After I took care of a few odds and ends once my shift was over, I packed up the portable recorder. I charged the batteries for a full hour and tested the mini-disc that I inserted with my own voice. I always hated the standard “testing 1, 2, 3” so I improvised. “Hey, this is me testing how I sound on this and so on and so forth,” I said, getting a good level on the UV meter to ensure that my voice would come through. I played the audio back, shaking my head. I was such a dork.
By the time I was ready to go, I had a list of questions in mind for Ian. I didn’t want to push him too far or upset him in any way, but the listeners would enjoy hearing his small little voice and picturing what he might look like and how they could help the cute little boy survive his hardships.
I traveled the now well known path between the station and the Summerfield Apartments in a matter of minutes and slung the bag that held the recorder over my shoulder with ease. Technology had grown so much, even in the past few years. We used to have to take huge devices with us when we had to record something on location. Now, the recorder was no larger than a notebook and weighed less than a laptop. I wondered what technology would bring in the next few years, but as I entered the upstairs hallway, my thoughts came to a halt.
This was where I had seen the blonde man with the ponytail who had Ian’s eyes. I had not yet had a chance to talk to Chloe about him and I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know the answers to the questions I had. But after I had turned Abigail away in such a cavalier manner, I also felt I deserved to know where I stood with Chloe.
Last I heard, she hadn’t seen or heard from her husband in a year. Was there a chance he would come back into her life? Did she hold any hope for their relationship? Was she going to file for divorce? If she hedged or looked uncertain about any of the questions I had, technically, I would be dating a married woman. I wasn’t sure I was okay with that.
I knocked on the door for apartment 3G with my questions floating through the air, but everything disappeared when the door opened and I saw no one at eye level. My eyes slid down the door and met the ocean blue eyes of the little boy, Ian.
“Music man!” he said as he threw himself at my knees. I considered it a term of endearment and patted his thin little back with my free hand.
“How you doing, Ian?” I said as I bent at the knees to get on his level.
“The potty is a zero,” Ian said and I laughed.
“That’s what I hear,” I replied, shaking my head. The kid was certainly observant.
Ian turned and ran back into the apartment, leaving the door open so I assumed it was okay for me to come in. I stood in the small entryway of the apartment, waiting to see Chloe. She came from the back hallway shortly after Ian disappeared, both of her hands behind her finishing her long braid and securing it with a rubber band.
“I see you met the greeting squad,” she said as Ian attached himself to her leg.
“The potty is a zero,” I said in the same matter of fact voice Ian had used on me.
Chloe laughed, “Don’t I know it.”
Our eyes met across the short distance and Chloe winked. I could see the pure joy in her eyes and a newfound sense of hope. I certainly couldn’t bring up my questions in front of Ian and even if he hadn’t been in the room, I didn’t know if I’d want to spoil the moment and erase the happiness from her face. She looked like a woman who had been given a new lease on life and though I was the one who had helped give that to her, I felt as if I had no right to steal it away at that moment.
“Where do we want to do this?” she asked, glancing from the kitchen table to the tattered sofa and then to me.
“Wherever Ian is comfortable. The recorder I brought is pretty good so he can even play as long as he isn’t doing anything too loud.”
Chloe nodded and gestured to the couch, “In here, then,” she said and we moved around the couch and situated ourselves on the worn cushions. Ian sat on the floor at our feet where the small wooden train track sat with the chipped painted train that I had seen last time I had visited. It looked as if it had been bought at a flea market or craft show instead of a regular store. Wherever it had been purchased, it was obviously well loved.
Ian began running the train around the track and chugging and whistling like a train. I got out the recorder, but continued to watch him out of the corner of my eye. He looked like any other little boy his age, except for his thin frame and pale complexion. He was just a little boy like any other little boy.
“That’s the recorder?” Chloe asked, looking surprised at the small device I pulled out of my bag.
“Amazing, huh?” I said, moving it closer to her so she could see all of the buttons. “It will sound as if he’s in the studio. The recording capability is really high in quality.”
Chloe raised her eyebrows in interest and then turned to Ian. “Are you ready to answer a few questions for Jared?” she asked.
“Who’s Jared?” Ian replied, not looking up from his train.
Chloe shook her head, “You know who Jared is,” she said, looking at me and touching Ian’s soft hair gently. “He’s the man who took us to the concert. You just let him into our house.”
“Oh,” Ian said, looking at me and giving me a big, toothy grin, “you mean the MUSIC man.”
“Is that what he’s called?” Chloe asked, grinning at me with a question in her eye.
“Hey, I’ve been called a lot worse,” I said to her. “Music man it is.”
“Okay then,” she agreed. “Are you ready to answer the music man’s questions?”
“I get to talk into that thing?” Ian asked, looking at the microphone attached to the recorder with interest.
“That’s right,” I said, adjusting the volume button and testing the VU meter on his small little voice.
“Cool!” Ian said with as he climbed on the couch between Chloe and me.
“I’m just going to ask you a few things and you can tell me what you think, does that sound okay?”
