Peg

 

Peg walked up to Jim and kicked him in the shin.

“Ouch!” Jim said.

“Boo!” Peg said, thumbs hanging in his belt loops like a cowboy.

Jim turned, startled, searching the surrounding walls. They were bare and white, the ceiling low and familiar. Whew, Jim thought, that was close. He looked at Peg. “Thank you,” he said. He smiled at Peg. Peg looks like me, Jim thought, except more so.  Jim smiled bigger. Peg smiled back and kicked Jim in the other shin.

“Ouch!” Jim said.

“Boo!” Peg said, stifling a yawn.

Jim spun around. “Where are you?” he screamed. “Why are you doing this? I do not, we do not, deserve this! Stop!”

Peg put his hand on Jim’s shoulder in a consoling manner, like non-verbally.

“How’s the leg?” Peg asked, then coughed into his hand. Jim reached down and touched his shin, dabbing at the small trickle of blood.

“Not so good,” Jim replied.

“I understand,” Peg said grimly, picking his teeth with the corner of an embossed business card. Jim smiled again. Peg smiled back brightly and reached his hand into Jim’s pocket. Peg searched around, his fingers caressing Jim’s leg through the fabric, and took Jim’s dimes and quarters. Peg paused, searched around still more, and took Jim’s nickels and pennies. Peg gave Jim’s balls a little squeeze.

“Hey!” Jim said. “What’s the big idea?”

“Boo!” Peg said, and spit contemptuously at a passing civil servant.

Jim fell to the ground, hands clasped around his head, terrified and shivering. He thought of his wife, his children, his future grandchildren, his own mother and father. Jim’s eyes began to tear. Jim thought of Peg. Peg is strong, Jim thought. I must be strong. I must show resolution. Jim collected himself. He raised his head and asked Peg, “Are they gone?”

“No,” Peg said, cleaning the corner of his eye with deliberation. “They will never be gone. They will always be here. But I am here too. And I will protect you.”

“God bless you,” Jim said. “God bless you.”