Jaxon With an X

by D. K. Wall

  “No.”

  She lowered her head and sniffed. “Do you know who your parents are?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know where you’re from?”

  He hung his head. “No.”

  She struggled to ask what she needed to know. “Did you know Jaxon?”

  He looked up at her, tears marring his face, and nodded.

  “Is he… dead?”

  He paused, glancing nervously around the room then back at her. His head dipped down then rose up in a slow, painful nod of agreement. His whispered answer seared her heart. “Yes.”

  Dazed and unsure what to do, she leaned forward and kissed his forehead. She leaned back, tucked his hair around his ear, and stood. She picked up the empty potato-salad dish and walked toward the sink. Three steps in, her world grayed, and the floor tilted. The bowl slipped from her hands and crashed to the floor, shattering and sending shards flying across the room. Her knees buckled, and she slumped to the floor. In her foggy state, she hadn’t heard Connor and Harold approach, but she felt their hands on her back.

  “Mom, you okay?”

  “I’m…” What? Dazed? Stunned? None of the words fit. She was utterly and completely lost. Her Jaxon was gone. Her precious little boy was dead.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the boy she had thought was her son carefully place his napkin on his plate and stand on shaky legs. With the doctor’s support, he stumbled across the room and out the front door.

  51

  I never meant to lie.

  That snowy night when Deputy Patterson put me in the back of his car, I was scared, hungry, and tired. He asked me for a name. I gave him the only one I ever cared about, my best friend’s.

  After killing the hiker and beating Kevin, Matt had stormed up the steps and slammed the door closed. I lay on the floor with Kevin’s hand in my own, watching him struggle to take his last breaths. I didn’t let go after he stopped. I held his hand through the night and into the next day. His fingers stiffened and grew as cold as the room. His eyes clouded and stared into nothingness.

  The room darkened as the sun set outside for the second time without my friend breathing. I finally let go of his hand and sat up with my back against that stone wall. I pushed the flap of skin hanging over my jaw and held it in place while I tied an old t-shirt around my head.

  I awoke feverish and shaking the next morning. I licked water from the wall and crawled across the room for the meager supply of snacks we had hidden. And that’s how I spent the next several days—staring at my friend as his body bloated, fighting off my own fever and infection that burned my face, and eating our snacks.

  One morning—I have no idea how many days later—the door ripped open, and Matt stomped down the stairs. He pointed at the body and told me, “Drag Kevin upstairs.”

  I sat still, sure I was dying and not caring what Matt thought, and choked out the words. “His name was Jaxon.”

  Matt looked at me with his hands on his hips. “Kevin.”

  I shook my head, the pain flaring across my ear and deep into my brain. “Jaxon. With an X.”

  He raised his hand to slap me but stopped. I don’t know why. We stared at each other like that for a long time, and then his hand fell to his side. “Fine. Whatever. Drag Jaxon upstairs. You’ve got to get this place ready for our next guest.”

  The rest of the day was simple enough. I dug two graves. The hiker went in one. Jaxon went in the other. And I went back downstairs with a bucket of food Matt gave me. Once the door was locked, I heard the van start up and leave.

  A few days passed before the door opened again, and he shoved a sniveling little kid down those steps. “Take care of Steve for me, T-Dog, or you ain’t gonna be lucky no more.”

  The door slammed shut, and the little kid sat up. He looked at me and said, “My name ain’t Steve. It’s Cody.”

  I looked at him and said, “Look, kid, you can tell me all about Cody and the things he used to do and the family he used to have, but here in this house, you’re Steve.”

  I gave him a piece of moldy bread, and we ate in silence. He looked up at me and asked, “So what did you used to do before you came here?”

  And so I told him about the mud pit I built with my brother, Connor.

  So, yeah, I lied. The problem was I didn’t know what I used to do before. I’ve never remembered.

  After Cody died, I told the same story to the next kid. And the kid after that.

