Two Birds, One Stone

by

Cole Parker

colepark@gmail.com

I was working the late shift at the local supermarket. I’m pretty sure doing so was illegal, but I needed the job, liked the hours, and I’d lied on my application, so the company probably was in the dark about my skulduggery. I’d written down that I was 18; well, it was justified because they’d never have hired me if I’d said I was really 16. Justification! I wrote 18 on the form because that was their lower age limit. I looked older than my age; everyone told me that. And I was more responsible than most kids my age, so that was okay. Jeez, a guy has to do what he has to do, and I needed the job. ‘Nuff said!

Okay, so I have sort of an attitude. I’d discovered you’re better off not just rolling with the punches, but getting some of your own in. Nothing wrong with being a little cocky, meeting the world a little more than halfway. If you don’t do what you have to do, it doesn’t get done. You make your way in the world playing the cards you’ve been dealt.

But enough about me.

I worked ten till four. Night shift. Only six hours, but they didn’t have to provide benefits that way. Good for them and good for me as the work was easy and unsupervised. Working without them around was perfect. Supervisors always seemed to think they knew how to do the job better than their supervisees. I had a head on my shoulders and didn’t need them telling me four or five times that the square peg went in the square hole, thinking the repetition would be useful.

I did things the way I wanted, and often it wasn’t entirely their way. They were pretty sure their way was the cheese. Mostly I thought their cheese stunk like 10-month-old limburger. I did much better if left to my own devices. But I already said this was enough about me.

They’d discovered that I was good at my job—restocking—and they certainly didn’t want to be working during the hours I worked, so they’d discovered if they left a pile of stuff for me to restock that, when they came in during their hours, the stuff was always restocked just as they wanted it. This way, I didn’t need to fume and fuss about them looking over my shoulder and reminding me about the square pegs.

The store was a large supermarket grocery store that had groceries and a lot of other stuff, as many of them do these days. I mainly worked the grocery aisles. We were mostly empty at my time of night, even though we were open 24/7. We’d get a few customers, but after 11 PM it was just Mabel and me for the most part. Mabel was an older woman, past her prime who was a bit grouchy, a bit overweight, and she didn’t get along with customers well, which was undoubtedly why she was on this shift. For legal reasons, they couldn’t just have one person in the store. She worked checkout, meaning she ran the cash register and mostly read the magazines from the rack next to her aisle while I did all the work—work consisting almost entirely of restocking the shelves.

There were signs on the store’s entry doors that read: Between 10 PM and 7 AM, all sales require credit or debit cards. No cash is kept on the premises during these hours and will not be accepted for purchases. I liked the fact they weren’t inviting thieves into the store with the only person available to stop them being me. Still, we had thousands of dollars of merchandise in the store, and I certainly wouldn’t be the one trying to stop people from stealing any of it. In fact, I’d been told repeatedly not to try. But the lack of cash and the presence of video cameras near the checkout area meant I’d never been faced with anything like that in the few months I’d been working there.

It was an easy enough job once I’d learned where everything went, and I had a quick mind. Hundreds of different items, and I knew where every single one of them was shelved.

Because the place was so deserted during the time I was there and it wasn’t unknown for Mabel to take a nap now and then, the store had activated a system after ten for a few lights scattered around the store to flash when the door opened. They wanted us aware someone had entered.

That was how I knew we had a customer that night. It was 11:30, and the door-entry lights flashed once. I didn’t bother to check who it was. I was far away from the doors and in the middle of the canned goods aisle. Three more cans of string beans—French cut, 14.5 oz.—and I’d be off to the bread aisle. That was a bigger job, pushing fresh bread to the back of the shelves and moving the older stuff to the front. Then there were the loaves that were more than two days old; I had to remove those altogether. It always amazed me, the amount of food we gave away to shelters and nursing homes and care pantries and the like.

I won’t mention what we did with cuts of meat beyond-their-prime! It was ugly and the smell as they processed it—wow!

Anyway, the lights had flashed. I kept working. Beans done, bread underway. I was on my knees doing the bottom shelf, tussling with a loaf of rye when I realized I wasn’t alone.

I looked up from where I was squatted and said, “Hi. Need some help?”

He looked to be about 12, and he was panting. He had the advantage on me: he was standing, and I was looking up at him, so judging his height was difficult. He had on shorts, a tee shirt and worn-out sneakers. His hair was uncombed, but what kid that age had combed hair, especially this late in the day? He was skinny, but so were most kids his age.

