The Impossible Quest Of Hailing A Taxi On Christmas Eve (4 page)

It was
Scrooge again, young like before, in business clothes. Beside him
was an older man, sitting calm.

Why it
was Mr. Fioretti! His old boss, the man who treated him like a
son.

"Mr.
Fioretti," Scrooge said and tears came to his eyes. He explained
their relationship to the driver, who was listening in silence. "He
was so good to me. This is the day he came with me to the capital,
because I was too scared to come alone. He told me I was the best,
that I could do anything I wanted." The two men in the video were
calmly taking in the sights of the big city, though young Scrooge
wasn't that calm. He was straightening his suit and tie all the
time, rubbing his papers, his CV.

Mr.
Fioretti put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Don't sweat it, you
are the best partner he could ever ask for. We just have to show
him that."

Scrooge
told the driver, "This is the day I came to do the interview with
Marco. It all went well, we became partners and I worked in his
startup business. He did the computer stuff, and I did the
accounting. I own the business now, Marco is long gone," he sighed.
"Mr. Fioretti is gone now as well. He is built like an ox that man,
but something in his arteries, I don't know. He took me in, trusted
me with his finances, let me work around Economics school, get my
degree. Then he pulled all the strings he had to get me interviews
in Athens. He even came with me for moral support. It was the last
time I saw the man in person, that Christmas Eve."

The
video showed the anxious Scrooge rehearsing some stuff he wanted to
say in the interview, and Mr. Fioretti nodding in approval and
raising his thumb, patting him hard on the back. Then they got out,
at the same spot Scrooge was now sitting in, and got up to Marco's
little accounting startup.

"I would
have bolted if it wasn't for him," Scrooge said. "I would have
given up, I was that afraid."

"I'm
afraid there's more," the driver said and tapped away on his
tablet.

Another
video showed up, but this time it wasn't Scrooge. It was Clara. She
seemed different somehow. It took him a long time to place it, but
then he got it. She was prettier, plump cheeks, eyes filled with
energy. Her hair was dyed blonde. She was riding in the back of the
taxi, filled with anxiety, leaned forward, gripping the
headrest.

Scrooge
then noticed something, and looked around the cabin. It was the
same taxi, the same car. Clara in the video waited for the taxi to
stop, stormed outside, leaving the door open. Sounds from a
playground could be heard, maybe a school? Yes, that sounded right,
a school. The car in the video shook and another door thumped.
After a minute, a man leaned in carrying a child. Clara's boy. The
man was old-fashioned, with a thick moustache.

It was
his current driver! Scrooge raised his gaze at the actual man but
he just lowered his head and sat deeper in his seat.

"Oh God,
is he alright?" Clara said in the video.

The
driver calmed her down, "Don't worry, I'm taking you to the
hospital."

"I have
no money! I'm not getting paid until-"

"Don't
think about that. Think of your boy. Now now, get inside," said the
driver in his deep assuring voice.

She
hugged her son and was holding him tight, moving back and forth.
She was cleaning his mouth from some vomit. The boy was just going
along, unable to sit up.

"Timmy,
Timmy. Mommy's here. We are going to the doctor, to see how sick
you are, OK Timmy?" Clara was terrified.

The
video was cut and showed them both a few hours later, riding back
on the taxi. Timmy was sitting upright this time, Clara was holding
his little hand, gripping it tightly as if refusing to let
go.

"How are
you showing me this?" Scrooge asked. "This isn't about me, this is
personal information."

The
driver said calmly, "It gets charged in your business account, so
it all gets filed under the same policy. I think it's like that,
anyway," he waved a hand.

The
driver had began moving again, and Scrooge had the feeling they
were heading to the hospital in question.

Timmy in
the video spoke, a faint voice, barely heard. "Am I sick
mommy?"

"Yes.
You are, but we are going to take medicine and see some doctors and
you'll get better," she said, her voice sweet but firm. Then she
turned to her driver and said, "Thank you Sir, for everything. I
don't know how to repay you."

The
driver's deep voice in the video said, "It's alright Miss. If
something like that had happened to my boy I want to believe
someone would stay and help. That's what Christmas is
for."

"When
was this?" Scrooge asked.

"Last
year," the driver said in a hushed tone, and not a word
more.

Timmy in
the video raised his eyes to his mother and she wiped off her
tears. "Mommy, is that bad man Mr. Scrooge going to give us enough
money for the doctors?"

Scrooge
felt a dagger plunge into his heart.

Clara
held her boy's head to her chest and said, "I don't know honey.
I'll ask. We'll see."

Then the
video ended. Scrooge's eyes focused through the black monitor,
blurring his vision.

He
whispered, "I didn't."

Stave
Three

"This is
where you get off Mr. Scrooge," the driver said politely. They had
parked at the side of a main avenue, nowhere near Scrooge's
home.

"But
why?"

"Another
driver will take you from here. He'll be around any second
now."

Scrooge
got off and stood in the sidewalk. Cars wheezed past in moderate
speed, not so slow like the central Athens roads but not faster
than the highway.

The cold
was bearable now, even though it must have been a few degrees lower
since he got in the taxi. He had absorbed enough heat to make him
soldier on the short wait. The Mercedes went back into the road and
disappeared into the traffic.

