Jonathan's Legacy

by Hans M Hirschi

  “I’m glad to hear that. How’s Kyle doing?”

  “He worries me—a bit, anyway. He’s very quiet, spends loads of time in his room, reading or whatever. He barely comes out for meals, and he doesn’t say much. I mean, he’s polite, he helps clean away dishes and stuff, but as soon as his chores are done, he disappears into his room. I think it would be good if you could talk to him soon. I don’t know what’s going on, and he barely talks to any of us.

  “I’ve already scheduled some time to talk to him this Saturday. He seemed interested in talking to me, which I take as a good sign.”

  “Good. Let’s not talk about the kids anymore. Tell me, how’s work?”

  Adam had to laugh. “So you don’t want me to talk about my clients, but you want me to talk about my clients? Is that Belgian logic?”

  “You! Better watch your mouth or you won’t be kissed later tonight.”

  “Oh, is that so?”

  “That is indeed so. I’ll go on a kissing strike.”

  “Hmm, we better not have that, then. I’d hate to leave you without my goodnight kiss. Let me think. Work, hmm, well, it’s the usual, I guess. A lot of PTSD cases. But you also know that I can’t really share any details. I can tell you that I am enjoying my work. I feel like I’m making a difference in people’s lives.”

  “You’re certainly making a difference in my life.” Marc bent his head forward over the table, making kissing lips. Adam didn’t think twice before responding in kind, meeting Marc’s lips halfway across the table.

  “Why, thank you, Marc, most kind.” Adam laughed. “No kissing strike? What have I done to deserve this?”

  “Nothing in particular, at least, not today. I’m just glad that we’re here, that I get a night out of the house. The boys are great company, and so are the kids. But that’s not the point. It’s just that I enjoy being me, you know, not just the guy who cooks or the step-grandpa, or the guy who still sleeps in the master bedroom. I don’t know. I don’t want to complain, but I don’t have much of a life of my own right now.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “I don’t wish to sound ungrateful, because I really am grateful for where my life’s taken me recently. The Jacksons are a great family, and I love them. They’ve provided me with so much happiness, and still, to this day, they look after me. They’ve provided me with work, meaning, and I live in this amazing house. But none of that is really about me or what I have done. It seems I’ve simply stumbled into all this. I sometimes think I don’t deserve it. I’m whining, right?”

  “No, not at all. Go on.”

  “I just, erm, I sometimes wish I didn’t have so much. I have so much to be grateful for, yet none of it is really mine. The idea with the home wasn’t mine. It was the boys’ idea. The house is theirs, I just live there. They even pay me a very handsome salary to help them look after the kids, although they would be perfectly capable of doing so themselves.”

  “So what is it you want?”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know what I want… Something that is mine, perhaps?”

  “What about the cabin? That is yours.”

  “It is, and you see, I am whining, because even the cabin isn’t truly mine. I inherited it. I didn’t earn it.”

  “Are you sure you want to see it that way? From what you told me, you put your life and your career on hold to be with Jonathan. Don’t you think it’s right for you to at least have something that was his? You did suffer a terrible loss when he passed away.”

  “I know, but he had already given me so much. We traveled, he picked up any and all invoices. Heck, I even had a credit card and never really had to worry about spending money. It was just always there. You get used to that sort of lifestyle very fast. It’s addictive. But it isn’t me. I’m a massage and spa therapist, not a homemaker. I know that sounds awful, and I don’t want to be ungrateful, it’s just, I miss being in charge of my own life.”

  “Have you told the boys?”

  Marc shook his head. “No, and I’m not sure I can.”

  “Well, if they love you as much as you claim, they’ll understand. They might even help you.”

  “You see? Even you do it! I don’t want anyone’s help. Hell, I don’t even know what I want. But once I do know, I want to do it on my own. Alone. Does that make sense? Can you understand that?”

  “What about me?”

  “What about you?”

  “Is there room in your plans for me? For us?” There was a worried look on Adam’s face.

