“Sooner or later,” she added.
He turned a page.
“Oh, come on, Honey.”
“Huh?” he said, looking up.
“You heard me,” she said.
“I’m hungry.”
“Hey, I’m working on it,” she said, and then laughed, breaking the moment.
Reconnecting the phone, Molly dialed, then cradled the receiver against her shoulder as she washed the dishes that lay forgotten in the sink. The countertop was still soaked from when it had overflowed. What a day this had been.
“Honey,” she glanced over at Danny as the phone rang on the other end, “Please don’t make a mess of the shelf.” He now had a dozen books spread out across the floor and was crawling amidst them.“Why don’t you take out one at a…Hey, Rosie?”
“Molly!” came the shouted response on the other end.
She shut off the faucet.“Guess who's here? You’re never going to believe this.”
“Oh yes, I will! You kidding? Everybody in town is talking about it. You guys are on television. We’ve been trying to call, but…And I still can’t believe it. My God. My God!”
“Well, Danny's really here. Sitting right next to me on the floor.”
“What happened to him? Where was he?”
“Lord only knows.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Well, nobody does.”
“But he's okay, right?”
“Yes. Perfectly! Incredibly! Of course!”
“You think I could talk to him?”
“Danny?” Molly said. He looked up from the floor.“Somebody wants to talk to you.” She held out the phone. He got to his feet, came over. He stared at the receiver.“Go on already,” she urged,“it's not going to bite.”
Danny took the phone, turned it over in his hands. “Like this, silly!” she said, putting it to his ear.
“Oh, yeah.” His face broke into a broad smile when he heard the voice.“Hi, Aunt Rosie.”
“So you remember me, huh?”
“Sure I do! And Uncle Ed, too.”
“Where in the world have you been? We were sick with worry about you.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning down.
“Oh don’t be. We’re just so happy you’re back.”
Molly pretended not to overhear. The meat was finally malleable and she started shaping it into a couple of thick patties. “Tell Rosie I’ll call her back later when I have a chance.”
“My mother says she’ll talk to you later.”
“I’m going to come and see you real soon, right?”
“Okay, Aunt Rosie.” He handed the phone back to Molly who was pulling out a frying pan, and then plunked himself down at the pile of books.
“Rosie. Give me a chance to get settled down. I’m just in the middle of cooking.” Hanging up, she plopped the burgers into the pan. They sizzled loudly, filling the trailer with the aroma of frying meat.
Danny looked up, sniffing the air. Cautiously he approached the stove. When he saw the frying hamburgers, his features suddenly crumpled.
The look frightened Molly.“What's the matter, Honey?”
“I’m sorry, Mother,” he said pulling back “but I can’t eat…”
“What can’t you…?”
“It's flesh,” he whispered, horrified.“Isn’t it.”
“Honey, it's ground beef! Look how nice and juicy these are.” Tilting the pan, she poked a burger with a fork and the pink juices seeped out.“See, I made them extra—”
Danny backed away. “That's from an animal somebody killed!”
“But Honey, you always loved hamburgers.”
He looked at her in disbelief. “Maybe. But I don’t love it anymore.” He stood pressed against the wall, arms pulled tight into his chest. “Please, get it away! I feel sick.” He looked as if he was going to throw up—or cry.
Molly rushed out the door with the pan and chucked the meat out on the grass.
“And the smell. Yuuuch!” he said, clutching his throat.
She threw open the windows and aired out the trailer.
“I’m sorry, Angel,” she said, confused.“I didn’t—”
“We shouldn’t hurt animals.”
“Of course not. We?”
“People.”
“But you’ve got to eat something…” Molly was perplexed. Hey, wait! I’ve got a great idea!” she exclaimed, mustering false optimism.
“How about some nice spaghetti?”
Danny eyed her warily.
“It's not meat. Believe me. It's made from grain. Just like bread.”
She took a box of dried pasta from the shelf and held it out. Danny opened the package, peered in, and examined the hardened noodles. He took out a stiff strand and bit into it.
Molly waited. She could hear the sound as he crunched it in his teeth. “Well?” she inquired.
He ran his tongue over his lips. “I think this is nice.”
“I can make it with a yummy tomato sauce.”
“Ah, tomatoes!” His smile returned.“Yes, tomatoes. I like them. A lot.”
“Okay, looks like we got something right this evening. Tomatoes…” She continued to set the table. “…and what else did they give you to eat?” she inquired as offhandedly as she could.
He hesitated.“Well…lots of things.”
“Like?”
“Oh…” he hopped up into a chair and sat with his legs tucked under him. “…potatoes and cattail roots. We had lots of nuts. I like those, too. Things like hickory nuts. You know what black walnuts are? You gotta take a rock and smash them first. They’re real hard. And you get this color all over your hands.”
“Yeah, we used to do that as kids when we visited my uncle in the country,” she said. Get him talking, she reasoned, and he would tell her everything—just like before. He had never been able to keep secrets from her. Always so open. She looked again at his hands. The stains that didn’t wash out. Nut stains? Who? Where?
When she poured the tomato sauce over the steaming spaghetti in his bowl, he picked up a single strand with his fingers and held it up to the light.
