by Trina Solet
"Looks like they're fixing it up," Diego said as Trevor started walking up the stairs.
On the third floor, they found where a lot of remodeling was being done. Trevor stopped there. He noticed that a few of the apartments were missing their front doors. Passing one of them, he saw that work was being done on the floor inside. It had been ripped out and yellow tape had been strung across the doorway to keep people out. Another open doorway showed an apartment under construction with no sign of anyone living there. The doors which were closed must be apartments that were still occupied.
When they came to an apartment with a door still in place and standing open, they stopped and looked inside. The apartment was empty and there was no sign of anyone being there, so they went in. Work had started here too. One wall had been ripped out down to the studs, but the rest was untouched – a filthy carpet, stained wall, grime covered windows.
"Did your apartment look like this?" Diego asked.
"More or less," Trevor said as he looked around. "It was on one of the upper floors, but it faced this way and it was a one bedroom like this one." As he stood in the middle of the living space, he could see the apartment where he used to live with his dad. "My dad usually slept, or passed out, in a recliner over there." Trevor pointed toward the window. The recliner was stuck and couldn't be straightened. It was ripped and so dirty, he couldn't tell what color it used to be.
Trevor was seeing a mirage of his father sitting in a stupor by the window. His father's eyes were only half closed, bloodshot. His hands trembled.
Diego put a comforting hand on his back then poked his head out the front door. He looked to see if anyone was coming. "We shouldn't get into to much trouble if someone finds us here. It's not like there is anything to steal," Diego said then closed the door. "I'm locking it so no one bothers us."
Trevor nodded, but he was still stuck with one foot in the past. Being here was strange and disorienting. This was where he came from. Flashes came back to him but nothing solid, nothing he could grab onto.
He remembered hiding in small, dark spaces, scared and crying, sometimes covering his ears so he wouldn't hear bad noises. How old was he? Jamie's age? Younger?
"What do you remember from the time when you lived with your father? Tell me whatever comes back to you," Diego told him then he looked toward the door. "I don't mean to rush you, but I don't know how much time we'll have here."
Trevor nodded. He focused on what had already come back to him. He saw his father sitting in the recliner. "My dad sat over there, and I used to circle this way to get to the kitchen." Trevor pointed out the path on the floor. "Getting within easy reach of my dad when he wasn't high was asking to get hit."
Trevor looked all around at the filth. "I remember there was always something crawling around. I never paid much attention to the bugs or rats. I didn't know they weren't supposed to be there, that other kids didn't live like that."
"Did you go to school?" Diego asked.
"No. I didn't know I was old enough."
"Keep going. Focus on your dad. Whatever you can think of," Diego told him in an encouraging voice.
"My dad was unpredictable – mean one minute, ignoring me the next. There were strange people coming and going and I would hide from them. My dad hit me sometimes, but mainly he didn't bother with me unless I made him mad by asking him for something, usually food." Back then Trevor didn't even know any other kind of dad existed outside of TV. "Sometimes there was no food in the house at all. I remember being around three or four and crying because all we had was some ketchup that was left in a bottle, just a little bit on the bottom, but I couldn't make it come out. I wasn't always starving, but food wasn't a priority for my dad. I wasn't a priority. I remember a neighbor giving me some clothes and saying, 'You can't go around in that.' I was so used to my clothes being ripped and stained. Our neighbors were all desperately poor, some of them with drug problems like dad, but I remember a few of them giving me food. But most of the time people don't want to see you, or you become a target. Some man tried to grab me once on the stairs, but I yelled so loud these two women came out and started throwing things at the guy and I managed to run away. After that I was afraid to leave the apartment. But I wasn't safe there either. If my dad couldn't get high, he took out his anger on me."
Diego squeezed his hand and Trevor realized he had stopped, like he was stuck.
"My mind keeps going back to that accident when I got hit by a car. There's something about that. Why was I out there? Why did I run into the street? I'm pretty sure I was running from someone."
"Not your dad?" Diego said.
"He couldn't be bothered to chase me. It doesn't seem like something he would do. I remember my dad telling me to come over to him so he could hit me." That's when Trevor remembered something else. "Wait. My dad hurt his leg. He couldn't have chased me even if he wanted to. At the time of my accident, he could barely walk and he was on edge. He couldn't go out and buy drugs or get any money. He kept making phone calls," Trevor said talking fast, feeling like he was out of breath. He closed his eyes. "I remember a guy with an accent. I heard him talking to my dad. He would come to yell at Dad about money and threaten him. He had stringy hair and he was always chewing gum. He gave me a piece once. That's why I remember him. The gum." Trevor shook his head. "This time he was yelling at Dad again. Dad told him he had money, but he didn't. The guy was mad, calling him names. That's... That's when..." Trevor stopped.
"Did this guy do something?"
Trevor stammered. "My dad... My dad said..." He stopped to gather himself. He remembered running, not to his apartment this time, but away from it. And it wasn't violence that made him want to escape. It was something his father said. But what was it his father said that sent him running? His mind kept going in circles. His father's mouth was moving then Trevor was running. Don't run this time, he told himself.
"Don't push yourself," Diego told him.
