Ice cream

(bleeding out, casual)

Hearing the door open, I turned towards it and saw two kids come in. A girl of about eight years old with fair skin, medium-length wavy light blond hair, kind bright sky-blue eyes and winsome angelic smile. Accompanying her was a boy with a very similar face, must be her brother. He had a slightly more tanned skin, shaggy hair just a shade darker than his sister, a mischievous twinkle in his innocent blue eyes and a perky smile with a couple of missing teeth adding to its charm. He was a year or two older than his sister, but still young enough to also walk naked around the streets at this hot summer day.
“Welcome to the blood donations center”, even though it was a cliché like, I smiled genuinely at the cute little angels. “Do you two want to donate your blood?”
“Just my sister”, the boy replied, putting a hand on her shoulder, pushing her forward towards me. “How much can I get for her?”
“It’s five dollars for a child”, answered. “Less blood than in adult, so less reward”.
“The ice cream we wanted is three”, the girl noted. “And two times three is…” she looked unhappy with the results.
“You won’t need one if you donate your blood”, the boy pointed out.
“Oh, indeed!” the girls realized, cheering up. “Then it’ll be enough”.
“So what’s your name, little one?” I asked as I gently patted her head.
“I’m Hope”, she said. “Will you take my blood?” she asked with childish curiosity.
“With pleasure, Hope”, I answered. “Please choose a free bed”.
I guided her to the back of the room where six beds stood in two rows. Two of the beds were already occupied by today’s previous donors. One was a fourteen years old girl, barefoot and wearing a yellow sundress, hem raised by her heavily pregnant belly, revealing the lack of panties. The girl’s fiery red hair contrasted with her now pale and cold skin, as her blood has long been drained from her body. Another donor was actually my own twelve years old nephew Paul, he had long straight raven-black hair and was wearing his favorite fancy pinkish dress with matching high-heel shoes. Paul came by to play and became curious about the whole blood donation thing, so I offered him to try by himself and he eagerly agreed. I’ve connected him to the machine just before Hope and her brother came in, so Paul was still awake, though only barely. He gave Hope a sleepy smile, as she lied down on a bed next to his and smiled back at him. As I inserted the needle into Hope’s vein and set up the machine to pump her blood out, she was curiously watching Paul’s consciousness slowly fade until he was staring through her with empty eyes.
“Has she just died?” Hope asked captivated by the sight.
“Paul there is a boy”, I grinned at how he was always mistaken for a girl. Is that because of his cute face, I wonder? “And he has only lost consciousness so far, he’ll properly die in another minute or two”.
“Oh”, Hope took a few second to process the information and then asked again: “But why is he wearing girlish clothes?”
“He took that dress off his girlfriend after killing her in some childish game”, I explained. “He’s been wearing it ever since as a memento”.
“Ah, I wish someone loved me like that,” she said dreamily.
Seems like that tone of voice is not just from her fantasizing, but she’s already getting sleepy from blood loss too.
“But I love you, sis”, her brother said, as he sat next to her on the bed.
“Thank you, Johnny”, she answered, “I love you too”.
Johnny took her hand in his.
I’ve always loved seeing children’s final parting. Their very special perspective of the world never fails to amaze me. Johnny isn’t selling Hope’s life so easily because he doesn’t care for her. The way they are looking at each other without need for words, just basking in each other’s loving stares, gives out just how much they both care for each other. But it just so happened that an ice cream stand caught their eye and they didn’t have any money on them, and so they’re here. Children are just straightforward like that. In fact, it is the ultimately pure and sincere nature of their love that lets them be like that. These siblings’ love has nothing to do with the feeling of ownership adults became used to call love. It wouldn’t occur to them to worry about losing each other as they don’t feel like owning each other in the first place. Adults have forgotten that true form of unconditional love that lets Johnny feel no regret donating his sister’s blood on a whim for a mere ice cream. I always watch kids closely to keep remembering. Do I succeed, I wonder as I glance at Paul. The machine shows it has finished pumping his blood, so he is now totally dead. I try to listen to my feelings as I disconnect him from the machine. There’s nothing but tenderness in my heart for Paul’s passing.
I turn back to Hope and Johnny. Hope seems to have lost consciousness by now, a gentle smile remaining on her senseless face. Johnny leans forward and gives her a gentle kiss in the lips, barely touching them as if trying not to wake his sister. He keeps holding her limp hand and stare into her empty eyes until the machine signals she is properly dead. I come up to disconnect her. Johnny raises his eyes towards me. They shine with the anticipation of the ice cream. I give him the money.
“Thank you!” he says with a bright smile, as he merrily runs outside.
I smile too, gazing after him, feeling sincere happiness for the ice cream he is going to buy. Childhood surely is great.