He had the kind of appearance that stoked my furnace, but he was too young for me. I was attracted, very attracted, to boys with a certain look who were younger than I was, but not that much younger; twelve, unfortunately, was too young. I pushed away how my body was reacting to him and just paid heed instead to the situation presenting itself.

What was he doing, being here by himself at this time of night? Then I realized the lights had flashed twice, so maybe an adult was here with him.

“Yeah,” he said. I realized he was replying to my question about needing help. Also, he was breathing hard. Like maybe he’d been running.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he repeated. “But . . .”

He simply stopped, looking like there was more he wanted to say, but not knowing how. I could see frustration and a lot of uncertainty in his eyes.

“Tell me,” I said, trying to sound as accommodating as I could.

“I think someone’s after me,” he said.

“Huh? Someone’s after you?” I guess that sounded pretty stupid. It felt that way once I said it, just repeating what he’d said. But it’s not every day you hear a person say someone’s after them. I came to my senses. “Who?” I said, hoping he’d overlook the stupid.

“I don’t know. Some guy. He was following me walking here, and he started walking faster, and it was just him and me out there in the dark, and . . . and I got a little scared. I started running when I could see your doors, and he did, too. He yelled at me, told me to stop. I didn’t! I came in here and was going to hide in an aisle or somewhere, and then I saw you. You don’t think he’ll come after me when he sees you, will he?”

I loved his voice, a high, nervous tenor that would break soon. But I had to concentrate here! Damn!

I wanted to say, ‘How the hell would I know?’ but had already sounded dumb once, and once a night is enough. So, instead, I asked, “Why’s he after you?”

He gave me an eye-rolling look and, sounding sarcastic as all get-out, said, “Well, gee, what would an old pervert want with a boy my age?”

“Oh,” I said. “That.”

I wasn’t covering myself with glory so far. Hey, I’m not dumb. I guess sometimes I can come across that way, though.

Just then, a man came into view at the head of the aisle we were in. We were halfway down it. He didn’t come in, just stood looking at us. Probably weighing the situation. I stood up. He looked, well . . . scary was a good word for him. He was dressed rough, not really like a street person, not really homeless-person rough, but not dressed like an office worker in a suit and tie, either. He was unshaven, had messy hair, not the sort of looks you want on someone coming down the street you’re walking on at night when you’re 12. He looked like a person more comfortable being on the streets after dark. And he was big, way bigger than I was. Maybe I was imagining it, but he looked mean. The kid had been wise to run! Maybe I would have, too.

Mabel and I had a communication system that worked over loudspeakers in the store. We also had a code which we’d made up just to cover situations like this. I pressed the button on my mic and said, “Price check on plums, one plum.” The words rang out over the store. Mabel would understand: price check involving plums meant ‘call the cops’, and ‘one plum’ meant there was one person that they’d need to handle when they came.

Mabel was supposed to respond to me in code after calling the cops to tell me how long it would be before they’d arrive so I’d have some idea how long I’d have to hold the fort by myself. I’d know whether to run to a safe area if it’d be long. If it’d only be a minute or two, I could just stay in the aisles and avoid whoever was causing the problem.

Mabel, bless her heart, was probably asleep when I called and was still half asleep when she called back, because she’d forgotten all about the code. The speakers blurted out, “There’s a car accident across town. They’ll send someone when they can, but it won’t be right away.” Then, “Oh! Oops.”

The man at the head of the aisle had heard. I knew that because he smiled.

He began walking toward us, and as he did, he spoke. “Gotcha! Knew you couldn’t get away. So, you got company, huh? Two’s twice as good as one.” He rubbed his crotch and quickened his steps.

It was a long aisle, thank God. I never thought that way when walking down them with new stock to shelve, but I sure felt that way now. “Come on,” I said to the kid, and we took off running.

The man kept up his pace; I could still hear him walking. The store was amazingly quiet at night, and his steps were easy to pick up.

I ran three aisles down and then turned into it; the boy and the shopping cart I’d brought were both with me. There were 14 aisles in the store. He’d have a hard time knowing where we were—except the boy’s sneakers squeaked on the vinyl-tiled floor.

“Why did you bring the cart?” the boy asked, panting. He looked at me like I was crazy. So far, with how I’d spoken to him, he had perfectly sound reasons to wonder about my mental capacity.

Time to reassure him. “I’m not nuts. You’ll see. We need the cart. You and I, we’re going to thwart him!”

That didn’t dispel his thoughts as to my sanity, but I really didn’t have time to explain. “Just stay with me. I’ll explain later.”

I’d picked the aisle we were in on purpose. I knew the layout of the store better than the back of my hand. Who spends time looking at the backs of their hands? Not me, but I did look at all those shelves a lot. Hell, what was on them was what I and re-stockers on the day shift had put there.