"I have to," Trevor said, his voice trembling. He then turned to Diego to show him he was OK. "It's for Zane."
Diego gave him a smile and held his hand tighter.
In that moment his father's words came back to him clearly. "My dad said, 'Take him. You can sell the boy.' I didn't even know back then what that really meant, but I bolted."
"Fuck," Diego whispered.
Trevor's whole body was shaking now just like it did back then. He remembered how recklessly he ran. "It's a wonder I didn't break my neck running down those stairs. On the first floor, a door opened. It was this old woman. When she saw how scared I was, she let me inside her apartment. She gave me something to drink that I didn't like, but I still drank it. I didn't know what it was then, but I think it was tea."
"Did you tell her why you were scared?" Diego asked.
"No. I don't think I spoke one word to her. I didn't speak much back then. It was better to stay quiet, let my father forget I was there."
"But how did you end up on the street, getting run over?" Diego asked him.
"What?" Trevor said, confused. "I didn't go outside after that. I sneaked back to our apartment eventually. I guess that must have been another time."
"It's still useful information," Diego said while looking grim. "Do you want to keep going?" he asked gently.
"I have to." Thinking back to the accident, Trevor tried again, forcing his mind to go where it didn't want to go. He remembered running out of the dark lobby and into a burst of daylight, not stopping until he was hit by a car. "I remember being scared and running another time, but I'm mixing up the different times. I can't piece it together."
To try and jog his memory, Trevor let go of Diego's hand, his anchor to everything that was good. He moved around the apartment and stopped to stare at a corner opposite the window.
If the layout of this apartment was the same, this spot was where he used to crouch. There was a small cabinet next to the corner leaving a narrow space. He could wedge himself in there easily because he was small and skinny, al
ways hungry. He was almost invisible when he was hiding there.
His father couldn't see him, but Trevor could see the TV from there. That's why he liked that spot. The only TV they had was in front of Dad's chair. It was always on, and Trevor wasn't allowed to touch it or change the channel.
"It was from that spot that I ran," Trevor said and pointed to the corner. He turned and backed up into the corner then slid down the wall. He shivered as the sense of familiarity gripped him like an ice cold hand. A different man was talking to his father. "There was a bald guy with a beard here. I don't know if he was a dealer or not. I don't remember ever seeing him before. My dad's leg was still messed up. From this spot, I heard my dad haggling over the price for something and asking when he would get his money. Then I realized the price was for me. He was selling me to this guy. I tried to run away again but the bald guy grabbed me. I sprained my wrist getting away from him." Trevor looked at his hand. "I think I only managed to pull free because my hand was so small, he couldn't get a firm hold on it. I ran to the old lady's apartment and knocked, but she didn't open her door this time, or maybe she just couldn't come to the door fast enough. I didn't linger. I kept running. I ended up in the basement and hid there all night. In the morning, I saw no sign of the bald guy. When I finally tiptoed back upstairs, I found my dad all beaten up. It turned out the bald guy took out his anger on my dad when he couldn't find me. I got a rag wet and went over to my dad. I was cleaning up his bloody face when he grabbed me and started hitting me and hitting me."
"I'm sorry," Diego said. Kneeling in front of Trevor, he took him in his arms.
Trevor held on for a while then he stood up. When he swayed, Diego took hold of him again. "I'm OK." He felt like he was out of breath, but he had to keep going. There was only a little more. "That same guy tried to catch me another time. My dad told me to go downstairs and get him something that a guy was delivering. He did that sometimes when dealers didn't want to come up. I went to the lobby and that bald guy was there, ready to jump me. I ran out into the street to get away from him."
"Your dad set you up," Diego said.
Trevor nodded. "I ended up in the hospital. I think that car accident saved me. And now I know why my dad disappeared afterward. The police and social services must have gone to talk to him. He probably panicked and skipped town."
Diego held him and kissed his hair. "I can't believe getting hit by a car was your lucky break."
"I know." Trevor pulled away from him and went over to the window on shaky legs. It was out there, the spot where a car hit him and saved him, gave him a chance at a whole new life. "While I was in foster care, I found out that I had an aunt I didn't know about. She was really young. I remember when I first met her. With my head down, the first thing I saw of her were her pink high tops. They made a good impression on me. She didn't know anything about me until then. She and dad were completely estranged. My Aunt Chrissie was still too young then to take me in, but she visited me all the time. Once she had a place of her own and she could take care of me, I went to live with her. When she took me in, she was around my age, a little younger. And now that I have the chance to keep her son safe, I have to do whatever it takes."
Trevor turned to Diego. There was turmoil in his dark eyes. Trevor saw that his own pain was reflected there, but also so much strength. He was so glad Diego was with him. Trevor could have never done this without him. Hit by all these unwelcome memories and betrayals, Trevor would have fallen apart. The only thing holding him together was having Diego right there to lean on.
"I pushed that memory so far back like something I wanted to lose and never find again, never remember," Trevor said, his voice tight.
"Where were you supposed to put knowledge as terrible as that?" Diego asked.
