Seven of Nine reached
underneath the bottom bunk below hers and drew out a cigar box. Her name was
written on the box to show that the possessions inside belonged to her. Seven
raised the lid and looked inside. Inside of this box were two of her most prized
possessions that were priceless to her. The two objects inside were her
mother’s amethyst broach and topaz ring. Seven took both pieces of jewelry
from the box and held them in her hand. The jewels shone brightly as the
sunlight caught them with its warm rays. She stared for a long time and her head
began to swim. Whenever she looked at these, she thought of her mother and what
she was like. She had never known her mother; she was placed in the orphanage
when she was two and only had were these two pieces of jewelry and her name,
Alice Seymour. She had no memory of either of her parents and often wondered
about them. The one thing she wished for was to know what her parents were like.
Her thoughts were soon interrupted when there was a knock at the door. She
immediately put the broach and ring back in the cigar box and shoved it
underneath the bunk and rushed to answer the door. She opened it and found
Bumlets standing in the doorway.
“Hey.” Bumlets said with a wide smile on his face.
“Hey. Why’re ya here?”
“Why’m I here? Does a guy need an explanation fer jus’ wantin’ ta see
‘is goil?” Seven sighed.
“No.”
“Dat’s right. I jus’ wanted ta see ya, dat’s all, an’ I wanted ta know
if ya remembered our date tonight.” Seven’s eyes widened.
“We do? Oh man, I fergot!”
“Thought so, cuz we said dat we’d go at five, an’ it’s a quata past.”
“Sorry, but it’s been a long day, we din’t have a good headline, an’ I
fergot.”
“So, we still on?”
“Yeah, jus’ lemme get my coat.”
“Yer coat? It’s Septembah, an’ it’s nice outside.”
“I know, but all da clouds outside got me to thinkin’ dat it’s gonna rain.
Wanna bring a coat jus’ in case.”
“’Kay. Go get yer coat an’ we’ll get goin’.”
*
* *
Richard stumbled through the streets of
Manhattan, clutching the faded picture in his hand. He heaved a harsh cough that
racked his chest. He was so congested that it was getting more difficult to
breathe every day, and every once in a while, he coughed up blood. The doctors
had said it was tuberculosis, but he refused to get treated until his found his
daughter. Thirteen years ago, he was married to a wonderful woman named Julia.
They had been married for twelve years and had finally had a daughter named
Alice. When Alice was two and Julia thirty, an outbreak of typhoid ran
throughout the apartment complex where the Seymours were living. Richard had had
typhoid years before, but both Julia and Alice caught the virus. Three days
later, Julia died of the fever in her husband’s arms. He was devastated, but
then a doctor told him that his daughter’s chances of survival were very low.
Richard then concentrated on his daughter and prayed that she wouldn’t die.
One day he had forgotten to check his daughter’s condition and went to be
alone and mourn the loss of his beloved wife. He was there for hours before he
returned to the hospital to see his little girl. When he arrived, she was gone.
He demanded to know where she was, but a nurse told them that the people from
the orphan train had come to take the orphaned children to new homes, and that
his daughter, since she had recovered overnight, was taken with them. Richard,
completely shocked at the news, rushed to the train station to try and save his
daughter from the orphan train. He had just lost his wife; he couldn’t lose
his daughter. But once he got to the station, the train had pulled out of the
yards and was already far away. He desperately tried to catch up with it, but he
had no such luck. He then led a desperate search for his daughter, but had no
such luck. He had built a house on the outskirts of Manhattan for him and his
family before the outbreak and had hoped to live there with his family, but now
he would never be able to live there with them. He had already moved their
possessions into the house, but now they would never be together again. Richard
led a frantic search for his daughter, but he didn’t find her. For thirteen
years, he had searched, and his search was futile. The only way he could
identify he was with a family picture that was taken shortly before the
outbreak. For the past two years, Richard had been sick with tuberculosis, but
he had ignored it because of his search. He hoped that Alice was in Manhattan,
for he knew that he couldn’t go on for much longer. He had only been in
Manhattan for three days, but had already visited the house he had built. Once
he had stepped inside, he began to weep bitterly because he was never able to
live there with his family. He still had the key to the house, and it was in one
piece, and thieves hadn’t bothered to break in. He had all of his wife’s
possessions, except for her favorite amethyst broach; an heirloom from her
grandmother, and her wedding ring. He had never recovered them, and he hoped
that Alice had them. Richard ran frantically through the streets, asking
everyone who passed if they had seen the little girl in the picture, only
thirteen years older. Everyone thought that he was just a crazy old man, but he
was frantic on finding his daughter. He knew that it was too late for him to
have his sickness treated, and that he wouldn’t live for much longer. He hoped
that he could find his daughter before he died. But deep inside, he knew that he
only had a few days left to find her.