  “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just, I get the impression you’re about to get up and leave, start fresh elsewhere.”

  “No, not at all, and I’m way too comfortable at the house to do something rash.” Marc smiled.

  “Good. Well, let me ask you this: would you allow me to help you?”

  “Help me how? With money?”

  “No, not money. I don’t know. How does a boyfriend help out? Advice? Lend an ear to listen? Moral support? It’s hard to say what I can do, since we apparently don’t even know what it is we’re going to do.”

  “I wouldn’t take your money.”

  Adam laughed. “Believe it or not, I don’t have that much. I’m still paying back my student loans.”

  “Didn’t you tell me that you received a scholarship from the Jackson foundation?”

  “I did, but it didn’t cover all of med school, only the first four years. After that, I was on my own. Don’t worry, I manage. I’m okay. In fact, I’m more than okay. Can we order now, or is there something else on your mind?”

  Adam’s attempt at changing the subject, for now, worked. They focused on their menus and ordered their food, and spent the rest of the evening talking about other subjects. By the time their dinner was over, Adam had a question.

  “So, what next? Would you like to come by my place for some coffee?”

  “Just coffee?” Marc smiled.

  “Well, we’ll see what else I can entice you with.”

  ***

  The phone woke them in the middle of the night.

  “Adam?”

  “Yes, what’s wrong Parker?”

  “It’s Kyle, he’s gone. Is Marc with you?”

  “Yeah, he’s right next to me. Give us a half hour. We’ll be right out there.”

  “No, don’t. Can we meet in Boystown instead? Makes no sense for you to come out here first. I have a feeling he’s gone back to his old stomping grounds.”

  “Okay, where, then?”

  “Let’s meet at the coffee shop on North Broadway and West Roscoe? How long do you need?”

  “Twenty minutes.”

  “Okay, see you guys there.” Parker hung up.

  “Marc, get up. There’s a problem at the house. Kyle’s disappeared. Parker seems to think that maybe he’s gone back to Boystown to hustle.”

  Marc yawned and stretched in bed. “Why does he think that? And why would Kyle want to go back there? From what I understand, it was hell for him. The kid’s not even gay.”

  “I don’t know. All I can say is that we need to get moving. I told Parker we’d be there in twenty minutes.”

  They got dressed and rushed to the car to drive north to the address they’d agreed with Parker.

  “I don’t get it,” Marc said once they were in the car. “I mean, he hated hustling, and now he has a home, regular meals, he goes to school. Why would he do that?”

  “We’ll make sure to ask him once we find him, okay? But my take is this: sometimes it’s easier for kids to keep doing what they’re used to rather than deal with the new, the unknown. Don’t forget, they have no real sense of danger, or what it means to subject themselves to risk. Hustling has become like a second skin for Kyle, and to break out of that isn’t easy. He’s probably less afraid of the johns he meets out in Boystown than facing Parker, Cody, and you.”

  Once they’d arrived at the meeting point, they looked for Parker. He was standing outside the coffee shop, talking
to someone on the phone.

  “No, Officer, you don’t understand. This isn’t just a simple case of a missing person. This is a minor, and he’s under my protection. He didn’t come back from school and by the time we’d checked with teachers, friends, et cetera, and given him time to show up at the house, we got worried. It’s been hours since he should’ve been at home. He has a past as a street kid, and this is where social services picked him up before placing him with us. He’s only fourteen, for Christ’s sake. You have to help us!”

  Parker was listening to the response from the person on the dispatch, which Adam and Marc couldn’t hear, but Parker seemed restless.

  “Okay, yes, sir. I understand, sir, but still, you have to—” Parker noticed Adam and Marc standing there and waved at them. “Okay, thank you. We’ll try that area. Good. Thanks.”

  “What was that all about?” Marc asked.