About a third of the way down the aisle was a collection of safety and first aid equipment. I grabbed a dry-chemical fire extinguisher. It was a small, two-and-a half-pound one made for kitchen use that should be light enough that the kid could manage it. While we were running away from the creepy man, I’d figured out a way to save us without the cops being there. That’s why I’d brought the shopping cart with me. We needed it.

The man’s footsteps seemed implacable, relentless. We had to hurry, but by running, he could hear us as easily as we could hear him. And the kid was already tired; more running, along with being scared, wasn’t going to fix that. But we had no choice. We had to keep going. We had to stay out of the man’s reach. I felt I had to explain, and I would, but I was busy right then.

I’d gotten what I wanted from that aisle. Men’s Care and Hygiene products were next and three aisles down. I headed there. As we ran, I asked the kid his name.

“I’m Cody,” he said while exhaling.

“I’m Lucas. Look, we’re okay. The guy’s slow, and you and I, we’re fast, plus I have a plan. We’re going to get some stuff, then find a place to hide. The stuff we’re getting is so we can protect ourselves if he finds us. Okay? Don’t worry. I got this.”

He didn’t reply. Probably saving his breath as well as he could.

From Men’s Care I got a couple of aerosol cans of shaving gel, then went to the Hardware aisle and picked up a couple of packages of 25 feet of clothesline and a Swiss Army knife. Next came the Kitchen Supplies aisle where I snitched a cast iron skillet. Good to know where all these things were without having to hunt for them.

“Okay,” I told Cody. “We’ve got what we need. Time for us to scamper. We’re headed for the employees’ lounge. Well, that’s sorta like a euphemism. It’s more of a room where they stick supply overflows, but there’s a couch and table and a couple of drinks and chips machines. Employees can take their breaks there. That’s where we’re headed.”

“Where is it?” Cody sounded exhausted. I still didn’t know why he was up at this time of night; he had to be tired what with the late hour, the stress and all the running.

“On the back wall near the meat counters. There’s an aisle just past those leading to the large storage areas in the rear of the store; the break room’s off that aisle.”

“But . . . back there? That’s the way we came! He’ll probably be there, coming after us. We’ll have to run right past him.”

The panic in his voice was clear. “Good point. Okay, we’ll go back up front by the registers. He’ll follow us there, and then we can run to the back of the store again down one of the aisles while he’s still in the front. As long as we’re moving, he can’t catch us. And, hey, you can stand on the front of the cart just over the wheels. You’ve run enough. It’ll give you a ride.”

He didn’t bother to argue. I think he was whipped. He got on the cart, standing where I’d said, facing forward and holding onto the basket by reaching behind him with both hands. I chose an aisle and headed for the front. The aisle wasn’t just any one at random. It had stationery supplies, and I needed a black felt-tipped pen, paper and Scotch tape which I grabbed as we went by.

We reached the front of the store and stopped, waited and listened. It didn’t take long before we heard him coming. When his steps were close to the front end of Aisle 8, near the center of the store, we took off up Aisle 4 toward the back. The cart had developed a small squeak, perhaps due to Cody’s weight on the front, so the man could still know where we were and could tell where we were headed. I was sure he had turned around and resumed his seemingly unstoppable trek to inevitably capture us.

We made it to the break room easily enough. I figured we had a couple of minutes at least to prepare for him. First, I had to find out how much help I could expect from Cody.

“Okay, you can stop being scared now,” I told him in as comforting a voice as I could manage. “We have to prepare for his visit, though. First, I need to know what you can do. I know boys your age have limitations.”

I said that hoping to get a rise out of him, maybe get him defensive, but in any case, to get some spirit back into him. It worked.

“My age? How old do you think I am?”

“You’re 12, aren’t you?”

“12?! I’m 14! Okay, I know, everyone says I look younger than I am. I’m one of those guys late into puberty. Any day now . . .”

I seemed to have got him to forget our circumstances, which was good for the few moments it would last. But what was even better was his age. I could expect some assistance with my plan from a 14-year-old. I tried to concentrate on that, not on how cute he was and how boys that age appealed to me and weren’t too young. This was not the time or place to be thinking those things, feeling those feelings.

“Good. Fourteen’s good. We can talk about your body later.” I gave him a humorous eyelash wiggle, trying for a smile, but didn’t get one. So I forged on. “You’re going to be on fire extinguisher duty.” I explained what I wanted, what he needed to do, and then showed him how to work the extinguisher. “Remember to pull the pin,” I reminded him for the third time. Young kids need to be reminded of salient points. Then I thought of square pegs and told myself not to mention it again.

