Borrowed Boy

by Gene Gant

  She nodded and smiled and shook her arm free from my grip. “Now, honey, you keep our company entertained while I get lunch ready,” she said as she guided me to a chair and sat me down. Then she smiled again at the Copelands and left the room.

  Man! She really did it. She abandoned me to the wolves.

  Mr. and Mrs. Copeland sat on the sofa across from me with their son sitting on the opposite end from them. For what seemed like the longest time, we just looked at each other all googly-eyed, nobody mumbling a word.

  Can you say awkward?

  Well, one of us would have to get this ball rolling. I sort of waved at them. “Uh… hi, everybody.”

  “Hello there,” went Mrs. Copeland. She was smiling but looked a whole lot misty, the way a person does when there are tears floating around just below the eyes.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Blake Jr. said, doing the little backward nod at me. He almost seemed to force the words out, as if they’d been glued in his throat or something. His eyes had a hard edge to them.

  “Sorry, you’ll have to forgive us for staring,” said Mr. Copeland. “It’s just that we’ve waited such a very long time to be with you again.”

  Their voices sounded a bit… strange, sort of tight and formal. Not relaxed and laid-back the way Mom and Dad and I, and even Agent Henley, talked. Maybe that was some crazy Chicago accent. I could definitely see the family resemblance, however, not so much with Mrs. Copeland but in Mr. Copeland’s and Blake Jr’s blocky faces and small, sturdy frames. I could even hear the tones of my voice in theirs, although their voices were deeper and manlier than mine. Weird! It was just plain weird to see people who were familiar and complete strangers at the same time.

  I didn’t like any of this. I didn’t want these people here. I didn’t want to be short and compact like this man and his son. I wanted to be tall and strong like my mom and dad.

  I wanted my life back.

  But I had to be polite. Mom wanted me to do that. I couldn’t scream my head off and tell these people to leave me alone like I wanted to. I had to smile. “So… uh, how is Chicago?” Well, that was a really smart conversation starter. Hello there, sir, and how is your city feeling today? Not under the weather, I hope.

  “Chicago is wonderful, especially this time of year,” Mr. Copeland replied cheerfully. “There’s so much to do, so many festivals, the Field Museum, jet skiing on Lake Michigan. You’d love it there.”

  No I wouldn’t. I’ve never been to Chicago, I don’t want to go to Chicago, and I’m never setting one foot in Chicago. No way, no how. “I guess you can’t wait to get back there, huh?”

  Mr. Copeland kept staring and smiling at me. “You’re such a fine boy. It’s amazing. You look almost exactly the way I pictured you would. I see so much of the family in you.” He turned to his wife. “Oberta, doesn’t he have my father’s jaw and eyes?”

  Mrs. Copeland nodded vigorously, as if she didn’t trust her voice. She opened her purse and pulled a couple of tissues from a little pack inside. She clutched the tissues in her hand just below her chin as she too kept staring in my face.

  “Well, tell us a little about yourself,” Mr. Copeland said to me. “How was school for you this past year? What were your favorite subjects?”

  “I got all As and Bs, sir. And I liked my math and science classes the best. For my science project, I built an incubator. That incubator actually hatched an egg, but the chick died later.”

  “Your brother loves projects like that.” Mr. Copeland nodded at Blake Jr, who’d pulled out his phone to surf or text or something and was now ignoring everybody. “Last year he took second place in his school’s science fair with a miniature hovercraft he built. For the next science fair, he plans to build a working laser.”

  “Whoa. That’d be awesome.” I spoke directly to Blake Jr, but he kept me tuned out.

  “I suppose science is in our blood,” said Mr. Copeland. “Your mother’s a chemist, and I teach biology at the University of Chicago. I’m working with some of my students on a project to identify new species of fish in Lake Michigan.”

  “When I was little, I always liked looking under rocks and bushes to see what kind of things lived there.” Why did I say that? Why am I opening up to these people?

  “I’ll bet you’d love going out on the lake to see what fish are in those waters.”

  Yeah, I would, but I’m never coming to any Lake Michigan with you. And by the way, my mom’s an English teacher, not a chemist.

