Date: Fri, 19 Apr 2002 23:43:35 -0400
From: TgrPaw@gmail.com
Subject: Spare a Quarter - 2

========================
Can You Spare a Quarter?
========================

Dedicated to "D":

   We didn't meet this way, it probably wouldn't have been anything like
   this if we had met this way, but if we had, I hope it might have been
   something like this.   {{{{ hugs }}}}

Disclaimer:

   Names of people, places, companies, and so forth are completely
   fictional.  While this story draws inspiration from real events which
   involved real people, it is nonetheless a complete work of fiction.

Copyright:

   2002; All rights reserved.

Comments:

   Email can be sent to TgrPaw@gmail.com

   Flames, hate mail, and similar things will be ignored.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

2. Work Intrudes

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Graham Holt ran for the subway, he was going to be late, and he was never
late.  He prided himself for always being on time, even early if possible.
Nonetheless, being late was the last thing on his mind right now.  As he
stood in the subway car looking at his reflection in the glass window he
was disgusted with the person he saw looking back at him.  He'd left a
small boy, alone, who clearly needed help, to go to a business meeting.
How could he?  What kind of cruel unfeeling monster was he?

He got out of the subway car and walked quickly to the client's
office tower, through the revolving door, and into the elevator.
When he emerged on the 14th floor, he presented himself at reception
somewhat out of breath and muttering excuses about the crowds and other
invented problems.  The receptionist knew Graham from many other visits,
and knew he was never late, so it worked to his advantage.  She ushered
him into the meeting room where everyone was waiting, and once again,
they all believed the story.  Graham was never late, it could only be an
unavoidable situation and no one questioned him, or gave consideration
to other possible explanations.

The meeting went along its course as meetings do.  Everyone had to say
at least two things, everyone had to find fault with the proposal in at
least one way, each person making sure they showed their boss they'd
examined it carefully.  As the representative of CSI, it was Graham's
job to deal with the issues raised, deflect them, or note them down and
take them back to his office for further study.

Graham approached corporate life as one would a chess game, and usually
he was fairly good at it.  He was not a true corporate animal, it was
simply a strategy game to him.  The difference being that in this game,
the pawns were real people, and he too was one of those pawns.  One was
required to play the game if you didn't want to stay at the bottom for
your entire career.  Though he knew he was only a minor pawn in the grand
scheme of things, he was a self-aware pawn, and that gave him advantages
over the other pieces in the game.  By playing off the bigger pieces
against each other, the corporate chess game could often be adjusted
to his advantage, and small pawns like himself could then survive and
gradually move up in the game.

Graham was rather to the left side of the political spectrum and found
the whole game of corporate survival rather distasteful.  However, in a
world run according to the dictates of the right, where money was power,
and power was all that mattered, it wouldn't do for him to let others
know how he truly felt about the situation and those who ran it.  He kept
his true opinions and feelings hidden, as he kept so many things hidden.

Today however, he found that he was not able to concentrate properly on
the deal at hand and "the game".  Several times he'd had to ask people to
repeat themselves, and his usual quick and calculated manner of dealing
with people and their personal agendas wasn't up to it's usual standard.
No one really noticed, but Graham knew he was not at his best, and by a
substantial margin.  Nonetheless he continued, he did it because he had
to, and Graham did not want anyone to become aware of the moral dilemma
that was eating away at him.

                               *** *** *** ***

Back at the mall food court, the boy wiped his eyes on the sleeve
of his rather dirty coat, and slowly finished off the Pepsi that the
stranger had bought for him.  The boy knew he'd never see the man again.
He'd just been someone who perhaps had felt a bit guilty and bought him
something to eat to whitewash his conscience.  Sometimes he got lucky
and could get a meal that way, but more often it was the other way.

No one had ever cared about him.  No one ever would.  Why else would he
have had to run away from home for good?  He had tried to endure it,
but eventually he could no longer take what was being forced upon him
almost daily.  Then there had been that final nightmarish evening when
the midnight visit had been so vicious he'd almost died.  No, no one
would ever want damaged goods like him.  He knew what he was and decent
folks would never want him around.

Still, the stranger's eyes weren't quite the same as those of other men.
The boy had seen that clearly, and it puzzled him.  Though he'd had
to deal with many men in his life, he'd not seen a look like that in a
man's eyes before.  What could it mean?

As he sat there pondering the situation, something caught the boy's eye
and he glanced up and spotted what it was instantly.  Across the mall
and making a beeline in his direction: mall security.  He'd developed
an internal warning radar of some sort that alerted him to danger,
and now it was urgently buzzing within him - get away - now.