After getting him on board with the fire extinguisher, I did my part, laying out the ropes and spreading the shaving gel. By the time I was done, I figured the creep would be with us shortly. I wasn’t disappointed. I heard his heavy tread, and then he was at the door. Cody had pointed out to me that there was no way to lock it and had recommended we move the couch in front of it. I’d told him the guy was big enough to just shove hard on the door and push the couch back into the room. He was plenty big enough to do that.

“No,” I’d said, “it’s better if we let him come to us, like the spider and the fly.”

He’d given me a funny look. I guessed he hadn’t heard that one.

Anyway, it wasn’t the time for frivolity. He was there outside the door, and he pushed it open.

Damn but the guy was big. Over six feet, well over 200 pounds. He saw us standing there, looking back at us, Cody trembling with a fire extinguisher, me looking frightened with a frying pan. He grinned. “This is going to be fun,” he said and stepped forward.

That was when Cody pointed the extinguisher at him and squeezed the handle. Fortunately, he hadn’t forgotten to pull the pin. A cloud of dry chemicals enveloped the man, making it impossible for him to see anything at all.

As expected, trying to get out of the fog, the guy took another step forward. Doing so, he tripped over the rope I’d stretched across the path he took into the room, unable to see it. It was about five inches off the floor and caught his left leg as it was stepping forward.

He didn’t go down. His body lunged forward, but he had the presence of mind to bring his right foot forward high enough not to trip. He stepped forward, trying to maintain his balance. Unfortunately for him, fortunately for Cody and me, he stepped right onto a thick patch of very slippery shaving gel. His foot slid forward with no traction at all, and he completely lost his balance. Windmilling his arms, he fell forward into the room.

As he was going down, I was there, feet set, ready, and I helped him on his way down with a heavy whack to his head with the cast iron pan. I hit him hard enough that the vibrations in the pan handle hurt my palm.

“Let’s go! Quick!” I said. The man was lying on his front side, and he was out of it. He was still breathing, but either unconscious or nearly so. He didn’t resist when I pulled his right arm out from under him, tied a piece of rope around his wrist, then pulled his arm away from his body as far as it would extend and tied the other end of the rope to one leg of the Coke machine.

Cody was doing the same thing on the other side. The man’s left arm wasn’t under him and he had an easier time of it than I did. He also straightened out the man’s arm and tied it to the sofa leg. Then we moved some of the boxes that filled about half the room so the sofa couldn’t be pulled closer to the man.

There was no way he’d be able to move. And he’d have one hell of a headache.

I had one more thing to do, but there wasn’t a rush and I sat down on the couch. Cody sat next to me. He was exhausted. I asked him why he’d come to the store so late at night. He should have been in bed hours earlier.

He jerked up straight. He’d been in the process of falling asleep with his head slowly lowering onto my shoulder. “Mikey!” he said, sounding alarmed.

“Who’s Mikey?”

“He’s my brother. He’s seven! And he’s home alone. I came to get milk for him. We ran out, and he needs it on his cereal in the morning. It’s the only thing he’ll eat. He’s home alone. I have to go! If he wakes up and I’m not there . . .”

“No parent?”

“No. There was only my mother, and she ran off with her boyfriend. She left a note. There was some money on her dresser for us. She told me to take care of Mikey. She said that she wasn’t coming back, and I should call Social Services and tell them we’d been abandoned. She said she was sorry, but this mothering business was just not for her. She wanted a bigger life than that. She said she and her boyfriend were going to live a little. Mikey and I, we’re together. Alone. I have to get back!”

“You two are living alone? How can you do that?”

“We’re fine, at least till the money runs out. I’m taking care of Mikey. I don’t know what we’ll do when we’re broke. I’m thinking on it. But right now, I need to get back to Mikey. Since Mom left, he’s been a little squirrely, kinda anxious. If I’m not there . . .”

“Okay, okay, hold on. First, we need to figure this out. I know you’re in a hurry, but rushing might screw things up worse. Look, Mabel knows you were here with me. She saw us together. If the cops come and you’re not here, she’ll tell them you were, they’ll question me, and what’ll I say?”

“Tell ‘em I wasn’t involved. Or not. You don’t know me or where I live. They’ll never find me.”

“They will! I know your first name and your age, and that you live close to the store. I might have to tell them. They’ll find out who you are from the school you have to attend because you live close by here, and then they’ll discover you’re alone with no parents, and they’ll get Social Services involved, and you’ll have a mess. Probably take Mikey away and put him—and you, too—into a home.”