He was right. The memory that his father tried to sell him didn't fit in anywhere. It didn't belong in a child's mind. For his own good, he had to push it aside. "I think living with my aunt made such a thing unthinkable, impossible. She was so good to me."
"And you're wonderful," Diego told him. He hugged him tightly, his face in the crook of Trevor's neck.
Chapter 23
Trevor's family history was so much darker than Diego could have imagined. It broke his heart. He had never experienced betrayal so profound as to be bargained away by a parent. At the time, Trevor had been only a little older than Jamie. It was horrifying.
To think that running into the street to get run over saved him. God knows where he would have ended up otherwise, what kind of terrible fate waited for him. If he ever had the bad luck to meet Trevor's father, Diego didn't know how he would be able to stop himself from putting that man right through the nearest wall.
"Do you think there's more?" Diego said as he held him. He hated to ask Trevor to dig through more bad memories. What he already remembered was bad enough.
"I don't think there's anything as bad as that," Trevor said and raised his head from Diego' shoulder.
"Then we better go, I think." Diego opened the front door and checked to make sure the coast was clear. He didn't see anyone so they made their way downstairs.
Standing in front of the building, Trevor looked up then ahead of him at the street. The traffic moved slowly, stop and go. Maybe it was like that back then too, and that's why Trevor wasn't hurt much worse.
Trevor was lost in thought. His face had worn a haunted look since they came here. "If Zane ended up with that man... The recommendation from social services might not be in my favor. We could end up with the wrong judge," Trevor said, thinking out loud.
"Your past won't be Zane's future," Diego assured him. "He has you. Once you tell your story..."
"Turn my scars into ammunition against my dad." Trevor took a deep breath then he nodded. "Yeah, for Zane I'll do whatever I need to do. I'll talk to my lawyer."
Diego put an arm around him, but he was already considering the next step. "Would anyone still be around who knew what happened?"
Trevor was doubtful. "More than fifteen years later? I don't know."
Diego persisted. "It's worth a try to find out. Someone needs to corroborate this. If your father denies it, it's your word against his. There has to be a police report about the accident, for one thing."
"I guess, but I never told anyone why I ran out into the street. I was so used to saying nothing. I didn't believe that anyone could help me," Trevor told him.
They were still standing on the sidewalk in front of his old building. The day was hot, the sun too bright and they were breathing car exhaust. Diego wanted to take Trevor away from here, but he also wanted to make sure they got everything they could from this place.
"The report about the accident still corroborates what you said, or part of it," Diego said trying to figure out what they had in their favor. "And the fact that your dad disappeared right after the accident is pretty incriminating. Social services would have that somewhere in their records too. That's the whole reason you ended up in foster care. A witness would be better though. You said you ran into some old lady's apartment. Any chance she's still alive?"
"I don't know. She was pretty old even back then. Plus she didn't know anything about what happened."
"I don't think the bald guy with the beard is going to help you out. What about the guy with the accent? Your dad made the offer to him too," Diego said though he knew it was a long shot.
Trevor frowned as he thought about it. "He didn't seem interested in coming after me, but I don't know if he would want to talk about that, or if he would even remember."
The odds were against them, but Diego decided to press on. "We're here. Let's see if we can track him down. Did anything stand out about him other than the accent? Any interesting tattoos, scars, that kind of thing?"
"Oh," Trevor said as he remembered something. "He had a funny name. I heard my dad call him Milo the Sleaze. When he talked about him, not to his face."
"That sounds more like an insult than a name." Since that was their only lead, Di
ego lost some hope. "Let's ask around about him anyway. You never know."
As they walked around, they asked a few people if they knew a guy with an accent named Milo or Milo the Sleaze, but they got nowhere. Then Trevor spotted an old guy leaning on the open door of a convenience store called Otis Foods.
"If that guy is missing an ear, that's Otis. I remember he used to give me free hotdogs and apples," Trevor said.
"You think he might know something?" Diego said as they went closer.
"I doubt it. But he was around back then so he might know about Milo the Sleaze at least," Trevor said.
"We'll buy some cold drinks and ask him," Diego said just as the guy turned his head and they saw that he was missing his right ear.
They grabbed some cold iced teas. Trevor gulped one of them down in one go then took another. Poor guy, he was parched. This was a hellish day for him. Diego couldn't wait to get him home.
Before asking Otis for information, Trevor first thanked him for the free hot dogs and apples he got from him as a little kid.
"Don't need to thank me. Too many kids around here go without," Otis said. He seemed embarrassed to be thanked.
Trevor moved on to asking him if he knew a guy named Milo the Sleaze.
"Milo the Sleaze?" the old man exclaimed. "No one calls him that any more. He's gone straight. Hell, that boy has gone straighter than straight."
"What's straighter than straight?" Diego wondered.
"He's a preacher now, not affiliated with any church. But he's saving souls and feeding the hungry. He runs a soup kitchen. Food isn't free though. He makes them listen to his cockamamie sermons. I'm not sure that boy has ever read the Bible all the way through," Otis said and laughed.
"Where do we find him?" Trevor asked.
"The soup kitchen he runs is over on 3rd next to the pawnshop. The entrance is in the alley though," Otis told them.