The Lost Boy (8 page)

“Pretty cool, isn’t it?” a familiar voice said.

I turned to look at Big Larry.

“Every year it’s the same thing, but more people. I guess you can say they love kids. So what do you think?” Larry asked.

“Wow! There must be hundreds of folks here!” I exclaimed. “Have you ever been here before?”

“Yeah, last year. How about you?”

I stopped for a moment to study a jumbo jet dipping its wing to the west. “When I was a kid …” I caught myself, not sure if I really wanted to say anything. I had held back so much for so long. I cleared my throat before continuing. “My parents – my real mom and dad – would always take my two brothers and me to this park when we were just kids.” I smiled. “We’d spend the entire day just down the hill, playing on the swing set …” I closed my eyes, seeing Ron, Stan and me as happy, bright-faced kids. I wondered what they were doing now …

“Dave! Hey, David! Earth to Dave, come in!” Larry blared as he cupped his hands together, acting as if they formed into a blowhorn.

“Sorry, ” I automatically replied. “I think … I think I’ll take a walk.”

After asking permission from Lilian, I strolled down the paved hill. A few minutes later I found myself standing on the same grassy area as I did a lifetime ago. Back then, I was a member of the perfect family. Now I was still a child, searching for my past. I walked toward the swing set and sat on one of the black swings. I kicked the sand, filling the heels of my shoes with some of it. My mind began to drift off again.

“Hey mister? Are you going to play or what?” a small child asked.

I slid off the swing and walked away. My insides felt hollow. In front of me, beneath a shade of trees, a young couple sat on the same table as Mother and Father did years ago. The woman got up and called out to her children with her hands on her hips – just as Mother had done when she had called to her children. For a second our eyes met. The lady smiled at me as she bowed her head. As I heard the sounds of children running from the swing set, I closed my eyes, wishing I had the answers to why everything had gone so wrong with Mother and me.

The two questions that tumbled over and over in my mind were whether Mother ever loved me and why she treated me the way she did.

Later that evening I wanted so badly to talk to Mrs Catanze, but I couldn’t work up the nerve. The next morning I woke up late and shuffled into the kitchen. “She ain’t here, runt, ” Larry Jr hissed. “You’ll have to feed yourself.”

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to cook, and I didn’t know where cereal bowls were, or even where the cereal was.

“So, ” Larry Jr began, “I hear your mother used to kick the crap outta you. Tell me, what’s it like? I mean, to have someone use your face for a mop?”

I couldn’t believe this creep. Every time I was with Larry Jr, he was always trying to put me down. I bit my lip, trying to think of something to say. I failed to think of anything smooth. A surge of anger began to race through me.

“So tell me, man, what’s it like? I mean, I’m curious. Seriously, what’s it like to have the crap kicked out of you? Why didn’t you fight back? What are you, some sort of wimp?”

I turned away from him and ran to my room. I could hear him laughing behind me as I slammed the door shut. I burrowed into my bed and cried without knowing why. I stayed in the room all day.

“Mrs Catanze, am I a wimp?” I asked her the next day as she drove me to the shopping mall.

“A wimp? David, where did you hear that?”

I did not want to rat on Larry Jr. But he was a turd, and I didn’t like him anyway. I still felt upset about how he and the other big kids thought of me. I swallowed hard before I answered Lilian.

“Pay Larry no mind, ” Mrs Catanze said afterward. “He’s a very upset young man. David, we have quite an array of …”

I gave her a puzzled look.

“... quite a mixture of young folks who have different … special needs. Larry is just at that age when he’s rebellious. He wants to fight everything and everyone. Give him a wide berth – lots of room. He’s just feeling you out. Give it some time. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. I understand, but am I a wimp ‘cause I didn’t fight back? I mean, is it right to fight your own mother?”

Mrs Catanze shoved the gear shift into park as she stopped in front of Tanforan Park. She turned to the right as she took off her glasses. “No, David, ” she stated matter-of-factly. “You are not a wimp for not fighting back. I don’t know all that happened, but I do know you’re not a wimp. Now come on. I’ve got a check here for $127 from the county to buy you some clothes. And, ” Lilian smiled, “I’m not afraid to spend it. Lesson number one: Let’s go shopping!”

As Lilian took my hand, I screeched, “Wow, $127! That’s a lot of money!”