“That’s what I’m worried about! How can I stop that?”

“Let me think. Anyway, there’s something I have to do quick.”

I got the pen and paper I’d grabbed and printed out a sign. This is a private area. No entry allowed by unauthorized individuals. Doing so may result in prosecution for trespassing. Then I taped it to the wall outside the break room right next to the door.

“What’s that for?” Cody asked.

“It occurs to me that the cops might not want to hold this guy in jail while figuring out what was going on here. We, well, I, socked the guy pretty good when he came in here. If he says he was just looking for the restroom and got attacked, the police might think they don’t have any reason to hold him and that maybe we should be questioned for assault. With this sign on the wall, we can point out that if they don’t take our word for the threats he made, at least they can hold him for trespass.”

“Wow. You think of everything.”

“Yeah, but now I have to think about how to solve your Mikey problem.”

I spoke to Cody, trying to calm him down about Mikey. I talked to him about that, having time till the cops came to try to find out how things were working with the two of them. It was actually cop, not cops, that showed up eventually, and luckily it was the one cop I knew. He worked nights, and he stopped in at the store now and then just to check that everything was fine and to glom onto the free day-old sandwiches I had to dispose of every shift I worked. We joked around when he was at the store. He was only 24 years old, and I considered him a friend. His name was Keith.

I showed him the guy we’d captured. The man was coming out of it, regaining his consciousness. He struggled a little with the ropes and moaned. I explained to Keith why we had him fixed the way we did, how he’d followed Cody into the store, and how he’d threatened both of us sexually. “We did call the cops, but you were unavailable, and we had to handle the situation the best we could by ourselves.”

The man heard me and said, “Get me loose here, officer. These guys attacked me for no reason. Sure glad you came when you did. I want them charged with assault and illegal restraint.”

“They say you threatened them and then followed them into the room here.”

“They’re lying. I didn’t do anything. They did. Get me loose.”

Keith looked at me. “I’m not sure I can hold him, his word against that of two minors. You’ll all have to come down to the station. We’ll look into it there.”

I frowned. Cody started shaking. I spoke to Keith.

“Can I talk to you in private? Outside the room?”

“Sure.”

We went back into the rear of the store where no one could hear us. “Keith, you know me. I know you. I’m honest, I don’t ever get in trouble, and you know that. There’s a situation here, and you can make it better or you can really screw things up for two kids. I’m going to trust you to do the right thing.

“Cody in there is taking care of his younger brother tonight while his mother is away. He came into the store late to buy milk for his brother’s breakfast. If you take him into the station tonight, his brother will wake up to an empty house tomorrow and be terrified.

“I have a suggestion, a way we can prevent that. Take this guy into custody for breaking into the employees’ lounge. That’s trespassing, and it’s a reason to hold him while you check his past. As he was trying to force sex on us—two kids—I’d think it quite possible he has a record. Anyway, you do have grounds to take him in and a reason to let Cody go home tonight to be there for his brother as long as he promises to come in tomorrow to give you his statement. I can come in now and give mine, which will be pretty much the same as his.

“I’m asking this of you as a favor because I know you’re a good guy, and taking Cody in tonight would cause all sorts of problems, and he’s just a kid helping out his brother. His whole life shouldn’t be turned upside down for that.”

Keith looked undecided. Then he said, “He’ll come in tomorrow morning?”

“He’ll have to get his brother off to school, and then he’ll come in if he can get out of school himself. I’m hoping you’ll have found priors on this guy by then, and we’ll just be witnesses. With priors on the guy and Cody’s and my statements, our part of this’ll all be over until we have to testify.”

Keith shook his head, then sighed. “Everyone who was at the accident earlier will be busy with paperwork. If we did haul you in now, no one would even get to you for hours. You’re right; I saw how wiped out Cody was. Sure, tell him to go home and that he should come into the police department tomorrow morning to give his statement. You don’t have to come in till then, either.”

Keith and I went back into the break room. Keith handcuffed the man who was swearing up a storm that he was arresting the wrong person, and after a quick word to Cody, took the man out with him.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” I asked Cody.

He really was exhausted. “No, I’m okay.” He didn’t look it, but I wasn’t going to argue with him.

“Okay, and look, we should go in tomorrow together—for moral support. You must be a freshman at Columbia high school. I dropped out as soon as I turned 16. I can explain why later if you’re interested. But I can meet you tomorrow on the school’s front steps if you want. Nine o’clock?”

“Okay. And Lucas, you’re amazing. Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

As he was walking out, I caught up with him and handed him a quart of milk. No charge!

