The Lost Princess [Hamliza Anastasia AU]

Chapter Sixteen: My Albany

Wednesday, March 9, 1927. Georgetown, New York. 

Alex didn't usually tell people about his life. He didn't want to be that kid with a sob story, but preferred to live in the here and now, striving to make things better. Aaron and John knew everything, of course. Aaron had practically lived it with him, and he and John were as close as friends could be. Normally he wouldn't be telling his life story to a girl he'd only known for a few weeks, but there was something about Beth that made a person feel like they could tell her anything and she would understand. 

Deciding to just go for it, he grabbed Beth's hand and pulled her to her feet. "I have something to show you," Alex told her.

"Ok," Beth agreed. Smiling, Alex took off down the street, pulling her along with him.

Beth laughed as they ran, holding Alex's hand tightly to keep from slipping and falling. Alex felt his heart flutter and his cheeks heat, just now realizing the amount of hand holding they had done that day, but he pushed it away. They were just friends. He was taking her to Philadelphia, getting the reward money, and then....

Alex didn't want to think about that. 

"Where are we going," Beth asked, giggling as her hat slipped down over her eyes. 

"We're almost there," Alex told her, slipping into the alley behind the Lincoln theater. 

"Why are we in an alley, Alex?" she asked, but he ignored her, searching the side of the building until he found the rusted roof access ladder. It had aged a bit since the last time he climbed it, but it still looked able to hold his weight. Alex climbed several rungs of the ladder, then looked down at Beth. "Are you coming?" he asked her.

"Really Alex. That thing looks like it's going to crumble to dust and kill us both."

"You only live once," He replied, scrambling up. A sigh followed by a slight shaking of the ladder indicated that Beth had put aside her reservations and decided to join him. Alex reached the roof, then pulled her up. 

"What do you want to show me?" Beth demanded, looking at him skeptically. "The roof?"

"This," Alex turned Beth so that she was facing West. Most of the buildings were only a few stories tall, so they had a nearly unobstructed view of the sunset in all its pink and gold glory. 

Beth gasped softly. "It's beautiful."

Alex smiled at her. "Isn't it," He led Beth over to the edge of the building and they sat down on it together, feet handing out over the street stories below. Alex waved a hand and the buildings washed in the glow of the setting sun. "This is my Albany. Most people only get to see it from the street. That's why they say Georgetown. But I think our city is far too grand for such a bland name. It deserves a name worthy of its glory."

"The sky is beautiful," Beth agreed, gazing out at it with awe. 

Alex nodded. "It's the only thing I'll miss in Albany."

"Really?" she asked him. "You don't have any family or anything?"

Alex had expected the question, it was one of the reasons he had brought her up here in the first place, but it was still nice to know that she cared about any heartache he might suffer from leaving. He shook his head. "I grew up in the gutters and streets of Albany. I was on my own by the time I was ten. A real New York rat if ever there was one."

Beth laughed softly. "I thought you defined yourself as a forger."

Alex smiled. He had said that, hadn't he. "A little demotion was worth it to make you laugh," He told her, and Beth blushed. She was really pretty like that, with the sunlight highlighting her hair and eyes and her cheeks lightly dusted with pink. 

"If it's OK for me to ask, what's the story?" Beth queered, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "How did you get to be an orphan? Didn't you have aunts or uncles or something?"

"If I did, I never met them," he told her. "My father went first. He was the one who brought me up here, you know. He loved crazy things like this. He'd put me on his shoulders and ask if I could see all the way to Lake Ontario from up there. You can't, of course, but it was fun to pretend. He was a die-hard communist revolutionary. He believed in a system where the workers had rights, everyone was equal, and success wasn't only for the nobles and royalty. He got arrested by the king's men when I was seven for spreading pro-revolution propaganda. His comrades achieved their goal in the end, but he died in prison before he could see it. I was practically raised on the Communist Manifesto. I stopped believing in all that pretty quick, though, just as soon as I was old enough to see that people still lived in poverty and people like my father were still being arrested just because they thought a little differently than the government. My mother died three years after that, from the Spanish Flu. We both had it, it's just that she didn't pull through."

"Oh Alex," Beth rested a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

Alex shook his head. "It's alright. I learned to get along. I met Aaron when I was nine. His grandfather was arrested during the revolution, he's probably dead now, and he was on his own. We teamed up. I taught him to steal, and he taught me to bargain. See over there," He pointed down into a nearby park. "We slept under a bridge there for about two years, after we got kicked out of my mother's apartment. We met John when we were fourteen and he was fifteen. His father wanted him to go into government or become a redcoat, but he didn't want to. Instead of listening, he took some money and ran away. He met us, and we ended up using John's money to get ahold of the house and some other stuff. We've been a team ever since." 

"Wow," Beth said. "You three really are the best of friends. 

Alex nodded. "My whole life is here. I recognize almost everything I see down there. I could tell you a story about every street corner. That's why I'll be so sad to leave."

"Seems like you have a knack for finding people who are alone," Beth said quietly, moving her hand down from Alex's shoulder so that it rested atop his own. "Aaron, John, me. None of us has any real family."

"You're not alone, Beth," Alex told her. "Your grandmother is in Philadelphia, remember?" All the times before this, the lie had slipped off his tongue easily, but this time, it hurt. It really was awful of him to convince this poor young woman that she had the one thing she wanted most in the world just for profit. But that's what I do, Alex reminded himself. I make a profit. Whatever it takes, whatever I have to steal, whoever I have to lie to, I make a profit. 

Historical Note: The Lincoln Theater is again named for the family of Benjamin Lincoln, who I mentioned in an earlier Historical Note. The theater has no relation either to Abraham Lincoln, or to the actual Lincoln Theater in Washington DC.