Another
taxi came and stopped beside him. It was a modern model, smaller,
nothing like the vintage Mercedes. This was short, easy to steer,
easy to park. Sleek lines, modern accents. Scrooge stepped in and
it was nice and warm. Unlike the old cars, that required heavy
modification into the cyborg vehicles that being a taxi required
these days, this one had built in tablet surfaces, sleek hidden
antennas, integrated electronics in the dashboard, GPS, everything.
You couldn't realise it when watching one of the old modified cars,
but they were actually a mess of cables and clunky slapped on
devices. In there, they were all part of the design. The seats
didn't squeak with the sound of leather, but they felt
nice.

"Well,"
Scrooge said. "Are you going to take me home young man?"

The
driver was indeed young. He was more casually dressed, no facial
hair, a modern haircut from some footballer that every man was
sporting these days. Scrooge studied him, until he was pretty sure
he was of Albanian origin. It wasn't easy to tell, but there were
some signs.

Scrooge
grunted in disapproval.

"You are
still in the middle of the reprimanding ride, Mr. Scrooge," the
young man said, a hint of scoff in his voice.

"Why the
change of a ride? I don't get that."

"The
previous driver was about your past, Mr. Scrooge. I'm all about the
present," he said and smiled.

"Bah!
Nonsense. Let's be done with this charade." He opened his coat,
letting the warm air in his body. "Have we met before?" Scrooge
squinted.

"Yes we
have. You had requested I never get sent to you again because of my
Albanian origin," the young man said, studying his features through
the mirror.

Scrooge
lowered his head a bit. "Well, it is within my rights. I'm the
customer, after all."

"Yes,
that you are," the man said and drove.

Some
time later, they arrived to Goudi area, across the street from
Paidon Hospital. A children's hospital, dedicated to Saint Sophia.
It was a big place, busy with people, packed with cars and comings
and goings.

The taxi
parked next to the row of other waiting taxis. Scrooge craned his
neck around and looked towards the racket at the entrance. A Santa
was going inside, a pack of children all around him, screaming and
laughing and waiting for their turn to get a present from his bag
of gifts.

It was
his cousin! He was throwing out little presents and sweets and
chocolates out of his bag in handfuls. The children were ecstatic,
going back to their parents to show what they got, wide smiles in
their faces. Camera flashes were going off constantly, as if Santa
was a celebrity. The kids were taking selfies with their Santa, or
between themselves. Apart from the Greek kids, some were Asian,
some black. A few Pakistani with their ears refusing to stand
anywhere near their skull. A pale ginger one who could only be
British. Some of them had tiny little crutches, others had
bandages, but they were all having fun as if everything would be
alright.

"Ho ho
ho! I think you've been naughty," cousin Santa said to a girl and
pointed at her.

"No
Santa, I promise you! I've been nice all year. Ask my teachers,"
she protested.

"Oh OK
then, here's your candy," Santa said and picked her up for an
impromptu photoshoot as she laughed.

Scrooge
stooped down and said, "I don't really want him to see me here,
please let us go."

The
young driver tapped a button somewhere and a slight pop came from
the windows. "There. They are tinted now, he can't see
us."

Scrooge
disbelieved that for a second but he could notice a slight change
in the light coming in the window. He stood up again and
watched.

His
cousin Santa managed to get inside without trampling any of the
sick kids, and went to talk to some lady in the reception. After a
few minutes, the whole chaos had been moved to the first floor and
the kids who had been properly sweetened up had dispersed along
with their parents.

Scrooge
was still looking outside. "OK fine, I can see the joy my blasted
cousin brings to the sick children. Are we done?"

"A few
minutes more," the young driver said and sat comfortably in his
seat.

Scrooge
looked around absent-minded. Then he noticed his assistant Clara,
holding some papers in her hand and talking on the phone. She was
quite close to him but he couldn't hear clearly. The driver pressed
the button and the window lowered a few centimetres so the outside
sounds could be heard clearly, but was still blocking them from
being seen.

"But I don't make enough money to cover that. Those amounts
are insane! Who can actually pay that much health insurance?" Clara
said on the phone, very upset. "No, that
was
my Christmas bonus. No I can't
make a payment before the end of the month. No, you listen to me.
This is my son's treatment we are talking about. You can't- Yes,
I'll hold."

Scrooge
watched her with interest, as if it was the first time after seven
years that he laid eyes on the woman. She was thinner than the
video of her last year. He hair was untended, simply brushed back.
Her eyes were sunken. She was snapping angrily at
everything.

She was
in despair.

He tried
to dig out his memories. Had Clara asked him for money to cover her
son's treatment? She must have, but he had dismissed it. Probably.
Deep in his own accounts, his balance sheets. He was paying her
what was due, what the law dictated and a good enough raise as she
was getting experience. But had she explained to him how much she
needed the money? She must have tried. The woman was spending half
her day in an office right next to him, for God's sake. An
opportunity would have arose. Or was she so scared she might lose
her only job that she didn't even dare to ask. To ask him. The bad
man. Scrooge rubbed his face hard, as if scratching away the layers
to get down into his memories. He couldn't even remember. Such an
important fact about the only other person that was so close in his
life, and he didn't even remember. He dug up some calculations he'd
done at some point about her salary, he had given her some extra
pay for overtime. But it was nothing, a few euros here and there.
The health insurance must have been asking for
thousands.

He tried
to find her again but she was gone in a second, somewhere inside
the hospital.

"W-wait," Scrooge said. "Is she going to spend the night
here?"

"Every
night for the past five months," the young man said, his voice
quiet. "I'm usually her driver, my routes coincide. Plus the AI
believes that having a familiar face to take you there is easier on
the parent who's facing this, even if it's only a few words spoken
here and there."