Penny Rescue

Fuzzy black edges of his field of vision switched places back and forth. The diminutive, darting winged critters flew too fast through confusing scenes of toys, tools and topiary, blending and blurring past reflections of trees and vertical lines of window frames.
“Damn bird,” said he, “find a branch and sit.”
Muttering and sighing absently, Arthur moved uselessly to another window and pushed between the curtains. The yellow rumped warbler is a little rare in town but bayberry bushes in the thin soil of the park drew these adventurous few from the woods outside town. Hoping that fleeting glances would turn into a moment of study, he watched to see if a tiny twerp would just-sit-still on his bitty little butter butt. Losing it again for the umpteenth time, he scanned the sidewalk in front of the drug store on Main Street. From his third floor apartment windows, he could see every storefront, shrub, bench, tree and crack in the sidewalk from Fourth to Sixth Avenue and through the park to First Street.
Distracted scratching and odors of oldness marked dreary days endlessly repeating themselves while he watched out the window for… birds. Not rare necessarily but real, alive and out rather than in. Notes and sketches in bent cornered hardbound journals marked the adventures of his birds. Songs he whistled while he waited minded the musings he kept shallow, avoiding too much contemplation.
Through the ovalized view from his bird watching Bushnell’s, an unfolding scene on the street below distracted him from his aviary pursuit. On the sidewalk bench in front of Jersey’s Drug Store sat a sweet and scruffy little girl in a wrinkled yellow cotton dress and a left-footed cast. All of five years old, she watched intently as a slightly larger red headed boy in jean cut offs and a dirty white tee shirt scrabbled around the sewer grate by the curb. What was he doing?
The red-headed boy focused intently on his mission. So intent, he did not notice the fire truck that parked in the street a mere two blocks East. The little lame girl watched with a matching but hopeful intensity; not talking, just watching with a slight forward lean – trusting, worried, hoping.
Hopping around on all fours, he looked like a little monkey; quick, urgent movements and searching un-expectant glances at passers by. Even the cacophony of the siren blast from up the street could not deter his efforts for more than a glance. He flopped down on his front side in the street over the grill and reached between the steel bars of the grating in the curb. His feet stretched and twitched and his arm and shoulder disappeared into the hole.
Captivated and warbler rump fully forgotten, Arthur’s breathing slowed while he watched. Much more alive than birds, this boy and his mission deserved some attention. Why was he wallowing in the street? The girl called out something, a question, but the boy’s answer was lost in the dark. Finally, he squeezed out and propped himself on skinny knees. He then fell to vigorously scratching his head with both hands. Hands clasped behind his head, chin on his chest, he stilled in a prayer like posture.
He raised his head, looked at the girl and began to slowly lift his shoulders and arms in defeat. In mid shrug, he suddenly jumped up and scampered across the sidewalk, nearly crashing with a brisk woman in a matching plum colored skirt, jacket and hat. Fashion lady reached out and steadied her tippy high-heeled ensemble but continued on, just like all the other adults, oblivious through their drama. Waving arms animatedly, the boy gestured back toward the sewer grate while he explained a new strategy. She watched him, spoke quietly and reached up to untie the ribbon in her hair. Next she leaned forward and spit her gum into his outstretched, grimy hand. Jittery on his feet, he took both and turned back to his battlefield. He froze mid turn as he saw and realized the catastrophe happing up the street.
Arthur swung his binoculars and took in the impending disaster. A fire cadet held up traffic as a slow holder while his partners opened the fire hydrant in front of the consignment shop. Surrounding kids hopped up and down in anticipation of cold water as relief on a hot August day. A look of terror transformed the boy’s freckled face into wide eyes and clenched teeth. He rushed to the grate and bent to his task. Knotting the end of the ribbon, he stuck the sticky gum to it and tested its adherence by bouncing it a bit, away from the sewer grate. It stuck tight.
Fireman wrestled with the hydrant while Arthur wrestled with his hesitation. Finally, consumed by curiosity and compassion, he hustled determinedly to the hall closet, grabbed an armload of towels and headed out the door. Down two flights of stairs on wobbly joints, he emerged on the scene from across the street.
Walking gingerly to the boys side, he asked, “Did you lose something important down there?”
Intensely focused, the boy said without looking up, “Ain’t lost, just dropped.”
“What’s dropped?” Arthur asked.
“Penny” said the boy.
“A penny?” Arthur repeated with a hint of incredulity.
“Mhmm.” Says the boy with his forehead pressed against the steel bars.