Ian nodded. I would have to get him to answer with his voice, but I didn’t think that would be too hard once I got going with my questions.
“Ian, can you tell me how old you are?”
Ian held up his hand and slowly folded down his thumb and then tucked his pinky finger down underneath it. “Three,” he stated and then he let the pinky finger go, “but I’m going to be four soon.”
“Next month,” Chloe added quietly behind him.
“Yeah, I’m gonna be four next month and I’m gonna get a new train.”
“A new train, huh?” I said and Ian shook his full head of blonde hair vigorously.
“One that makes its own sounds,” he said as he looked down at the microphone with his eyes slightly crossed.
I moved on. “What is it that you like about trains so much?”
Ian shrugged, “I dunno. They go really fast and they never get tired,” he said as he picked up the peeling train from the track on the floor in front of the couch. “Sometimes they take naps when I take naps, but they don’t really need to like I do.”
I saw my chance and I dug in. “Tell me about that, Ian,” I said in a soft voice, glancing up at Chloe who had her full attention on her son. “What’s it like to be tired all of the time?”
Ian shrugged again, running his finger on the wheel of the train to make it spin. “I guess I don’t really know any different,” he said, speaking with wisdom beyond his years. “It would be nice to just play all day and never have to stop. I know that much.”
“That would be nice,” I nodded in agreement. “What do you want more than anything?” I asked, taking a chance. There was a possibility he would only think about the train he wanted for his birthday, but I could do some editing and no one would ever have to know I had even asked the question.
Ian paused, his eyes moving up to the ceiling and then shooting back and forth as he thought. “I guess,” he said as he thought. “I guess I just want to play with my mommy,” he said. “You know, for the rest of my
life.”
“Your mom is a pretty fun lady,” I said, trying to hide the fact that I was a little choked up myself as I heard the answer through Chloe’s ears.
“She’s my mama,” Ian said as he turned to her and threw his thin little arms around her waist.
Chloe hugged Ian back and gave me a sad smile over his head. “Are you about ready to lay down little man?” she asked.
I waited for the normal kid answer. The ‘do I have to?’ or the ‘I’m not tired yet!’ but all Ian did was nod and Chloe scooped him into her arms and headed down the hall. She turned as she moved past the couch, “Did you get what you needed?” she asked.
“He did great,” I answered. The interview hadn’t been long, but it had tugged at all the right heartstrings. It would play beautifully on the air and do its job well.
“Bye Music Man,” I heard the small voice say as a hand showed itself on the other side of Chloe’s arm, the fingers bending and straightening in an awkward little wave.
“See you soon, Ian, thanks for talking to me.”
I sat back on the couch and waited as Chloe tucked Ian into bed. I wondered how many times a day they went through this routine. Did he nap twice as much as normal kids? Three times as much? Four? A simple interview that had lasted no more than five minutes had worn him out. That alone told me plenty.
“He was pretty excited about that contraption of yours,” Chloe said as she returned to the couch a few minutes later, startling me.
“It’s a pretty neat device,” I said, looking down at the recorder, which I had stopped when Chloe left the room with Ian.
Chloe nodded. “What now?” she asked.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions too, if that’s okay,” I said, placing my hand on the recorder, ready to start recording if she was okay with it.
“Whatever you need,” she said, settling closer to me on the couch so she could be heard.
I started recording once again and asked her about the day Ian was born. She looked far off into the distance and told the story of his birth; complete from when she knew it was time to go to the hospital to the moment he was born. And then the moment she heard about his special needs, the surgery he would need to have, and the idea that her newborn may or may not make it through the procedure.
“It’s like I was given a gift,” she said, staring off into the distance. “And the gift giver told me up front that I could only have it for a limited time. The thing is, even now, it’s not enough. I haven’t had enough time. There will never be enough time.”
The tears started to fall from her eyes and I pushed my questioning one step farther. “When did you find out he was going to need the second surgery?”
Chloe wiped her eyes. “It was about a little over a year ago,” she said as she took a deep breath. “Our insurance was cancelled shortly after.”
She didn’t go into details but I remembered the story. Her husband had taken off and because he was no longer at his job, they lost their insurance. The listeners didn’t need to know that part. All they needed to know was that this mom desperately wanted to save her son, and simply couldn’t do it on her own.
“And what do you want more than anything?” I asked softly, wanting nothing more than to comfort her.
Chloe let out a small, nervous laugh. “I just want my son,” she said. “He’s all I’ve ever wanted and he’s all I’m ever going to want. If I have him, I have it all. If anything were to happen to him…” she trailed off, fresh tears streaming down her face, “I would never get over it. And I’d never forgive myself for not being able to help him.”
I stopped the recording, laid the microphone aside, and scooted over on the couch closer to her, placing my arm around her shoulder. Chloe leaned her head onto my shoulder and I heard her shuddering breath as she tried to control her tears.
The next question I asked was simply for me and I hated myself for asking, but I had to know. “Does he know?” I asked, referring to her husband. “Does he know about Ian? What he needs?”