  Forgive me, Jaxon. I never meant to steal your life. Giving your name to the deputy was a moment of panic, but when I met your mother and your brother and your father, I should’ve told them the truth. When they took me home, I should’ve told them.

  But I didn’t lie to Nurse Sheila. I really don’t remember what my mother looks like. I don’t remember a comfortable bed with pillows, a closet full of clothes, family meals, or a dog snoring in my bed. And the longer I had those things here, the more I didn’t want to go back to the only before I’ve ever known, a cold stone cellar of loneliness.

  I never meant to lie, but it was so much better than being Teddy.

  52

  Heather knocked gently on the closed bedroom door and waited for the muffled invitation before entering the boys’—no, wait, it’s just one again—Connor’s bedroom. He had swept up the broken pieces of the shattered serving bowl and washed the dirty dishes before retreating to his room.

  He was sitting on his bed and leaning back against the wall, his eyes puffy and red. His arms were wrapped around his legs, his knees pulled up against his chest, looking much the same as she found him that day in the hospital after hearing that horrible story. Trigger lay beside him, his eyes locked on his master and a paw resting on his foot.

  For a fleeting second, she started to tell him to get his shoes off the bed. Instead, she asked, “You okay?”

  He shrugged, a barely perceptible movement. “I don’t know. Sad, crushed at losing Jaxon all over again. And so pissed off at… whoever that is… for lying to us. How could he…? Why?” His head dropped as he buried his face against his knees, the tears flowing again. His shoulders shook with his sobs.

  She sat on the bed beside him and wrapped him into her arms. His head fell against her shoulder as she patted his back.

  She tried to remember when she had last held him like that—maybe the day in middle school when Cecilia had dumped him. She wasn’t sure he had been as upset even then, so maybe it was even earlier when Duke died.

  He raised his head and sniffled. “I keep thinking back to the day I first saw him in that hospital bed, looking so like Jaxon, and yet I was struck by how different he looked. I didn’t believe he was back, couldn’t believe it, but then I thought I was crazy not to accept it. I wonder…”

  “Wonder if maybe you convinced yourself it was him because you wanted so badly for it to be true?”

  “Yeah. I had doubts, you know, things weren’t…” His voice faded away as he stared across the room at the empty bed.

  She followed his gaze and felt the familiar ache of a lost child grow in her chest. Except, as it had to have been for him, it was familiar but different this time. Ten years ago had been a slow descent as hope faded with the passing of days and the years of no answers. But this time, the loss of Jaxon was like being shoved off a cliff. He was there. Then he was gone.

  She whispered, “Me too.”

  He leaned back, his head thumping against the wall, and dragged a shirtsleeve across his nose. “I told myself it was because I was little when he left. That I didn’t remember everything right.”

  Heather plucked at the covers, her hands shaking. “I convinced myself it was the change of so many years. He had grown up so much. But”—she let out a long breath, her voice growing quieter—“shouldn’t a mother know her own son?”

  Connor’s strong arms wrapped around her and squeezed, his warmth comforting her. She had come into his room to support him, but he ended up giving her the pep talk. “We all fell for it.
So many things were so close. We wanted it too bad.”

  She kissed his forehead. “Close, but not quite. That’s what bugs me. He was always close but not quite. Like those eyes. Jaxon’s eyes were crystal blue, shiny and bright. This”—she paused, searching for the right word—“kid’s eyes were blue, but faded, dull, almost gray.”

  “I figured it was the stuff he’d seen and done. That that man had taken the brightness away.”

  Heather sniffled and nodded. “I did the same.”

  “And french fries. How could he not remember how awesome fries are?”

  “Because he ate garbage for all those years.” She shrugged. “At least that’s what I told myself.”

  “It’s when he met Trigger that made me wonder the most.”

  The dog whined at the mention of his name.

