Scrooge

21. Alexander

21

ALEXANDER

“Y ou’ve swapped your ear for your ring,” I tell her as we drive into town, heading toward Tribeca. Her constant ear pulling when she’s anxious a clear indication to me that she’s worried. A quick chat with George, then a call to her parents, revealed that no one has found Deloris yet. We went to two other nearby shelters before now making our way into the city.

“Seriously, where could she be? She isn’t at any of the usual places.” Haylee is frustrated, and I can feel her concern expanding. I reach over and squeeze her hand, trying to offer comfort, and she grabs on to me tightly. It doesn’t feel as unusual as it did a few weeks ago. I like having her hand in mine. I like her relying on me. I know I have many families relying on me for their wages and jobs, but I have never had anyone rely on me like this. Like she wants only what I can give, as a person, and it has nothing to do with money.

“We will find her. She is probably eating a delicious meal somewhere, having the time of her life,” I say, although trying to find someone in this city is going to be hard. If you want to get lost, you come to New York.

I think about what I have experienced today. A full Thanksgiving lunch, which I have never partaken in before, even when my dad was alive. I proposed due to a legal contract, but my hand still holds hers tight, and I have no intention of stopping. I have been to more homeless shelters today than I even knew existed and have met people who seem to know Haylee well, all loving the girl who treats them as equals, and in the process, opening my eyes up to a whole different side of the world I have never seen.

The shelters are shit. There is no denying it. But they are run by amazing people who are doing the best with what they have. I feel sick, seeing the poverty they are living in. My father kept me sheltered from anything that remotely looked like this. He took me on luxurious vacations, checking off every continent. I speak French just as well as some locals do. I have an entire real estate portfolio, jets and cars at my disposal, people I can call to do the things I don’t have time for, like laundry or cooking or cleaning. There are many things in my life I need to feel fortunate to have, things that have been so normalized for me that I’ve taken them for granted. My privilege is slapping me in the head today. Hard.

“That was nice what you told George earlier today,” she says, her gaze fixed out the window like Deloris will jump out at her at any moment.

“It’s true,” I tell her, keeping my eyes on the road, occasionally glancing her way.

“It happened a while ago. I’m surprised he even remembered.”

“I'm just glad he was there. I don’t want you walking anywhere by yourself again. It really isn’t safe.” The thought of her walking alone at night has my shoulders tight and my stomach churning.

“Well, after Christmas when we break up, I will no longer have Dan at my beck and call and will be back to footing it, sooo…” she says with a shrug. I chance a look at her again, hating the words on her lips, feeling like we are on a timeline that I am not ready to see expire. As I glare back at the road ahead of me, that feeling in the pit of my stomach deepens, but I don’t reply. She is right. Our agreement is a legal document that will end at Christmas.

“It’s just up here,” she says, sitting forward, and I slow down, indicating and finding a spot nearby to park. I look in my mirror to see my team is still following, although at a distance. We jump out quickly, Haylee’s silent urgency vibrating from her now, and I grab her hand again, not yet able to let her go completely as we walk together inside.

This place is more crowded than the others, busier. People are everywhere, so I pull her closer, kissing the top of her head as we stand outside, waiting to see a staff member. The move is now something that happens so automatically I don’t even notice I’m doing it. I like having her close to me, and the way her body melts into me makes me think she likes it too.

“It will be fine,” I murmur against her hair just as a man walks up.

“Can I help you?” the man asks, seemingly friendly enough, although looking stressed and run off his feet.

“We are looking for someone. Her name is Deloris. She is short, with dark hair…” Haylee starts to explain, but she doesn’t need to continue. Immediate recognition flashes across his face as soon as she says her name.

“Deloris, yes, we have her. She is out back. Follow me.”

I feel Haylee literally sag in relief in my hold, and I pull her tight, relief filling my body as well.

“Oh, thank God,” Haylee whispers.

We walk quickly, as he obviously has other places to be, but I take a quick look around with every step. It is not dissimilar to the other shelters we have been to today. All neat, but a bit grimy. The need for some upgrades is evident, either from the peeling paint, the chipped floor tiles, or the lack of comforts, such as blinds or rugs. He takes us through a small room, which I see is a kitchen, and there is Deloris.

She is sitting at a small kitchen table, her clothes hanging off her, her face and hair dirty, her eyes red and watery.

“Deloris… are you okay?” Haylee asks in a voice so caring it makes my heart lurch.

“Haylee?” Deloris looks up at her like she is everything. An expression of wonder and amazement just from seeing her. A look that I am starting to realize I get at times.

“What’s wrong?” Haylee asks, taking a seat at the table next to Deloris. I watch Deloris closely, noticing her nose is running, and she is a little pale.

“Sandra’s a bitch. She stole my bag of dicks,” Deloris says, and Haylee’s lips quirk.

