I wake up, cars whizzing past me. My clothes lie next to me, caked with dirt. Today marks a year since I got kicked out of my mom’s house in South Chicago, but I still remember the day it happened. Dad getting fired from his job, spending the last of our money on alcohol, and drinking himself into a stupor. He screamed at us, cursed at us, and hit us every way you could imagine. My mom and I cowered in the corner, faces slick with tears while my dad picked up a chair. That’s all I remember from that day.
This morning I scavenge, looking for some trash cans I can pick from. A pizzeria has a trash can full of stale pizza; breakfast. I like to visit the post office to see the postmaster, but today, he has something different for me.
He hands me a letter. “I’ve been waiting for you the whole morning.” He says, “Take this.”
The letter says:
Dear Andrew,
I would like to inform you that your father has died. If you would like to come over to Minneapolis and live with me, that would be greatly appreciated. Please use this visa card to pay for your journey.
Love,
Sally Smith
4867, 6th street
My first reaction was just to stand there, maybe forever if the postmaster hadn’t spoken. “May I help you?”
I nod.
“Do you know where Minneapolis is?” I ask
“Oh yeah. It’ll be quite the journey if you walk, but I know you can do it.”
I leave the post office, grab my foldable piano; the only thing that wasn’t destroyed.
The man selling plane tickets cranes his neck to see me over his booth. “Do you have the money, sir?”
“I-I swear I had enough money. It was on a VISA card.”
The man sighs. “When we checked your card, it had five dollars.”
“Could I please have them just this one time?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Do you at least know how I can get to Minneapolis?”
“Yeah. My daughter is taking a train from Chicago City to Minneapolis on Monday. You might still be able to get a ticket.”
“Do you know how I can get to Chicago City?”
“You’d need to walk a long time, but a taxi could get you there easily.”
I take out my foldable piano and start playing. Slowly, cash starts streaming in. Many people stop by to watch me play, and at the end of the day, I have $70; enough to get me to Minneapolis.
“Taxi! Taxi!” I wave my hand at every taxi I see.
Each driver turns his head in disgust.
I decide to start walking. “Where is Chicago City?” I ask.
Each pedestrian points, and signals for me to go away. I see Soldier field, lake Michigan, and many, many Churches as I go along. This continues for a long time before I see the Chicago O’hare airport looming in the distance. My legs are dead but I’ve made it! I find a nice sidewalk and fall asleep.
I wake up, starving. I haven’t had a single meal in 2 days. The dumpsters in the alley next to me smell promising though. However the dumpster lids don’t behave the same way trash can lids do. Flapping my arms, I land in a pile of garbage. The dumpster tips over and I am catapulted into a wall.
I awake in a room filled with sleeping kids. My whole body throbs and my left leg is in a cast. I get up from my bed and limp around for a while. The bedroom door opens with a creak, and I find myself in the middle of a long winding hallway. Slowly, I make my way down the hall and down the stairs. A set of double doors lie open below, with guards on either side of them, sound asleep. On the far side lies the lobby. A desk lamp shines down on a table in the middle of the room. “What are you doing here?” Says a voice.
I jump back, startled. “Just getting some water sir.”
“Would you like me to get some for you?”
Before I can answer, the phone on the table rings. The man picks it up and walks to the next room. “Jack Sterling, 15th street Homeless Shelter. How may I help you?’
I search for somewhere to escape. To the left of me, a window has been left open, leading to the Chicago streets. Quickly, I jump out of the window, and hit the cold night air running.
“Sorry to disturb you sir, but do you know where the nearest train to Minneapolis is?”
The man points. “2 blocks to your right. Good luck with your journey, young man.”
I pat my pocket, confirming that I have the card, then run.
“Amtrak train to Minneapolis is now leaving the station” says the operator. “Please fasten your seatbelts.”
I fall asleep as soon as I sit down, completely wiped out from the past day’s adventures.
“We have reached our destination. Please exit the train to your left.”
Exiting the train station, I quickly find a taxi and call it over. “4867 6th street, please.” I hand the money to the driver.
“I don’t think you’ll need a taxi, kid. This is 4867.” The driver points to his left. “Good luck, kid.”
I climb up the steps and ring the doorbell. After a few seconds, the door opens with a creak. My mom stands there, exactly how she was before.
“Mom, I’m home!”
“Who are you?”
“Mom, I’m home. I received your letter” I hold up the letter for her to see.
She squints and points to my name. “Is this you?” I nod.
Then she points to her own name. “This is me?” I nod again.
“are you my… son?”
I can see this with a good ending, maybe you can make a spinoff?
ReplyDeleteits really good, but why did the mom not know who she was?
ReplyDeleteshe had alzheimers
Delete