My Newsie Baby Too (A Spot Conlon Love Story)

Chapter 8: Torn

Race and I made it to the hospital. The nurse showed us where they had Spot. Two older boys from Brooklyn set were standing outside the door. They saw it was me and stepped aside. I walked in but they blocked Race’s path.

                “Hey, what gives? I’m wit her,” Race protested.

                “Just wait out dere, Race,” I said, “I need to be alone anyway.”

                Race didn’t look happy about it, but he didn’t protest anymore. He leaned against the opposite wall that the Brooklyn boys weren’t guarding. He looked uncomfortable and took out a cigar putting it in between his lips. I turned around walking further into the room. Spot was laying in the bed, his leg in a cast and stitches on his face. He still had many bruises and there was a large bandage wrapped around his torso. I pulled up a chair next to his bed. I put my hand over his trying not to cry.

                “Spot…” I squeezed his hand.

                Spot shifted a little in his bed. He turned his head slowly to look at me. I could tell by his constant squinting that he couldn’t see me very clearly, but he knew who I was. He tried to smile through his pain. “Les, ya came.”

                “Why wouldn’t I? I had to know you were ok. Spot, I’m so sorry.”

                “Why are you sorry? You didn’t run me over.”
                “But it’s my fault you got run over.”

                “What do you mean?”

                Tears started falling down my face. “Jack told me he was in love with me. That’s why he’s been acting so weird. He kissed me and I told him I loved you, so he was mad. He saw that carriage coming. He purposely didn’t push you out of the way.”

                “He kissed you?”

                “Spot, that’s not the point. He purposely got you run over. You could have died.”

                Spot looked as angry as he could with a battered face but his eyes held all his emotion. “So, Cowboy was tryin’ ta get rid of me huh?”

                “Because a me.” I hung my head letting the tears fall. Maybe I led Jack on. Maybe I was the reason he had fallen in love with me. Maybe it would have been better if I never met Jack. I should have just stayed in that orphanage.

                Spot reached a hand up and wiped at my tears. “Hey, don’t cry, pretty face. It ain’t ya fault. Jack shoulda known you would neva go for him.”

                “He doesn’t and that makes me scared. Jack is a determined person, Spot. He don’t let stuff go dat easily.”

                A nurse came into the room saying visiting hours were over. I hated to leave Spot, but he assured me he would be fine. I kissed his forehead and walked back outside. Race followed me out of the hospital and down the street. The sun was starting to set. Race put out his cigar on the sidewalk.

                “Hey, Les,” he said, “Spot’s gonna be fine. He always is.”

                “It ain’t Spot I’m worried about, Race. It’s ya damn leader.”

                “Jack? Why ya worried about Jack?”

                “It’s a long story. I don’t feel like retellin’ it.”

                Race and I walked back to the newsie lounge. To my surprise, everyone had been waiting for us. They asked for news on Spot and I told them. I decided not to go back to Brooklyn. It wouldn’t be the same without Spot being there. So I took my old bed that I slept in when I lived in Manhattan. I noticed Jack wasn’t there. I figured he was at Medda’s. It’s usually where he went to clear his head. I went outside to get some fresh hair. My head was swimming with thoughts. Most of them were of Spot and some were of Jack. I felt my heart being torn in two. I loved Jack as a brother and I loved Spot as my life. I couldn’t choose one without losing the other. I touched the key that always hung around my neck, Spot’s key. I smiled a bit remembering the day he gave it to me.

                Just then, I felt someone grab me and put their hand over my mouth. I was pulled into an alley and slammed against the wall. It was Jack and he had a fire in his eyes I had never seen before. I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

                “Ain’t that sweet?” he slurred, “Touchin’ his key. Rememberin’ him. Ain’t it sweet? Ya never did stuff like that for me. What makes him so special huh?”

                I tried to scream, but it was muffled through his hand.

                “Why don’t ya love me, huh? I can treat ya better den he can. Why not me?” I started crying. He moved his hand to grip my throat. “Sshh. Don’ cry. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

                “Jack, let me go,” I sobbed, “Let go of me. You’re drunk.”

                “So what if I am? I know what I’m sayin’. I bet Spot don’t know how to please ya, do he? He don’t do nothin’ for ya.”

                “Jack…”

                He kissed me trapping me against the wall so I couldn’t move and honestly, I was too afraid to. He had never acted like this before. It was like he was another person. Someone I didn’t know.

                He trailed his lips from my mouth to my neck. “He don’ stuff like dis, does he?”

                “Jack, stop!”

                 I was answered with a slap to the face. “Shut up! Ya don’ want anyone interrupting us do ya? I’ll show ya I’m better den him.”

                He tugged at my skirt and I knew exactly what he meant. Normally, I would have fought. I would have hit him until he let me go. But I was stuck. I was frozen in fear. I could do nothing but let him do what he wanted and hope that someone came looking for me. No one did.

(Jack has gone over the deep end!! What will happen next??)