  “Tell us more about you, Dwayne,” Mr. Copeland said with a grin.

  His request gave me pause. “Dwayne? Who’s that?”

  Mr. Copeland looked a bit embarrassed. “Oh. Forgive me. We named you Dwayne Obert, after your grandfather on your mother’s side.”

  Dwayne? Dwayne Obert? What a dumb name.

  The dam suddenly burst. A sob bubbled out of Mrs. Copeland in a wail that would do a police siren proud, and then she came rushing across the floor to wrap her arms around me. She held on tight, and her whole body trembled so hard it made me shake as well. She cried like a person whose heart had been broken in a million ways. “Oh, Dwayne, my baby! I’m sorry. I just took my eyes off you for two seconds and you were gone. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

  Her grief was as solid as the floor beneath us, and I felt really bad for her. But I didn’t have a single idea about what I should do. I’d never had a grown woman cry down my back before. My own eyes started getting watery, making my vision blur. I closed them for a few moments and bit my lip to keep the tears in.

  Mr. Copeland got up and came over to gently take Mrs. Copeland by the shoulders. “Now, now, Oberta. Please don’t do that to yourself. We’ve been over this again and again. It wasn’t your fault.” He pulled her away from me and led her back to the sofa. They sat down together, and she buried her face in her husband’s shoulder as she continued crying. Blake Jr had put his phone aside, and now he sat scowling at the wall as if he wanted to punch his fist through it.

  “Mrs. Copeland, can I get you anything?” That was Mom. I hadn’t even heard her come in from the kitchen. She was standing right behind my chair.

  “Some ice water would be just the thing,” Mr. Copeland said.

  “Certainly.” Mom went into the kitchen and returned moments later with a glass of water. She handed the glass to Mr. Copeland, who held it up to his still-crying wife.

  I was fighting hard not to cry myself. What kind of pain would make a person wail like that?

  IT TOOK something like fifteen minutes for Mom and Mr. Copeland to get Mrs. Copeland calmed down. During that time, Blake Jr and I got to sit uncomfortably and ignore each other’s existence.

  Mom made fish tacos, lettuce and tomato salad, and melon balls for lunch. Nobody could be sad or grumpy over a lunch like that. We all smiled and even laughed as we ate, talking about our favorite summer vacations and blockbuster movies. Mom mentioned that I was apparently too embarrassed to be seen at the movies with her now. I hadn’t been to a movie with Mom and Dad since I was eight. They used to take me to watch animated Disney and Pixar films. I outgrew those kiddie movies years ago, and now I mostly went to the movies with Cole.

  After we ate, Mrs. Copeland asked me if we could talk, just the two of us. I took her out on the patio. We sat at the table there for a few minutes without saying a word. That wasn’t weird or anything because I could tell from her expression that Mrs. Copeland needed the time to work her way up to what she had to say.

  She was nothing like Mom. Mom was always in charge and on top of things. I knew she had everything under control. Mrs. Copeland seemed kind of lost, a person who didn’t know exactly which way to go.

  Finally, she took a breath and said, “Dwayne, I—”

  “It’s Zavier,” I interrupted without meaning to, like a reflex. “My friends call me Zay.”

  She paused as if to try my name out in her mind. “Well… Zay, I want to apologize for breaking down on you earlier. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortabl
e.”

  “No, it’s okay.” I still felt sorry for her because of her tears. She was small and pretty and looked very fragile in her white-and-pink pantsuit.

  She pulled a necklace up from the collar of her blouse and lifted it over her head. There was a round locket dangling on the necklace. She opened the locket and held it out to me. Inside was a picture of a baby’s face—my face. It was exactly the way I looked in the baby pictures Mom and Dad kept of me in their photo album.

  “I’ve worn that ever since the day you disappeared,” Mrs. Copeland said. “It was the only way I could keep you close to my heart. I hoped and prayed you were safe, wherever you were, and that one day we’d see you again.”