“Hmm.” Says Arthur standing there with an armload of towels.
Not knowing quite what to do, Arthur turns toward the firemen and jerks like he’d been shocked. Just at that moment, they had successfully uncorked the hydrant. Water and children were streaming into the street accompanied by spraying mist and gleeful screams. In moments, water would be rushing down the street to the site of the dropped penny.
“Hurry up boy!” Arthur bellowed too loudly, “hurry up, it’s comin’!
“I got it, I got it!” Chirped the boy as he started to push himself up with one hand.
The messy haired girl in the cast clapped and squealed, “Yay Jimmy, yay, yay, yay! Jimmy’s the best bruver in the worl…”
Cut off, mid-sentence, Arthur saw her crestfallen face and turned to a horrified Jimmy holding the end of a ribbon attached to a dirty piece of gum and no penny.
“It fell off.” Jimmy said in a flat, clenched voice.
He turned and looked up the street. Water was cresting at the outskirts of the gushing, splashing torrent and moving toward the edges of the road. He looked up at Arthur and his towels and dove back to the sewer grate with his ribbon.
The girl bounced on her bench and Arthur bent to the task of dam building. He stacked the towels against the curb a few feet from the sewer grate, right behind Jimmy’s feet. A tenuous blockade against hundreds of gallons; the towels alone would not provide enough resistance to the weight of rushing water.
“This’ll never work,” he muttered with his hands on his hips.
Arthur watched it come. He stared it down as it gained on the helpless situation. The girl leaned forward and Jimmy was silent with concentration as his effort took on a strained panic.
Standing on the sidewalk, Arthur knew his towels would be swept away. The water was less than fifty feet. Jimmy was still face down with his cheek pressed to the grate and his right hand repeating a careful, methodical raising, then lowering of his gum and ribbon crane. Looking back and forth, Arthur sat down in the street on the other side of the towels with his back against the curb. He looked at the wide-eyed girl. They stared meaningfully at each other. He stared at Jimmy. Jimmy paused and turned his head just a little to see Arthur and his towels in defensive positions. A grim look of determination crept quickly into his eyes as he turned them again to his task.
Time slowed. Noise quieted. An intense stillness overtook Arthur and the girl as they watch Jimmy. He stiffened and paused imperceptibly, ribbon slack. He wiggled it gently and then lifted. His whole body tensed with controlled effort as, slowly, slowly he drew the ribbon up through the steel grate. A low wall of water crashed against Arthur’s hips and outstretched legs. He bent to hold the outermost towels down against the asphalt while water surrounded him. The torrent splashed against, over and around him, instantly saturating the towels. Drops and spray hung suspended in the hot air. Only moments and the resistance would be overcome. The ribbon grew longer as it emerged from the sewer. At the confluence of hydrant water and storm sewer, Jimmy stilled for just a minute, eternal moment, then, right arm extended up over his head, he grabbed gum and penny with his left hand and rolled away from the grate. Water erupted around Jimmy and Arthur, both laying in the street, thrashing about in four legged, four armed exuberance.
“Yeeehoooo,” Jimmy yelled shrilly at the top of his lungs, “I got it, I got it, I got it!”
“Yay Jimmy, yippee, yay, yay, yay!” Squealed the girl again and again, waving her arms and wriggling on her bench.
Arthur laughed and sputtered mirthfully, “Good work Jimmy. Well done, very well done!”
Jimmy and Arthur hauled themselves out of the street. Authur retrieved his sodden towels before they were swept down the drain. Jimmy clutched the rescued penny and gave the ribbon back to the girl. For a moment, they stood in shocked, happy disbelief.
Jimmy looked up at Arthur, “Thanks mister,” he said. Then he turned and walked into the drug store.
Arthur, dripping heavily, walked slowly and stiffly over to the bench and looked down at the little happy girl. “Hi, I’m Arthur, what’s your name?”
“Claudia,” said the girl with a shy smile while she twisted the ribbon.
“What happened to your leg, Claudia?” Arthur asked.
“I hurt it trying to ride Jimmy’s bike,” said Claudia with a pouty frown and an adorably impertinent drop of her chin to her chest.
“What was so important about that penny?” Arthur asked.
Before she could answer, Jimmy emerged from the store with a YooHoo and two straws in his hand. “Claud loves YooHoos,” he said proudly, “and we didn’t have enough without that penny.”
Arthur smiled with his eyes and shook his head slowly. “Every little bit counts,” he said.