The streets are bustling. Laughing children, barking dogs, singing birds. The suburbs are a happy place this time of year. Except for that one boy. Phillip. Phil, as we call him, is an 11 year old boy. Nobody knows anything except his name, no parents, no foster home, nothing. I've always wanted to help him, but he doesn't let anyone come close. He has never changed his clothes for 3 years now. Despite all odds, he has managed to get a pet dog, the most loyal creature I have ever seen. His name is Bucky, a black labrador, together they live in the streets. My wife doesn't want us to adopt him, and I understand, we already have two kids and it is highly impractical. But I'll always worry about that boy.
For some reason I can't sleep, it is cold out, winter is here. Where do they sleep this time of year? How do they get food? Toss. Turn. Roll. My morning jog will be a bit longer than usual.
After breakfast the boys are taken to school and I ready myself to find the boy. It doesn't take me long. Outside the local store, where they usually sit during morning hours. I run past them a few times. They don't really notice. The boy never has a frown on his face, they never beg for money either. I wonder how they do it. That will have to wait for another day.
Another sleepless night passes. I am without a job, so I take my time to get ready for jogging. The boy and the dog, still sitting at their same place. I want to talk to him today. I walk up to him and hold out my hand and say "Hello, my name Alex, and yours?" the boy doesn't answer. I ask if I can pet his dog. He just nods. The labrador is healthy, and very obedient.
I "slept" in the spare room to not disturb my wife. The boys are starting to worry about me. Daddy has issues. This morning I'm going to try again. "Hello, I am Alex, and you are?" I know his name, I want him to be comfortable with me. The words, cold in the morning air. "I'm Phillip, and this is Bucky" he smiles. No more words are spoken except "Have a nice day further." With a smile I continue my jog. Success.
Well rested, I get up with enthusiasm. I meet the boy and greet him again, this time I shook his hand. I asked him if I can buy him something to drink, and he fell on his knees and cried. I helped him up and asked him what is wrong. "Oh sir, you ask me if I want something to drink. I have never even tasted anything other than water!" I smile and tell him: "Choose anything you like." the boy stops crying and walks by my side, wide-eyed. He selects Coke. I sit by him until he finishes, I then say goodbye, and leave. Strange that he would react like that when I asked him.
Barely sleeping, I dream about the young man I have come to know. Not much dreamt but he was there. I hurry out of the house early to see at what time he arrives at the store. He was there already! I greet him again and sit next to him and the dog. He asks me why I do this. I don't reply. The dog likes me more and more each day, and so does the boy. We had a decent discussion. But now that I'm at home again I can't stop thinking about him. Tonight, I ask my wife again if she doesn't want to consider adopting. I reminded her that there will be no paperwork as the boy is independent. And she said that she will think about it.
About a week of talking to the young man every morning later, my wife says yes to adopting. Today I will mention this to him. He was ecstatic! And thus we planned when, how, and all of that. I am so happy. It was like another child of my own. The boy has very nice manners despite living on the streets. We will refine those once he lives with us.
Sleepless nights have passed, this time because of excitement. Two days after I had told the boy, he is moving in. Today Phillip will have a new home, and Bucky will have an extended family. I meet him at the usual place, and we walk home from there. On our way there is a very large intersection. With eight lanes in four directions. The boy is scared, and so is Bucky. The light for pedestrians goes green, and I take his hand. Bucky walks with us. Suddenly the dog panics and runs back to the side of the road. The boy tears his hand from mine and runs after Bucky. A taxi. Contact with the side of his body, sends him flying. Time feels slower. The small, eleven year old body is flying through the air. When he comes to rest, the people are still driving and the taxi made a run for it. I run to the boy, not caring about the traffic, and check for a pulse. He whispers his last words. "I love you, daddy." and exhales. Bucky notices that his owner is downed. Bucky sits on top of the boy's grounded body. I have to pull him off, because the ambulance is arriving. He puts up a huge fight. Once he is off, he enters a frantic panic. The sirens, light, cars and people overwhelm him. And he runs. The part of the intersection that is still moving, is in his way. And he heads straight into it. Finding his end. The paramedic helps me into the ambulance. He asks me questions about the boy, like name and surname. "Sir, I need you to focus. Are you his father?" "Daddy."
