by Sera, Drew
Oh God.
We pulled up to a huge home that was lit up with lights. The rain was a lot lighter out here and it didn’t bother me as we got out of the car. Nervously, I followed Thom up the steps to his wide porch and swallowed hard as he opened the door. I slowly stepped inside and stood still by the closed door.
“Come in, Wesley.”
I looked down at my sneakers with holes and my soaked pants. I shouldn’t traipse through their home like this. I was so embarrassed at how I looked. Thom put this hand on my upper arm and encouraged me to follow him inside toward the sound of a television.
“Boys, I need your attention for a few minutes. Shut off the video game. Where’s Mason?” The two boys that sat on the couch shut the game off and looked over at me. “Mason!” Thom called in the direction of the stairs.
Soon, another guy appeared, and then he sat on another couch. Thom motioned for me to step forward and I did as I was told.
“Boys, this is Wesley.” The three boys either waved, nodded their heads or said, “hello,” to me. I managed to nod and smile back.
I met the lot of them. Mason was twenty-one, Kyler was nineteen, and Martin was seventeen. They were all muscular guys with builds much bigger than mine. Even the youngest, Martin, had a bigger build than I did. They all had slightly different shades of brown hair and blue eyes. Just like me.
“Wesley has fallen on hard times and he’s going to stay with us. He’ll help out at the bakery once I feel that he is ready.”
The boys all looked at one another and smiled. Martin got off the couch and came over to shake my hand.
“Welcome, mate. I’ll show you where the bathroom is. Did you bring any clothes?” Martin asked.
“Um…”
“Boys, Wesley doesn’t have anything. We need to get him taken care of.”
Kyler and Mason both stood and came over. They each shook my hand, and Mason said he’d prep the extra bed in Martin’s room.
“I’ll find you some dry clothes,” Kyler said and left with Mason.
Martin nudged me to follow him, and I glanced at Thom. He nodded at me and said he needed to make a few phone calls but for me to come find him when I was done. I hoped the phone calls wouldn’t be about me. My stomach dropped though as I remembered the dead guy in the alley.
“So, this is the bathroom closest to my room, or our room. I’m the only one with an extra bed in it, so you’re stuck with me, mate.”
I used to share a room with six to ten other boys and slept on the floor. I doubted that sharing a room with Martin and the extra bed would be unbearable.
“Kyler and Mason each have their own bathrooms. Mason’s room is actually the basement. Kind of like an apartment for him, I guess. He wants freedom.” Martin rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t think we know when he’s got a girl down there. He’s such a dork. Anyhow, it’s a bathroom and pretty self-explanatory. Help yourself to whatever. How about you use the navy towels and I’ll use the bright blue ones?”
“Yes, that will be fine. I’ll remember just the navy ones.”
Kyler came in with his arms full of clothes and set them on the counter.
“Those aren’t going to fit him, mate,” Martin pulled out some clothes and put them back in Kyler’s hands.
“I just brought a bunch to see what worked for him. I’ll take these other ones back.”
I thanked Kyler for the clothes as he left the bathroom. Martin rummaged around under the bathroom cabinet for a few moments and emerged with a toothbrush that was wrapped in plastic.
“I knew I kept it. Here,” he held the toothbrush out toward me. “I had my dentist visit last week and they gave me this. You can have it.”
I nodded and held the plastic wrapped toothbrush as if it were gold. After being on the streets and having thrown up tonight, this was gold. I actually had one for a while and kept it in a plastic bag in my pant pockets, but toothpaste was hard to come by. That would had been something that I could have used the cigarettes to barter for.
The shower was so relaxing, and it gave me a chance to assess the damage from the few fights. I didn’t look too bad until I saw the bruising from where the pipe hit me. Knowing that I had to see a physician tomorrow, I began to worry. I put on the clothes that Kyler had given me and was surprised that they weren’t super huge on me.