“Not for a growing boy. And you do plan on growing, don’t you? That’s all the money they gave us for this year. Wait until you have kids of your own, ” Lilian stated, as she opened the door into Sears.

A couple of hours and three shopping bags later, Lilian and I returned to her home. I smiled from ear to ear as I closed the door to my room, then laid out all, of my clothes as neatly as I could. Next, I arranged the shirts by their colors and folded my underwear briefs and socks just right before putting them away. I sat by the foot of the bed for a few seconds before I ripped open the drawers and rearranged my clothes again. After the fourth time, I slowly opened the drawers. As gently as I could, I removed a dark blue shirt. My hands trembled. I breathed in the smell of cotton.
Yes!
I told myself.
These are
my
clothes!
Clothes that no one had ever touched or worn before. Not rags that Mother had made me wear or clothes she had given me out of pity, that she had stored since last Christmas, or clothes from Aunt Mary that other foster children had worn before.

“Yes!” I squealed out loud. Then without thinking, I flung open the drawers and threw everything back on the bed. It took me forever to repack my clothes. But I didn’t care – I was having fun.

A few days later, before lunch, Lilian hung up the phone in the kitchen before calling me away from the television. “So, ” she asked, “how are you feeling today?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Fine, I guess.” My eyes grew wide. “Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble?”

“No, no, ” she said in a calm voice. “Now stop that. Why do you always say that whenever someone asks you a simple question?”

I shook my head. I understood what she said, but I did not know why I always felt on edge whenever someone asked me a question. “I dunno.”

Lilian nodded. “Hey, let’s say we have some lunch. I’ll kick Larry Junior out, and it will just be the two of us, all right?”

My face lit up. “Sure!” I liked it whenever Mrs Catanze and I were alone. I felt special.

Lilian made a couple of bologna sandwiches as I grabbed a bag of chips. She first warned, then ordered me to slow down my eating and to use better table manners. I obeyed her by not seizing everything in sight or shoving food into my mouth. I smiled at her, proving to her that I could indeed chew with my mouth closed.

Mrs Catanze seemed to take her time as she delicately ate her sandwich. I almost asked her why she chewed so slow, when I heard a loud banging on the door. Without thinking, I blurted, “I’ll get it!” Still chomping on my food I bolted down the stairs and opened the door. A split second later I nearly coughed up my food. My brain locked up. I couldn’t break away from looking at
her.

“Well, aren’t you going to invite us in?” Mother asked in a kind voice.

From behind me, I could hear Lilian rush down the staircase. “Hello … I’m Lilian Catanze. We spoke on the phone today. We were just finishing lunch.”

“You did say 1:00 p.m., didn’t you?” Mother asked in a demanding tone.

“Uhh … yes, I did. Please come in, ” Lilian said.

Mother marched in, followed by the boys. Stan came in last, with a grin on his face as he pushed in my bike, which Grandmother had purchased for me last Christmas. I remembered that day when Mother had allowed me to ride the bike, twice. I had never ridden before, and I fell several times before I got the hang of it. And at the end of the day I ran over a nail, and the front tire went flat. Now as Stan shoved the bike into Lilian’s house, I could immediately see that both tires were flat and parts were missing from the bike.

But I didn’t care. The yellow and candy-apple-red Murray bicycle with its metallic-red banana seat was my prized possession. I was shocked that Mother decided to give it to me.

Mother and the boys only visited for a few minutes, but Lilian made it a point to stay by my side. Even though Mother’s attitude seemed more relaxed – not cold and demeaning, as when she had come to see me at Aunt Mary’s – she still wouldn’t talk to me. I had so much to tell her. I wanted to show her my room, my new clothes and the artwork that I did in school. Above all, I wanted so badly to prove to Mother that I was indeed worthy of her acceptance.

“Well, ” Mother said as she got up from the couch, “I just wanted to drop by. Remember, David, I
will
be checking in on you from time to time, so …
you be good, “
Mother stated in a sly voice.

Lilian raised her hand, stopping me before I could say anything. “Thank you for stopping by, Mrs Pelzer. And remember, do call
if
you drop by again, ” Lilian replied, as Mother stepped through the door.

I raced up the stairs. I stopped in front of a tall window and remained perched behind the glass as I watched Mother and the boys pile into her faded gray station wagon. As she drove off, I waved frantically, but no one saw me. In my heart I knew my effort was in vain. I wished that just once – just once – someone would smile and wave back.