  Connor rubbed the top of his head, stroking his ears between his long fingers. “It was like he’d never seen a dog, was scared of it. I thought, had he forgotten Duke? I mean, Duke slept in his bed as much as mine, so how could he’d have forgotten that? But then he came around real quick, and Trigger liked him, so I accepted it.”

  She ran her own fingers through the dog’s fur, meeting her son’s on the dog’s neck. “Trigger’s a good judge of character—you saw how he reacted to the sheriff’s arrival tonight. I don’t care much for that guy, either, so you’re used to trusting his judgment.”

  Connor lifted the dog’s head and kissed his nose. Trigger’s tail thumped the bed in response. “That’s the thing I’m sitting here trying to figure out. I mean, Trigger never met Jaxon, not the real one, so he didn’t have any reason to be suspicious. But at the same time, he always liked… whoever. So if he’s bad, why didn’t Trigger tell us?”

  “Because I’m not sure he is bad, just… confused.” Heather ran her hand through her son’s hair. He had never had the classic pretty-boy look. With his reddish hair and freckles, she thought he looked strong and ruggedly handsome, even if she was a biased judge. The stubble on his chin called for a razor, but his cheeks were smooth. She was struck again by how much of a man he was becoming. “He hurt me—hurt us—but still, it’s hard to be mad at him, isn’t it?”

  Connor nodded, keeping his eyes downcast. “Weird, isn’t it? I’m mad at him for lying, but I’m also worried about him. And what’s going to happen to him.”

  She squeezed his shoulders. “They’ll find his parents through that DNA testing, just like they figured out that Kevin was really Jaxon that way. Somewhere out there, he’s got people who miss him like we miss Jaxon, right?”

  “Yeah.” His hand ran down the side of the dog’s body in slow strokes as she waited for him to say more. He looked up at her with glassy eyes. “But what if they don’t?”

  She hesitated. The same horrible idea had been pestering her own thoughts. “They will, Con.”

  Several times, he opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it, only to start again. Finally, he blurted out, “Would you be mad… if I checked in on him? Just to make sure he’s okay.”

  “The doctors may not want us to see him. They might think we’ll confuse him more.” She smiled. “But I had already thought I might try to sneak up during my break tonight.”

  He nodded with her. “You aren’t mad at him?”

  She thought about it for a moment. “A little, I guess, but not really. More hurt and confused. I don’t understand why he would lie about being Jaxon. I want to help him, but I don’t know what’s the right thing to do, for him or for you.”

  He looked up quizzically. “For me?”

  “Sure. I’m worried about you. We have to bury your brother—your real one—and that’s a big load.”

  “I know. It’s just…” He looked down at Trigger as his hand continued to stroke the dog. He spoke softly, “I think I have to see him. Just to make sure he’s okay.”

  She looked across the room at the vacant bed, its covers neatly tucked and the pillow fluffed. The bookshelf was devoid of the children’s toys from the past, but the Harry Potter books remained. She struggled with her own feelings of anger toward the impostor, worry about the boy who had been in their family for a few days, and overwhelming grief for her real son. After so many years, she was finally going to bury Jaxon. Her youngest son was gone, as he had been for years. The last week of emotional rollercoaster—the last decade of it—would be buried along with him. They could finally properly mourn his loss.

  But her oldest son was still there, hurting but alive. He was no longer a little boy, any more than the long-lost Jaxon was. But his little brother would never grow up, and he was rapidly becoming a man.

  No, he was a man. And he wanted to do the right thing, comfort someone he didn’t know even though it hurt him to do so. If that’s what it took for him to heal, then so be it.

  “I trust your judgment.” she whispered. “Besides, he needs his books. Why don’t you take them to him?”

  53

  “What’s going to happen to me?”

  The small voice trembled. David glanced into the rearview mirror at his passenger gazing forlornly at the passing houses. He gestured with his head toward the psychiatrist in the passenger seat. “For tonight, we’re going back to the hospital. Dr. Sorenson has things arranged and will be with you in the morning as we figure things out.”

