Faye Kellerman - Street Dreams

There wasn’t much time to sightsee, only a quick overnight in Jerusalem because everybody said I had to see Jerusalem. It was ancient and exotic and in parts very labyrinthine, but also filled with traffic and it was nearly impossible to find a parking space in city central. It wasn’t at all a war zone, not nearly as dangerous as I thought it would be. There were people on the streets, but we were reminded constantly not to drive certain roads at night; the couple of times we did, we carried a gun.

Mostly, it was hopping from one relative to another, one meal after another, everyone ending the repast with the accusing words “So when will you be coming back?” Meeting the family gave me fresh insight into my beloved. Doted on by his parents, cosseted by his five older brothers, worshiped by his four younger sisters, Koby was the favorite, the designated “pet,” and when the conversation wasn’t centered around politics-which was most of the time-it was a swap of Koby stories. The oldest brother of all ten, Yaphet, summed it up succinctly one day at the dinner table. Yaphet bore a resemblance to Koby, but was two inches shorter and twice as wide. His voice was low and gravelly, and he spoke English haltingly.

But he got the point across.

“Yaakov,” he growled out. “He got the looks… He got the brains… He got the physical… gevurah …”

“Strength,” Koby whispered.

“I think he is adopted,” Yaphet snarled out. “Or my mother decides to play tricks! ”

Immediately, the table broke into raucous laughter… led by Koby’s father. It was then that Koby turned to me and whispered, “It is time to go back.”

We were both thrilled when we touched down at smoggy old LAX. After a day of recuperation, Koby returned to work. I, on impulse, went downtown during the midafternoon heat to check out skid-row denizens. I walked from block to block taking in sad, discarded faces, trying not to bleed for the world. I had almost given up when fate tapped my shoulder.

I knew him instantly. He was sitting on the stoop of a condemned building in an industrial block of warehouses, eating food from a can. His kinky hair had grown bushy and wild, but somehow he had managed to remain clean shaven, a lucky break for me because a beard would have covered his recognizable Down’s-like face. He had open sores on his hands and his face was dirty, just caked with grime. His body was swathed in layers of clothes, even though it was fiery hot.

My heart was pounding when I approached him. He looked up and hooked an arm over his meal, a gesture of protecting his food. I extended my hand to him, but he didn’t respond.

“C’mon, David,” I told him. “Let’s go home.”

He regarded me with yellow eyes but didn’t move.

“People are waiting for you, David. Lots of people.”

No response.

“Sarah… Mr. Klinghoffner, Mr. Paxton… You remember Mr. Paxton, don’t you?”

He growled out, “I’m not stupid.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” I said. “Sarah had a baby. She had a little girl. That means you have a daughter. She named her Cinderella. We call her Ella. I think”-I studied his face-“I think she has Sarah’s eyes, but your mouth.”

He continued to eat.

I said again, “C’mon, David, let’s get out of here.”

“Don’t got nowhere to go. Don’t got a home.”

“You could have a home if you wanted one.”

“Well, I don’t got one now.”

“You may not have an apartment at this moment, but we can get you one.”

“I want to see Sarah.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“No. Her sister won’t let me.”

“Have you ever asked Sarah’s sister?”

David didn’t answer.

“Things might be different with the baby. It’s worth a try.”

Again I extended my hand. This time, he took it and I hoisted him to his feet. His smell was strong, even in the open air. He was short and appeared squat, but that could have been the layers of clothes. Immediately, he began to scratch his hands, arms, and head. I got itchy just looking at him. “Those cuts and sores… do they hurt?”

“Sometimes.”

“They look like bites.”

“Could be. Lots of bugs and rats around when I sleep.”

“We need to get you looked at and cleaned up. I have a friend who works in a hospital. Mind if we go there?”

“What hospital?”

“Mid-City Pediatric.”

“That’s for kids.”

“They have adults. And they have lots of good doctors.”

“All right.”

“So should we go now?”

“All right.”

I looked at the piles of clothing on the ground. “Anything you want to take with you?”

He thought a moment, then shook his head. “It’s all garbage.”

“You deserve better than garbage.”

He didn’t answer me. He concentrated as he walked. I could tell his feet were tender. Slowly, we made it back to my car and I settled him inside. In closed quarters, his stench was foul, not just a dirty smell but reeking of infections. I rolled down the windows, started the engine, and pulled away from the curb.

“When can I see Sarah?” he asked me.

“First we have to clean you up.”

“How long will that take?”

“I don’t know. We just have to make sure you’re not sick before you see Sarah-because of the baby.”

“How is the baby?”

“She’s wonderful. Very, very cute.”

“Good.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a McDonald’s at the hospital. If the doctor says it’s okay, I’ll buy you a meal.”

“Thank you.”

As I drove to Mid-City, I called up Koby on my cell. It was wonderful to know someone in the medical field; it just streamlined everything. By the time I pulled up to the main entrance, Koby, dressed in scrubs, masked, gloved, and wearing a hair cap, was outside with a wheelchair. I helped David out of the car and into the wheelchair.

“This is David.”

“Hey, David,” Koby said. “I’m going to put a cap on your hair, all right?”

“Okay.”

“Maybe we take it off later.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe we give you a short haircut like in the army.”

“Okay.”

Koby picked up the boy’s hands and I saw his eyebrows go up. “I take you to see a doctor, David. But I tell you now, I’m sure we admit you overnight.”

“David, I’m going to call Mr. Paxton,” I told him. “He can help you with all this.”

“Okay.”

“Your daughter was brought here after she was born,” Koby said. “I took care of her.”

David looked up at Koby, and for the first time, I saw him smile. It opened his face and clogged in my throat.

Koby said, “I take it from here, Cindy.”

“He’s hungry, Yaakov.”

“We take good care of him. I shall talk to the attending. I make sure he gets fed. I see you when I get off… around eleven.”

“I’ll be waiting.” I went around to the driver’s side of the car.

“Cindy?” Koby said.

I turned around.

“He has infestation of lice. Go to the pharmacy and buy a special shampoo-Nix or Rid. You can buy them over the counter. Take a hot shower when you get home and use it as directed. Also, they make a special spray for upholstery. You need to disinfect your car.”

I looked at my beautiful, recently washed-and-waxed Lexus. I frowned. What could I do? The drawbacks of altruism, but on balance, the positives greatly outweighed the negatives.

To T. S. Eliot,April was the cruelest month, but for Angelinos September was the hottest. And if you asked Rina, the hottest day of the year always fell on Yom Kippur, when religious Jews refrained from food and drink for over twenty-six hours. It wasn’t Yom Kippur today, but the afternoon had been a scorcher, not all that unusual even at this late date in the ninth month.