“It's okay,” she assured him. “They’re definitely just good old-fashioned noodles. No dead animals in there.” Before he had vanished, they used to playfully tease each other and Molly wondered if they would ever return to their former easygoing intimacy. Danny and his Mommy.“Trust me,” she said and wondered who else he had come to trust.
Danny gave her a smile, waited for the dish to cool, and then plunged his fingers deep into the saucy noodles. She watched in astonishment as he ate in slurping gulps, tomato sauce and olive oil oozing down his hand.
“Hey, how about a fork?” she suggested, holding it out to him.
He took the shining instrument in his sticky fingers, turned it to get a better look, then placed it back on the table and continued greedily eating with his fingers. When he finished, he held out his plate for more. The poor boy was starving. What inhuman sonofabitch had kept her baby hungry and lean like this?
“What's the story?” asked Chief Matlin when he got Tripoli on his cell phone.
“I don’t know yet,” answered Tripoli.
“What do you mean don’t know? Where the hell was the kid? Who had him?”
“He's not talking.”
“That's ridiculous.”
“I can’t get him to talk.”
“What does the juvie shrink say?”
“She hasn’t seen him.”
“Huh?”
“Yet. Look, the mother won’t let me—”
“I don’t give a shit about what the mother wants. That kids gotta be over at—”
“Hey, let me do this my way, okay. You don’t have a good sense of all the details. This is no ordinary—”
“Okay, fill me in then. What details? Was the kid abused?”
“No, I don’t think so. No, definitely not. Not physically.” “What does that mean?” “The boy is appare
ntly changed.” “Huh?”
“He's different.”
“Brainwashed?”
“I don’t know. Look, Chief, give me a day. One lousy day and I’ll have a lot more answers, okay?”
“Let's go,” said Danny, reaching for the door knob.
Molly sprang to her feet. “Go where?” she asked, positioning herself between Danny and the door.
“I dunno,” he said, attempting to reach around her.“Just out.”
“Out? But, Darling, we just came in a little while ago. And it's getting late and dark outside.”
“I don’t care. I just want to—”
“Hey, Sweetheart, I’ve got a better idea. How does a nice hot bath sound? We’ll get you all cleaned up,” she suggested brightly, taking him by the hand,“and then tuck you into bed.”
“But I’m not tired,” he objected as she took him into the bedroom and then pulled his shirt off over his head.“And I don’t want to go to bed,” he balked, sounding just like the little boy she knew.
Molly filled the tub with hot water, checked the temperature, and then settled Danny in the deep bath.
“How does that feel?” she asked.
“Mmmm, good,” he admitted with a smile and, submerging deeper, arched his head back so that his long locks of hair splayed out into the water.
Sitting him up in the tub, Molly soaped a washcloth and began sudsing him. Not only were his hands callused, but his elbows, too. She worked up the length of his arms, then his chest, as he submitted willingly. His skin was smooth and silky under the soapy cloth. When he stood in the tub, his body glistened in voluptuous flesh tones. His legs were not quite those of a stumpy little kid any more, but were longer, his thighs and buttocks firm and contoured. Though he was reedy, she also saw that he was strong, his arms and chest had actually gained muscle and definition. From carrying things? she wondered. Working? What was it they made him do?
She poured some baby shampoo into the palm of her hand and lathered his abundant hair. He leaned back in the tub, closed his eyes, relishing the attention. Did they touch him, too? Like this? Care for him in the way he needed. Did someone love him? The water in the tub turned dark from dirt.
“Did they have a bathtub where you were?” she ventured cautiously.
“No, of course not!” he answered, eyes closed.“You don’t need this much water to get clean. All you need is a bucket. But you gotta make the hot water first.”
“How?” she asked, trying not to stare at him.
“On a fire, of course, silly!” He laughed.
She let the dirty water out of the tub, turned on the shower head and let him rinse under the stream until the water coming off him was clear and clean. Then she turned off the faucet, wrapped a towel around him, and helped him out of the tub, squeezing him tight.
“You know, I bought you a birthday present while you were gone.”Taking him back into the bedroom, she showed him the truck “Yes,” he said, offhandedly,“I saw it.”
She picked it up off the shelf and handed it to him. “It's huge, isn’t it.”
He held it in his arms. “Yes, it's very big.”
“Maybe you’d like to play with it?”
“Yes, maybe later.”
“Oh.”
“But thank you for the present,” he said with a smile, handing it back to her. “I know you were thinking of me. And that was nice. Very nice.” Naked from the waist up, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed his head into her midsection, his ear against her womb as though trying to detect a familiar murmur. It was from here that he had sprung, she thought, the tiny, fragile infant-turned-boy. In his soul did he still feel the elemental connection of their tissues?
Molly caressed his back, and the warmth of his skin allayed her fears. “Of course I was thinking of you. I thought of you every minute of every day,” she murmured, bending down and burying her face in his hair smelling of wood smoke and pine needles. And she kept wondering. Where had he been? Who had kept him all these months? And why wouldn’t he talk, at least to her, his mother and life-long confidant?