The boy dropped the now empty container and bolted.  For better or
worse, he'd had lots of practice taking care of himself during his
time on the streets.  It was what had saved him countless times in the
past and he knew that depending on himself was the best way to survive.
He was small and thin, under-nourished, but his legs and his brain knew
how to keep him safe.  He dove straight into the crowds.  As he moved
the moment a tiny opening would appear in the throngs of people he was
through it and picking up speed.

The security guard was hot on his trail, he'd tried to catch this one
before, and the boy had always managed to elude him.  It made him mad
that a street urchin like this always seemed to be able to get away
and frustrate him.  It angered him because kids like that shouldn't be
allowed in places like this, places where people came to enjoy themselves,
where families came - it wasn't right.

The outer door to the mall became visible and the boy sprinted for it,
a three hundred feet and he was safe.  He knew the rules, once you were
past the door, the guards couldn't touch you - well not legally at least.
He'd also learned the corollary lesson quickly too, the rules were only
followed when others were watching.  If a boy were caught, even outside
the doors, it wouldn't go well for him.  So he hit the doors at a run,
and kept on running, into and through the crowds outside and still he
moved onwards.

Once he knew he was far enough away and could see that no one was
following him, he slowed to a walk and then finally stopped and looked
about.  The crowds were beginning to thicken.  He had no watch, but
the darkening winter sky told him that it was the start of the evening
rush hour.  He had no goal in mind, but his stomach was full, and that
was better than he'd been able to say for several days.  However with
nowhere to go, time and destination were meaningless things to him.

Wandering about, the boy shortly found himself at the subway station.
He'd not headed there out of any definite plan, it just turned out that
his flight and subsequent meandering had taken him in that direction.
Suddenly the stranger's words came back to him, "...  I'll be back in
about two hours ... if you were where I first saw you when I get back ..."
Why did it come back to him?  He knew that he'd never see the man again.
He was pleased about getting the meal, but he knew that was all there'd
ever be.

Nonetheless something in him said to wait here.  He couldn't go back to
where he'd first seen the stranger - the security guard would have alerted
the others and they would all be watching for him, and be angry he'd
gotten away again.  They had lousy jobs, he knew it, and they knew it.
The only pleasure they got out of it, if you could call it that, was
rousting people and having fun bullying those they could.  The boy knew
these kinds of people well, he'd been dealing with them ever since he
could recall, and he knew there was no reasoning with them, one could
only keep out of their way.

He decided to wait in the subway station.  Assuming the man returned the
same way he went, the boy ought to be able to spot the stranger when he
got off the subway.  Being an expert at being invisible he was confident
he could see the man and watch him, without being spotted himself.
The boy sometimes fantasized he was a secret agent, it was a game.
See without being seen, and if he got spotted, he lost the game.
The streets were a fast teacher, but he had learned, and now he never
lost the game.  When he wanted to be invisible, he was invisible.

He would watch for the stranger, follow him, and then see what happened.
He'd look to see if the man would go back to where he'd first asked him
for something to eat.  He knew he wouldn't go back there, he probably
wouldn't even show up at all - not even to go back to his office, he
knew the man was just like all the others, but he'd watch anyway.

The boy leaned against a pillar in the station, huddled into himself,
and wrapped his coat around him for warmth against the rapidly cooling
winter air.  He looked like a dozen other boys would in a subway station,
unless you looked closely.  The coat was tattered, the running shoes were
in rough shape, the pants hadn't been laundered in who knows how long.
However most people these days didn't give each other a single glance,
let alone a thoughtful look.  He knew the routine well, look like he
belonged, fit into the situation, blend into the background.  No one
in the station even noticed him there, but the boy saw everyone and
everything, nothing escaped his eyes.  He would wait.

                               *** *** *** ***

The meeting was finally wrapping up, it'd taken rather longer than
expected, but finally it was over.  Graham had gotten used to the fact
that meetings never seemed to end when they were supposed to, but he
never liked it when they went into overtime.  On this particular day
especially, it had seemed like it would never end.  He'd been a wreck
during most of the meeting, but fortunately he'd managed to cover it
up fairly well.  A lifetime of being something he wasn't helped Graham
at times like these.  The endless Monday morning questions of "How was
your weekend?" or the equally unpleasant Friday equivalent of "What
have you got planned for tomorrow?", etc.  He knew everyone meant well,
but honest answers to any of these or a hundred similar questions could
never be given.  Graham was an accomplished actor, he had to be to fit
into the corporate mold that was expected of him.