  David slowed the SUV to a stop at an intersection. A traffic light hanging from a line swung in the wind. The voice came from behind him. “I never meant to hurt them.”

  “I know, son. And they know it too. The news was a big shock to them, but they’ll be okay. They’re strong people.”

  The boy looked relieved and turned his attention back out the window. David tried to imagine what he was thinking as he stared at the lights glowing inside the houses they passed. He had spent the evening having a family dinner, eating good food, and laughing at jokes. The kid hadn’t done something like that in years. He’d gotten a taste of the life the rest of them already knew, and in a flash, it was all gone again.

  “If we could find your family, we could get everything moving much faster. If I knew your real name, we could make that happen.” He paused and thought, I’ll make sure it really is your name this time.

  The kid appeared deep in thought then slowly shook his head. “I really don’t know.”

  “You don’t remember your real name?”

  The boy shook his head. He looked tired and resigned to being lost.

  The glow of lights from the hospital was visible ahead, so David slowed the car to give them more time to talk. “Let’s try this. Matt called Jaxon Kevin, right? What did he call you?”

  “Teddy.”

  “Did he change your name when you got there like he did Jaxon’s?”

  “I guess so. He changed everybody’s name.”

  “Okay, so let’s call you Teddy until we figure anything out. Is that okay?”

  The boy chewed on his fingernail before answering. “How about Theo? I don’t want to think about him all the time.”

  “It doesn’t even have to be Theo. Whatever you want it to be.”

  The boy sat in silence as they passed a streetlight then looked up. “Theo is okay.”

  David agreed. They needed to call him something other than “the boy.” “Theo it is. But only until we figure out your real name. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  He was building some rapport and wished he had more time to work with it. He turned the car to drive down some residential streets before arriving at the hospital. “Okay, Theo, what can you tell me at all about before you went to Matt’s? Do you remember anything about your parents? Or the town you were in? Brothers or sisters?”

  Theo cocked his head and stared at the ceiling in concentration. After a minute of silence, his chin dropped in defeat. “Sorry. Nothing.”

  Disappointed, David decided to focus on as short of a period of time as possible. “How about the day he took you? Were you at a playground or park like Jaxon? Did he do the lost-dog routine?”
>
  “I’ve always assumed so, because he did it so much. All the kids talked about it. I don’t remember that day at all. It’s like I blocked it out.” He sat still for a moment then asked, “How would that help if I remembered how he did it?”

  “We can compare what you know to reports of missing children. It helps narrow it down.” David decided to focus his search in a different way—on the when. “You said he brought Jaxon after you were already there. Are you sure you were there before him?”

  “I was there. I remember when Matt brought him. The other boy there at the time was older—maybe eight or nine. Kevin—I mean Jaxon—was more my age.”

  “Good. That helps a lot because now we know to look at missing-children reports prior to that date. By having a smaller pool of possibilities, the DNA matching can go much faster.”

  Theo nodded, continuing to chew on his lip as he processed the information. “What if we can’t find a match?”

  Dr. Sorenson glanced over at David as he gripped the steering wheel. They had discussed earlier how upsetting the evening’s events could be for a teenager going through a lot of trauma. At the time of that conversation, David had been more concerned with the emotional impact to the Lathans, but now he wanted to not upset the boy any more than needed. “Let’s not worry about what-ifs right now. Let’s focus on finding you in the database.”

  “But it’s possible I’m not there, right? You said that was true of some of the other boys.”

  David hesitated. “Well, yes, particularly older cases, because not everybody was as rigorous about submissions as they are now.”

  “And since I was taken before Jaxon, I’m an older case?”

  “Yes, it’s possible you aren’t in the database at all. But most are. Let’s stay positive.”

  After a few more blocks of silence, David turned back toward the hospital but continued to drive slowly. His patience was rewarded when the voice piped up again. “You said it was possible some of the boys were never reported missing at all? What if I wasn’t?”