“I was worried about you, too,” he admitted, turning up his head so that his soft cheek was pressed against hers. “I felt bad. I kept thinking about you,” he pulled slightly back to look up at her.“But I had to stay away. You understand.”
“No I don’t.”
“I couldn’t help it.”
“Did someone hurt you?”
“Oh, no!”
Despite herself, Molly was crying. “Oh, Darling,” she said, stroking his brow. “Promise me you’ll never, ever leave me again. Promise me,” she pleaded.
He clung to her, but remained ominously silent.
Molly gave him a kiss and turned off his light.
“’Night, Honey,” she said.
“Good night,” he said so sweetly that she had to go back yet again, nestle her face against his, breathe deeply, again inhale his familiar little-boy smell. Yet, buried under it was something darker, muskier, that no amount of soap seemed to dissolve. Foreign and complex, it smelled like wet earth and mushrooms, sunshine and leaves.“Sleep tight, darling,” she uttered in his ear.
He brought his arms around her neck and held her, then snuggled under the freshly laundered covers.“Mmmmm,” he murmured, “I forgot how nice and soft and cuddly this bed is.”
“Sweet dreams,” she said, closing the door. Danny didn’t object— didn’t even give so much as a peep about keeping the small night light on. This from a boy who had been so terrified of the dark.
She kept returning every few minutes to check on him, but he was always still there. In his bed. Sleeping peacefully. She stood over him, gazing down, listening to his rhythmic breathing, bringing her face so close to his that she could drink in his sweet breath. Her baby was back. Really back.
Later in the night she called Tripoli.
“Well, how's it going?” he inquired.
She told him about the scene with the hamburger, his needing to get out, his indifference to toys.“It's like my kid was abducted by aliens.”
“Or someone.”
“I didn’t mean to neglect you today. And argue. I mean—”
“Hey, that's what I’m here for.”
“This is just all so…so strange.”
“The boy's going to need time to readjust,” he tried to reassure her.“But kids are flexible.”
“Hey, it's not him. He's doing great. It's me. His ‘mother.’ I’m the one that needs time to adjust!”
Molly woke up with a start. At first she thought it was a noise, but everything was silent and dark. She turned to look at Danny's bed and her heart leaped in panic. The covers were pulled back, but all she could see was the pillow that bore the imprint of his head. She leapt out of bed. After a dizzying, terrifying moment of indecision, she detected footsteps in the living room and she rushed out.
“My God, what's the matter?” she whispered as she saw the pale form of Danny in the darkness.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he answered in a whisper of his own. Outside it was now so quiet you could hear the frogs croaking in the swamp behind the park. He kept moving around in the darkened room.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
“No. I just couldn’t sleep. I think I’ve got to get used to this place again.”
Molly pulled him close. Every muscle and sinew in his body was wound tightly.“What was the other place like?”
“Different,” he said.
“How?”
“It was quieter. And it had more air. Not so stuffy.”
“Would you like to go out? Is that it?”
“Yes. Please.” Something like desperation in his voice tugged at her guilt.
Unlocking the trailer door, she led him out onto the cold metal steps. The night was crisp and clear; the air was still and lightly perfumed with the fragrance of spring. Beyond the immediate lights of the trailer park, the sky was dark and moonless. In the distance, a big truck droned down the highway. Dan
ny took a series of long, deep breaths, exhaling slowly, and Molly could feel the tension in his body dissipating.
She waited, keeping him warm against her side. “Better now?” she finally inquired.
“Yeah,” he nodded.“Much better.”
The sound of the truck had faded, and now all they could hear was the buzzing from the mercury vapor lamp that sat on the power pole overhead. One hundred feet from the house stood a patrol car. A cop sat in the front seat, staring out at them, and she pulled her nightgown tight around her.
“Could I sleep out here?” asked Danny.
She looked at him. Hesitated. “Sure, Honey,” she said finally, went back into the trailer, gathered his blankets and pillow and made him a bed on the grass. Happily, he crawled under the covers.
“Think you can sleep now?”
“I’m sure.”
“Good,” she said, tucking him in.
Molly went back again, put on a coat, and lugged out an aluminum chaise lounge. She unfolded it, stationing herself beside his bed, wondering what the cop would say about this to the others in the morning. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but her mind was in turmoil; she could not drive off the indefinable sense of dread that gnawed away at the edges of her consciousness. The same questions kept circling in her mind. Who had kept him? How did they get him? How did he get away? And why? Why? Why? Only with the approach of daybreak did she fall asleep.
When she opened her eyes, Tripoli was standing over her, blocking the glaring sun. She squinted in the brightness, trying to orient herself.
“Where's Danny?” she asked, leaping to her feet.
“Right here, Mother,” he laughed, smiling at her. He was sitting cross-legged on his mattress, naked.
It took Molly a moment to take in the scene. The neighbors gawking. The new cop on duty, leaning up against his squad car, arms folded, watching them.
“Jesus,” muttered Molly, and she scooped up Danny and headed into the trailer.
Tripoli gathered up the mattress and carried it in behind her.
“I’m not going to ask,” he said with a smile.
“There's nothing to ask,” said Molly with a shrug. “We were camping out.”
“That's what I told them when they called last night.”
THE LAST BOY Page 17
