Eight-year-old Richard crouched behind the sofa in the study of his parents’ home. In a few days, Nonno would be out of the hospital, and they could go home. He dug the Sixlets candy out of his pocket. If he ate one pack a day, his grandfather would have four days to recover from this mysterious stroke thing his parents claimed he had.
He sat on the floor, and then leaned against the wall. Once everyone fell asleep, he planned to sneak out to the boathouse. No one would find him there.
“I can’t find him anywhere, Phillip.”
Richard heard his mother’s frustrated voice. He crawled to the other side of the couch, and then peeked from under the end table. He wondered if Sophia Loren, his grandfather’s favorite actress, was her cousin, since they looked so much alike.
“He doesn’t listen.” Standing in front of the bookshelf, she brushed the dust off her sky-blue silk pantsuit. “I’ve checked every nook and cranny. I’m filthy.” She stood with her hands on her narrow hips. “I don’t know what to do with him,” she said in the clipped tone Richard had grown accustomed to.
“He’s scared, Stephanie.” Phillip sat in one of the French walnut armchairs and rested his elbows on his knees. “What were we thinking? We should have never sent him to live with Papà.” He passed his hands over his short, black hair. “Now our son doesn’t feel welcome in his own home.”
“Of course he does. He’s always been a little…I don’t know. He isn’t like the girls. He’s wild. That’s why Papà took him. We did the right thing.” She settled in the matching armchair across from Phillip and crossed her legs.
“Richard isn’t wild. He’s a boy. You can’t expect him to sit around the house all day playing with Barbie dolls.”
“Every time he visits, he terrorizes the girls.” She stroked her hair, smoothing strays that had escaped her French knot. “I don’t know how to handle him. He was happy with Papà. We are good parents. We did what was best for our son.”
“Have you seen how the girls taunt him? They’re lucky all he’s done is cut their dolls’ hair. It’s not as if they actually play with them anymore.”
Richard stifled a laugh. If he weren’t running away, he would tape the pages of their diaries all over the grand hall. That would teach them to call him filthy little lost boy.
“Now that Papà’s taken ill, we don’t have a choice. I’ve already sent someone to gather his belongings. We’ll just have to make the best of the situation.”
“Stephanie,” Phillip snapped.
“What?” She waved him off. “Oh, you know what I mean.”
Richard’s eyes narrowed. He knew exactly what she meant. He was no one’s charity case. He remembered an expensive-looking vase on the end table. He flashed a perfect smile.
Bianca, his oldest sister, had said the Octagonal Satsuma vase was more valuable than he was. His mother had probably taken days choosing it. He scooted forward, resituated himself and tilted the edge of the table. The antique vase fell to the floor, shattering.
“If I had a choice, I wouldn’t live here, either!” he yelled as he stomped the pieces into the floor, making sure to scratch and scrape the marble as much as possible. “I hate this place!” He ran to the bookshelf, pulled books down and tossed them around the room.
His father, a large man, grabbed and held him close to his body. He fought in Phillip’s arms. “I want to go back to Nonno!”
“Stop fighting and look at me, Richard,” Phillip commanded.
Richard shut his eyes and closed his heart to the truth. He knew why his mother never wanted him. “I don’t hear you. I don’t want you. I don’t love you. I don’t need you,” he chanted.
Stephanie knelt beside Richard and Phillip. “Please.” She gently placed her shaking hand on Richard’s shoulder. “Listen to me.”
The unfamiliar crack of his mother’s voice stopped him. He slowly peeked out of one eye. The tears streaming down her face made him feel guilty for breaking her vase. He dug in his pocket and pulled out his candy. “This is all I have,” he whispered. “You can have it.”
She gently closed his hand. She had the most beautiful sepia eyes. He didn’t think he would ever see any quite like them. The contrast between her creamy white skin and dark eyes amazed him. She didn’t allow any of her children to play in the sun, especially Richard. She had explained that the sun’s rays cause some disease that makes your skin fall off. Her reasoning didn’t make any sense to him. Nonno was always in the sun, and his skin hadn’t fallen off.
