Short Story: Time Left

 Last edited: 3/27/2013

"Are you okay, mister?"

The voice brought me back to my senses.  I raised my head from my chest to look up at the girl standing at the mouth of the alley.  She was young—really young.  About seven years old, maybe?  Black hair, pink shirt with a smiling kitten on it, wearing a white backpack emblazoned with a colorful pattern of flowers.  The fact that she was talking to me seemed unusual somehow.  Why was that...?

             

I glanced down at myself, seeing my torn jeans, my coarse wool coat that looked like it had been made from an old sofa someone had tossed out.  Clarity started returning to me.  Ah, right.  It was strange because she didn't look like the sort of girl who would be talking to an unconscious hobo.

             

“Mister?” she asked again.

             

I reached into my coat and felt my fingers brush the flask inside.  I pulled it out quickly and shook it, feeling the liquid slosh around inside.  Only about a quarter left.  I unscrewed the cap and took a swig, closing my eyes in rapture as the bitter liquid flowed over my tongue.

             

“Hey, kid,” I grunted as I stood, my speech slurring some.  “You got any food?”  It was maybe a rude question, but priority number one at that moment was not starving to death.  It was the hunger I had passed out from in the first place.

             

She pulled her backpack off and rooted through it before producing a granola bar.  She held it out to me, and it was out of the wrapper and in my mouth in seconds.

             

“Thanks, kid,” I said as I chewed.  Then I noticed her looking at me expectantly.  I swallowed.  “You need something?”

             

“I'm lost,” she said.  The way she said it so calmly, in such a matter-of-fact manner surprised me, like she hadn't said “I'm lost” but “I'm fine, how are you?”

             

“Lost, huh?  Why you asking for my help?”

             

“Everyone else seemed busy.”

             

I looked around.  Sure enough, everyone moving past had a sort of sense of urgency about them.  Sure, they maybe would have stopped and helped if she had asked, but a kid as young as her might not have realized it.  “And I didn't,” I slurred, hating how it sounded and hoping my clarity would return soon.  She shook her head.  I winced a little bit.  This kid was terribly naïve.

             

A surge of hunger stabbed at me again and I put my hand against the wall to steady myself.  “Hey, uh, kid...you got enough money for a burger?”

             

A few minutes later, I was sitting across a McDonald's booth from her, stuffing my face with a dollar cheeseburger.   “Thanks for helping, mister,” she said.

             

I swallowed.  “Nah, thank you.”  I glanced across the booth at her.  “Say, kid...what's your name?”

             

“Jenny Koval,” she said.  “What's yours?”

             

“It's, uh...” I took out my flask took a small swig.  “Obadiah,” I answered.

             

“Nice to meet you, Obadiah.”  I just grunted in response.

             

“So how'd you get lost?”

             

“Well,” she started, “I was going somewhere with my daddy and I saw a squirrel.  I slowed down to look at it climbing a tree just a little and I only looked a way for just a bit!  But then when I looked back my daddy was gone.”

             

I shook my head.  Kids always got distracted by the smallest things.  That never changed.  Jenny seemed to be doing okay, though, at least for now.  But her father must be terrified.  “Do you have his phone number?”

             

She shook her head.  “I only have the home phone memorized.”

             

“All right, know where he was going?”

             

She nodded.  “Yeah.  We were going to visit Auntie Erin.”

             

“You know her last name?”

             

She nodded again.  “Koval, same as ours.”  Good, that made things a bit easier.

             

I stood.  “Thanks for the food.  Let's find a phone book and see if we can't find your auntie's place.”

             

Thankfully, we didn't have to go far.  There was a phone book near the bathrooms, and Erin Koval was listed.  The address was pretty far away, but it shouldn't be too hard to get there by bus.  They must have been planning to take one.

             

I tried to think past the fog covering my mind.  The real question at that point was what Jenny's father was doing.  If he was any sort of father, he'd be trying to find her.  But depending on how far he had gotten before realizing Jenny wasn't with him, he could be anywhere in the city.

