Kept Boy to Made Man - 18. Family Matters

Friday June 24th, 1992

Oliver White lay awake in the clinging darkness of early morning, thinking about his family. He missed his mom and dad, but it was his little brother he was thinking about currently. Jasper would be seven by now just like the young boy sharing Oliver's mattress. It made him both sad and angry to know he had missed his brother’s birthday.

Mark’s small body, nestled up against his own, was so much like his brother’s. The little boy had turned seven the day before. Oliver shifted, pulling the sleeping boy closer. He hoped Jasper’s birthday had been better than Mark’s. Oliver had done his best to comfort the frightened boy, even giving him a special and loving birthday present before holding the young boy in his arms until he fell asleep.

His body was the only remaining thing the boy had to offer anyone else, including Mark on his seventh birthday.

His knowledge of sex was now extensive. He knew how to please men, women, and other boys in almost unending ways, many of which he found painful, disgusting, or both. He missed the days, a lifetime ago, when sex was an unknown and naughty thing talked about on the playground.

At the age of eleven, Oliver's body had just begun to change when he had been taken from the Rocky Mountain National Park. He was there with his dad on a special father and son adventure. It was meant to be an opportunity for the man to talk to his maturing son about his body, hormones, and girls.

The park had been crowded for the long Memorial Day weekend. Oliver White had felt both excited and grown up sitting alone in their campsite while his dad made a trip to the bathhouse. He waved and chatted with the happy people walking by while he waited.

The man with the Golden Retriever had seemed so nice.

“This is Rover. He was my son’s dog. He was about your age, but he drowned in a friend’s pool last summer. We both miss him so much.” Oliver had felt very sad for the man and the dog. “Maybe you could walk with us a bit. Rover misses his boy. I’m sure he would love it if you would hold his leash.”

The man with the Golden Retriever hadn’t been nice at all. He never had a son, and the dog didn’t even belong to him. Tears slid down Oliver’s cheeks as his anger grew. He had been so stupid. His parents and teachers had all warned him not to talk to strangers.

The boy's life since had been a series of nightmares starting the moment the man forced him into the back of his van. Oliver's sex education had started that evening on a thin and dirty blanket covering the cold bumpy metal floor of the windowless vehicle. He could still remember the terror, the excruciating pain, the blood, and the tears. Oliver pulled Mark’s warm body closer still. The boy whimpered but didn’t wake up.

Oliver’s experience had been worse than that of many of the other boys in the barn. The man who had taken him had used Oliver for months before selling him to the men who ran the farm.

Somehow, Oliver survived, but he had missed Jasper’s seventh birthday. He had been there for Mark’s birthday, but the only gift he could give the boy had been additional love and comfort during and following the boy’s own daily lessons. Mark hadn’t yet been sent out on his first date, but Oliver knew it was only a matter of time. His anger grew into fury as he thought ahead to the emotional and physical care the boy in his arms would likely need when that inevitable moment came.

Mark, as with most of the others had been well taken care of from the moment they were snatched. New boys were valued for their unmarked skin and unbroken spirits which would fetch higher rates from their first few clients; usually men like the one who had kidnapped Oliver.

Those premium fees were why the pre-teen trained them rather than one of the men. The boys needed to know what was expected on a date without breaking the physical illusion that it was their first time.

He had learned long ago that disobedience only brought additional pain, but as with the small boy currently sharing his bed, Oliver tried to find small ways to ease the other boys’ pain and fear.

Oliver was scarred and broken when he arrived. The men who ran the farm hadn’t even bothered to market him like they did the others. He was sometimes sent to parties when they needed an extra body, but most of the time he served the men and boys in the house and in the barn.

His job was the initial training, preparing the boys for their dates, and caring for them when they returned to the barn. The now twelve-year-old boy was also frequently used by the men who ran the farm in what they called his continued education. There was nothing pleasurable about those moments for Oliver.

The boy missed Colorado. He missed his friends. Most of all Oliver White missed his family. He wished for the chance to tell his brother Jasper goodbye and to hug his parents one final time. He knew he would never see any of them again. He had a new family now made up of the boys he trained and cared for; the boys who lived with him in hell.