Chloe drew in a deep breath. “He knows,” she said, leaving it at that.
I wanted to ask how he knew. If he had known before he left or if it really had been him at her door and if she had told him then. But it just didn’t feel right. I was still new to the situation and I needed to let her tell me what she wanted, when she wanted to tell me. In the meantime, I needed to guard my own heart. As much as I cared about this little family, I couldn’t let myself get drawn in too far. There were too many uncertainties.
Just as I had myself convinced that I would take a step back, help in any way I could, and see how things played out, I remembered the way Ian had wrapped himself around my knees when I had first arrived and I knew it was too late. I was already in love.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I didn’t know exactly where my relationship with Chloe stood and I still had plenty of questions about her husband’s whereabouts and where her feelings landed in regards to him, but my goal remained the same. To help Ian in any way I could.
After the interviews at their apartment, I launched myself into my work, checking in with them as often as I could to update them on the progress and keep them as excited about the event as I was. In truth, everyone I ran across was excited. We needed thousands of dollars to get Ian the surgery he needed and I wasn’t sure if we were going to make it, come close, or exceed our expectations. But I knew every little bit was going to count because I knew Chloe.
She was a strong mother and she would do everything to save her child. I could see her taking half the money and making a deal with the hospital to do the rest of the surgery pro bono. I knew whatever we raised, she would make work in her son’s benefit.
And so I worked myself to the bone that next week to make sure the stand was as big of a success as possible. I even had interest from the national media sources I called who planned to send small camera crews to the scene to do a little filming, maybe interview me, Chloe, or even Ian, and get some footage for their morning shows.
If the lemonade stand was a true success, I knew the interviews would only sky rocket from there. The nation would follow Ian’s surgery and recovery with a watchful eye and he would become a great success story. The radio station would be a Good Samaritan and the news would keep an eye on the promo drive events as they came up each year. But all of that was secondary. Making sure Ian got what he needed was at the top of my concern list.
The day of the lemonade stand rolled around way too quickly and yet I was glad it was there. I was tired of working long hours and I felt as if I had a permanent wrinkle between my eyebrows from frowning at my computer, at the phone, or at the people in the office as I concentrated on my tasks.
It was a Saturday and the weather prediction was hot and humid, perfect for a cold cup of lemonade. The stand was to open at noon in the same parking lot the city held the farmer’s market, which ended at 10 on the weekends. We hoped some of the market shoppers might stick around and we had pushed to have the stand earlier, but with all of the famers in town selling their goods, there just wasn’t room.
When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade, however, and that was just what we were planning to do that day. In fact, I had a crew on the scene beginning the process at 10, right as the farmers were packing up. The space we had at first was very small, but we were able to squeeze one table in alongside a couple of coolers and other supplies. It was enough to get them started.
I wanted the lemonade to be as fresh and tasteful as possible. I wasn’t going to simply buy a mix and have the workers add water. Instead, they had started squeezing fresh lemons with a lemon-squeezing machine a few days prior and they continued that mission once the table was set up so they had a little shade.
One worker did the lemons while another started mixing the lemon juice with the sugar and water until they had several big tubs of bright yellow, fresh lemonade. I could smell the concoction from a block away and it made my mouth water.
I would ha
ve been more than happy to dig in and help by squeezing lemons or in any other way I could, but it was my job to bring the crowd. Since it was Saturday, I didn’t have my regular morning show, but I had been playing Ian and Chloe’s interviews all week on my show and I had even written up and aired promos for the lemonade stand.
I had done a few interviews on local media stations and I saw a news van pull up by the time the 11 o’clock hour rolled around. When the news camera approached, I realized that there was a line forming behind the small table we had set up. Not only had people come, but they were already waiting for their chance to buy a drink. All for Ian - and a full hour before we had planned to open the stand.
“Any chance we could get things rolling?” I asked the workers who were stationed behind the table, several of whom worked with me at the station.
“Sure thing boss,” said the afternoon guy known as Ricky Radio in his notoriously radio-like voice. “Whatever you say.” And then to the crowd he shouted, “Who’s first?”
I shook my head in wonder. I couldn’t believe that there would be that many thirsty people willing to stand in the hot sun for an hour just to have a glass of lemonade. Course, deep down, I knew the real reason they were there. The same reason I was. To help a little boy named Ian who had captured their heart. Though none of them had even ever seen him.
I then turned to the news crew that was setting up their tripod off to the side of the table. “Do you guys need anything?” I asked and the reporter told me they were going to do a few establishing shots and then they would interview me about the stand. After that, they would go to the line and ask some of the people in the crowd why they had come out that day. With any luck, it would air on the noon news and bring even more people to the stand.
As I let them go about their work, I couldn’t have been more thrilled. We weren’t charging a specific amount for the lemonade, it was all based on free will donations. But I watched as dollar bills, fives, and even an occasional ten or twenty passed over the table into the hands of the people who had made the lemonade. Little by little, the money was coming together.
God In The Kitchen Page 11