I still had shelves to fill. I continued working till quitting time at four. Then it was home and to bed. I had to be up at 6:30, but I was used to sleeping in small snatches now.

I will admit that it had been a more exciting day than I was accustomed to. If there was one thing I could count on in my life, it was unexciting days.

I got up at 6:30 as usual and showered and dressed, then went in to check on my mom. She was up, like she always was at this time. Today, she was still in her nightclothes and sitting on the bed, her feet on the floor, just sort of staring at nothing. I was way too accustomed to seeing her sitting like that.

I repressed a sigh and said, “Morning, Mom.”

She turned to look at me. Just that quickly, I knew something had changed. Usually she didn’t respond to my greeting at all.

“Morning, dear. I . . . I feel better this morning!”

“Oh, that’s great! Uh, can you get dressed? I can go get breakfast going.”

“Yes, I think I can. I’ll be down when I’m ready.”

Wow! This was something. A good something. No jinxing it, though. Don’t get too optimistic.

I’d learned not to do that.

Menopause had hit Mom hard. Life had suddenly become too hard for her to cope with. Part of it was my fault. She only had Dad and me to take care of, and a short time ago, for a few months, I’d pulled away from her. I had so much going on at school with athletics, academics, friends and all that goes into being an integrated sophomore. I’d been feeling much less need for a mother than I had up till then, and I’d been giving her very little of myself. You know, narcissistic teenagers! Yeah, I’d been one of them. I was 15, popular at school because the girls found me attractive. I was into school sports, meaning I was friends with the more popular boys, too. If you’re not shy, if you’re outgoing and decent looking, you can be awfully happy being 15. That was who I’d been.

So, I’d been ignoring Mom, feeling I was too old now to really need a mother, feeling the need for independence, and then she was hit with menopause, it played a number on her, and then, right then at the worst of times, my father died.

Mom went into serious depression. I didn’t even notice at first, but then I couldn’t help but notice. When she didn’t come out of her room one day, I noticed.

I talked to her, but she didn’t even talk back. She just lay on her bed, still clothed, but seemingly comatose. I panicked. I was 15 and had no idea what to do. Dad had just died and I was sort of the man of the house, but I was no man. I was a self-involved boy.

The only thing I could think of doing was going next door and asking for help. Mrs. Grayson and Mom were friends of a sort, the neighborly sort, not especially close but, well, friendly. I told her my mom was lying in bed and basically unresponsive, and what should I do?

Mrs. Grayson knew what to do. She came over, Mom was as unresponsive to her as to me, so Mrs. Grayson called 911.

I could go on and on about the next few days, about tests and consultants and bad news and trips here and there, but what it came down to was she was depressed, deeply depressed, clinically depressed, and it was due to a combination of hormonal imbalance that often came with the onset of menopause and the life changes she was experiencing. The hospital’s on-call psychologist told me that in way too short a time, she’d gone from an active woman keeping house and supporting two men and herself, a woman with a purpose in life, to someone with no one to look after and not much at all to do. The purpose of her life that had made her proud and feeling worthwhile was suddenly gone. Combined with the menopause issue, she’d simply sunk into a place where she felt she had nothing to live for.

He told me she needed 24/7 observation because she could become suicidal, something many women with her problems faced. The worst thing for her would be to be home alone in an empty house day after day.

While this was going on, it so happened my birthday had come and gone. Happy Birthday, me. I had hardly noticed. But the fact it had occurred was what was important. It helped me decide what needed to be done.

The psychologist had told me that getting her hormone treatments figured out and putting her on an antidepressant would fix the chemical-related symptoms she was experiencing. It could take an unpredictable time for the antidepressant to start working, but over a month was common; the hormone balance problem should be fixed before that. But during that month or more of waiting, she needed to be in a place where she had supervision and company.

I knew what I had to do. The answer was simple. I dropped out of school and spent all day with her every day. Depressed people, I learned, spend a lot of time sleeping. She did nap some during the day and was always in bed at night by nine thirty. But with all that downtime, she also started waking up at 6:30 in the morning. I discovered it was important that I get up then as she was often so disoriented when she woke that there was no telling what she’d do. I had to be with her. And so I got up at 6:30 as well.

Money wasn’t a problem, thankfully. Dad had had a large life insurance policy, and we were comfortable even without either of us working. But I found there was a problem that did need addressing. It was me. I was going stir-crazy, staying with her all day, her not even talking to me much of the time, not doing much of anything and I had to watch that. I knew I had to get out of the house, and I found the perfect way.