             

We could maybe try to find him, but the safer bet was to go to Auntie Erin's right away.  Jenny didn't have her father's number, but his sister was sure to.  The poor guy would be worried in the meantime, but at least he'd find out where she was eventually.

             

I scrawled the address down on a piece of paper and pocketed it.  “Have enough for two bus fares?” I asked her.

             

“I think so,” she said.  “Are you coming with me, Mr. Obadiah?”

            

 I nodded.  “You're too young to be traveling alone.”  Even as I said it I wondered which would actually raise more eyes: a girl as young as her traveling alone, or a girl as young as her traveling with a dirty-looking old hobo.

             

We found a bus stop quickly enough and sat down at the bench.  Hopefully it wouldn't be too long until a bus came.

            

 “Mr. Obadiah?” came Jenny's voice from beside me, “Why were you sleeping in that alley?”  I didn’t answer.  She repeated the question a few seconds later, like I hadn’t heard it.  Right.  It’d been too long since I’d been around kids.  They expected answers.

            

 I sighed.  “Because I don't have a home, Jenny.  I used to.  But that was a long time ago.”

            

 “Oh.”  She fell silent, but only pondered it for a second.  “What was it like?”

            

 “It was...nice.  I had a lot of friends there that I was close to.  It was...really nice.”  And I remembered.  I remembered for a bit.  I remembered Jonah.  How he would always wake up early and sit on his porch to smoke his pipe before he had to begin the day.  I'd pass his house every day, and every day he'd give me a small wave and say “Mornin', Obadiah” in his croaky voice.  I remembered Rachael, and how—

            

 I tried to stop thinking about her.  I couldn't bring myself to remember Rachael.  There were too many memories, and the hardest memories always came first.

            

 “Why did you leave?” Jenny asked.

            

 I’d forgotten that bit about kids, too.  How one question always led to another.  A five-year-old could stump an expert with a single repeated word: Why?  Why?  Why?

             

“I left...I left because I couldn't afford to live there anymore.”  I took another drink from the flask.  Just a small sip this time.  I didn't have much left.

            

 “What are you drinking?” Jenny asked.  Well, at least the subject had changed, but it wasn’t much better.

            

 “It's, um...water,” I lied.

            

 “Can I have some?”

            

 “Uhh...no.  It's a special water that you shouldn't be drinking.”

             

She pouted.  “That's mean!  My daddy says that you should share.”

            

 “I'm sorry, Jenny.  I can't share this with you.  I would if I could.  But I don’t have much left, and it’s very important.”

            

 She frowned, but thankfully didn’t question me further.  She fell silent until the bus arrived.  We boarded, and I instantly regretted it.  As soon as I stepped on the bus, I started getting strange looks.  Looks of fear.  Looks of disgust.  Creepy old hobo accompanied by a little girl?  Not a single one of those people had the right idea.  This was, in hindsight, a very bad idea.  Nevertheless, the damage had been done, and at this point it’d be safer to see this through to the end than bolt.

            

 We found a seat, and as I stared out the window, I felt a small hand slip into mind.  I yanked it out instantly.

            

 “What are you doing?”

            

 “Daddy told me that I was supposed to hold someone’s hand when I’m going somewhere.  I forgot to hold his hand and I got lost.”

            

 “Um, Jenny…that’s normally good.  But this is a special exception.  I think that right now it’s probably a bad idea.”

            

 “Why not?”  She gave me a quizzical look.  I glanced around.  Sure enough, there were a few people trying too hard to look away.  People who no doubt saw my nervousness and assumed it was due to guilt.

            

 “Just…don’t.  Please.”

            

 She looked at me funny for a second, but then faced forward, swinging her legs and humming some made-up child’s song or another.  I closed my eyes and half-hoped to fall asleep.

            

 My thoughts began to drift.  Rachael’s face, unbidden, leapt into my mind….

*

            

 The pressure of her lips vanished as they left mine.  The kiss was sweet, and the beauty of it only made it more painful.

             

“Rachael…”

            

 She looked at me.  That nervous, vulnerable look.  I had seen it before—too many times.  This was the hard part.  The part where you see that hesitancy after someone bares their soul to you—someone hoping for the best but expecting the worst.  And you had to give them what they expected.

