Frozen Memories

Self-Healing? You Mean Like Wolverine?

Admittedly, I was very happy to end our shopping endeavor at six o’clock. The whole thing as far as I was concerned, was something that I did not necessarily care to experience again; well all except that of the food courts. Everyone and everything was loud and obnoxious. Everyone stared at me; the guys, I had not thought possible until now, to be so much more insufferable than they were at the school house. Sadly, there were people on the corner that had to beg for their next meal; one thing that I did appreciate witnessing, as I realized that I could have been far worse off than previously thought. Though, Max assured me that some of them were not so bad off as they seemed. She called them con artists.

    The large malls were crowded and full of so many stores. It was difficult to concentrate on one for a single moment before my attention was grabbed by another. 

At one point I could feel myself becoming anxiety stricken. I had to pause and take a deep breath before we continued to the other stores. Leaving the all too pressuring stores of clothing and food was a true relief. However I was not daft enough to not realize that eventually there would be another time where I would be unfortunate enough for Max to drag me out there again.

    We made our way back to a busing stop. And on the way, I once again found a homeless person sitting on the corner. The old man was not begging, only sitting there. A cardboard piece lying face down next to him. He looked to be weary.

    “Why do people walk past this man, when he is in such need?” I asked.

Max shrugged. “Because a lot of the time, they’re just playing people. Trying to get a drink or a cigarette or something.”

    “Does not matter what they do with it.” I returned. “They are still in need.” I approached the slumped over man and looked into the cup that sat next to him. There were a couple of coins and one crumpled dollar. “What else is the man to do with such little money anyway?”

    “Mina, don’t get so close! You don’t know what he has!” Max grabbed my arm.

“He is just a man, Max.” I returned before I lifted her hand from my arm with a reassuring smile and turned my attention back to him.

    His hand was bandaged and wrapped underneath the torn gloves he wore. He was very much an odorous man; but how could that be helped when being homeless? I took his hand before I could catch the act. It was then that the old man looked at me incredulously. I realized no one had ever showed him such recognition. His look was not that of being grateful nor that of pure hatefulness. It was just an anticipated stare.

    I went into my pocket and pulled out some cash. I did not see how much. But I knew that it was a great deal more than what was in his little cup. I placed it in his hand.

    “Mina!” I heard Max hiss, but I ignored.

    “Th-thank you!” the old man said.

    “Things will change for you one day.” I assured.

    His eyes seemed to speck iced blue for a moment, before he grew a large smile and nodded. “Thank you! Beautiful young lady!”

    I stood up and started to smile when Max snatched my arm and pulled me toward the busing stop. “What was that about?”

    “What do you mean?” I asked. It should have been obvious. “The man needed help, Max.” I reasoned.

    “You are the dumbest person I’ve ever met.”

    “Why?” I simply returned. “Because I am not as heartless and ignorant as you are?”

    “Excuse me?” Max spat. “Mina, you’ve not been in this world long enough to realize that most of these people are homeless because they choose to be! They don’t want to work! They don’t want to have to labor for the things they want! So no, I’m sorry if I don’t sympathize with these stinky old farts that sit on street corners begging for other people’s hard earned money.”

    “I did not earn this money, Max.” I said,  “Furthermore, regardless of whether it was their fault or not, it is not your place nor is it mine to judge them. They have made mistakes just as you and I have. We have not been put in their situation, but there is still time for that misfortune to rear its ugly head. You remember that the next time you decide to be so despicable towards those less fortunate than you.” I said. “Now, our bus is here. We should get going.” I smile.

    “Yes, mom.” I hear Max mutter in a sarcastic tone before she made her way onto the bus behind me.

    I did not find offense however; I just took her comment for what it was; Max humbling down the best way she knew how.

    After watching her place the coins in the little slot machine device at the front of the bus, we found our seats. “Is this our form of transportation for this cave?” I inquired. The ‘cave’ being the place that Max said we were going the night.

    She shook her head. “Dustin is coming to get us.”

    “Oh.” I complied before another question arose. “Are Laura and Clyde joining us?”

    “They’re coming with Dustin.”

    I was relieved to hear familiar names that would be in attendance. “Do you think Mrs. Falton will allo-”

    “That woman doesn’t care about what we do, or-what happens to us for that matter.” Max interceded, her eyes still straight forward. “All she cares about is the money that she receives each month in turn for keeping us under her roof. As long as we don’t bother the old crow, we’ll be fine.”

    Max’s words did not surprise me. Of course Mrs. Falton was receiving compensation for her version of taking care of us. I found it hard to believe that she actually would assist someone out of the goodness of her heart.

    “Still, we’ll sneak out of the window to avoid her drama.”

    I rolled my eyes, understanding her suggestion of the matter before agreeing. Suddenly, tonight seemed to be quite a relief. I could not help wondering if this was the life of all teenagers. “Sounds entertaining.”

When eight o’clock arrived, Max opened the window, climbed out and onto the firing escape. When I watched her climb down, she looked up at me and gestured for me to follow her suit, just as Dustin, pulled up with Clyde and Laura in tow.

    “Hurry up, Frosty!” Max pressured.

    “Alright! Alright! I am coming down!” I hissed. I took in a deep breath and leaped from the firing escape, grappling a protruded bar of the escape before landing onto the ground.

 After my feet connected the ground, I noticed a stinging sensation in my hand. When I looked down, I saw the cut I must have drawn during my descent. Oddly, I had not seen my blood since the day, Dr. Byrne drew my blood, and still found it quite captivating to look at.

Then in the sudden strangest instant, a sensation enveloped the cut on my hand before an ice blue-black, almost silvery sliver ran down the wound and gradually began to seal itself. “Oh my!” I whispered in a gasp.

    “How did you-do that?” Max’s voice startled me as I quickly turned around. Max watched me, a look of shock written on her features.

    “What? Are you referring too?” I asked curiously, hoping that she did not see my hand seeming to heal itself, considering she was behind me the entire time. And too, I knew that self-healing was not of the norm.

    “You move like a freaking, ballerina, ninja spider monkey!”

    To such a relieving subject, I decided to go along with the reasoning behind her surprise instead of my own. Still too, I was not completely sure of what she meant. “I don’t know what you mean.” I walked over to Max, watching her shake her head disbelievingly before following behind me.

    “You are a weird kid, Frosty.” I took her comment as is. “Do you have your bathing suit underneath your clothes?” she asked. changing the subject.

I nodded before we continued on to the car. My mind, still was so confounded of what happened concerning the cut on my hand, I had to assure myself that it was not normal before I completely freaked myself out. “Max?”

    “Yea. What is it?” Something seemed to be still on her mind.

    I turned around. “Have-you ever known anyone, to self-heal?” I asked.

    “What, you mean like wolverine?” she said.

    “Who?”

    “It’s-” she started before stopping and taking in a deep breath. She knew that what she was about to say had a large potential to be lost on me. “You mean like magically heal from wounds? Like without a band aid or stitches-or time? Like instantly?”

    To all of her assumptions I nodded. “Yes.”

    “Um okay, no it is not possible; without CGI at least.” She muttered.

    The term CGI did not even begin to scratch the surface of my curiosity now. Not while knowing that something unusual just happened to me.

    “Why do you ask?” Max suddenly inquired. I started to say ‘no reason’ before she continued. “You heal yourself or something.” She snorted, obvious that her question was rhetorical and mocking. “I’m surprised you didn’t cut yourself from the way you jumped and bended down the fire escape.” She teased. “Healing yourself?” she then scoffed under her breath. “That would be crazy.”

    Hearing her confirmations, I was suddenly glad that I did not tell Max what happened. “Right. Crazy.”