be like if you was there with 'em, their son or somethin'?"
"I guess," Mush answered. He hadn't looked in windows to see it, but it happened to all the guys sometimes. They'd be walking down a street or selling papers in a park and see a family and wonder what that was like. Almost none of them had families, and a handful of the guys didn't really know who their families were, like Mush, orphaned as an infant. Blink was a different case, he remembered his family clearly, but he wished he didn't. Life might have been easier that way.
"It's like… That girl. I guess it's stupid, but she… She kinda looks like my mother." He was staring down at the remains of the cigarette in his hand, playing with it between his fingers, pretending he wasn't just too embarrassed to look up. Even after four years, he was still half-afraid Mush was going to laugh at him, though it had never happened before.
"She's too young, though, ain't she? I mean, she's not that much older than us," Mush pointed out.
"Yeah, I know," Blink agreed. "But Mom when I last saw her… I mean, she was real young when she and dad had me. Maybe not older than we are now. And I was just a kid when she left. I barely remember her."
"And the woman reminds you of her?" Mush asked. Blink nodded. "You miss your mother, Blink?"
"I don't miss nothin' about home," Blink answered without needing to think about it.
"You kidding me?" Mush demanded. "If I remembered my mom, I'd miss her like crazy."
"It ain't like that."
There was a pause, and finally Mush suggested, "You angry at her? For leaving you with your dad?"
"Naw, it's…" Blink trailed off, then looked over at his friend and shrugged. "How'd you know that?"
"I'd be mad too." He slid down the side of the lodging house until he was sitting, knees pulled up to his chest, and Blink sat next to him. "I mean, I guess I am kind of mad. Ain't that dumb? I'm mad 'cause she died. At least you got reason to hate yours."
"It ain't dumb," Blink told his friend, slumping against Mush's shoulder. "It ain't dumb for neither of us…" he trailed off for a second, then added, "The girl in the window. The first time I saw her, I thought she was my mom. I noticed her 'cause I saw her necklace, it looked just like one my mom used to wear sometimes, and they do look kinda alike… I mean, I knew it wasn't her 'cause she was too young, but… Mom sold that necklace when Dad lost his job the first time, hawked it for money. And Dad was real grateful, promised he'd get a new job, make sure things would be okay…
"He never did, though. Started drinking instead. And I guess mom just couldn't take it no more, 'cause she up and left one day. I… I gotta wonder what happened to her… I wonder if she's still around… If she ever thinks of me."
"I'm sure she does," Mush answered, and hesitantly put his arm around his friend. Blink wasn't the sort who cried ever, but he sounded like he was close to it. His voice was usually so enthusiastic, about whatever he was discussing, even if he was mad about something, but now he was quiet. He sounded almost like a little kid.
"I hope…" Blink started, but stopped.
Mush knew just what he hoped, and said so. "You hope she feels awful about leavin' you?"
"Yeah. Ain't that wrong of me?" Blink half-laughed. "I must be just like my dad. 'Cause I want her to be unhappy. Like he always did."
"He wanted her to be upset?" Mush asked.
Blink shrugged a little. "He didn't care none when she was. Or me… I remember when I used to cry and she'd try and make me feel better, but he'd just yell at her to make me shut up, even though she was trying. I shouldn't a' cried so loud, I guess."
"Aw, that wasn't your fault," Mush promised. "You was just a kid. You didn't know."
"But I shoulda," Blink insisted. "I made my own mom leave, and now I want her to feel bad about it."
"Come on, Blink, you know that ain't what happened. Don't ya?"
"Then… Why...?" Blink asked desperately. "Why'd she leave me, Mush? What'd I do?"
"Hey," Mush said, turning so he was looking his friend in the face, "it's okay, Blink. She didn't want to leave you, I know it. She couldn't stand your dad no more. I bet she wanted to bring you with her, but she couldn't afford to… At least she knew you had a home with your dad, right? Maybe she didn't know if she could give you that. She wanted you to be taken care of, so it was better that you stayed there. But I bet she misses you a whole lot, I bet she tells everyone about her son, how good of a kid he was."
"You really think so?" Blink asked.
"I'se sure of it," Mush promised. "Dead sure."
Blink nodded a little, and swallowed hard. Mush understood, and he knew just what to say. He knew just what to say, he always did. They were best friends, they always knew how to comfort each other.