Hatred was not a strong enough word for what Oliver felt for the adults that used him and the other boys. The man who kidnapped him had thought him used up, and maybe he was. Oliver no longer cared what was done to his body, but he cared very much about the pain and terror felt by Mark and his other brothers.

Their emotions fueled his own. Oliver's fury grew into something else entirely as he thought about the hopeless future waiting for each of his brothers; a future in which they too would be used up like him. With growing conviction, Oliver knew he needed to find a way to make sure at least some of his brothers survived.

. . .

“Where will we go if you die or go to prison, Bisnonno?” Another young boy asked his great-grandfather worriedly.

“Emilio, hush! Show respect to the Capo di tutti capi,” Elio said urgently.

There was a time the man would have found Elio’s response endearing or even cute, but the scared nine-year-old-twins were his great-grandchildren, and their father, who he had also raised had just been transferred to San Quentin with a death sentence for his role in the murder of three federal agents in Philadelphia.

The boys' mother died of a drug overdose when the boys were two, and what little love existed in their life had died with her. Dominic De Luca didn’t have an acceptable answer to Emilio’s question. He sighed, knowing he was the only person the boys had left.

At eighty-two years old, he wasn’t certain he was equipped or healthy enough to raise a third generation, especially when he thought about where his guidance had led the boys' father and grandfather: prison and an early grave.

“To you two, I am Bisnonno, not the Capo di tutti capi.” He watched Emilio smile, while his older brother by five minutes frowned. “What is it Elio? You are family, and you may speak your mind in this house.”

“Father would insist we show proper respect, Cap- Great-Grandfather.” Dom De Luca saw how heavily his position as eldest son weighed on the nine-year-old boy’s mind.

“Come.” The old man led the twins to the kitchen island and helped them up onto two stools to buy some time to think.

The old man pulled a tub of Greek yogurt from the fridge and a box of granola from the pantry. Dom stood watching the boys eat their breakfast like perfect gentlemen several minutes later. He remembered a time when boys acted like children rather than little men. He missed the old days, when life was exciting and full of opportunity.

Now he was surrounded by the lonely trappings of luck and success. Dom realized, with children in the house once more, that he cared little for money or power. As the Boss of Bosses, he was no longer concerned with gaining more of either.

“Elio, Emilio, I love you both very much. You are family and the most important thing left in my life. You do not work for me, and you never will.” He felt a tear slip free. “I buried my son, your grandfather. Working for me got him killed. I refused to accept your father’s pledge, so he transferred to another family. He will die in prison for the work he did for them. I want my beautiful ragazzetti gemelli to be free of this life. Do you understand me boys?”

Lead bullets, iron bars, wood coffins; those were where a life in the Family inevitably led. He wanted better for the young boys staring at him with wide, confused expressions.

“But I am the oldest.” Elio’s whole life had been about living up to his responsibilities as the De Luca heir.

“Yes, by five minutes. I know.” Dom winked at Emilio. “You will both inherit everything I have when I am gone. Your only responsibility as my heirs right now is to be children.”

“We are not children! We are De Luca’s!” Elio began to panic as the structure of his life crumbled even further.

“Hush, my fierce little Compare. We will speak of this again, later.” Dom De Luca’s heart shattered as he saw Elio’s confusion and fear. “What fun things should we do today, Emilio?”

The younger twin looked with concern at his brother before turning in excitement towards the old man who was nothing like he had expected. Emilio didn’t ever want to hurt people like his father. He knew Elio didn’t either. They had discussed it many times. Neither boy had ever considered that there could be another choice.

. . .

Not far away, another man stood at a different kitchen island with two different boys. He was also wondering how he might give them a better life than he himself had experienced.

“Are you coming to the office today?” Roger asked.

“Maybe. I want to stop by the bank to get a debit card for my account, and I may look for a cheap car of my own.” Thomas looked nervously at the man he now thought of as his father, wondering how he would respond to his small steps towards independence.

Roger smiled at the uncertain look on the teen’s face.

“Do you remember what I said your first night here?” Thomas nodded slowly, feeling even more uncertain. “You are emancipated. You can spend your money however you want. I’m not your father, Thomas.”

“What if I want you to be?” The words tumbled from Thomas’ mouth before he turned and almost ran from the kitchen towards his bedroom.

