The Lost Boy (3 page)

My head snaps up. “Really?” I shout. “But… I don’t have any …”

“Hey, man, don’t worry about it. Just wait here.” Mark gets up and makes his way to the front. He smiles at me through an opening from the kitchen. My mouth begins to water. I can see myself eating a hot meal – not from a garbage can or a piece of stale bread, but a real meal.

Minutes pass. I sit upright waiting for another glance from Mark.

From the front door a policeman in a dark blue uniform enters the shop. I don’t think anything of it until Mark walks toward the officer. The two men talk for a few moments, then Mark nods his head and points toward me. I spin around, searching for a door in the back of the room. Nothing. I turn back toward Mark. He’s gone, and so is the police officer. I twist my head from side to side as I strain my eyes, hunting for the two men. They’re both gone. False alarm. My heart begins to slow down. I begin to breathe again. I smile.

“
Excuse me, young man.” I raise my head up to a police officer smiling down at me. “I think you need to come with me.”

No!
I say to myself.
I refuse to move!
The tips of my fingers dig into the bottom of the stool. I try to find Mark. I can’t believe he called the police. He seemed so cool. He had given me a Coke and promised me some food. Why did he do this? As much as I hate Mark now, I hate myself more. I knew I should have just kept on walking down the street. I should have never, never come into the pizza bar. I knew I should have gotten out of town as soon as I could. How could I have been so stupid!

I know I’ve lost. I feel whatever strength I had now drain. I so badly want to find a hole to curl up into and fall asleep. I slide off the bar stool. The officer walks behind me. “Don’t worry, ” he says. “You’re going to be all right.” I barely hear what he is saying. All I can think about is that somewhere out there,
she is
waiting for me. I’m going back to
The House –
back to
The Mother.
The police officer walks me to the front door. “Thanks for giving us a call, ” the officer says to Mark.

I stare down at the floor. I’m so angry. I refuse to look at Mark. I wish I were invisible.

“
Hey, kid, ” Mark smiles as he shoves a thin white box into my hands. “I told you I’d give you a pizza.”

My heart sinks. I smile at him. I begin to shake my head no. I know I’m not worthy. I push the box back toward Mark. For a second, nothing else in my world exists. I look into his heart. I know he understands. Without a word, I know what he is telling me. I take the box. I look deeper into his eyes, “Thank you, sir.” Mark runs his hand through my hair. I suck in the scent from the box.

“
It’s the works. And kid … hang tough. You’ll be fine, ” Mark says as I make my way out the door, holding my prize. The pizza box warms my hands. Outside a gray swirling fog covers the street where the police car is parked in the middle of the road. I hug the box close to my chest. I can feel the pizza slide down to the bottom of the box as the officer opens the front door of his car for me. I can hear a faint humming sound from the heat pump of the floorboard. I wiggle my toes to warm myself. I watch the officer as he makes his way to the driver’s side. He slides into the car, then picks up a microphone. A soft, female voice answers his call. I turn away, looking back toward the pizza bar. Mark and a group of adults shiver as they stand together outside. As the police car slowly rumbles away, Mark raises his hand, forms a peace sign, then waves good-bye. One by one, the others smile as they join him.

My throat tightens. I can taste the salt as tears run down my face. Somehow I know I’ll miss Mark. I stare down at my shoes and wiggle my toes. One of them pops through a hole.

“
So, ” the officer says, “first time in a police car?”

“Yes, sir, ” I reply. “Am
I…
uhm … I mean, am I in trouble, sir?”

The officer smiles. “No. We’re just concerned. It’s kinda late, and you’re a little young to be out here alone. What’s your name?”

I glance down at my dirty shoe.

“
Come on, now. There’s no harm in telling me your name.”

I clear my throat. I don’t want to talk to the officer. I don’t want to talk to anybody. I know every time I open my mouth, I’m one step closer to Mother’s evil clutches.
But,
I tell myself,
what can I do?
I know whatever chances I had of escaping to the river are now gone. I don’t care. As long as I don’t have to return to her. After a few seconds I answer the officer, “Da … Da … David, sir, ” I stutter. “My name is David.”