*
* *
“Yer awful quiet dis evenin’.”
Bumlets observed. “Ya sick ‘er somethin’?” Seven looked up from her bowl
of chicken soup and shook her head.
“No.” she said. “I was jus’ thinkin’.”
“Hope ya don’ take dis wrong, but what were ya thinkin’ ‘bout?” Seven
cast her eyes back down to her dinner.
“My family. I neva got to meet ‘em, an’ I’se jus’ wonderin’ what dey
was like.”
“Oh. I see.” Seven looked back up at Bumlets.
“Didja eva know yer family?” Bumlets sighed.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Couldja tell me ‘bout it?”
“’Kay, but it’s kinda hard ta tell. Ya see, when I’se five years old, I
jus’ lived wit my dad an’ two olda brudders an’ me liddle sista. My momma
died when she ‘ad my sista, an’ me dad usta get real drunk. ‘E neva went a
day witout a drink. Cuz ‘a his drinkin’, ‘e usta beat on us kids. My
oldest brudder was fourteen, an’ ‘e tried to protect us younga kids.
Fin’ly, my dad ‘ad a liddle too much ta drink an’ really beat up my
brudder. ‘E then went fer me an’ my baby sista. I’se tryin’ ta
protect‘er, but I wasn’t havin’ no luck. My udder brudder came to help us,
but‘e was knocked unconscious. At dat time, I escaped wit my sista before my
dad could come afta us, an’ ‘e neva found us. Dat was when we was put in de
orphanage. Lily, dat was me sista’s name, was so young at da time dat she was
adopted not too long afta we arrived. I hoped dat I’d be adopted wit ‘er,
but I wasn’t. I neva saw ‘er again. Shortly aftaward, one a de older boys
started pickin’ on me, an’ I was reminded of my fadder. Dat’s why I was in
wit Brad; I din’t wanna be known as someone weak dat anyone could pick on.”
“Oh. I din’t know you went through all that; I thought yer parents died,
like mine.”
“Well, now ya know dat it was jus’ my mom.”
“I wish I woulda known my parents.”
“Actually, I think yer kinda lucky dat ya din’t know ‘em.”
“Why?”
“Cuz when ya know ‘em, an’ what dey were like, ya miss ‘em. When my
mudder died an’ I ran away, der were times when I’d cry ta sleep cuz I mist
‘er so much. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t known her so it wouldn’t be so hard
on me.” Seven sighed.
“I neva woulda thought about dat. I know it might’ve been hard on ya, but I
jus’ wanna know what my parents was like.”
“I don’ blame ya. If I hadn’t know eidder of my parents, I’d probly
wanna know what dey was like too. I wonda if Lily knows dat she’s adopted
an’ wonders what ‘er real parents were like.”
“Maybe you’ll meet up wit ‘er someday.”
“I hope so. I really hope so.”
“Are you two done?” A waitress asked. Bumlets looked up at the waitress;
then at Seven.
“You done?” Seven nodded.
“Yeah, I’m done.” she answered, pushing the bowl of soup away from her.
The waitress picked up the dishes and set them on her cart.
“Would you care for dessert?”
“No thanks.” Seven said.
“Same here.” Bumlets said.
“Very well. Here’s your bill.” The waitress handed them the bill and
Bumlets pulled some coins from his pocket. He handed the money to the waitress
and nodded to him. She then went to the back and handed the money to the
cashier. Seven pushed her chair back and arose from her seat. Bumlets did the
same and they walked toward the door. To Bumlets’ surprise, it was raining.
“Holy mackerel.” He mumbled. “It’s rainin’ cats an’ dogs out der!”
“Toldja.” Seven said. “Wanna share my coat?”
“Sure. Now let’s get goin’ ‘fore we get rained out.”