  “Oh, just Chicago’s finest not doing their goddamn jobs.” Parker was furious. “They won’t start looking for Kyle. They say if he’s a street kid then he’s safe. They won’t do anything until they get the official word from social services, which is going to be another ten hours at least.”

  “But he gave you something?”

  “Yeah, the street address where the kids usually hang out… I had no idea. Sorry.” Parker blushed.

  “Hey, I don’t blame you. Most people wouldn’t. Where’s Cody?”

  “He’s at the house. There’s not much he can do here, anyway, with his eyes. So he’s looking after the other kids, making sure they don’t take advantage of the situation to split, too.”

  “You think they might?”

  “Dunno. Probably not Amy and Jeff, but I’m not so sure about Susan. Anyway, he’s keeping an eye on things at the house. Shall we?”

  “What will you do if you find him?”

  “When I find him? I won’t go home without Kyle!”

  “Yo, Parker. Reality check. Kyle has been on the street for over a year. He probably knows the neighborhoods like the back of his hand. If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be. And I seriously doubt that any of the kids here will help us find him. Unless we stumble upon him and get to talk to him, we may not find him. You do know that, right?”

  Parker began to cry. Adam’s harsh words were a painful reminder of what a difficult position he’d gotten himself and Cody into by accepting kids with such difficult backgrounds into their house. Marc walked up and hugged the young man.

  “Hey, Parker, it’s all right. Adam is just being realistic. You and I get to be more optimistic. We will find him. I think Kyle’s just scared. It’s a huge change to go from street existence, feeding yourself from meal to meal, to living in a big mansion with regular meals, your own comfy bed and all that. You’ll need to give him time. He’ll come around, you’ll see. He’s a really good kid. I know that.”

  Parker blew his nose. Then he looked at Marc, almost pleadingly. “Are you sure?”

  “I am. Don’t listen to Adam. He’s damaged by his profession.” Marc smiled and gave Adam a kiss on the cheek. “Now, where did the officer say we should start looking?”

  “Just a couple of blocks away from here. Follow me.”

  They began to walk to the street that the police dispatcher had told Parker about. On the way, Parker received a voice message from Cody, asking where they were, if they’d found anything yet, and telling them that everything was calm at the house. The kids were sound asleep.

  “At least that’s good news.”

  Adam nodded. “We all deal with change differently. I’m not that worried about Susan. She’s made huge progress in the last couple of months. With her, I just need to break down the final wall to get her to open up about her past, the abuse she’s been through. She’s built quite a shield around those memories. I need her to work through that or else it’ll be back with a vengeance later on in life. Better to get it out of her system now.”

  “Do you think Kyle has similar issues to work through?”

  “Oh, I’m sure. But different. With Susan, apart from what she went through with her birth family, it’s the stuff she’s witnessed in the different homes she’s been placed in. With Kyle, we have to assume he’s badly traumatized by all the experiences from street hustling. Just picture a thirteen- or fourteen-year-old boy being sodomized, again and again, just for a meal. It’s gut-wrenching just to consider. Living that life? For a year? I have my work cut out for me, that’s for sure.”

  “Let’s find him first. We need to teach that boy a lesson about caring,” Marc said.

  “Agreed. I think he’ll be surprised to see us. I don’t think anyone’s ever cared enough to go out and look for him, certainly not his own parents.”

  “Well, his mother probably taught him the trade, being a prostitute herself, and his father is unknown. Kyle’s mom is also a drug addict, which is the main reason why he was so neglected in the first place.”

  Parker shook his head. “I can’t believe that children are still treated so miserably in this day and age.”

  “I know. It’s gotten better, but for those who still fall through the cracks, it’s worse than ever.”

  “Here we are,” Parker said as they turned a corner into an ill-lit side street off North Broadway. It was difficult to see if anyone was lurking about, as the view was partially blocked by garbage containers placed in the alley. The three men walked down the street, and as soon as they passed the first container, they saw a boy standing there, probably fifteen, sixteen, scraggy black, shoulder-length hair.

