The situation seemed to have been resolved. The children will get a new ball, and the woman will live another day. Arthur was about to breathe a sigh of relief. Unfortunately… he had to hold his breath for a few more seconds. Apparently, the red-haired girl was not entirely convinced if she should spend money on such promising young people. Arthur didn’t feel obligated to accompany her to the store…, but he felt sorry for her. As probably anyone who would notice the heavy-hearted expression on the woman’s face now would.
“Miss,” he said and tapped her shoulder. “I can borrow you some money,” he suggested, trying his best not to make it sound like an attempt in offering an immoral proposal to her. The last thing he wanted was such a scandal. He pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket - the paper was slightly creased. Arthur smoothed it with his healthy hand. He felt that this amount would be enough to buy a decent ball. Maybe not one that will win the battle against car tires. On the other hand, such a ball would have to be made of steel to be so durable… but then more and more children would start to go to the hospital due to the increasing number of broken toes.
Arthur smiled sympathetically at the woman (after the not-so-sympathetic money situation) and went back to his bench and the pigeons. Birds began pecking at his boots, and Arthur hurriedly tossed more crumbs of bread at them. He had to somehow protect his feet from their sharp spouts.
He touched the spot where the ball had hit him. He felt his temple slowly swell and bulge dangerously. After the painful pain, a grand purplish bruise will remain. Arthur knew this was going to be a sensation at the police station. ‘Our boss got into a fight’, ‘Maybe he just slipped in the snow’… or more unfortunate gossip: ‘Surely some woman must have slapped him.’ Such rumors will probably start circulating among the policemen. And Arthur’s explains would only add to the wave of guesses and hypothesis. As if the life of a policeman did not provide enough adrenaline. In his mental diary, Arthur noted that he must quickly buy a full-coverage powder.
Arthur sighed softly, enjoying this long-awaited moment of peace. It did not last long. The red-haired woman obviously wanted a few more minutes of his time. Not that it was valuable by any means.
Comically she thanked him for his help. Arthur didn’t think she’s ever had anything to do with the police before… at least not in a positive way. “Miss, you don’t have to tha-… Kim?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. Did he really look like a Kim? This was probably the first time he has ever been called that. He was usually told his name should be Christian, but Arthur never quite understood why. “I’m Arthur.” He explained because he preferred the name given to him by his parents. “What’s your name?” he asked courteously. He was tired of calling her ‘Miss’. It was strange considering their age difference and Arthur being the older of the two of them.
She continued talking, but Arthur didn’t seem to be listening. He nodded where it felt right to do so but remained silent. Arthur thought the woman would be grateful to him for that. He was not the best interlocutor. Actually… the man was hopeless when it came to conversations. More than contributing to the dialogue, he preferred to examine her behavior. She spoke hesitantly. She didn’t know how to deal with him. Was it because of his age or his profession? She had an innocent smile on her face, which made her look like she should have been sent to prison a long time ago. The jacket she was wearing had deep pockets. Maybe it was a strange new fashion that Arthur would never understand… or she was hiding something inside it.
She offered to go to the store with her, and Arthur wanted to refuse. He wasn’t on duty. He had more important things on his mind. Besides, the kids wouldn’t hurt her anymore. They cared too much about a new ball. Even now, they were talking about it, arguing whether it should be black and white or green and yellow.
The woman surprised him. Maybe she sensed his uncertainty, but she pulled out an ace and threw it on the table. Arthur didn’t have any aces up his sleeve. He didn’t even know how to play cards. “It is true. More and more people are disappearing.” He noted. Arthur wanted to give himself time to decide. The young person in front of him was a sophisticated but seasoned player. Nor did she look like an exemplary citizen, so Arthur thought it was better not to leave her unattended. If he goes, he will learn more about her. If he doesn’t… “Fine. I will be your escort.” He concluded. His wife would not forgive him if he refused.
Arthur smiled at the boys, who reciprocated with a soft huff. Lovely. One of them - a black-haired boy with so many moles that it would be surprising if one of them did not turn out to be a hidden skin disease, was looking at Arthur. The man felt uncomfortable under his gaze. The little’s eyes turned to his metal hand. Disgust appeared on his face. A quiet discussion began between the boys. Arthur felt like a child again.
He remembered when he was seven years old. He didn’t have a hand, which made him a phenomenon - a strange scientific accident. It has been speculated that he lost it in a fire or it was bitten by a tiger. There was also a kid who watched horror movies in the absence of his parents. He p!ssed in his panties, which he would never change so that no one would find out about his nocturnal doings. He had his own assumptions. He stated that when Arthur was still in his mother’s belly (the word “womb” did not yet exist in their dictionaries), he had a twin brother who devoured his hand. Apparently, Arthur, out of anger, absorbed his unborn brother. Arthur knew now that this was not the case, but as a child, he thought about it all the time. He eventually confessed to his mother that he had eaten his twin, and she began to wonder when she failed as a mother.
Finally, his stepfather gave him a robotic hand, and Arthur hoped he would start being treated ordinarily in high school. He couldn’t have been more wrong. Acne-faced paragons threw him out of their gangs because Arthur was disabled. They thought he couldn’t play football, or he would scare off girls. Though as, for the latter, Arthur thought it was more the fault of not-so-stubbly chins and gel-slick hair. The fairer sex, on the other hand, wondered if a boy with a metal hand would satisfy their bed needs. They probably agreed on ‘no’ because neither of them accepted his desperate invitations to the prom.
Arthur put his hand in his pocket, feeling a wave of embarrassment flooding over him. He felt inferior to the youngster. Although he was technically more powerful than him due to his old age and job status.
He sighed, wanting to get it over with. “So, where is this store?”
@unsungcheerio ~ Anastasia Tremaine