*
* *
All throughout the night, it rained. By
morning, it was heavier, and a cold, strong breeze blew, causing a problem for
the newsies. Rainy and windy days were harder for them, for the rain drenched
the newspapers and the wind blew them out from the grip. And when it rained,
there weren’t a whole lot of people out to buy papers. A lot of money could be
lost on a rainy and windy day. The newsies rushed to Newspaper Row for their
newspapers; hoping to outrun the cold and not have to be so wet when they sold.
Seven bought her normal number of papers of eighty, and waited underneath the
roof for Bumlets to arrive. She had sold alone the day before, and she wanted to
sell with him today. When Bumlets saw Seven, he rushed over to her and huddled
beside her to keep dry.
“Man,” he said, “weather’s actin’ real weird.”
“You can say that again.” Seven said. “I take it we ain’t gonna sell in
Central Park taday, am I right?”
“I guess so. Ya wanna try sellin’ at factories an’ apartment complexes?
We’d be a whole lot warmer an’ drier.”
“Sounds like a good idea. Let’s start wit apartments an’ check wit
factories ova lunch break. That sound good?”
“Yep. C’mon, let’s go an’ get sellin’.” Seven tucked her newspapers
inside her coat and held them with one arm, and took Bumlets’ hand in her free
hand and the two rushed through the rain to the nearest apartment complex.
Though most of the apartment dwellers were at work, a good number were still
home, and were glad to see that newspapers were brought to their doors.
Together, both newsies sold a third of their newspapers within three hours’
time. They went on to another apartment complex, but there were less people at
home here than there was at the last complex. They didn’t sell as many, so
they decided to move on to the factories. There was a thread factory not too far
away, so they rushed through the heavy rain to the factory. Since it was lunch
break, and the workers had little to do, they were glad to see the two newsies
and gladly bought papers from them. When the lunch break was up, the two newsies
had to leave, but since they weren’t hungry, and Seven had only eighteen
papers left and Bumlets had twenty-three, they decided to finish selling their
papers before grabbing a bite to eat. They ran to another apartment complex,
only this one was farther away, and they were drenched with rain by the time
they arrived. Instead of selling immediately, they stood in front of the fire to
dry off a bit and warm up before they continued selling. It took them a good
fifteen minutes to be dry enough before they picked up their papers and
continued. They rushed up and down the halls, knocking on doors and asking if
the person would like to buy a newspaper. Most of the people here weren’t very
nice, for this apartment was one that poor people couldn’t live in. It was for
people who had an average income and could afford living in nicer apartments.
Since they were startled by the haggard looking newsie sat their doorways, most
slammed the doors in their faces. Only a few bought papers from them. By the
time they had gone through this complex, Seven had only five left and Bumlets
had nine. They got their hats and coats from the hat stand before the fireplace
and left. There weren’t very many apartment complexes around this one, but
there was a boarding house only a block away. This boarding house was owned by a
kindly old widow named Mrs. Pedderman, who was often visited by newsies because
of her kind heart. She also had nice people boarding at the house, and they
almost always bought newspapers from the newsies. They ran to the boarding
house, and Mrs. Pedderman received them warmly and offered them cups of coffee
to warm their bones. Both of them accepted, for they were cold and becoming very
hungry.
“You newsies have been selling all day in that weather?” Mrs. Pedderman
asked. Bumlets nodded and took a sip of coffee.
“Yes ma’am. Only we’s been sellin’ at apartments an’ factories. De
only time we was really outside was when we was runnin’ from place ta
place.”
“I see. How many papers have you got left?”
“Jus’ fourteen.” Seven answered. “I’se got five, an’ Bumlets ‘as
nine.”
“I’ll take one. I haven’t read a newspaper in almost a week.” Seven let
Bumlets give her one of his papers since he had more than she did. He pulled one
out of his stack and set it before Mrs. Pedderman as she fumbled around her
pockets for some coins.
“Merciful heavens,” she mumbled, “I haven’t a penny with me! Oh well, I
guess I’ll just settle with a nickel for now.” Mrs. Pedderman drew a nickel
from her pocket and set it before Bumlets. He was about to give her four pennies
as change, but she shook her head and insisted that he keep it. “It’s awful
hard for you newsies to make money in this kinda weather, and you need to save
every cent you make.” She pulled out another nickel and handed it to Seven.
“You too.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t.” Seven said, thrusting the nickel back to Mrs.
Pedderman.