  He looked at them and asked, “Looking for some hot action, boys? I charge extra for group action.”

  “Thanks, kid. But we’re not in the market. But you might be able to help us. We’re looking for someone. His name’s Kyle. Know him?”

  “What if I do? You into kinky shit?”

  “No, he’s my foster son. Ran away. I’m looking for him.” Parker’s voice was breaking up.

  “Lucky him. Haven’t seen him, and even if, not sure I’d tell you. Ain’t no snitch.”

  “I appreciate that. When did you last eat?” Marc asked.

  “What’s it to you?”

  “I’m just trying to help you. Here’s a Grant. Go get something to eat.”

  “Thanks, man. You sure you don’t want a blow job? And my well-tanned ass can be yours for as little as a Franklin.” The boy winked at Marc, who shuddered in disgust.

  “No, thanks. I’m good in that department. Just get something to eat. Here’s my card. If you see Kyle, call me, okay?”

  “I might, or I might not.” The kid took the bill and walked away without saying another word.

  Adam was puzzled. “What did you do that for?”

  “He needs to be fed. Did you see how skinny he is? And who knows, maybe he will call us.”

  “You really are an optimist. He’ll probably turn that money into drugs, if anything, and your card won’t even make it out of the alley!”

  “And you really have been damaged by your job, Adam. I refuse to see things so negatively. Whether you’re right or not, I like to see the bright side of things. Let’s move on.”

  Parker had already proceeded deeper into the alley, alone, and Adam and Marc had to pick up their pace to catch up with him. They passed a few more boys, and Marc tried the same approach he had with the first one, but no one would even take the card. They took the money, but nothing else.

  “I can’t believe how desperate these kids are. The cynicism? The youngest one was barely twelve.” Marc was horrified. They reached the end of the alley, but nothing. Not a trace of Kyle.

  “What now?” Parker asked.

  “Well, we can’t give up after five minutes. Let’s grab a coffee nearby, keep an eye on this place, and then we’ll go back to the other side again, and we’ll keep doing it until we’ve found him. Okay?” Marc was firm in his voice, and the others didn’t argue. It was cold out, and they wanted to warm up. How anyone would stand in that alleyway for hours, wa
iting for a john to pay them fifty or one hundred bucks, was beyond them. Then again, they didn’t understand the harsh realities of a street existence, and what a child was able and willing to do for a hot meal.

  For hours, they did the walk down the alley, back and forth, every now and then stopping for coffee. They also walked through adjacent streets and toured the nearby blocks, but nothing. By the time the clock struck four in the morning, they felt like giving up. Either Kyle hadn’t come to this area or he’d found a customer before they’d gotten there, or—and they refused to believe it—something had happened to him.

  “I think we should call it a night. Leave it to the cops to find him.” Adam yawned as he said it.

  “Just one more walk down the alley? Please?” Parker was desperate. “I don’t think I can go home and sleep. I’m too worried.”

  Marc put his arm around Parker’s shoulders and nodded. They walked back into the alley and found nothing. Yet at the end of the street, just as they’d reach North Broadway, the other kid was back. The one they’d spoken to earlier. He was surprised to see them.

  “What, you guys still here? I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d have it in you.”

  “What exactly?”

  “Care. I didn’t think you’d care so much about Kyle.”

  “So you do know him?”

  The boy nodded, lowering his gaze to the ground.

  “Has he been here?”

  “Nah, haven’t seen him in weeks. Now I understand why. I think he’s a fool if he’s leaving you for this. Then again, he’s never been the brightest.”

  “Thanks for the assessment. Can you do me a favor?” Parker was tossing between hope and despair.

  “Depends…”

  “Can you please call us if you see him? And tell him that I miss him? That we all miss him? And want him to come home?”

  The boy shrugged, kicking the ground with his dirty sneakers.

  “My name’s Parker, and these are my friends, Marc and Adam. We really want him to come home. Preferably before the cops start looking for him.”