Roger looked at Brendon in confusion and concern. The man was about to ask the tall teenager for an explanation, but Thomas was returning at almost the same speed. The sock-footed Thomas Miller slid back to his place next to his boyfriend. It might have been funny if Roger hadn’t been so worried about the boy he had come to think of as his son.

Thomas looked at Roger shyly, nervously. A small part of his subconscious mind prepared to be rejected once more.

“I asked Donald to help me with this.” Thomas held out several pieces of paper, clipped neatly together.

Roger’s own self-doubt and fear came alive as the man automatically reached across the island. He didn’t know what Thomas could possibly need a lawyer for, and it hurt him to know Thomas hadn’t turned to him. Roger Cicero's tears made it difficult to read the small, typed print.

“Is this what you really want?” Roger said fighting back still more tears after reading the legal forms Donald Cassel had prepared for Thomas.

“Yes. More than anything.” Thomas wasn’t trying not to cry.

Brendon Mack was all smiles. He was a little jealous, but his primary emotion was joy. It had been a surprise when an angry Thomas had dragged him into Donald Cassel’s office, but it didn’t take him long to understand what Thomas wanted to do or why.

“Thomas Cicero.” Roger tried the name, liking the sound and significance immediately.

Cicero wasn’t the family name Roger had been born with. He had legally changed his name in law school, choosing Cicero because he liked many of the ancient man’s ideas as well as how it sounded. He understood Thomas’ need to break away from his family association.

“Is it okay?” Thomas suddenly sounded much younger than seventeen.

Roger quickly moved around the island and pried the small teen from Brendon’s side. He wrapped his strong arms around Thomas’ thin frame.

“It’s more than okay, son.” Roger was crying again. “Changing your name doesn’t change the fact that you are still considered an adult, but I would be honored to share my name with you.

“That means we also need to stop by the courthouse to file these documents,” Brendon said as he joined the hug.

. . .

“I like it here, Sammy.” Simon felt nervous, but he whispered his naughty thoughts to his brother anyway. “Do you think Stan will be sad that I like it here?”

Both boys thought of Stanley Montgomery almost constantly. They knew he was gone, but death was still a difficult concept for the twins. Samuel was also scared that Stan would be disappointed in him, but he told his brother how he felt anyway. They told each other everything.

“I know we’re not supposed to hate, but I hate, hate, hate William.” He started to cry as he remembered the mean man holding him roughly with the bloody knife close to his face.

“Me too,” Simon agreed, suddenly more angry than anxious. “He took Stan away. He was gonna to be our daddy for real.”

The twins held each other tightly as they purged a fresh round of grief. Eventually, the tears ceased, although the angry sadness remained.

“Qian is nice. Ms. Melissa is nice too.” Simon said before repeating the question that had started the conversation. “Will Stan be mad that I like it here?”

“I don’t know,” Samuel said, his little forehead furrowed as he thought seriously about his brother’s concern.

A knock on the door interrupted the hushed conversation. Qian poked his head into the room.

“I have to go boys, but I’ll be back before suppertime.” He sat on the foot of the bed and started grabbing playfully at the boys’ blanket-covered feet.

Samuel and Simon couldn’t help but giggle and wriggle. Soon Qian was the one giggling as the two little boys dashed from the room in obvious distress. Seconds later, the laughter resumed. Qian hoped the twins remembered to take aim before letting go of their full bladders.

The man found Melissa smiling in the kitchen. She offered him a mug and pointed to the fresh pot of coffee on the counter.

“Thank you for everything Ms. Motts. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to be here with you and your boys.” Qian heard Melissa’s pained grunt.

“The boys are only here temporarily.” Her voice was sad once more.

“Perhaps, but where they end up living has nothing to do with your ongoing role in their life unless you let it. I see how much you love them. Something tells me you’re stronger than you think. I’m not going to bet against you.” He lifted the mug to his lips, allowing the near-scalding liquid to lick at his tongue.

“I’m a lesbian, Qian.” Melissa was shocked to hear the words leave her mouth.

“So?” Qian’s response was immediate and firm; homosexuality was far from the most deviant thing he had experienced in his life, so to him Melissa’s greatest secret was a non-issue.

“So, no judge will ever grant me custody of the twins.” Melissa allowed her pain and frustration to show.