“Yes, you could. As I said, you need to save every cent you make.” Seven
sighed guiltily and stuck the silver coin into her pocket with the rest of her
earnings. She then went back to her coffee and drank half the cup when Mrs.
Pedderman spoke again.
“My, that’s storm’s gettin’ worse. Just saw a flash of lightning. Hope
that poor old man that came by the other day is indoors.”
“Excuse me?” Seven asked.
“Oh, there was an old man here yesterday. He was looking for his daughter, and
from the looks of it, he had been searching for her for along time.”
“How sad.” Bumlets said. “Hope ‘e finds ‘er.” Bumlets finished his
coffee and Seven finished hers a few seconds later. They thanked Mrs. Pedderman
for the coffee and went to the upper level to sell their papers. They sold the
rest of their papers in less than five minutes and were leaving the boarding
house. Thunder roared and lightning flashed above them as they rushed down the
wet streets toward Tibby’s. They picked up a quick lunch at Tibby’s before
heading back toward the lodging house. The rain was falling harder now, and the
clouds were now a dark grey, and it was getting colder. This was odd weather for
this time of year.
“C’mon,” Bumlets said, “let’s hurry up so we can stay inside fer da
rest of da day.” Seven nodded and the two picked up speed on their way. The
lodging house was in sight, and as the hurried along the sidewalk, Seven heard a
faint moan. Seven stopped and pulled Bumlets to a stop. He was about to ask her
why they had stopped in the middle of the rain, but she only held her hand up to
him, indicating for him to remain silent. Bumlets was quiet, and a few moments
later, he heard the moaning coming from the alley they were standing in front
of. They turned down the alley and began searching for the person that was
moaning. They finally found a man lying on his side beside a crate, moaning and
coughing harshly. The man seemed old and haggard, and in his hand was a picture
that was old and the color fading. Seven and Bumlets rushed to the man’s side
and attempted to wake him. Bumlets rolled the man onto his back and tried again
to awaken him. The man finally opened his eyes and was startled to see the young
man towering above him.
“Have you seen-” he began.
“Sh, please be quiet, sir.” Seven said. “We need ta get ya to a doctah.”
The man turned and looked at Seven, and his eyes widened.
“Alice?” he whispered, barely audible. Seven fell silent, but only for a
brief moment.
“How’d you know my name?” she asked.
“Alice.” The man repeated. “Alice. I found you.”
“Bumlets, get a doctor.” Seven ordered. “Hurry!” Bumlets did as he was
told and ran to get help. Seven watched him until he disappeared from sight, and
then back at the old man.
“It’s alright. A doctor’s gonna be ‘ere soon.”
“Alice.” The man said again. He raised a weak arm and upheld the picture in
his hand. He held it before Seven, and she took it from his hand and looked it
over. As she stared, her eyes widened. In the old, worn picture, there was a man
and a woman holding a tiny girl in their arms. The woman in the picture looked
almost exactly like her. The man in the picture was the man before her, only
older. Seven then looked at the little girl in the picture. The girl had soft
blonde hair and narrow eyes that were a color that Seven couldn’t discern. But
the girl looked almost exactly like the woman, only the eyes were like the
man’s. Seven then cast her eyes to the old man and put the picture back in his
hand.
“They must’ve been your family.” She said. “What’s yer name?”
“Richard.” The man croaked with a harsh cough. “Richard…Seymour.”
Seven fell completely silent, and she stayed that way for a long time. It
wasn’t possible! Her parents had died thirteen years ago! She finally regained
her composure and tried to maintain it.
“The doctor’ll be ‘ere soon, Mista Seymour. Yer gonna be okay.” Richard
coughed again, and this time, blood trickled from his mouth. He attempted to
brush the blood away, but even more flowed. The rain washed away most of the
blood, but even more appeared.
“Yer bleedin’.” Seven said calmly. “Ya hoit? If ya are, ya’ll be okay.
Ya hear?”
“Alice,” Richard said quietly, “you’re my daughter.” Seven was struck
speechless. It was true; this man was her father. But why had he taken to the
orphanage? What happened to her mother? Why was he here now? There were so many
questions to ask, but she didn’t know where to begin. She finally decided to
ask him why she was taken to an orphanage when Richard began coughing harder
then before, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Seven, now worried,
frantically tried to wake him, but no avail. He was unconscious. Bumlets arrived
with the doctor a few seconds later to find Seven shaking the old man; tears
streaming down her face. Something was wrong. Bumlets rushed to Seven and pulled
her away as the doctor check the man. At that time, Seven threw her arms around
Bumlets and sobbed. Bumlets held her close, not knowing why she was so upset. A
carriage arrived and another doctor jumped out. Both he and the other doctor
lifted Richard and put him inside the carriage. But before the carriage door was
shut, Seven heard him mumbled one word in his unconscious state. “Alice.”