The officer chuckles. I smile back. He tells me I’m a good-looking boy. “How old are you?”

“Nine, sir.”

“Nine? Kinda small, aren’t you?”

We begin to talk back and forth. I can’t believe how much the officer is interested in me. I feel he actually likes me. He parks the car in front of the police station and leads me downstairs to an empty room with a pool table in the middle. We sit beside the pool table, and the officer says, “Hey, David, let’s say we get to that pizza before it gets cold.”

My head bounces up and down. I rip open the box. I bend down and suck in the aroma. “So, David, ” the officer asks, “where did you say you live?”

I freeze. The toppings from my piece of pizza slide off. I turn away. I was hoping he would somehow forget why he picked me up.

“
Come on now, David. I’m really concerned about you.” His eyes lock onto mine. I can’t turn away. I gently replace my piece of pizza in the box. The officer reaches out to touch my hand. By reflex, I flinch. Before the officer tries again, I stare him down. Inside my head I scream,
Don’t you understand? Mother doesn’t want me, doesn’t love me, doesn’t give a damn about me! All right? So … if you can just leave me alone, I can be on my way. Okay?!

The officer backs his chair away from the table before he begins in a soft voice. “David, I’m here to help you. You have to know that, and I’m going to stay here with you as long as it takes.” He leans over and lifts my chin with his finger. Tears roll down my eyes. My nose is runny. I know now there is no escape for me. I don’t have the guts to look the policeman in the eyes.

“
Crestline Avenue, sir, ” I say in a low voice.

“
Crestline Avenue?” the officer asks.

“
Yes, sir
... 40
Crestline Avenue.”

“David, you did the right thing. Whatever the problem is, I’m sure we can work it out.”

I tell him the phone number and the officer disappears for a few moments. After he returns, he again attacks the pizza.

I pick up the same piece of pizza. It’s cold and soggy. I so badly want to eat, but my mind is a million miles away. The policeman reassures me with a smile. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Right!
I tell myself.
The only time I ever felt secure, safe and wanted was when I was a tiny child.
I was five that day when The Family waited for me as I raced up the small hill on the last day of kindergarten. I can still see Mommy’s face glowing with love as she shouted, “Come on, sweetheart. Come on now, David!” She opened the door for me after giving me a tight hug. Then she shut the door before Father sped away. Destination: the river. That summer Mommy taught me how to float on my back. I was scared, but Mommy stayed with me until I learned to float all by myself. I was so proud as I showed off to her, proving to Mommy I was a big boy, worthy of her attention and praise. That summer was the best time of my life. But now, as I sit in front of the policeman, I know nothing will ever be like it was back then. My good times are now only memories.

The officer looks up. I turn my shoulders to find my father in one of his red cotton shirts standing behind me. Another police officer nods at the policeman sitting with me. “Mr Pelzer?” the officer near me asks.

My father nods yes. The two of them disappear into an office. The policeman closes the door. I wish I could hear what they’re saying. I’m sure it’s about me and how I’m always in trouble with Mother. I’m only relieved that
she
didn’t come, but somehow I knew that
she
would never dare risk exposing herself to anyone of authority. I know she always uses Father for her dirty work. She controls Father – the same as she tries to control everyone. Above all, I know she must hide the secret. No one must ever know about our private relationship. But I know she’s slipping. She’s losing control. I try to think what this means. To survive, I must think ahead.

Minutes later the door from the office creaks. Father steps out from the room, shaking the policeman’s hand. The officer approaches me. He bends down. “David, it was just a small misunderstanding. Your father here tells me that you became upset when your mother wouldn’t let you ride your bike. You didn’t need to run away for something like that. So, you go home with your father now, and you and your mother work this thing out. Your father here says she’s worried sick over you.” He then changes the tone of his voice as he points a finger at me. “And don’t you ever put your parents through that again. I hope you’ve learned your lesson. It can be pretty scary out there, right?” the officer asks, while gesturing to the outside of the building. I stand in front of the officer in total disbelief. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Ride my bike? I don’t even have one! I’ve never even ridden on one before! I want to spin around to see if he is talking to some other kid. From behind, Father looks down at me. His eyes are blank. I realize this is just one of Mother’s cover stories. It figures.

