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“I don’t wanna sleep!” little five-year-old Rachel complainedfor the umpteenth time. “I wanna see the movie again!”“You already watched it twice,” her grandmother pointed out asshe patiently pulled the child’s bright pink pajama top over her head.“I wanna see it again! I like the part where the princess istrapped in the castle and the hero comes and rescues her.”“Yes, that is a very good part,” her grandmother agreed, gentlyurging the struggling child down into her bed. “Of course you know thereare heroes like that nowadays. Or at least there were when I was young.”Little Rachel’s eyes got wide and she stopped struggling.“Really?”“Oh, yes. I can tell you a story about one if you promise to goto sleep afterward.”Rachel’s deep brown eyes looked off to the side for a momentas she wondered if it was worth it. “Is it a good story?”“Oh, yes. It’s very good. But you have to sit down in bed so Ican tell it properly.”Again the little girl considered, but it didn’t take as long thistime. “OK.”Rachel’s grandmother tucked the bed covers around the littlegirl in the loving way that grandmothers do. Then she sat her own smallfigure down on the bed and began her tale.“It was a long time ago. Long before your mommy and daddywere born. But not so long ago as that movie you like so much. I was ayoung woman when it happened, a few years younger than your mother. Ittook place in Manhattan, where all the tall buildings are. You remember. We
 
went there on your birthday last year and you saw all the preserved animalsat the museum.”Rachel nodded her head. She remembered. There were lots of tall buildings around the museum. They all looked sort of like the castle inher movie. Rachel hadn’t seen many high-rises before that, except ontelevision. She lived in a two story apartment building on the outskirts of a New Jersey suburb.“Well, there was this man named Nick,” Rachel’s grandmother continued. “And he was like the hero in your movie in that he didn’t quite fitanyone’s idea of a hero and he didn’t fit in anywhere. In fact, most peoplewould have considered him to be a disreputable character.”“A disrep what?”“Disreputable. It means that he wasn’t someone people liked or trusted. And he made his living in a way that other people would object to.”“What did he do?”“He was a burglar.”Rachel’s eyes got round. “He was what people called a cat burglar back then. That meanshe was as quiet as a cat when he broke into people’s apartments. He was asolitary man with no friends. And as for his family, he’d left them behindlong before. He was fifteen when he left home and took up burglary. Itseemed a good way to get back at the world for the rough treatment he felthe’d gotten from life. For many years his profession was his sole reason for living. He thought ripping off people was fun and full of danger. Then, asthe excitement faded, he tried to think of it as an art. And that seemed towork until he came into his mid-thirties, which must seem very old to you.”Rachel nodded her five-year-old head. Thirty sounded ancientto her.“By that time Nick felt very lonely and he was beginning towonder if maybe he should do something to change his life. He’d grown tohate being by himself so much. But he thought it was necessary because he
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11 / 05 / 2009
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