Port Authority, Manhattan, Late Tuesday Night
It was raining, windy, and 30 degrees out, but Yitzhak didn't care. All that mattered to him right now was that he was getting the hell out. He'd always wanted to see New York City, but by the time he finally got there the circumstances in which he'd gotten to see it took all the joy right out of the experience. And now there was no reason for him to stay.
Phyllis Stein bustled over to him, looking more harried than usual. "People in this town, honestly," she said. "Now, are you sure you have all your things?"
Yitzhak just looked at her, his face impassive, and kicked the paper grocery bag on the floor with one heavy boot.
"Of course." Phyllis's shoulders slumped. "Yitzhak, sweetheart, I'm so sorry I didn't try to get you out of there sooner. I should have . . . well, it's too late for that now."
She handed him a thin manila envelope and lowered her voice, leaning in. "Listen. I don't know how well this fake ID will go over, so try not to use it too much, all right? I got it out there in Times Square, but I was in such a hurry."
Yitzhak pocketed the envelope and nodded slowly, his eyes showing that he understood. Without the passport that Hedwig had destroyed, he was in a vulnerable spot. But maybe where he was headed, it wouldn't matter quite so much. He glanced toward the departure board: the next bus for Washington, DC was due to depart in four minutes. This was going to be something new. For the first time in years he was going to be on his own, and he found that somewhat terrifying.
But, on the other hand -- he was going to be free to do what he wanted, now, and that made a hesitant smile tug at the corners of his mouth.
Phyllis patted him gently on one stubbled cheek. "This should be a good place for you, Yitzhak," she said, her tone reassuring. "Small, and quiet, and they shouldn't think of you as a freak."
Yitzhak jerked his head once in acknowledgment and picked up his bag. "Hedwig," he said. "What story?"
An expression of disgust crossed her face briefly. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," she told him. "I don't think she cares right now what happens to you, but when she comes around, maybe she'll appreciate what she's lost."
Yitzhak's cheek twitched and he snorted, once, a sardonic if barely perceptible sound, as if to say "Don't count on it."
"I know," Phyllis said, and surprised him by wrapping him in a big hug. "You don't want to miss your bus," she said gently, and slipped another envelope, this one thicker, into his pocket. "Go on. There should be enough there to take care of you for a couple of weeks, at least."
Yitzhak stared at her. He didn't know how she'd gotten the money -- Schlatko had used their last fifteen dollars to buy a pizza earlier tonight. But he'd take it, and gladly. Anything to get him on his feet in Fandom.
But as the bus pulled away from the terminal, he was already beginning to resent being in her debt.
Phyllis Stein bustled over to him, looking more harried than usual. "People in this town, honestly," she said. "Now, are you sure you have all your things?"
Yitzhak just looked at her, his face impassive, and kicked the paper grocery bag on the floor with one heavy boot.
"Of course." Phyllis's shoulders slumped. "Yitzhak, sweetheart, I'm so sorry I didn't try to get you out of there sooner. I should have . . . well, it's too late for that now."
She handed him a thin manila envelope and lowered her voice, leaning in. "Listen. I don't know how well this fake ID will go over, so try not to use it too much, all right? I got it out there in Times Square, but I was in such a hurry."
Yitzhak pocketed the envelope and nodded slowly, his eyes showing that he understood. Without the passport that Hedwig had destroyed, he was in a vulnerable spot. But maybe where he was headed, it wouldn't matter quite so much. He glanced toward the departure board: the next bus for Washington, DC was due to depart in four minutes. This was going to be something new. For the first time in years he was going to be on his own, and he found that somewhat terrifying.
But, on the other hand -- he was going to be free to do what he wanted, now, and that made a hesitant smile tug at the corners of his mouth.
Phyllis patted him gently on one stubbled cheek. "This should be a good place for you, Yitzhak," she said, her tone reassuring. "Small, and quiet, and they shouldn't think of you as a freak."
Yitzhak jerked his head once in acknowledgment and picked up his bag. "Hedwig," he said. "What story?"
An expression of disgust crossed her face briefly. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," she told him. "I don't think she cares right now what happens to you, but when she comes around, maybe she'll appreciate what she's lost."
Yitzhak's cheek twitched and he snorted, once, a sardonic if barely perceptible sound, as if to say "Don't count on it."
"I know," Phyllis said, and surprised him by wrapping him in a big hug. "You don't want to miss your bus," she said gently, and slipped another envelope, this one thicker, into his pocket. "Go on. There should be enough there to take care of you for a couple of weeks, at least."
Yitzhak stared at her. He didn't know how she'd gotten the money -- Schlatko had used their last fifteen dollars to buy a pizza earlier tonight. But he'd take it, and gladly. Anything to get him on his feet in Fandom.
But as the bus pulled away from the terminal, he was already beginning to resent being in her debt.