“I’m not a lawyer like your boss, but I am pretty sure you are not legally required to tell a judge about your sexuality. You are a single woman, yes, but you have the means and desire to care for boys who obviously belong with you.” Qian looked at Melissa with compassion. “Those boys need you as much as you need them. Fight for them, Ms. Motts, and let me know how I can help.”

The sound of little feet and quiet giggles put an end to the adult conversation. Qian left for Lincoln Park while Melissa turned her focus to the hungry boys. As Samuel and Simon ate, Melissa couldn’t ignore the strange, sad FBI agent's echoing suggestion. Fight for them.

She hadn’t fought for Mary, Joshua, or even for herself. Qian was right. As far as the world knew, Melissa Motts was a successful, single woman who had prioritized her career over marriage and children. Apart from her closest friends and now Qian, only her family knew about her orientation. Melissa suddenly felt the need to talk to Roger Cicero; as her lawyer rather than her boss.

. . .

Mary’s eyes shot open as she listened for the sounds wind and rain rushing across the moor. It took her a moment to remember that she was in Lincoln Park and that she didn’t have a secret garden or a friend who could charm animals.

There was a sad boy in Rosa’s apartment, however. The young girl’s feet hit the floor. She didn’t even glance at the book from her Aunt Mel which she had been obsessed with for days. She was too focused on the boy upstairs.

“Who are you?” she heard her mother ask below. “What happened to the other man who was here yesterday? I will not have a never-ending stream of strange men coming and going from my house. The neighbors will begin to talk.”

Mary stopped listening to her mother’s voice and moved first to the bathroom, and then to the stairs leading towards Rosa’s apartment several minutes later.

She had only been to the top floor of the house a few times. It felt like an adventure even if she didn’t have to pass through a tapestry to find the corridor leading to the crying boy.

There were voices on the other side of Rosa’s door. She thought it might be Dr. Craven and Mrs. Medlock before reminding herself that she was Mary Renkin in Chicago, Illinois. In many ways, she felt as if she were playing some sort of game, or acting out her story. The girl knocked softly, causing the voices to go quiet. The door opened.

“Mary, are you okay?” Rosa asked in concerned.

“Yes,” the girl said shyly before remembering that the other Mary was not shy at all.

Mary Renkin straightened and looked her beloved nanny in the eye.

“I have come to see Micah.” Mary didn’t wait for an invitation but walked confidently into Rosa’s apartment wishing she knew how to speak with a Yorkshire accent. “Where is he?”

It was then that Mary saw the two other men. She hadn’t spent a lot of time with adults, and Rosa was the only person she knew with skin that wasn’t pale like hers. She knew better than to stare, but the unexpected sight made it difficult.

“Mary, this gentleman’s name is Qian, and this handsome young man is my son Juan.” Rosa’s eyes moved from the young man to her younger charge.

“Juan?” Mary, asked excitedly, forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be looking for the sad boy.

“You must be Mary. My mother has told me a lot of wonderful things about you.” Juan was extremely worried about Micah, but he was genuinely happy to meet the young girl his mother adored.

“Ms. Rosa has told me all about you too!” Mary said as she stared at Juan in awe.

Juan laughed, despite the fear and frustration he felt for the boy in the next room.

“Call the office if anything changes Qian. I’ll see if I can get Thomas and Brendon to swing by as well.” Juan then knelt in front of Mary Renkin. “Micah is a very scared little boy. Some really bad people did some really bad things to him. It’s not your fault if he won’t talk to you or play with you, okay?”

Mary was used to adults saying things that didn’t make sense to her. She thought about Colin in her story, and remembered how he wouldn’t talk to adults or even let them look at him. Well, she was not an adult, and if the boy wanted to be contrary, she would just be contrary right back like the other Mary had been. She thought about the foot stamping in her story and giggled. Juan looked at her strangely which made her giggle again.

“Where is he?” she asked as she adopted her role once more.

Juan pointed towards the spare room before remembering Micah was likely not wearing any clothes. He would have told the girl to wait, but she was already turning the knob. The three adults held their breath as they waited to see what would happen.