  The expression on her face was really intense, and it made me uncomfortable, almost embarrassed. This woman, this stranger from Chicago, loved me. She actually loved me. I had to look away from that for a second.

  Mrs. Copeland slipped the necklace back around her neck. “You were just six months old. A new baby.” Her eyes grew bright as the memories came back to her. “I’d been cooped up in the house for almost a week because of the rain, and when the clouds cleared that morning, I wanted to get out for a while. So I bundled you and BJ—”

  “BJ?” I interrupted again.

  “Blake Jr. We call him BJ.” She ran a hand nervously through her short, curly black hair. “I got the two of you dressed and drove to the library. We were in the children’s section where I was looking through the new picture books. BJ started climbing one of the shelves. I left you in your carrier on the table and rushed to grab him before he could pull all those books down on himself. And when I turned back, you were gone… carrier and all.”

  That sounded awful. The horror she must have felt then seemed to flicker once more in her eyes, making them twitch. I could see the pain in her face, and it made me feel so sorry for her. Part of me wanted to hug Mrs. Copeland.

  “It was a neighborhood library, not that big,” she continued. She reminded me so much of a frightened bird, the way she blinked at me. “I rushed through it, looked all around, ran outside, but whoever took you had disappeared. The police came. They searched, put out an alert….” She leaned across the table, stretching out her hand toward me. I took it because her eyes were two big wet circles of hurt. “I want you to know that I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you. I’m sorry that we missed so much of your life. I just wish I could have kept you safe and happy. The terrible things you must have gone through….”

  “You don’t have to feel bad for me, Mrs. Copeland,” I said, squeezing her hand as I tried to reassure her. “You don’t have to worry. My mom and dad have been really good to me. Everything here is great, and I’m happy with them.”

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “Yes, I see that.” She lowered her eyes in a way that made her seem guilty of something.

  Chapter Eight

  LATE THURSDAY afternoon, with the sun sliding down toward the western horizon, the skate park was full. I sat on a bench near the row of bushes at the back of the park, pushing my skateboard around with my feet. Something like twenty kids were zipping around on boards and bikes, jumping obstacles and launching off ramps.

  Cole came gliding into the park on his board along with Kerry James, the guy we mostly knew from school. They both spotted me and waved. Kerry scooted off on his bike to join in the fun with the rest of the kids. I was sort of surprised how strong Kerry’s legs suddenly looked in basketball shorts. Cole kicked off his board, tucked it under his arm, and jogged over to join me.

  “Hey,” he said as he sat next to me on the bench. “Kerry and I went by your house. Your dad said you took off after dinner without saying where you were going. He said if I saw you, I should tell you to call home.”

  I’d turned my phone off after letting Dad’s third call go to voicemail. “Okay,” I replied. I kept staring at the kids zooming through the park. Kerry did a handstand on his bike. His arms looked strong too, almost as strong as his legs.

  “So?” Cole leaned forward to look into my eyes. “Aren’t you gonna call?”

  “I’ll do it later.”

  Cole stared at me. “You look… uncheerful. Actually, you look kind of angry. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not angry. I’m confused.” I didn’t really feel like talking. I didn’t feel like doing much of anything. But Cole wasn’t the kind of person who’d walk away from a friend he thought was in trouble. He’d keep bugging me until I spilled what was on my mind. I decided to save us both some trouble and just spill. “I met my birth family today, Mr. and Mrs. Copeland and their son BJ. They flew in from Chicago, and Mom had them over for lunch.”

  “Dumbhead! I told you not to get near those people. So what happened? They try to grab you?”

  “No, Cole, they didn’t try to grab me.” My voice sounded worn out to me. “BJ was sort of standoffish, but Mr. and Mrs. Copeland were pretty nice. I felt sorry for them, especially Mrs. Copeland, because even now they’re still messed up over losing their baby. They kept calling me Dwayne.”

  “Dwayne?”

  “They named me Dwayne Obert when I was born.”

  “Well, that’s a stupid name.”

  “Shut up.” I looked at him. “Those people love me, Cole. I could see it just as plain as I can see that green and yellow skateboard you’re holding.”