Lilian let out a deep sigh, then placed her hands on my shoulders. “So, that’s your mother? Are you all right?”

I nodded my head yes. I looked up at Lilian. Tears rolled down my face. “She doesn’t love me, does she? I mean … I just don’t understand. Why? Why won’t she even talk to me? Am I that bad? Why didn’t you tell me she was coming over? Why?

“I’m tired of her treating me like … like I’m nothing. I’m tired of her, my brothers, that creep Larry …” I pointed my finger at the window. “She didn’t even talk to me. She never talks to me. Never!” I spun around to Lilian. “Am I that bad? I try to be nice. I try to be good. I didn’t tell her to come over, did I?” I began to rant and rave, throwing my hands into the air as I paced the living room. “Did I tell her to beat me … to … to not feed me for days or … or have me live and sleep in the garage like … like …
an animal?

“At night she wouldn’t even give me a blanket. Sometimes I got so cold … I tried to stay warm. I really did, ” I cried as I nodded my head.

I wiped my runny nose with my finger and closed my eyes. For a brief moment, I saw myself standing in front of the kitchen sink – back at The House. Beside me I could see a smelly, pink paper napkin. I took a deep breath before I opened my eyes. “I … I … remember one Saturday afternoon … she had me pick up some dog poop … and … I was in the kitchen; she was in the living room lying down on the couch watching her shows. That’s all she does, all day, every day, is watch her shows. Anyway … all I had to do was throw the poop in the garbage disposal, and she’d never know. I knew if she found out, it’d be too late. I mean, by the time she heard me turn on the disposal, it would be too late … but I ate it ‘cause she told me to. As I did, I cried inside, not because of… but … because I had
let
her do that to me. For all those years I had let her treat me like she did. For years I was so ashamed.”

I began to whimper. “I never told. I never told … Maybe Larry’s right. Maybe I am a wimp.”

“Oh, David! Oh my God!” Lilian cried. “We didn’t know …”

“Look at this …” I yanked up my shirt. “This … this is where she stabbed me. She didn’t mean to. It was an accident. But you know why?”

The blood drained from Lilian’s face. She closed her eyes before she covered her mouth with her hand. “No, David, I don’t know. Why did she?”

“She said she’d kill me if I didn’t ‘do the damn dishes in 20 minutes.’ Ain’t that a kick? The funny thing is that ever since the accident, I just wanted to tell her I knew she didn’t mean to kill me, that I knew it was an accident. I actually prayed that the accident would bring us together – that somehow she knew she’d gone too far, that she couldn’t hide the secret anymore. I wanted her to know that I forgave her.

“But no! I’m the bad guy. She won’t even talk to me. Like … like I’m the one who’s the bad guy!” I could feel my arms tighten up and my hands form into fists. I stared through Mrs Catanze as I slowly turned my head from side to side. “Damn it! She won’t even talk to me! Why? Why? Why?!”

Lilian knelt down in front of me. She was sobbing, too. “David, I don’t know. We need to have you talk to someone, someone who can help you. This is something you need to get out of your system. You need someone who’s more qualified … who knows what to do. Ms Gold and I will arrange for you to talk to someone who will help you find some answers. All right?”

I felt myself drifting away. I focused on Lilian’s mouth moving, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. She took my hand and led me into my room. As I lay in bed, she stroked my hair, whispering, “It’s all right. I’m right here. Everything’s going to be all right.”

Hours later I woke up refreshed and followed Mrs Catanze as she bounced down the staircase to examine my bike. Moments later I shook my head in disgust. “Stan did this, ” I said. “Mister Fix-It. It’s his way of getting back at me.”

“Well, David, ” Lilian said in a firm tone, “the question is: Are you going to sit here and sulk about it, or are you going to do something about it?” She stopped for a moment as if to ponder an idea. “You know, if you wanted to … you could probably earn some extra money and fix up your bike. That is, if you wanted to.”

A few minutes later I walked back up the stairs and plopped myself on the couch. I now became consumed with fixing my bike. When Big Larry came home from work, I ran to his room to seek his advice. Throughout the evening, Larry and I schemed on the quickest way to achieve my goal. After 10 o’clock, we came up with the perfect plan, a plan so flawless that Larry guaranteed I would have my bike up and running in 30 days or less. Larry, who claimed to be a “master strategist” – I had no idea what his statement meant – went on to boast that when Mom and Dad saw me coming, they would willingly throw money at me.