             

“Rachael, I’m…I’m so sorry.  I can’t.”  I turned away so I couldn’t see her face.  Didn’t have to see the pain on it.

            

“Why?” she finally said.  It sounded like just speaking pained her.  It pained me, too.

             

“I’m so sorry.  I…believe me, I want this as much as you.  But I can’t.  No matter how much it hurts, to say this, I can’t.”

             

“If it hurts so much…?”

            

 “It would hurt more in the end,” I answered.

            

 She said nothing.  I finally managed to turn around and see the heartbroken look on her face.  There was still one word written all over it: why.

            

 “I’m sorry.  I…I don’t have long left.  I’ll have to leave here in a few years.”

             

“I’ll go with you.  Anywhere you’re going.”

             

“It wouldn’t matter.  That’s not the real issue.”

            

 She looked at me.  “You don’t need to lie to me like this, Obadiah.  I can handle the truth, you know.”

            

 I kissed her to let her know how sincere I was, even though I knew how much it would hurt.  “It’s not a lie,” I said.  “But the truth is…complicated.  I’m…I’m not the man you think I am, Rachael.”

             

“Then at least tell me,” she said, “who you really are.”

*

            

The bus jolted to a stop.  My eyes snapped open.  “C’mon, Obadiah,” Jenny said.  “This is our stop.”  I nodded and followed her off the bus.  It wasn’t a long walk from here.

             

We walked for maybe a minute before the police officers showed up.

             

“Excuse me, sir,” one of the officers said.  “We’ve received a report of a suspicious-looking man traveling with a young girl.  A girl whose description of a girl who’s been reported missing very recently.  Now, we don’t want to assume, but we’re talking a pretty serious offense here.  We just need some sort of assurance that there’s nothing amiss here.  Can you identify yourself somehow?”

            

 I cradled my face with a hand.  “No, I—I don’t have any sort of identification.  Please, just…listen, this is all a big misunderstanding….”

             

The second officer turned to Jenny.  “Excuse me, can I ask your name?”

            

 “Jenny,” she dutifully replied.  “Jenny Koval.”

            

 The two men exchanged a quick glance and a nod.  “Thank you, Jenny.  We’re here to help.  Now, do you know this man?”

            

 “Yeah, he’s Obadiah!”

            

 “No identification whatsoever?” the other officer asked me again.  I just shrugged weakly.  Even if I had identification, it wouldn’t do me any good.  I stopped using my real name long ago.  Obadiah wasn’t even my most recent one, just the first one that came to mind when Jenny had found me.  My favorite one.  The one Rachael had known…..  Besides, even if I did have identification…it would have made matters so much worse.

             

“What’s his last name?” the officer talking to Jenny asked.

             

She shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I just met him.”

            

 Oh, no.  My hands started shaking, and I felt my mind starting to slip.  I hurriedly took out the flask and took a large gulp, desperate to clear my mind.

            

 “Sir, are you drinking?”

            

 I was making simple mistakes now.  I needed to get a grip on reality, and quickly.  “No, it’s…it’s not….”

            

 “Darren, get the Breathalyzer.  Sir, might I ask what exactly you’re doing with this girl?”

            

 “She…she was lost and asked me for help.  I was taking her to her aunt’s.  She…didn’t know her father’s number.  Jenny, please, tell them….”  She just stood there, staring at the scene in shock and incomprehension, unable to respond.

             

“Then why didn’t you just bring her to a police station so that we could take care of it?”

            

 Of course.  Always the simple mistakes.  Always.  It would have been even easier to call her aunt.  I had looked up her number in the phone book and somehow managed to miss that.  I always forget about technology and how simple it makes things.  “It’s…well yes, in hindsight that’s what I should have done, but….”

            

 The other officer held out the Breathalyzer for me.  I sighed and blew into it.  He looked at the results.  “He’s checking out clean.  Sir, can I ask what’s in the flask?”

            

 “No, it’s…a special drink, it’s…”  I tried to clear my head.  Stress always made it worse.  “Medicine!  It’s medicine.”