He'd pulled off the deal, managing to resolve, deflect, or otherwise
juggle the objections, "helpful" suggestions, and other comments of
the client's people.  As he shook hands with them as they filed out and
muttered pleasantries, his inner self was in anguish and turmoil.  All he
could see as he packed up his briefcase was the face of the boy he'd
left at the table in the food court.  The piercing blue eyes boring into
his soul, reading what was there, knowing him for exactly what he was.
While he put on his coat and headed for the elevator he pondered how it
was that a boy was almost always more perceptive than an adult.

He reached the downtown station and got on the subway and headed back
for the office.  It was getting late and he wanted to be on his way home.
If there was one thing Graham disliked above all else, it was getting away
from work late.  He'd spent several years working in the civil service
and while the work habits often associated with that profession by most
people had never taken hold, the loathing of overtime had.  He was very
diligent about making sure he left for home on time and now on top of
everything else he was going to be late getting home.

As he stood inside the subway car and looked at his reflection in the
glass he saw looking back at him the person who'd walked away from someone
in need.  Not just someone in need though - but a boy in need.  Graham was
disgusted with himself, and looked away.  Away to look at something else,
anything else.  He knew the boy wouldn't be there, it was rank insanity to
expect him to have waited.  Who was he that the boy should wait for him?
He tried to console himself with the thought that at least he'd given the
boy something to eat - but he knew he was a fraud and a monster.  He knew
there would be no sleep for him tonight, or for many nights to come.

                               *** *** *** ***

The subway car came to a halt in the station, and the stranger got out.
The boy spotted him in an instant, before he'd even completely exited
the subway car. He raised himself from his slouched position against
the pillar, and riveted his eyes onto the man.  He would follow him,
satisfy himself that the man was the same as the rest, and then go off
into the night to fend for himself as he had so many times before.

Graham looked about carefully as he walked through the station.  The boy
was nowhere to be seen.  He knew he wouldn't be here, it was ridiculous
to think he would have waited.  However he had to look, his very soul
or rather the tattered remnants of it after his actions this afternoon
demanded he look.  He went back, retracing his steps back out the way
he'd entered the station earlier.  He went over the walkway back towards
the office tower.

When he got to the place where the boy had been, he paused and looked
around.  The people following behind him moved around and continued on
past him like a flowing stream, but Graham just stopped and looked at
the spot where the boy had sat.  There was no trace, not even a mark
or smudge he could associate with the boy, nothing to show he had ever
existed.  He knew that there wouldn't be any trace, how could there be,
but he had to look.

Graham looked about in the crowd, but with all the people, there wasn't
anything to see.  He knew it was hopeless to be looking for one small boy
in amongst the hundreds of people, but he looked nevertheless.  He walked
onwards with a slower step, and paused again a few hundred feet further
along, and looked about again.  Suddenly remembering, he walked quickly
to where the doors were that led into the mall.  This was where he and
the boy had gone in.  Graham looked around again - still nothing.

Graham's shoulders fell as he now slowly walked back towards his office
tower.  Graham knew he'd never see the boy again, he was the lowest of the
low, and he knew it.  Just to get to some unimportant business meeting
and keep his boss happy, he'd abandoned a young boy who needed help.
Such a proud example of corporate excellence he was.  No doubt he'd get
an extra bonus for pulling off the deal next month at Christmas time.
Graham knew he would tear it up the moment it was placed in his hands,
his hands that had had the power to possibly change a life for the better
and had done nothing.  He felt like throwing up.

The eyes of the boy never left the stranger from the moment he emerged
from the subway car.  With skill that would have made a spymaster envious,
the boy followed the man, watched him, and kept himself invisible in the
crowd.  The boy saw the stranger return to the spot where he had sat and
had asked for something to eat.  The boy saw him go to the doors where
they'd entered the mall together, and he saw how finally at the end,
the man had given up hope and started to head back to the office tower
with his head down.

The boy knew that the stranger was looking for him, and he was indecisive
about what he should do.  Should he leave or should he let the man know he
was there?  It was the man's reaction at the end that decided it for him.
The boy could tell that the man was very disappointed at not seeing him.
While the stranger had walked very quickly to the spots where he thought
it likely that he might see the boy, it was obvious that his steps were
now laboured and not at all normal.  That plus what he'd seen in the
man's eyes earlier in the food court made his decision for him.

[to be continued]