“By marks, do you mean victims?” Una
asked.
I turned red and nodded. I had let my cover
slip. “He begged me to ask for your help and I promised I
would.”
A long silence followed. “How old is he?”
Stan asked.
“He’s just turned twelve.”
“Darn near an adult,” Una said.
“Outside of taking him in, there’s a limit
to what we can do for this poor chap,” Stan said. “I could give him
a job after school and on weekends. Would that help?”
I nodded. “But they might take his
money.”
“Do you want us to adopt him?” Mary asked. I
shook my head vigorously but added nothing further. “What if we
found him another place,” she added, “further away from downtown
and closer to the plant.”
Stan shrugged. “That might not be possible,
but if we’re going to do it, we’ll have to move quickly. September
is only weeks away.”
When I was in my room later, I cried. I
looked at my tear-streaked face and suddenly realized I’d gained
some weight. I was like a stranger to myself again. The day had
been one of the most painful I could remember. I could see from my
present unique vantage in life that far too much suffering took
place in the world. Human happiness was in short supply and evil
was everywhere. And hatred as well. I lived with four people who
represented the best of mankind and I assumed that by being adopted
by them that I’d won in life’s lottery, however, I felt guilty too.
Was Mr. Vondt bad or was he so desperately lonely that he’d lost
his self-control? He’d tried to assault me, but he also wanted to
love me. This may sound too worldly for an eight-year-old orphaned
boy from the streets of Jersey, after all, I should have been tough
and unfeeling about my judgment toward him, but I can only say,
that’s the way I felt.
The next day, we started our first lesson
with Una. We sat down at noon hour in the Rose room. She’d cold
Coca-Cola and snacks for us. She’d put out a new potato chip, a
ripple. I tried one. It was delicious and became one of my favorite
foods for years. The curtains were drawn and doors were open. It
was a bright sunny day and screens let the breeze into the
room.
“I’ve been reading The Hobbit,” I said,
showing her the book. “I learned math and spelling too.” I showed
her my notebooks.
She read a few pages of The Hobbit. “Sounds
a bit confusing.”
“It’s too hard,” I agreed.
She nodded. She’d brought a bag with her and
opened it up. “We’ll be reading Beverly Clearly books for a little
while.” She passed me a book, Ribsy with a picture of a dog in the
bathtub, and passed to Sally, Ellen Tebbits, with a picture of a
boy and girl our age dancing together. “We’re are going to have a
reading contest today,” Una said, “a spelling bee, a word search, a
math-quiz, a maze-find, a cursive writing competition, and a zoo
game, so we have to move right along. Sally, you start. Read until
you make a mistake.”
“Really?” she said. She opened the book. I
could tell she was confident that she would read the whole thing
without a mistake. “Ellen Tebbits was in a hurry,” she read. “As
she ran down Tillamook Street with her ballit slippers–”
“Ballet slippers,” Una corrected. “Not even
a paragraph. Phew. Now you, Christian.”
“Ribsy and the Hungry flea,” I read aloud.
“Henry Huggins’ dog Ribsy was a plain–” I couldn’t get the next
word.
Una leaned over and looked. “Try it at
least,” she urged.
“Orderilary.”
“Ordinary,” Una said. “Tonight, you can read
ahead with one another and tomorrow, we’ll see if you get any
further. Okay, let’s start our spelling bee.”
So it went, and the afternoon flew by. At
five o’clock when Una stopped, both Sally and I moaned for more.
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, were just as good. On Saturday
morning, Stan took me in the Lincoln to Carling Street to meet with
Lloyd. I wasn’t happy about being back. It made me emotional, but
fortunately, I didn’t see any of the other kids. Mr. Drury and Mrs.
Abbibas were there, as were two other men. Mr. Drury smiled and
shook my hand. He was Lloyd’s assigned truant officer, as he’d been
mine. He still was a sad-looking man and his eyes remained hard,
but now his gaze fell on me in a completely different manner, like
I was a normal kid, with affection I mean to say.
“I understand everything is working out for
you?” he said. I nodded. “I knew it would,” he continued softly.
“It’s wonderful of you to try and help your friend.”