            

 “What sort of medicine.”

            

 “I…I don’t know.  Please, I don’t know.  Just….”

            

 One pulled the handcuffs from his belt as the other put a hand on his holster.  “Sire, we’re going to have to take you in on suspicion of kidnapping.  Please, put your hands where we can see them….”

            

 I weighed the flask in my hand.  There wasn’t much left of the liquid inside.  I could maybe make more and refill it, yes, but I needed more and more these days just to make it through.  To keep me going.  To not lose sight of who I am.  How long would it take until I went through a flask in a day?  Two?  How long until it took more to refill it than I could afford?  All my resources, dried up as they were, already went into the supplies.  This miserable existence barely counted as a life anymore, and it had to stop some time.  Today was as good a day as any.

            

 There wasn’t much left.  But there was enough.

            

 I raised the flask to my lips and drank.  The officer with his hand on the holster drew the gun.  I closed my eyes as I tipped it back and the last drops inside rolled down my throat.  I felt my memories and strength return in full force.  I heard muted noises.  Yelling and screaming—the officers and Jenny?  Cars passing in the street.  The buzz of a nearby fly.  Smells from the bakery across the street and the pigeon droppings on the statue two blocks away.  The world pieced itself together around me, then faded into nothing.

            

 My eyes opened.

            

 I knelt by her bedside and took her hand.  The woman beneath the covers was wrinkled and what little remained of her hair was snowy white.  But despite the age, I could still tell from her face that it was Rachael.

            

 “You came,” she croaked.

            

 “It was my last chance to see you.”

            

“You haven’t aged a day, Obadiah.”

             

“You still look as beautiful as the day I met you.”

            

 She tried to laugh, but it came out as a cough.  “I didn’t think you’d come.  I thought moments like this were painful for you.”

            

 I squeezed her hand and tried not to cry.  “Incredibly.  But it would be more painful to not see the woman I love before she goes.”

             

“You’ve loved before.  You’ll love again.”

             

I shook my head.  “Not again.  Not like you.”  I disguised a sob as a chuckle—badly.  “Did you love again?”

            

 She shook her head feebly.  “There was never anyone else.”

            

 “So you lived your whole life alone and unhappy?”

             

“Not unhappy.”  She smiled.  “You’re with me now.  I can at least spend these last moments I have happily.”

             

She closed her eyes and faded into sleep.  I held her hand as she did.  Her pulse grew fainter and fainter, until it stopped altogether and her hand grew cold.  That was when the tears finally came.  I wanted to go back.  To change how things had been.  Spent more time with her.  Made happier memories.  But I had done that before, and knew that it wouldn’t change everything.  It would still end with me holding her hand as she died.  I kissed her forehead and left, telling myself to move on and knowing that I never would.

*

            

 “Hello, officer?” I stood in a police station, Jenny hiding behind me.  “This girl tells me she’s lost.  Her name’s Jenny Koval.  Says she got separated from her father.  Has an aunt somewhere in the city that they’re visiting?”

            

 The man present nodded and smiled.  “Of course.  Thank you, sir.  We’ll get on that right away.”

            

 I nodded to Jenny.  “Go on, kid.  They’ll help you better than I could.”

            

 Jenny nodded.  “Thanks, Obadiah!”

            

 I watched as she went up to the officer and he started asking her questions, completely oblivious of what happened.  She was in good hands now, and this version of reality was much less complicated than that last one.  She’d be reunited with her father soon, and she’d probably have plenty of fun at Auntie Erin’s.

             

 I reached into my pocket as I turned to walk out, feeling my flask.  Empty.  I didn’t know how much time I had left, but it didn’t matter.  My time would come soon anyway, and there was no point prolonging it any longer.

            

 I sat down on bench and looked up to the sky.  It was so blue and clear today, I couldn’t help but smile.  I wondered quietly what the future held.  If there was an “other side.”  What it was like.  If it was like normal people’s.

Well, it’d been over a hundred years since I’d seen Rachael, and she was sure to be a sight for sore eyes.  Whatever lay in wait, I hoped she was there to greet me.