Seven heard and cried even harder. Her tears mixed with the cold rain and she
held Bumlets tighter. Bumlets still couldn’t understand why she was so upset,
and he saw no reason why he shouldn’t ask her.
“Seven,” he whispered, “why’re ya cryin’?” Seven sniffled and heaved
a choked gasp and she looked into Bumlets’ gentle eyes. “Remember what we
talked about last night, about our families?”
“Yeah, why?” Seven sniffled again and her tears were many.
“That man was my father.”
*
* *
Kloppman handed Seven a cup of cocoa and
Bumlets shrugged his coat off and hung it on the hat stand before the fireplace.
He pulled his hat off and wrung it out before hanging it on the stand. He then
went over to Seven, pulled her soaked hat off and helped her take her coat off.
He hung them on the hat stand and then sat down next to her.
“What makes ya think ‘e’s yer fadder?” he asked.
“He said so.” Seven answered. “He said that ‘is name was Richard
Seymour, da kid in ‘is pictua looked like me, an’ da woman looked like me
too.”
“Yer sure?”
“Positive. An’ now ‘e’s probly gonna die an’ I’m neva gonna know
what ‘e was like.” Seven gulped the rest of the cocoa down, not minding the
heat as it gushed down her throat in a steaming stream. When she finished, her
tears began falling again, and Bumlets reached over and pulled her into his
arms.
“That’s not true.” he said. “’E might not die. Ya still got time ta
talk to ‘im.”
“Bumlets, ya don’ undastand. ‘Is mouth was bleedin’ when ‘e coughed.
‘E ain’t got much time left.”
“Don’ worry. We’ll go see ‘im in da mornin’, ‘kay? I’ll getcha up
oyly an’ we’ll go see ‘im. Afta dat, we’ll go sell our papes.”
“Okay. ‘Sides, I gots somethin’ dat belonged to my mom an’ if ‘e knows
‘em, I’ll be absolutely sure ‘e’s my dad.”
“Whaddaya got dat ‘e’d know?”
“Ya gotta sweah dat ya won’t tell.”
“I won’ tell a soul.”
“I got an amethyst broach an’ topaz ring dat belonged to my mudder. It’s
all I have of ‘er’s.” “Wow. Don’ worry, I won’ tell.” He kissed
the top of her head. “Ya’ve had a rough day. You should probly go upstairs
an’ rest a liddle while.” Seven nodded and Bumlets helped her up. He walked
her to the girls’ bunkroom and Seven walked over to her bunk and lay down. She
was tired, but all she could think about was Richard. ‘I look so much
different.’ She thought. ‘How could he have recognized me?' It was true;
Seven had changed a lot. In the picture, when she was two, she had short, blonde
hair and what looked like green-blue eyes. Now, she had some blonde streaks in
her brown hair, and her eyes were now a gentle hazel. Maybe he recognized her
with a fatherly instinct. One of the nuns had once told her that every parent
had an instinct that had them recognize their child if they grew older and
looked different. Only now did she believe it. For the first time in a long
time, Seven was afraid. ‘Afraid of what?’ She wondered. ‘Am I afraid of my
own father, or what my past was? Did I have a terrible past? Is my father an
escaped convict? What is he really like? How long has he been searching for
me?’ And one question lingered around her mind that she absolutely needed to
know. ‘Why was I taken to the orphanage?’ She had so many questions, but for
some reason, she had a deep feeling in her heart that she was only going to have
enough time to ask a few.
*
* *
Wild dreams ran throughout Seven’s head
as she slept fitfully. Each dream was a different past; her past. All of her
dreams were guesses of what had happened to her and why she was taken to the
orphanage. But she needed to know, why was he looking for her, and why was she
taken to the orphanage. Another wild dream plagued her mind as she tossed in her
sleep. Before she knew it, she felt someone reach out and set their hand on her
arm. Seven’s eyes immediately opened and she lurched up. She then felt someone
clamp their hand over her mouth to keep her from shouting. She looked down to
see Bumlets standing on the empty bunk below hers, fully clothed and ready to go
somewhere.