He shook hands with Dad as did Mrs. Abbibas
and introduced him to the other men. Mr. Ted Mure was a man near
thirty years old and had hard brown eyes. I could tell even from
where he sat he’d a detached manner. His black hair was cut so
short that his ears looked floppy. He smelled of tobacco-smoke and
gave Stan and myself the once over with his hard eyes as he rose
and shook our hands.
You can tell a lot of a person by how they
greet you, their voice, touch, and eyes. He seemed like a good
person, and had a quick short smile, but I could tell that he
didn’t trust anyone too easily either. Mr. George Heath, the other
man, was maybe older by ten years and heavier by fifty pounds. He’d
a big nose with tiny red veins sticking out and kept his eyes
hidden behind folds of skin. He was friendlier, but I instantly
disliked him. He was a man who struck me as a sham, his beady eyes
seemed buried behind a mask of indifference.
An event occurs when you first meet someone,
an instinctual feeling that something is or isn’t genuine. People
are often wrong about these types of judgments, because they make
them casually, however, as a former orphan, mine was never a casual
judgment, but had become a survival mechanism, and therefore, was
usually right. When I’d first met my new father, I instantly liked
him, the same with Una, Mary, and especially Sally. None of the
Tappets or Una were broken people, and when people get broken, you
can’t fix them no matter how hard you try. I knew that Mr. Heath
was broken. All the men, including my father, were in suits. Mrs.
Abbibas was in a grey loose-flowing Eastern style dress which
completely covered her trim body. She also wore a silk scarf and a
head covering. From the first moment I’d met her, years before, I
knew that she was a fine person. I’ve noticed in Jersey that fewer
women than men get broken.
“I need to talk to Christian alone for a
minute,” Mr. Drury said. We crossed the hall to the room which
acted as an office for the Carling Street social-workers. “Sit,” he
said and then sat across from me, passing over the wide bald spot
in the center of his head with a quick nervous sweep of both hands.
“I need to know,” he said, “before we put your father to any
trouble. Are you just helping a friend? You aren’t up to anything
which would hurt your new parents?”
I was shocked that he would even think it,
but I understood why he would. “Lloyd is afraid that some of the
boys working for Digby have killed someone and he wants to get
out.”
His eyes became downcast. “My God, who have
they killed?” I shrugged. “Was Lloyd involved?” he asked.
“Lloyd said he heard about it from Dalmer
and Darren.”
“Lloyd hasn’t threatened you in anyway?” I
shook my head. “You genuinely want to help him?”
“He protected me against the bullies when I
lived here. I think he wants to change his life. He needs to get
away from Digby.”
“Let’s go back and see what we can do.”
When we returned, I sat beside Stan, who
rubbed my shoulders. Mr. Drury stood in the center of the room and
spoke. “Mr. Mure is in charge of the orphan system in New Jersey,”
he said, “and Mr. Heath is with the city’s social services. They’ve
come here today to expedite Lloyd’s request for our assistance.
I’ve talked in detail to Lloyd and I believe him to be sincere in
his desire to make a change. Mr. Tappet has offered him a part-time
job with his company, that is provided he stays in school and
finishes his education. Lloyd has agreed to do this.
“Mr. Tappet has also offered to help with
both training for the job and his education. One of Mr. Tappet’s
associates, Mr. Ken Roxton, has offered to take a personal hand in
this. Mr. Roxton is in Japan today and can’t be here, but I’ve
talked to him in person and trust that he’s a man we can count on.
The question of where Lloyd can live, is problematic for us. All
the homes and centers present themselves with certain difficulties
for young men. We’re not blind to their faults.
“We’ve a center near Harrison, Willowware
Place, East Newark, at least some miles away from Carling Street.
Lloyd has agreed to go there. A probation period must follow, one
year to be exact. If Lloyd does well in both areas, Mr. Roxton will
consider making his home a place for Lloyd to live. Lloyd has
consented to this probation. He has also agreed that if welcomed
into Mr. Roxton’s home in the future, to strictly abide by the
rules. I think that’s it. Mr. Mure?”