“
And David, ” the officer states,  “treat your parents with dignity and respect. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

My mind becomes foggy. All I can hear inside my head is, “how lucky you are … how lucky you are … , ” over and over and over again. I shudder when Father slams the door from the driver’s side of the station wagon. He exhales deeply before leaning over to me. “Jesus H. Christ, David!” he begins as he turns the ignition and pumps the gas pedal. “What in the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you did? Do you know what you put your mother through?”

My head snaps toward Father.
Put
her
through? What about me? Doesn’t anyone care about me? But …
I tell myself,
maybe she broke down. Maybe she’s really concerned about me. Is it possible she knows she went too far?
For a moment I can imagine Mother sobbing in Father’s arms, wondering where I am, whether I’m alive. Then I can see my mommy running up to me with tears in her eyes as she wraps me in love, showering me with kisses, tears rolling down her face. I can almost hear my mommy say the three most important words I long to hear. And I’ll be ready to say the four most important words: I love you, too!

“
David!” Father grabs my arm. I jump up, striking my head against the top of the car. “Do you have any idea what your mother’s been doing? I can’t get a moment of peace in that house. For Christ’s sake, it’s been nothing but hell since you left. Jesus, can’t you just stay out of trouble? Can’t you just try and make her happy? Just stay out of her way and do whatever she wants. Can you do that? Can you do that for me? Well?” Father yells, raising his voice so loud I can feel my skin crawl.

Slowly I nod my head yes. I don’t dare make a sound as I cry deep inside. I know I’m wrong. And, as always, it’s all my fault. I turn to Father while shaking my head up and down. He reaches over to pat my head.

“
All right, ” he says in a softer tone, “all right. That’s my Tiger. Now let’s go home.”

As Father drives the car up the same street I walked down hours ago, I sit at the far side of the car, resting the weight of my body on the door. I feel like a trapped animal who wants to claw its way through the glass. The closer we get to The House, the more I can feel myself quiver inside. I need to go to the bathroom.
Home,
I say to myself. I stare down at my hands. My fingers tremble from fear. I know in a few moments I’ll be back where it all started. In all, nothing’s changed, and I know nothing will. I wish I were someone, anyone but who I am. I wish I had a life, a family, a home.

Father drives into the garage. He turns to me before opening his door. “Well, here we are, ” he states with a false smile.
“
We’re home.”

I look right through him, hoping, praying he can feel my fear, my pain from inside of me.
Home?
I say to myself.

I have no home.

On March 5, 1973, I received the long-awaited answer to my prayers. I was rescued. My teachers and other staff members at Thomas Edison Elementary School intervened and notified the police.

Everything happened with lightning speed. I cried with all my heart as I said my final good-byes to my teachers. I somehow knew I would never see them again. By the tears in their eyes I realized they understood the truth about me – the
real
truth. Why I was so different from the other children; why I smelled and dressed in rags; why I climbed into garbage cans to hunt for a morsel of food.

Before I left, my homeroom teacher, Mr Ziegler, bent down to say good-bye. He shook my hand and told me to be a good boy. He then whispered to me that he would tell my homeroom class the truth about me. Mr Ziegler’s statement meant the world to me. I so badly wanted to be liked, to be accepted by my class, my school – by everyone.

The police officer had to nudge me through the door of the school office. “Come on, David, we gotta go.” I wiped my nose before I stepped through the door. A million thoughts raced through my mind, all of them bad. I was terrified of what the consequences would be when Mother found out. No one had ever crossed The Mother like this before. When she found out, I knew there would be hell to pay.