“Shh!” Bumlets hissed. “Ya don’ wanna wake up de udder goils!” Bumlets
removed his hand from Seven’s mouth and helped her down from her bunk. He set
her on the floor and kept a finger to her lips. “Hurry up an’ get dressed.
I’ll be waitin’ outside.” Seven nodded and Bumlets left the room. Seven
quietly grabbed her clothes and pulled them over her underclothes. When she was
fully dressed, she reached under the bunk below hers and drew out the cigar box.
She pulled out the broach and stuck it in her pocket, and then took the ring out
and slid it onto her finger. She was about to stick the box back under her bed
when she heard one of the newsgirls turn over in the bed. Seven froze, hoping
that she wouldn’t see her. To her luck, she didn’t wake up and Seven stuck
the box back under the bunk. She then rushed to the door and left the bunkroom.
She found Bumlets standing by the fireplace, holding her hat and coat for her.
“It’s still rainin’.” He said. “Bedder bring dese ta keep dry.”
Seven nodded and Bumlets helped her get her coat on. Seven then pulled her hat
on and the two left the building to the rainy streets. Seven reached for Bumlets
hand and squeezed it when she had a hold on him. Bumlets looked at her and saw
that she was nervous. ‘I would be too if I was meetin’ the dad I never
knew.’ He thought. The finally reached the hospital and tiny goose bumps began
rising on Seven’s arms. Bumlets led her into the waiting room and walked to
the front desk to find out where her father was staying.
“’Scuse me,” he said to the nurse behind the desk, “couldja tell us
where Richard Seymour is stayin’?”
“One moment, please.” The nurse said, looking at her clipboard. Seven could
feel her heart begin to pound as the nurse told them which room he was staying
in. Bumlets thanked the nurse and turned to Seven.
“Let’s go.” He said. Seven said nothing but followed Bumlets through the
long halls. Seven had always hated hospitals; they always smelled of foul
medicines that made her sick just smelling them. They finally reached the right
room that Richard was staying in. Seven almost didn’t want to go in, but
Bumlets squeezed her hand, making her feel more confident.
“Ya want me ta go in der wit ya?” he asked. Seven nodded vigorously.
“Yeah. I don’ think I can do dis alone.”
“’Kay. An’ if ya want me ta leave at any time, I’ll leave.” Seven
clung tightly to Bumlets’ arm as she entered the room. Bumlets could feel the
cold metal of the ring press against his skin as she clung even tighter to his
hand when she saw her father, but he said nothing. Seven was nearly frozen with
fear when her eyes fell upon her father’s sleeping form. It was so hard for
her to admit that he was her father. ‘But I need to talk to him.’ She
thought. ‘He’s gonna die. I know it.’ Richard stirred a little and
Seven’s heart skipped a beat. His eyelashes fluttered, and at last they
opened. When he looked at the two newsies, his face brightened with a smile.
“Alice.” He whispered. Seven released Bumlets’ arm and sat beside her
father’s cot. She forced a smile, but it came out crooked.
“Hi.” She said. Richard looked at Seven’s hand, and his eyes widened.
“Your mother’s wedding ring.” Seven looked down at her hand, then back at
Richard.
“This did belong to my mother.” She choked. “It’s one of the few things
I have that belonged to her.”
“What else do you have?” Seven reached into her pocket and drew out the
amethyst broach. Bumlets’ eyes widened at the sight, for he had never seen
jewelry like that before; and Richard’s eyes brightened when he saw the
broach, and he looked at his daughter.
“That was an heirloom to your mother.” He said, his voice weak. “It had
belonged to her great-great grandmother who lived in Ireland and was a second
cousin to the queen of England.” “It…it was?” Seven asked, completely
speechless.
“Yes. Julia, your mother, was hoping that she could pass it down to you, and
you to your daughter.” Julia. That was her mother’s name. Seven had always
liked that name and had wondered what her mother’s name was. Now, one of the
names she had hoped to give one of her daughters had belonged to her mother. It
felt wonderful to know that.
“Then I’ll pass it down to my daughter.” Richard smiled once more, and
then looked up at Bumlets.
“And who might you be? My daughter’s beau?” Bumlets blushed a little.