“I’m mostly concerned that Lloyd understands
that this is a great opportunity for him, “ Mr. Mure said, his face
somber and his voice as hard as his eyes, “and we won’t alter our
set routine again on his behalf. This is a one-time deal. Some
streetwise young man can’t comprehend a break when it comes their
way, but you seem to have created this one, Lloyd. Do you grasp the
seriousness of it all?” Lloyd nodded. “By gosh, then say so, young
man.”
Lloyd had tears in his eyes and I was swept
away with the sound of his cracking voice. It was sincere and
emotional. “I want this chance,” he said, “and I’ll abide by all
the rules.” He choked up for a moment and I wiped my own tears
away. “I want to thank Christian’s new dad,” he said, “and I’ve met
Mr. Roxton and he seems cool. Thanks.”
“Mr. Heath, anything to add?” Mr. Mure
said.
Mr. Heath looked at us through his
half-hidden billowy eyes. “My inclination in these matters is
pessimistic,” he said in a drone voice. “I’m dealing day to day
with young boys ruining their lives by making bad choices. Lloyd is
making an informed decision. I hope he’ll succeed, but make no
mistake, Lloyd, we won’t be sympathetic to you if you don’t follow
through. Good luck. I hope you’ll take this time to find Jesus. He
will guide your life and give you strength to get through the hard
times ahead.”
We shook hands and Lloyd hugged me. This
time I let him. Again, I took this as a great boon, and if I had
ever known what the future was to bring, I would have gone running
for my life from that venture. We said our good-byes, and that day,
Lloyd was moved to Willowware Place, East Newark. He was to report
to work at Tappets, the next day. I couldn’t have been happier, but
also, I truly hoped I never saw him again.
Before my adoption, whenever I’d visited my
mother’s gravesite to talk to her, I’d bitterly complained of what
was to become of me. Who would look after me? Where would I find
some love? I had no one. I was alone in the world. Mr. Drury had
once said orphans were the pawns of the state when he thought he
was out of hearing of any young ears. At the time, I didn’t know
what that meant, but I remembered it. The state isn’t something
that can love you. When you’re young you need someone to tell you
that you have a right to be free, to be happy, that you’re
wonderful, good, super, an angel, to love you for your sake, not
theirs, to make you part of a family. Now I’d that with Sally, Una,
Mary, Stan and Jesus.
After being adopted and becoming a secure
member of the family, my original distress of being all alone in
the world transformed into two completely different distractions,
yet connected to being a Tappet. One was keeping what I’d gained. I
believed strongly that to struggle for love within the family was
within my control. If I followed their rules, worked hard at
school, at flying, swimming, and the other tasks that were
important to the Tappets, I’d succeed.
The other distraction, was dealing with what
I took to be The First Law of Life for someone like an orphan and
other people unlucky by birth, the one which says that when
everything is going well, things are certain to go wrong. As to the
first law, I thought I could combat it by concentrating on trying
not to be too happy, on ignoring my own happiness, besides, I’d
suffered during my time in half-way homes, so I thought I’d sort of
saved up pain in arrears and earned a discount well into the
future. I figured, with the logic of a child, that my happy time
would last longer than say, someone who hadn’t experienced in their
childhood, the hardships that I had, that my past suffering counted
for something.
Some people say if you are born unlucky, you
can’t defeat the first law, no matter what you do, but for
sometime, I seemed to have done just that. Later I discovered that
it does indeed work like a bank or a discount, except it allows you
overdraft without notice of any debt and collects an exorbitant
amount of a penalty at its capricious whim. That’s just the way
life is and when you’re eight-years-old, nine coming up on
September 23, you can’t imagine the rules are so vague and
careless. It reflects poorly on the Creator.
That afternoon, Stan took me up in his
Cessna. I piloted the plane and talked to the
air-traffic-controller on the radio, giving our latitude, speed,
altitude, and so forth. On the Friday before the first day of
school, I found myself in East Orange’s Wedgewood Private School
with Una and Sally. The land around the school was slight but
covered in trees and flowers. I met my first private-school
teachers. They were young and all knew Sally. Two women and a man
examined me with verbal, written, and reading tests. They wore
grey, white, and pale-blue clothes–the school uniform. The male
teacher, Mr. Roy Barth, a singularly tall thin fellow with peach
fuzz on his chin seemed to me to be satisfied with my
performance.