She took his hands into hers. He was amazed by the contrast between his olive complexion and her alabaster complexion. He turned away from her and the feelings stirring within him.
He could practically hear his sisters singing their favorite
Sesame Street
song. He frowned.
“I don’t belong here. You don’t want me, and I don’t want you.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I want to go to the hospital and stay with Nonno.”
She hugged him from behind. “But I do want you. I love you, Richard.” He stood stiff in her arms. “Please, baby, forgive me. I can explain.” She rocked him. “You’re my baby. I do love you.”
Phillip sat on the floor in front of Richard. “We love you and want you to live here with us.”
“No, you don’t!” He glared over his shoulder at his mother. “You don’t have a
choice
but take me in. I’m the filthy little lost boy.” He marched to the middle of the room, crying more than singing, “Guess which one does not belong here.” He pointed at his parents. “Guess which one is not the same.”
Stephanie crossed over to him. “Stop!”
“Can you guess which one does not belong here?”
She grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him to her body. “You belong here.” She wiped his tears away. “You belong with me. I want you with me.” She rocked him. “I’ll never let you go again. Never again. Please forgive me, baby, please.” Exhausted, he leaned against his mother. She kissed the top of his head. “I love you, Richard.”
Phillip joined in the embrace. “We love you, son.”
Then why did you give me away?
* * *
Ebony saw her black SUV in the parking lot of the plaza, but the investment firm was dark. The other stores on the strip had also closed. She lifted her book bag onto her shoulder and ran to the office’s front door.
The closed sign was in the window. She tried the handle. The door was unlocked. She entered the office. The silence and darkness troubled her almost as much as Richard not answering the phone. She stared at the front door. If there were a robber inside, he would be making noise, so she locked the door. She felt along the wall, but couldn’t find the light switch. She dropped her book bag to the floor and got the tiny flashlight at the end of her key chain from her purse.
She followed along the dark hallway until she found the office with Richard’s nameplate on it. She slowly crept into his office. The parking lot lights provided enough light for her to see into the room. She heaved a big sigh of relief upon seeing Richard lying back in his chair asleep, his feet on the desk. He had kicked the phone off the hook. She placed her purse and keys to the side.
“Richard,” she whispered. “Richard.” She smoothed the worry lines on his face. “Time to go home.” His disoriented and scared look sent her into worry mode. “What’s wrong?”
His face softened. “You’ve come to save me again,” he whispered hoarsely.
“What am I saving you from?” She was failing with Trae and Skeet, but wouldn’t fail with Richard.
He kissed her lightly. “Childhood memories. Oh, shoot!” He jumped up. “I was supposed to pick you up. Where is Crystal?” He helped her stand. “I’m sorry.”
Ebony hugged him. His fast-beating heart thumped against her chest. “Mom has her. I’m worried about you.” She ran the back of her hand along his five o’clock shadow. “Tell your people to lock the office at the end of the day, even if you’re here working. This is the south side of Chicago, not an upper-class suburb of Austin.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a crooked grin. “I’m sorry. I must have gone to dreamland. I need to charge my cell phone.”
“What are the dreams about?”
“Crystal feels loved. It’s hard on kids…” he rambled on. “I’m glad Crystal has you. Your family isn’t conventional, but you make sure she feels loved, wanted.”
They’d both grown up knowing the pain of feeling unwanted, and wouldn’t wish it on any child. She thanked God for sending her someone who understood her. “I’m glad I have you.”
“Well you’re stuck with me.” He tilted his arm toward the light coming in from the window to see his watch. “It’s almost ten. I need to feed and put you to bed.”
She wanted to know more, but let him change the subject. She had pressed too hard with Trae and Skeet, and they had fought against her. She didn’t want to repeat mistakes. “If you’re planning on fattening me up, it’s only fair to let me cut your hair. I do hair every weekend.”