“Well…yeah, I guess so.”
“Uh…father, daddy, papa; what would you like me to call you?” Seven asked.
“I’ve always wanted to hear you say father.” Richard said. “It makes me
feel like I’m officially a father.”
“Alright, father. What I was tryin’ to ask was, why was I taken to the
orphanage?” Richard fell silent briefly.
“To tell the truth, it was a mistake. Both you and your mother became ill with
typhoid when you were two. Your mother died, and I thought I’d lose you. One
morning I went to mourn for your mother and forgot to check on you. Someone
thought you were an orphan, for you had recovered overnight and someone had you
taken to an orphan train. But since you’re here, I guess you were taken to the
orphanage down the street. I tried to find you, but I didn’t. I’ve been
searching for you since you disappeared.”
“You…you have?”
“Yes. I haven’t stopped since. Before you got sick, I had built a house for
us on the outskirts of Manhattan. Here.” Richard reached over to the
nightstand and pulled out a key. “This is the key. I had moved all over our
things to it while you were sick. I was hoping we could live there together as a
family.” Seven took the key with trembling hand and tried to keep her tears
back. She had no idea that her past was anything like this. She opened her mouth
to ask another question when her father began to cough. He coughed so hard and
loud that Seven became worried. Finally, he held a handkerchief to his mouth and
coughed into it. When he pulled it away, Seven saw large splotches of blood on
it. ‘He’s sick.’ She thought. ‘And he’s gonna die. I know it.’
“You’re sick.” She blurted out. “How long have ya been sick?”
“Two years now.” Her father answered. “I didn’t want to get it treated
until I found you. Now that I have, I can finally die in peace.” A tear slowly
trickled down the side of Seven’s face, and she didn’t bother to brush it
away.
“Don’t say things like that. Da doctors can healya.”
“No. Last night they told me that I wouldn’t live for much longer. There’s
nothing they can do.”
“But…I have so many questions! You can’t just leave me hanging with
mysteries all my life!” Richard coughed again.
“You can ask as many as you like.” He said, his voice soft and weak.
“I’ll try to answer them.” Seven sniffled a little but held her tears
back.
“I need to know…what was my mother like?”
“Your mother. Julia was a very beautiful woman. You are the spitting image of
her. I often said that, but she said that you had your father’s eyes. One
thing she loved was flowers. She was always deck our apartment with flowers
every spring.” Seven listened attentively. She only knew little about her
mother and yet she knew that she was much in common with her. “She also loved
children.” Richard continued. “We were married twelve years before we had
you. Your mother would always play with the other children down the hall from
our apartment. When you were born, she seemed so much happier. I was too. Once I
held you in my arms I never wanted to put you down.” Bumlets’ heart grew
heavy as Richard descried Julia even more and how much they had loved their
daughter. ‘Why wasn’t my father like that?’ He wondered. ‘Why couldn’t
my father be just like hers? She’s lucky she had loving and caring parents. If
my mother had lived, maybe my father would’ve been like Seven’s too.’
Richard suddenly started coughing harshly and stopped talking. Immediately,
Seven broke out white and Bumlets rushed to her side. A nurse suddenly appeared
in the room and could tell that Richard’s time had come. She left to get a
doctor. As soon as the nurse left, Richard’s coughing worsened and his
handkerchief couldn’t contain the blood that was flowing from his mouth. There
was a dark feeling in Seven’s heart that he only had a minute or two left.
“Alice.” Richard managed to say.
“I’m here, father.” Seven whispered. Richard reached up and touched his
daughter’s cheek.
“Alice. I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I love you.”
Another tear dripped from Seven’s eye.
“I know. And I love you too.” That did it. Something inside of Seven broke
and her tears came loose. They flowed like waterfalls down her face as
Richard’s coughing ended and his eyes closed forever. He was no longer in
pain. Seven turned around and began sobbing as Bumlets wrapped his arms around
her and held her close to him. When the nurse finally returned with the doctor,
they pulled a sheet over Richard’s body and he was taken from the room. Seven
still held to Bumlets and refused to watch them take her father away.
“It’s okay.” Bumlets coaxed, stroking her hair. “Everythin’s okay now.
‘E got ta meetcha, an’ dat’s enough for ‘im.” Seven looked up at
Bumlets.
“I know.” She whispered. “But I neva got ta know ‘im.”