  Cole scowled, confused. “How can they love you? They don’t even know you. They haven’t seen you in years. Years, Zay.”

  “They love me, I know it. And they’ve already filed a case or something with a judge to get me back. When my dad got home from work today, he said I had to go with him because our lawyer had made an appointment for me to get evaluated by some psychiatrist to make sure I’m happy and normal and not all mental or anything. After we left the psychiatrist’s office, he said I had to go down and talk with the lawyer because she needed to hear directly from me what I wanted. He took me to the lawyer’s office, and I had to look in her face and tell her whether I wanted to stay with my mom and dad or go live in Chicago with the Copelands. And I was sitting there thinking that Mr. and Mrs. Copeland have already had a lot of pain losing their baby. How could I hurt them even more by saying I don’t want to be with them?”

  Cole dropped his skateboard. He pulled his dreadlocks back from his face with one hand and swallowed hard. “You told that lawyer… you want to live with those people?”

  “No, Cole. I want to stay with my mom and dad. That’s what I told the lawyer, and she said she would fight to make that happen. But I feel so guilty for saying it, like I took a stick and beat somebody up. And when Dad and I got back home, things were weird between him and Mom.”

  “Weird how?”

  “They weren’t really talking to each other. Dad wasn’t making his corny jokes, Mom didn’t tell him about what happened with her today… they barely said a word to each other all through dinner. But when I took the dishes into the kitchen and started loading the dishwasher, I heard them in the other room griping at each other. Dad’s mad at Mom because he doesn’t think I should be hanging around the Copelands when we’ve got this big fight coming up with them in court.”

  “Well… I’m kind of with your dad on that one.”

  “But that’s just it. I’m glad I met Mr. and Mrs. Copeland. Even though there was crying and stuff, when they got ready to leave, they were really happy that they got to spend time with me. They actually thanked me and Mom for letting them visit. They’re real people with real feelings, Cole. I never would have known that if I hadn’t met them.”

  “So what happens next?”

  “We wait for the judge to set a date to hear the case. Our lawyer says that will probably happen in a couple of weeks because Mr. and Mrs. Copeland want the hearing as soon as possible, what with me being taken from them so many years ago.”

  “A couple of weeks? That doesn’t sound all that soon to me.”

  I sighed, blowing out all the air in my lungs. Suddenly I felt crushed like a
tomato or something. Every bit of energy seemed to drain out of my body. I slumped on the bench, letting my head fall back. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel anymore. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be Zavier or Dwayne. I just want all of this to be over. I want my mom and dad to stop being mad at each other and for everything to just be normal again.”

  Overhead, I saw a gray squirrel scurrying along a thick tree branch. I used to love climbing the big apple tree in our backyard. I’d pluck off the ripe apples and toss them down to Mom, and then we’d peel them so Dad could make one of his famous salted caramel apple pies. It had been almost two years since I last did that. Suddenly I wanted really bad to climb that tree again. “I don’t know if things will ever be normal again.”

  “Okay, that’s it.” Cole got up and grabbed the collar of my T-shirt in his fist. “If you keep going like this, you’re gonna make me cry like a baby. Some of those kids skating out there already don’t like me. It’s bad enough I’m short, can’t play sports, and wear glasses. I’m not about to give them more ammunition to use by bawling my eyes out in front of them. So you’re gonna get up, Zavier. You and me are gonna have some fun, and I mean now. Move it or I’ll drag your butt into that skate park.”

  I raised my head. Small as I was, Cole was even smaller. He couldn’t beat me at arm wrestling, tug-of-war, or any other game requiring physical strength. But the look he gave me then and the way his fist tightened the collar around my neck were pretty convincing.

  “You sure are bossy today,” I grumbled. But I got up and grabbed my skateboard.

  Chapter Nine

  THE TRIAL started just over two weeks later, on July 6.

  It was weird to me that everyone kept calling it a trial. To me, a trial is when a jury hears evidence and decides whether or not someone is guilty of a crime. This wasn’t about guilt or innocence, however. It wasn’t about right or wrong. This was about who would be my family from now on.