“I know, I spoke to her. Are you feeling okay?” Haylee continues.

“She isn’t well. She is showing flu-like symptoms, but she won't go to the hospital,” the man who brought us in here says.

“Ahhh, hurts, everything hurts,” Deloris says, then she coughs. It doesn’t sound like a harmless cough either.

“What hurts?” Haylee asks. I suspect they put Deloris in this back room to quarantine her and probably forgot about her until we showed up. There’s nothing or nobody else around, and for how crowded the other areas are, that doesn’t make much sense.

“To breathe, to eat. To talk,” she says, looking empty of any energy. At least compared to the last encounter of hers I witnessed.

“We have been keeping her warm, offering her pain relief, but she needs to go to hospital, or at least be seen by someone,” the man relays.

“Why didn't you take her?” I ask, wondering if leaving people unwell like this is common or if this place is just a shithole. Haylee frowns at my demanding tone.

“I can’t force her to go. We have tried everything, but she flat-out refuses.”

“She clearly needs medical attention,” I say with a bite to my tone.

“We can’t just drag her down there,” he spits back, our words getting heated.

“Alex, it's fine,” Haylee says, coming to stand beside me.

“How do you usually handle this kind of thing?” I ask. I am sure they would have some type of protocol. Isn’t this what my taxpayer dollars are funding?

“Usually, the police need to get involved. The paramedics sometimes come, but even they are too busy to bother stopping here for a homeless person,” he says almost flippantly, and I grit my teeth.

“You need a hospital, Deloris,” I tell her. It is the first time I have ever spoken to her, so she looks at me warily.

“I'm not going to no hospital,” she mutters through another coughing fit.

“Deloris, they will make you feel better,” Haylee says, her caring tone much softer than my own.

“No, Haylee. They’re not nice,” she says with a quick shake of her head, and I frown.

“Who isn’t nice?” I ask, my voice sharp.

“The nurses. The doctors,” Deloris murmurs.

“I'll make them be nice to you, Deloris,” I tell her, my arrogance coming out, but if I have to make every staff member sing a fucking song to Deloris in that hospital ward, I will. Deloris is important to Haylee, so she is important to me.

“They will help you feel better,” Haylee says, again in her soft tone, and I wonder how she does it. I have been in these shelters for merely a few hours, and I am angry at how these people live. I pay my fair share of taxes and thought that it was enough. Clearly, it isn’t.

“They are assholes, Haylee.”

“Please, Deloris. Let us take you,” Haylee implores again, reaching out her hand to cover Deloris’. Not unlike what I just did to her in the car. I see Deloris softening.

“Is Sandra going to give my dicks back?” she asks, looking at Haylee under her lashes.

“If you come to the hospital, I will talk with her,” Haylee says with a nod.

“Come on, Deloris. I’m taking you into the hospital.” My tone doesn’t leave room for any argument. I’m sick of all this dancing around the topic. She probably has the flu as well as some type of infection. We need to get her out of here.

“Let us help you,” Haylee says, and I see Deloris give her a small nod and start to stand.

“Where are her things?” I ask the staff member, who snorts a laugh at me.

“She is homeless. She has no things.” Then he walks off on me, straight out the door.

“Asshole.” I grit my teeth and help Deloris and Haylee back out to the car. Opening the back door, we help Deloris inside, then I do the same for Haylee and walk around to the driver’s side.

“There is a health clinic just a few blocks down,” Haylee says, her phone in her hand, looking for the closest medical center.

“We are going to the Presbyterian,” I tell her quickly, pulling the car around across the street hastily, to a few honks and a gleeful cheer from Deloris in the back.

“But I can’t afford that,” Haylee says, wide-eyed, and I ignore her statement as I hit a few buttons on my cell.

“Dr. Shallow’s office,” a female voice says over the speakerphone.

“This is Alexander Jackson. I need Dr. Shallow at the admissions at Presbyterian. I am heading there now.”

“I will alert him, and he will meet you there. Shall I organize the room?” the woman asks. Her friendly, calm, yet professional tone is one I pay very handsomely for with my annual contributions to her boss’ medical research and clinics which ensures me his immediate attention should I need it.

“Yes. We will need it for a while,” I tell her, my eyes flicking to Deloris in the back seat, seeing her lying back on my soft leather seats, looking out the window.

“Of course, sir,” she says, and I end the call.

“Who was that?” Haylee asks, looking at me with a furrowed brow.

“My doctor’s office,” I tell her simply.

“I hate doctors,” Deloris pipes up from the back seat.

“What room? What’s happening?” Haylee asks, sounding as unsure as she looks.

“Let me take care of it,” I tell her as I pull into the special section of the hospital reserved for people like me, and a medical team rushes out. Taking her hand in mine, she nods, letting me take care of everything without any more questions.

Her trust in me means more than I ever thought it could.