I found Thom after I was showered and my teeth were brushed. He was in what I assumed was a home office or den.
“Sit down, Wesley.”
I took a seat across from his desk as he looked at a calendar.
“I will take you to see the physician tomorrow morning. How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Any bruising from your fights?”
I didn’t want to admit that I was bruised and banged up. I wasn’t a wimp. I looked down at my knees that were bouncing nervously. Wimps didn’t walk away from the docks.
“Wesley, there’s nothing to be ashamed over.”
“I can fight and defend myself,” I announced.
Thom leaned back in his chair and looked at me. I felt like I needed to say more.
“There were two of them. I didn’t know they had a pipe.”
That apparently was the wrong thing to say because Thom stood and walked around the desk until he was right in front of me.
“They hit you with a pipe?”
My face was burning and I wanted out from under his stare.
“Where were you hit with the pipe, Wesley?” I kept looking at him. I felt so much shame for not being able to defend myself to two street thugs after having grown up on the docks. “Answer me, Wesley.”
“My legs and stomach.”
“That’s why you’re limping tonight. Come on, get up.”
Thom motioned for me to get out of the chair. I followed him to the kitchen and sat down when he instructed me to. From the freezer, he pulled ice trays and prepped a handful of ice packs for me.
“Let’s get you situated in bed, and you can keep the ice on for a while.”
I followed Thom to what I gathered would be where I would sleep, which was in Martin’s room. Martin was sitting on his bed reading when we came in. He sat up and asked if he could lend a hand.
“Martin, keep your eye on the clock and in fifteen minutes, make sure he takes the ice packs off.”
I got on the bed and got lost in how good a bed felt. Even when I had shelter with the group home, I didn’t have a bed. This felt incredible. My entire body was relishing in the comfort of the mattress. The pillow…my god, the pillow supported my neck and was so soft.
“I’m going to lift your shirt and find out where the ice needs to be applied,” Thom warned.
I glanced at Martin to see if he would be able to see. From where he was sitting, I didn’t think he’d be able to see my bruises. Thom made a hissing noise when he saw my stomach.
“Oh, Wesley.”
I looked down at my stomach and felt my face burn again. I knew it would only be a matter of time before he saw the tattoo on my chest and the scars on my back.
“It looks a lot worse than it really is,” I said and hoped he believed me.
He lowered the shirt and gently placed the ice pack on top of the material. The cold sensation shocked me at first.
“Fifteen minutes, Martin. Then lights out, he needs to sleep.”
After Thom left, I glanced at Martin. He sat on the edge of his bed and looked at me.
“You okay, mate?” he asked.
“Yeah, of course. I was outnumbered,” I quickly added, hoping he believed me.
“So, you really have nothing?”
I shook my head, confirming that I didn’t have anything.
“Sorry, mate.”
I shrugged. Martin talked with me for a few minutes but kept glancing at the clock while we conversed. Finally, he stood and came over.
“Fifteen minutes are up. I’ll take the ice packs downstairs,” Martin said as he lifted them from my sore legs and stomach.
&nbs
p; “Thank you,” I said.
When Martin turned the lights off, I stared at the ceiling and could hear Thom and Dean out in the hallway talking about me.
“He doing okay?”
“He’s settled for the night. He’s been beaten and needs to see a physician.”
“That’s a pity. Did you get anything out of him?” Dean asked.
“Not much. He ran away from a group home for boys by the docks.”
“The docks? Hell, when did group homes start operating around shipyards?”
I shut my eyes tightly and cringed when he said “the docks.” I wasn’t going back. Their voices became difficult to hear, and I realized they had moved away from the hallway. I would talk to Thom tomorrow because if he were planning on taking me back there, I just would prefer the streets.
3
Thom
January 2007
Wesley Berlin was an interesting young man. Clearly, he was nervous and understandably cautious after living on the streets. I was concerned about his well-being and health at the moment. He had been very quiet this morning, and though he ate, he had gotten sick on everything he had eaten.