I was doing the shopping now and did it after she was down for the night. And on one of the trips to the grocery store at night, I saw a ‘HelpWanted—Stock Person’ notice. I applied and got the job. The hours I worked had to fit with Mom’s sleep pattern. That meant at night. And I’d learned I could nap during the day when she did, so I was getting some sleep as well. Not much, but enough.

I missed the life I’d had, but I also felt I had to do what I was doing with my mother. Yeah, a little of that was from guilt. I should have paid more attention to her and not been so caught up in my own wonderful, self-important life. There was also the practical side: she needed someone, so I was there for her.

The pill-pushing doctor had said the pills would kick in when they kicked in, but not to expect anything before at least a month. Probably more. It had been over a month now. I’d been hoping I’d see a change soon.

And then, almost as a heavenly reward for saving Cody the night before, Mom looked and acted better that morning, better than she had for a, well, within the time the doc had predicted! It was so good, seeing my mom acting like herself again!

She came downstairs fully dressed. Often, I had to help her dress or she’d stay in her dressing gown all day, and I thought following a routine, getting dressed, eating, all that stuff, might help her get better. I didn’t know if that had made a difference or not, but now, her face looked better, and she was responding to things correctly. She was standing straight and didn’t look so drawn.

“Toast’s ready—and your tea, too,” I said, being very positive like I was all the time with her now. That took some effort, but so what? I owed her after a lifetime of her being there for me when I needed her.

“I really do feel better,” she said, picking up a piece of toast and buttering it. I’d had to do that for her many days, and many days she’d still not eaten it or anything else. “I’ve been feeling a little better for the last few days and much better today. Lucas, I . . . I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve given you.”

I went to her and gave her a quick hug. “No problem at all. You really are acting and sounding more like yourself.”

“What I need to do now is to not keep going back over and over in my head that I’m no longer any use to anyone now. I do know that’s the kind of thinking I have to avoid. You do such a good job of talking to me, keeping my thoughts from that, and I never let you know how much that has meant to me.”

“We need to work on what you just said, Mom. Now that you’re really on the mend, I have a chore for you. Get a pencil and paper and write down the things you’d like to do if you could. Anything at all. Write down both possible things and impossible ones. Then we can talk about the list. We can probably find something to make you feel useful again.”

She finished her toast, put some lemon in her tea and drank some, then asked me what I was going to do today. “You don’t have to babysit me today. I’m sure of that. And I have a list to make.”

“This is good, because I have to go out. They want me down at the police station!”

That ended up with my telling her all about my adventures the previous night. After that, I had to get ready to go out, making sure she had everything she needed and was settled comfortably in the living room by the TV and with her paper and pencil. She did look good!

I was on the school steps at five till nine. Cody didn’t come out at nine, and by ten after I was ready to go in and find him. Then the door opened and there he was.

“They didn’t want to release me. I argued, but kids who look 12 don’t get far arguing with school administrators. I finally insisted they call the police station, and the cops confirmed that they needed me. So the principal relented, and here I am. Finally.”

I grinned at him. I felt simpatico with him: we were both doing the best we could in bad situations. And now, not under stress, he had a smile and charm I’d never seen before.

“We need to discuss this on the way to the station,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about it. They’ll ask why you were out so late, why your mom or dad didn’t get the milk you needed. You need an answer for that so they won’t pursue it.”

“How about they were both drunk out of their heads, and I couldn’t wake them, so I went myself?”

I gave him a look, and he broke out laughing. “Okay, no, that’s probably not the best way to respond to that question. Hmmm. Do you have an idea?”

I almost always had an idea about almost anything. “Yeah; how about your dad was out of town on a business trip, and your brother was throwing up and had a fever and your mom didn’t want to leave him, but you knew there was no milk for in the morning? So you went for it without telling her. You thought you’d be back in fifteen minutes or less, and she wouldn’t even notice you were gone.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll say it like that.”

“We may have another problem. They’re not supposed to question us without a parent there. If they ask for one to be with us, we’re screwed.”

“You mean I’m screwed. And Mikey. Hey, I’ll just tell them she took Mikey to a doctor—I don’t know what one—but I’ll just write out my statement and won’t answer any questions. They ought to buy that.”

I agreed with him. It might work. Might. “It’ll probably be fine as long as they’ve found priors on the guy. Then they’ll be more interested in him than in us. But you know at some point you’re going to have to call Social Services. You can’t go on this way for long.”

“No, they’ll split us up. We’ll run away before I’ll let that happen.”

We’d reached the police station, and we went in and told the lady cop we were there to make statements concerning the pervert they’d taken into custody last night. She told us to wait, that a detective would be out in a moment to help us.

