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The Gold Coast
It was impossible to tell from the immaculately shoveled sidewalks which way Ben had gone. Simon’s heart sank even further within his chest.
Hudson, thank goodness, remained practical. “He’s got his wallet on him, but I’d bet anything he went on foot. He’s bound to have headed toward one of the two L stops near here.”
“There are L stops near here?” Simon asked in confusion.
“Near being a relative term, boss.” He brought out his phone and pulled up a map of the area. “See, here’s the one on Grand and here’s the other on Chicago. The Grand one is a little closer, and it’s south, so that’s the more likely of the two. Let me bring around the car and we’ll drive there. With luck, and him on foot, we might catch up to him.”
“What about the other stop, though? What if we’re wrong and he took that one instead?”
“It’s a lot less likely,” Hudson said.
“How about I start off on foot to Grand while you take the car to Chicago? If he’s not at that stop, and no one remembers seeing him, you can come get me.”
Hudson looked skeptical then nodded. “Okay.” On the map, he showed Simon the shortest route to the stop on Grand. “It’s cold out and he’s still not back to fighting shape. The kid’ll take the easiest, shortest route, trust me. He’s not trying to lose us. He doesn’t think you’ll come after him.”
Simon frowned. “Then I’ll have to make him see that I’ll always come for him. No matter what.”
“That’s the spirit.” Hudson clapped Simon on the back. “Let’s go find your boy.”
Wednesday, December 20
The scene of an accident
The Gold Coast
Simon was in shape. He exercised five days a week according to the guidelines his cardiologist had given him. Nevertheless, he wasn’t used to walking outdoors in the cold and found his shoes entirely unsuited to the task. Twice he'd nearly slipped and fallen, and he could just imagine the look on Hudson’s face if he had to come and rescue his employer.
Simon would never hear the end of it.
The wind cut at his face like slashing knives, even with gloves his fingers were cold, and he couldn’t imagine doing this, day after day, his entire life. What he was finding unbearable, Ben did as a matter of course.
Simon was, he realized, thoroughly spoiled. No wonder Ben had looked at him like he couldn’t believe Simon was a real person.
His current discomfort didn’t matter, however. Simon refused to let Ben go, at least not without one more conversation with him. Simon realized that he’d both said too much and not enough to Ben. And, perhaps, they had moved too fast, but Simon didn’t regret a single second of any of his time with Ben. With him, he’d felt younger and more alive than he had since before his father had died. With Ben, Simon thought that maybe, if he was lucky, he could grow old and be happy.
For the first time in his life, Simon had begun to live, rather than exist. He was not about to give that up.
Simon turned a corner and saw flashing lights several blocks ahead. A dark premonition flowed through him. Even though he had absolutely no reason to think so, Simon became convinced the lights had something to do with Ben. There were the red and blue of police, but also the red and white of an ambulance. Faintly, he could hear a siren wail then shut off. They didn’t transport the deceased in ambulances with sirens and lights, he remembered. Simon hoped the siren being turned off wasn’t a bad sign.
He wanted to run toward the scene ahead but was afraid of falling, so Simon hurried as best as he could in his completely stupid and impractical shoes. As he got closer, Simon saw a group of people had gathered near the intersection. Perhaps it had been a car accident. Probably it had nothing at all to do with Ben. Nevertheless, the closer he got, the more worried Simon became, and the more sure in his gut that something horrible had happened to Ben and it was all his fault for not reassuring him before going to yell at his mother. Yes, he’d been furious, but making sure Ben was okay should have been his priority. He cursed himself over and over as he drew closer.
The knot of people was tight and getting through them was difficult. As he passed through and around them, Simon caught snippets of conversation.
“…didn’t even slow down…”
“…think she’s drunk? It’s so…”
“…gonna get arrested. You don’t run some guy over and…”
“…manslaughter…”
“…saw the whole thing and the kid was crossing at the light with traffic. The car didn’t…”
“…alive or not?”
“She’s going to jail, I can guarantee…”