Dressed in a royal blue sweat suit, Richard entered the finished basement of the salon. If Trae wanted to play basketball, he’d be ready.
Crystal ran across the room yelling, “Smoke!” and jumped into Richard’s arms. “I didn’t think you were coming.”
By the end of the week, Richard felt comfortable answering to Smoke, which scared him. He wanted nothing to do with his mother’s world, but this sure wasn’t the life he wanted. He kissed her forehead. “I had to pick up my new car.” He quickly looked around the game room: a combo washer-dryer and linen shelves took one wall, a mural of four dogs playing poker covered the back wall, and a large-screen television on the front wall.
“Stop running inside,” Trae said from the pool table.
“You get another silver Mercedes?” Skeet asked.
Ebony repositioned Skeet’s head. “Stop turning. You’re messing up my braid.” She stood to the side of the barber’s chair and leaned over to curve the braid.
“It’s opal.” Richard put Crystal down and kissed Ebony on the cheek.
Skeet turned in the chair. “Opal! That sounds sweet.”
Ebony whacked Skeet on the shoulder. “You just screwed up the braid.”
He stood, brushing back his thick, black hair. “Well, since it’s messed up anyway, I’ll go see this car.” He started up the stairs. “Hand me the keys, Smoke.”
Richard tossed the keys to him, then sat in the barber’s chair. “He’s a big kid.”
“Would you hand me the clippers, Trae?” Ebony asked.
Richard spun around in the chair. “I hope you aren’t planning to use those on me.”
Trae laughed. “Yeah, cut that mess. He looks like the sixth Beatle.” He handed over the clippers. “You should have spinners put on your ride. Skeet owns a detail shop.”
“What’s that?” Richard remained still while Ebony placed a large white towel over his shoulders.
“Double rims where the inner rim spins, like Ebony’s.”
Crystal jumped up and down. “Yeah, and tinted windows. Can I go see the new car, Mama?”
“Stay close to Skeet.”
Crystal darted up the stairs as fast as her little legs would carry her.
“How’s business goin’, Smoke?” Trae grabbed his bottle of beer, sat on the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table.
Something in Trae’s grin told Richard he was about to pull another trick out of the bag. “I’m blown away that we’re doing so well this early.” His eyes shifted to the left as the clippers buzzed by his ear. “We advertised in the
Chicago Defender, Sun-Times
and a few other places, but these past two days have brought in two accounts worth a hundred thousand. This is unbelievable.” His firm often worked with accounts worth millions, but this was a new office, so he was grateful for the early show of support from the community.
“Sounds great to me.” Ebony switched the guard on the clippers. “The sides and back are gone. Now I’ll make the top lay down.” She drew her fingers through what was left of his hair. “You have a really nice wave to your hair.”
He shifted in the chair. Her playing in his hair, her sweet pea scent and her soft voice all worked on his libido.
“When are you opening an office on the west and north sides? I hate the south side and don’t want to keep sending people down there.”
Trae’s words worked better than an ice-cold shower. Richard’s head fell back onto the headrest. “Oh, God, please tell me you haven’t invested drug money into my firm.”
“Drug money? Ebony, what you been telling him? I’m a legitimate businessman. I specialize in the service industries.” He tipped his beer. “Don’t have time to worry about inventory accountability.”
“I told him everything, Trae.” She pointed the clippers at him. “Now, what have you done?”
Richard stepped forward. This was one battle he wouldn’t allow Ebony to fight. “Are both accounts yours?”
“Damn, Smoke. Loosen up. Get a beer and chill out. Nice haircut.” The Cheshire cat from
Alice in Wonderland
had nothing on Trae’s grin.
Crystal skipped down the stairs into the basement. “Your car is so pretty, Smoke. It would be extra pretty if it was purple.”
Richard forced himself to replace the scowl on his face with a half grin. “Would you hang out with your granny in the shop for a little bit, honey?”