A Tale (Part 2 of 3)
“I have a sick man here”, Alex said. “Can you take him to a hospital?”
“Yes, for two hundred rubles.”
Alex rummaged in his pockets and hastily gave him the money.
“Can you help me carry him?”
The driver shrugged, got out, and walked with Alex to the street lamp. When he saw the bundle of groaning rags, he took a step back and said, “He’s filthy. He’s a hotel for lice.”
“He will die if he stays here.”
“So? What is he to you?”
“He is . . .”, Alex said slowly. “He is my son.”
“He’s your son? All right, let’s get him. You take his shoulders; I’ll take his feet.”
The driver reached down to grab the ankles, then drew back.
“Forget it”, he said. “He’ll make a mess in my car.”
Alex unbuttoned his coat and threw it over Alyosha. He removed the wallet, passport, and papers from his tweed jacket and stuffed them into his pants pockets. The jacket went over Alyosha’s legs and feet.
“There, we’ll wrap him in this. Now he won’t soil your upholstery.”
“This is not your son”, the driver said. “You’re a foreigner.”
“Yes, I am a foreigner. And you are right, he is not my son.” Alex shivered in the night wind. “He is my father.”
The driver stared at him suspiciously. Alex handed him another hundred rubles. This finalized the deal, and without any further discussion they loaded the body into the back seat of the car. Ten minutes later they carried Alyosha into the emergency ward of a hospital.
The driver took off immediately, leaving Alex on a hard wooden bench with Alyosha propped against his shoulder. For an hour he watched the frantic comings and goings in the ward, amazed that the city contained so many tragedies, even more amazed that he was sitting in the midst of it with a stranger’s body leaning against his. Wondering why.
Wondering if he had fallen through the thin ice that separated all men from the suction of the void.
With his eyes closed, Alyosha rolled his head back and breathed noisily through his open mouth. His teeth stopped chattering, he was no longer shaking, and a great heat now emanated from his body. When at last a doctor approached with a clipboard, Alex explained what had happened. Frowning, she jotted down pertinent details, then put her hand to Alyosha’s forehead.
“He’s burning up”, she said in a monotone. “Does he have papers?”
“I think he has been robbed of his documents.”
“There’s not much we can do for him.”
“Is there no place for a Russian citizen who has suffered this misfortune?”
She shrugged. “We look after all our citizens.”
“I can help with expenses”, he said.
She put her clipboard under her arm and gave him a stern look.
“Sir, though you speak Russian very well, it is obvious that you are not from this country. It is a foolish thing you have done. There are very dangerous people in Moscow, flooding in from all over, criminals who would not hesitate to cut your throat for a ruble. In the future you must remember that it is better to avoid trouble. Do not make eye contact with strangers. Do not answer them if they speak to you.”
“This is most helpful advice, madam”, he replied politely. “Still, I do not think this man is dangerous. He is just a lost soul.”
“I can see that you are a person of considerate nature. However, people from the West are naïve. It would be better for you to keep to the hotels and the tourist places. We do not want incidents.”
“Of an international nature?”
She flashed him a look and returned to writing on her clipboard.
Calling two orderlies, she instructed them to take Alyosha away. “To DT wing. Shower and disinfect him there. I will call the chief of detox to register. If anyone makes problems, tell them I will take personal responsibility.”
They carried Alyosha to a gurney and loaded him onto it. The doctor watched them go through a set of green double doors, and then she turned to Alex.
~Michael O’Brien (from The Father’s Tale)
“Yes, for two hundred rubles.”
Alex rummaged in his pockets and hastily gave him the money.
“Can you help me carry him?”
The driver shrugged, got out, and walked with Alex to the street lamp. When he saw the bundle of groaning rags, he took a step back and said, “He’s filthy. He’s a hotel for lice.”
“He will die if he stays here.”
“So? What is he to you?”
“He is . . .”, Alex said slowly. “He is my son.”
“He’s your son? All right, let’s get him. You take his shoulders; I’ll take his feet.”
The driver reached down to grab the ankles, then drew back.
“Forget it”, he said. “He’ll make a mess in my car.”
Alex unbuttoned his coat and threw it over Alyosha. He removed the wallet, passport, and papers from his tweed jacket and stuffed them into his pants pockets. The jacket went over Alyosha’s legs and feet.
“There, we’ll wrap him in this. Now he won’t soil your upholstery.”
“This is not your son”, the driver said. “You’re a foreigner.”
“Yes, I am a foreigner. And you are right, he is not my son.” Alex shivered in the night wind. “He is my father.”
The driver stared at him suspiciously. Alex handed him another hundred rubles. This finalized the deal, and without any further discussion they loaded the body into the back seat of the car. Ten minutes later they carried Alyosha into the emergency ward of a hospital.
The driver took off immediately, leaving Alex on a hard wooden bench with Alyosha propped against his shoulder. For an hour he watched the frantic comings and goings in the ward, amazed that the city contained so many tragedies, even more amazed that he was sitting in the midst of it with a stranger’s body leaning against his. Wondering why.
Wondering if he had fallen through the thin ice that separated all men from the suction of the void.
With his eyes closed, Alyosha rolled his head back and breathed noisily through his open mouth. His teeth stopped chattering, he was no longer shaking, and a great heat now emanated from his body. When at last a doctor approached with a clipboard, Alex explained what had happened. Frowning, she jotted down pertinent details, then put her hand to Alyosha’s forehead.
“He’s burning up”, she said in a monotone. “Does he have papers?”
“I think he has been robbed of his documents.”
“There’s not much we can do for him.”
“Is there no place for a Russian citizen who has suffered this misfortune?”
She shrugged. “We look after all our citizens.”
“I can help with expenses”, he said.
She put her clipboard under her arm and gave him a stern look.
“Sir, though you speak Russian very well, it is obvious that you are not from this country. It is a foolish thing you have done. There are very dangerous people in Moscow, flooding in from all over, criminals who would not hesitate to cut your throat for a ruble. In the future you must remember that it is better to avoid trouble. Do not make eye contact with strangers. Do not answer them if they speak to you.”
“This is most helpful advice, madam”, he replied politely. “Still, I do not think this man is dangerous. He is just a lost soul.”
“I can see that you are a person of considerate nature. However, people from the West are naïve. It would be better for you to keep to the hotels and the tourist places. We do not want incidents.”
“Of an international nature?”
She flashed him a look and returned to writing on her clipboard.
Calling two orderlies, she instructed them to take Alyosha away. “To DT wing. Shower and disinfect him there. I will call the chief of detox to register. If anyone makes problems, tell them I will take personal responsibility.”
They carried Alyosha to a gurney and loaded him onto it. The doctor watched them go through a set of green double doors, and then she turned to Alex.
~Michael O’Brien (from The Father’s Tale)
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