I had a growing concern over what Wesley had seen last night in the alley. Dean hadn’t seemed concerned over Wesley’s mental state after witnessing it…which deeply concerned me. I was still shocked over Dean’s behavior last night, and I hadn’t begun to wrap my head around it.
Without a doubt, one thing was apparent to me; I had a fourteen-year-old in my care that witnessed Dean committing a murder.
“When was the last time you’ve been seen by a physician?” I asked during our drive to my friend’s medical practice.
“I can’t remember.”
I glanced at him. Surely the adoptive family would have made sure he was cared for or at least seen by a doctor at some point.
“Were you ever seen for a cold or a sore throat?”
“No, sir,” Wesley murmured.
His legs bounced nervously in the car and then in the waiting room. I tried to reassure him that no one would hurt him, but I felt like he either wasn’t really hearing my words or that he just didn’t believe it.
I stood in the exam room and watched my good friend, Jasper, check Wesley over. Jasper had been a family friend ever since we were in school together. I spoke to him this morning and gave him a heads up about Wesley.
Wesley was indeed a mystery to me, and his wounds and scars would tell me a lot about him. The most peculiar thing that was revealed very quickly was a tattoo over the left side of his chest. It read “WB6.” When Jasper asked about it, Wesley clammed up. He lost color in his face, and even though he was looking at me, I felt as if he really wasn’t seeing me.
He was very young to have a tattoo. I even thought at first that maybe it was something he got within the past year while he was living on the streets. Maybe he befriended a few older boys and he lied about his age to get it done, or it was some sort of rite of passage on the streets.
“I think you might be my youngest patient with a tattoo,” Jasper commented and glanced at me.
Wesley was quiet and very still as Jasper listened to his heart. I was pretty sure the “WB” portion of the tattoo were his initials. The number portion could be anything.
“Oh, Thom,” Jasper said and motioned for me to take a look at his back.
Jasper’s tone told me that he had been caught off guard by something. I walked behind the exam table and had a hard time comprehending what I was looking at. Wesley’s back was covered in scars and indentations. My friend touched a few places, and we both noticed Wesley flinch. His body jerked at the touch.
“Wesley, how did this happen?” Jasper asked.
There was no response from Wesley as my friend continued to touch places on his back. I was stunned and didn’t know what to think, let alone say.
“My guess is that these are from a belt or something strap-like,” Jasper whispered when Wesley didn’t respond. “Some of these are quite old, Thom. He’s just fourteen.” I nodded and walked back around to face Wesley.
“What happened, Wesley?”
When he brought his head up to look at me, the look on his face told me enough at the moment. This boy had led a rough life. I saw a mix of emotions on his face and all of it saddened me. I could tell that he’s erected walls of toughness over the years. He probably had to in order to survive on the streets. But I also saw pieces of that wall crumbling. Behind those crumbling “tough guy” pieces was a scared boy.
“Wes,” I calmly whispered his name again.
His eyes were watery, and he looked back down to hide.
“I’m sorry, sir. I…can’t,” Wesley mumbled.
He was shaking so Jasper just stopped touching him. I put my hands on his upper arms and gave him a gentle squeeze. His body jerked again when I touched him. I think this might be a natural reaction from living on the streets for a year without any positive or nurturing touch.
“It’ll be okay, Wes,” I reassured him.
I could feel his body quake beneath my hands. My mind raced with thoughts of whatever was in his young past on top of watching a man be killed just a few feet away from him last night.
I had an overwhelming urge to embrace Wesley and soothe him, but I needed to tread cautiously with him. I didn’t want to scare him more than he already was. I simply hated to feel him tremble.
“Wesley, it’ll be okay,” I said again hoping it would sink in.
“Please don’t take me back there, Thom…I can’t go back to the docks,” Wesley begged.
“I’m not taking you back there, Wesley. I promise you.”