“Well, maybe ya’d find more ‘bout ‘im at dat ‘ouse ‘e built. ‘E
said dat‘e moved all yer stuff inside. Maybe it’s still der.” Seven fell
silent for a moment. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and Bumlets
pulled a bandana from his pocket. He gave it to Seven, and she dried her eyes
with and then blew her nose in it. Bumlets was stunned at her sudden action, but
could tell that she was upset and didn’t say a thing about it. Finally, Seven
handed it back to him, and he stuck it back in his pocket. ‘What else should I
do with it?’ He wondered. Seven continued brushing stray tears from her eyes
as she pondered what Bumlets had suggested. ‘Maybe I will find some things
there.’ She thought. Smiling faintly, she nodded.
“Okay.” She whispered. “Let’s go. I’m sure we could find it, cuz ‘e
said it was on de outskirts of Manhattan.”
*
* *
The rain stopped when Bumlets and Seven
arrived at an old, sad looking house. The windows were coated in dust, and the
brass doorknob looked old and rusty.
“This must be it.” Seven said. “Bet der’s only one way to know fer
sure.” Seven drew the key out of her pocket and looked at it. Then she looked
up and proceeded to the door. She slowly stuck the key in the keyhole and sucked
in a quick breath. It fit. She then turned the key and she heard the lock
clicking as it unlocked. When she finally heard a click, she pulled out the key
and grasped the doorknob. She attempted to turn it, but she was having no luck.
For some reason, she couldn’t open it. But she was glad when Bumlets gently
removed her hand and turned the doorknob himself. It creaked open and they saw
the inside. Bumlets took Seven’s hand in his and walked inside. The entire
place was coated in dust, the air was musty, and it was very dark. It seemed to
have the scent of ghosts. Seven spied an oil lamp out of the corner of her eye
and pointed it out to Bumlets. He saw and walked over to get it. He picked it up
and then pulled a set of matches from his pocket.
“Hope this oil’s still good.” He mumbled. He struck the match and a flame
sparked up. He brought it to the wick and it lit, bringing its glow with it. Its
luminescent light shone around the room, bringing a bright glow to the room. At
first, they were barely able to discern the figures in front of them, but as
they came closer, they were able to tell what they were seeing. The first thing
they saw was a bookshelf with dust coated figures all over it. Seven rushed over
and found pictures all over the top. She picked one up and blew on it to see
what the picture inside was. The picture was a complete shock to Seven. It was a
picture of her mother, holding a tiny baby in her arms. It must have been her.
The smile on her face brought tears to Seven’s eyes, for she seemed to be so
happy and proud of the daughter she now had. Seven then put it down and looked
at the next picture. It was a picture of her mother and father on their wedding
day, for her mother was in white, and she beheld a bouquet of white roses. Her
father was dressed in a nice suit, and looked more handsome than ever. He was a
smooth-cheeked young man with slick black hair and dark, hazel eyes. Seven
looked at the rest of the pictures, and then she and Bumlets moved on with the
rest of the things in the house. They encountered the kitchen and found many of
the utensils Julia probably used to cook. Even when they entered, it smelled
faintly of blueberry muffins. Seven finally found the bedroom where her parents
were supposed to staying. There was a picture by their bed, and when she looked
at it, she saw that it was a picture of their family. ‘They really loved me,
and I have my father’s eyes.’ She thought. ‘That’s all I need to know
about them.’ They continued looking around and Seven was beginning to believe
that she knew everything about her parents. The place was clean, despite all the
dust, but it looked like a place where any family could live together and be
happy. ‘Since my family couldn’t live here,’ she thought, ‘I’ll live
here. Not now, but when I get married. It’s the least I can do for them.’
They spent at least another hour exploring the house before they finally headed
for Manhattan. Seven clung to Bumlets as they walked through the wet streets
toward the distribution center. When they finally reached the distribution
center, they found Jack and David standing in front of the joint, waiting for
them.
“Where the heck have ya been?” Jack exclaimed. “We’s got newsies all ova
lookin’ fer ya!”
“Seven had somethin’ ta do.” Bumlets explained. “Sorry we din’t tell
ya.”
“Seven, you okay?” Jack asked, noticing she looked a little sad. Seven
smiled and nodded.
“Yeah Jack. Everythin’s okay.”
©
2000; Seven of Nine