She was right. Only a minute later a tall, older man in civilian clothes but with a pistol in a holster on his hip came out and met us. “We’re going to get your statements now, but I have some questions for you first.”

Cody looked at me. I frowned and said to the detective, “That’s not why we came in. We’re here just to write out our statements.”

“Well, whoever told you that isn’t running this investigation. I am, and I always talk to people before they write their statements. I can keep the statements more focused that way. This isn’t a problem, is it?”

“Well, actually, yes.” I was getting nervous, but I’d been nervous before. “See, the thing is, we’re supposed to have a parent here if we’re being questioned. And neither of ours are available right now. We can probably arrange something for tomorrow. Is that okay with you?”

“Not really. We can only hold this guy for 24 hours without charging him. We ran his records, and you were right in thinking he had priors. But still, for an arrest, we have to have all our ducks in a row. So we need this today.”

“Well, that’ll work if you’re flexible. My mom is under doctor’s orders to stay home. Cody’s mother is out of town, and he and his brother are staying with us. Now, if after school hours today you want to come to my house, my mom can sit in on the interview, and she has in loco parentis responsibilities with Cody and his brother, so that should be fine. Can you come to my house at, say, four-thirty this afternoon?”

“Sure. I’ll be there.”

When we walked out, Cody was just shaking his head. “You’re weird,” he said.

“What?”

“You just come up with this stuff out of the blue. Last night. Now this.”

“Yeah, but we’ll have to see if this will work. I think it will. I know I can get Mom to take you two in temporarily. She’ll love it. Permanently? I don’t know, but I think it’s more probable than just possible. We’ll have to fudge the system a little to get that done, but I think this will work.”

He grabbed me and threw his arms around me and wouldn’t let go.

We collected Mikey from school when it let out at 3:00. Prior to that, with Cody back in school for the rest of the day, I’d spent time with Mom. I’d asked her what she thought about bringing in two boys to live with us. She’d opened her eyes wide, then handed me the list she’d made. The top item on the list was: Adopt more kids for me to raise.

I laughed. “I was pretty sure you’d like the idea. You wanted purpose in your life. Now you’ll have it. We’re going to have to lie a little to the Social Services people, but hell, they’re used to it. Their main goal is to put homeless kids into happy families, and that’s more or less what we’re doing.

“There’ll be a policeman here this afternoon. He’ll be questioning Cody and me. All you have to do is sit and listen.”

Now we were headed to my house. We’d get all the stuff they wanted from their house eventually. It was being rented furnished, so it was just their personal things we had to get. I made a mental note to myself that the landlord would have to be notified.

We told Mikey on the way there what was going on. He was a really cute kid. Aren’t all seven-year-olds cute? Come to think of it, Cody was good-looking, too. I couldn’t imagine how a mom could throw away two such great kids. I knew it happened. I just didn’t understand why.

I guess Mikey’s life had been like a windstorm recently, everything up in the air, not sure what was what. He must have been used to rolling with the punches, because he looked up at me and said, “I’m not a little kid any longer. I want to be called Mike.”

“You got it, Mike. And you can introduce yourself to my mom.”

He grinned. I thought I’d like him just fine.

Cody stopped when we were in front of my house. Mike kept going up onto the front porch where Mom was there waiting, and I told him we’d be there in a minute. Then I looked at Cody.

He looked very serious. Then he said, “I can’t let you do this without telling you I’m gay,” he said. “I don’t want you finding out later after Mikey’s gotten attached. If you’re going to throw us out, best if we never get in.”

“Not a problem,” I said. “I’m gay, too. Well, probably am. I have a feeling I’ll know for sure quite soon, after we’d decided who sleeps where.”

“You’re gay? Does your mom know? And approve?”

“Yes, no and it’s undecided as she’s unaware. But she’ll be fine with it. Trust me.”

“I trust you, Lucas, more than anyone I’ve ever met,” he said, and galloped up to the porch where Mike and Mom were waiting.

I watched Mom hug him and realized my whole world was changing. I could go back to school if Mom was okay. I’d have to retake my sophomore year, but that was fine; I’d loved that time in school, and repeating it would allow me to be only one year ahead of Cody, which was no problem at all. If I was a junior, getting with a freshman might have brought some scrutiny. A soph and freshman? No big deal.

I’d planned on going to college, and that plan had ended up in the dumpster when I left school. Now it was back on the table if things worked out as I expected they would.

Mom was on the porch, wearing a smile I hadn’t seen in months. I started up the front walk. My new family was there, and Cody, seeing me coming, raced down the steps and met me halfway. He threw himself at me and I caught him, and nothing had ever felt better in my arms.

THE END