Whatever was at the place he referred to as the docks and had happened there was a major piece to Wesley. I intended to find out what went on there and why this boy had scars on his back.
4
Wes
January 2007
Martin and I were in the living room when Thom and Dean came home. Dean didn’t live at the house, but I noticed that he was here a lot during the past few days. I didn’t know if that was common or if it had to do with me...or the man Dean shot in the alley.
“Boys, shut the TV off, I need to talk to you guys,” Thom said as he pulled his jacket off.
“Where’s Mason and Kyler?” Dean asked as he walked to the stairs and hollered for his two oldest nephews.
Thom sat down in the leather chair next to the sofa and looked really upset about something. I felt awkward and like I shouldn’t be here for their family discussion.
“Thom, should I leave the room?” I whispered.
He raised his head and frowned at me.
“No, Wesley. Stay put.”
I sat quietly beside Martin and felt my heart begin to pound. This was obviously going to be a family discussion, and I felt like I didn’t belong at it. I’d only been here for a few days. Kyler sat down on the other side of me, and Mason took a seat opposite Thom. Now that everyone was here, Thom exhaled loudly, stood up and crossed the room to stand beside Dean.
“We have some bad news,” Thom began.
I heard the leather sofa cushions move as Martin and Kyler sat up straight.
“Your Uncle Bram is dead,” Thom sighed.
Shit. I sat still but glanced at Martin, Kyler, and Mason. Even though I’d only been here for a short time, I’d heard their Uncle Bram mentioned several times by the boys.
“What happened?” Mason asked.
“No...he was just here a few days ago,” Martin shook his head and then stood.
“Dad, what happened?” Kyler repeated Mason’s question.
Thom shook his head and crossed the room to where Martin had begun to pace. Martin said their uncle’s name as Thom pulled him into an embrace.
“He was just here, Dad,” Martin sobbed.
“I know, son.”
Son.
I wanted to be someone’s son. I wanted to matter and for someone to give a damn about me. From the sofa, I watched how Thom calmed his three kids
during the bad news.
“He was found in his apartment with a gunshot wound to his head,” Thom quietly said.
“Shit,” Mason blurted.
“Dad, do you think it was another family or group?” Kyler angled.
Why would another family want to kill their uncle? And what kind of group would kill him?
“Yeah! He was working on some deals. Kyler is right. Maybe—”
Thom interrupted Mason, “No, Mason.”
“Someone is going to pay for this, Dad,” Mason insisted and stood abruptly.
“Mason, you can’t begin accusing and focusing on revenge. There are no signs of forced entry to the apartment, and the gun was in his hand,” Thom said firmly as he rubbed on Martin’s back.
I watched Thom console Martin, and I began to wonder what that would feel like. It would probably hurt my back. He must trust his father a lot. Of course he does, it’s his father.
“Boys, it was suicide,” Dean countered.
“Someone could have pulled the trigger and then put the gun in his hand. You know, made it look like he shot himself,” Kyler suggested.
“Yeah! Uncle Dean, what do you think?” Mason probed.
Dean and Thom exchanged glances, and when Thom looked away, Dean advised Mason not to get caught up in revenge. For the life of me, I didn’t understand why Mason and Kyler were hedging on someone else killing their uncle when it sounded like he apparently killed himself.
Mason seemed to be mostly angry over the news, while Kyler didn’t seem to be angrier than upset. But it was Martin who was the most visibly upset.
“Was he always in your life?” I cautiously asked Martin when we were in our room for the night.
“Yeah. Uncle Bram taught me how to swim out in the lake. We’d spend all day out there.”
Martin flipped the lights back on and pulled a photo album off the bookshelf. He came over to my bed and nudged me to move my feet. I sat up, and we leaned against the wall that my bed was against on one side. Martin opened the album and began showing me some pictures of his uncle and shared some of his memories with me. After a while, Martin wiped his eyes and closed the photo album.