The boy woke up in Mount Sinai hospital again.
No Vern this time.
No Zoe.
No Mos.
Just a cop, an ER nurse and Dr. Frankenstein.
“How do you feel?” Stein asked.
I don’t feel.
“Quite a stunt you pulled there,” the nurse said, inclining the bed up a little.
But it didn’t work.
“Think you can help us figure out who you are?” the cop said. “Because doc here said he knows you, while the buddies who called nine-one-one think you’re someone else.”
He had a wallet in his hands, which he opened. He drew out two driver licenses and laid them on the sheets.
Two identical boys gazed out from each card.
Same date of birth. Same height. Same weight. Same hair and eye color. Same face.
CAAN, GERONIMO G.
CAAN, CARLOS N.
“Who are you?” Stein said. “Can you tell me?”
The boy in the hospital bed reached. As his hand touched the license named Carlos, a single tear tracked down his face.
“No,” Stein said.
“It didn’t happen to me,” the boy said. “I just watched it happen.”
“Geno.”
“I brought the fox a chick,” the boy said. “He was a whore just like me. He loved it.”
“You are not Carlos Caan,” Dr. Stein said. “Carlos Caan was your twin brother. He died. You are Geronimo Caan. You survived.”
The boy stared at his lap.
“You are not your brother.”
Tears splashed onto Carlos’ face, beading up and sliding along the laminated surface of the card.
“But I can understand how it feels easier to be him,” Stein said. “It has to be so hard to be you right now, Geno.”
The boy looked up. “I don’t want to be anyone anymore.”
I just want to go home.
He didn’t care. They could lock him up, put him away or send him back to the basement. It didn’t matter anymore. He watched his own hand reach again, extend an index finger and flick Carlos’ license off the bed, between the bars of the railing.
“I think I’m going crazy,” he said to the boy who remained in his lap.
“No,” Stein said. “No, you aren’t. You were brutalized and tortured. It’s no wonder you switched places with someone. You’re not crazy. You’re trying to survive an intolerable situation.”
The boy’s shoulders gave a tiny shiver as he poured back into himself. Goosebumps like needles swept across his body and his teeth chattered. As he filled back up with Geno, he filled with illegal feeling. His hand curled around his driver’s license, the edges digging into his palm.
“I just wanted it to stop,” he whispered.
“I know, Geno. You’re hurting so bad.”
“I wanted to see my mother.”
Stein nodded. “You must miss her so much, Geno.”
His name finally sticking to him, Geno nodded.
“And your father, too.”
“I want to go home. And I don’t know where that is.”
“I know.”
All of Geno chattered now, shaking and twitching and trembling. “I want to die,” he said. “And I’m afraid I won’t.”
Vern came.
The kvater always came.
A meeting was held and decisions made. Geno would be kept in the hospital a week on a suicide watch, then it was recommended he be released to a supervised environment.
“There’s an excellent center in Chelsea called the Exodus Project,” Dr. Stein said. “I made some calls for him and they have the space.”
“For how long?” Vern said.
“Their rehab program is six months.”
Vern’s jaw was tight, his eyes flat as the details were hammered out. Geno sensed this was the last time the kvater would take him from one set of arms and hand him to another.
When Stein left the room, Vern walked over to the window. Arms crossed over his impeccable shirt front, he stared out at Central Park. Beneath the cross of his suspenders, his back quivered.
Geno swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
Vern’s head turned a bit. “I miss him too, you know,” he said tightly.
“I know,” Geno said, and again wished he were dead.
Vern came over to him. He smelled strong and piney, like money and power and aftershave and pipe smoke. His fingers reached for the gold chain at Geno’s neck and picked up the star of David. “My parents gave this chain to your father for his bar mitzvah. I loved him like a brother and I mourn him every single day.”
“Do you want it?” Geno asked.
“I want you to live.” With a tiny thud, the star fell back on Geno’s chest. “Look at me,” Vern said.
Through blurred wet eyes, Geno looked up.
“I’m not going to let you die,” Vern said. “I’ll be damned if I stand here and watch Nathan Caan’s only son die.”
This time, when he put his arms around Geno, Geno let him.