Mary scanned the room, finding the boy on a blanket in the corner. She was surprised, not because Micah was naked, but because she expected him to be in bed like the sad boy in her story. Mary had seen her little brother naked many times, and Rosa had explained all about boy parts and girl parts. She walked forward, ready to be contrary if she had to be and almost impatient to say her line.

“I’m Mary,” she said. “Are you afraid of getting a lump on your back and dying?”

Micah, who was hiding safely in the background, tried to understand what the strange girl was talking about. Her question didn’t make any sense to him, but she had asked it matter-of-factly as if it should. The girl wasn't overly cautious or concerned like everyone else, and Micah forgot for a moment that he needed Boy to protect him.

“A lump?” He spoke before realizing he had taken control of their body.

“I’m sure you don’t have a lump. I’ll look, just to make sure.” Mary didn’t wait for his permission because she knew how the story went.

Micah sat, completely frozen as the girl began to inspect his naked back with both her eyes and small, delicate fingers

“Nope, no lump. You’re not going to get sick, and you’re not going to die. You don’t have to be sad and lonely anymore either because we are going to be friends!” Mary sat suddenly as she realized that without a garden or her own to share she wasn’t sure what to say next.

“Friends.” Micah whispered the word he had used so recently; the magic word that had unlocked feelings he hadn’t dared feel in a long time.

“Yes, friends. Rosa is my friend, but she's an adult. Joshua is my brother and we’re friends, but he is really little. I’m excited to have a friend my age to talk to and do stuff with.” Mary began to think about her own life, and how Micah might fit into it.

“Friends,” he said a little louder.

Mary stood up and began looking around the room, suddenly beginning a new story all their own.

“You need to get dressed. Rosa will make breakfast soon, but she won’t let you sit at the table without clothes.” She found the things Sam and Melissa had bought for Micah, pulling out the same items she would if she was getting dressed herself.

It never even occurred to Micah to resist. He didn’t have any real experience with girls and his subconscious was quiet as he navigated the new situation. Mary assumed he would get dressed, so he did. Soon he was following her from the room.

“I’m going to show Micah my room before breakfast!” The three adults stood in shocked silence, watching the formerly catatonic boy follow Mary Renkin out of the apartment and down the stairs.

“I think we found our breakthrough,” Qian Chang said, wondering what Robert Fenton would say about the incomprehensible interaction they had just witnessed.

Rosa raised her teary eyes to the heavens and silently thanked God for sending the miracle she had been asking for. Somehow it felt right that it had come in the form of a young girl named Mary.

Juan Ramos thought once more of Thomas and how quickly he had drawn Micah out. Mary Renkin had approached the boy completely differently with even quicker results. The young man realized the adults of the world could likely learn a lot simply by swallowing their pride and observing the youth.

. . .

He wasn’t used to the office being so quiet. The thought had him automatically looking towards the phone on Melissa’s desk in anticipation. The attorney heard the office’s outer door opening instead. Roger Cicero stood, realizing that with Melissa out and Donald in court, he was the only one left to greet potential clients.

The common area was crowded by the time he stepped from his office. Melissa stood with the twin boys she was temporarily caring for. Her friend Samantha was with them, as was a handsome, suit-clad African American man Roger recognized immediately as an FBI agent.

“Melissa! Sam! Who are these three fine-looking gentlemen?” He winked at the boys peaking out from behind Melissa, kneeling to be closer to eye level.

Melissa coaxed the twins out and officially introduced them to her boss.

“This is Samuel, and this is Simon. Boys, this is my friend Roger.” She beamed as she watched Roger interact with the twins.

“Hey boys. You’re lucky to get to hang out with Melissa. She takes excellent care of the people she likes, and I can already see that she likes you two very much.” Roger would have loved to wrap the nervous boys in a big hug but could see they weren’t ready; instead, he stood and held out a hand to the man he didn't yet know. Roger Cicero.”

“Devon Jones. I work for Daniel.” Roger was impressed by the man’s strategic avoidance of official and scary terms like FBI and Special Agent.

“Nice to meet you, Devon. Is everything okay, Melissa?” He had told her to take as much time as she wanted and was surprised to see her.

“Well, Sam never did get to join us for lunch, and she has something she wants to give to you and Thomas. I was also hoping to talk with you for a few minutes.” Roger noted Melissa’s nervous but determined tone as well as the large, thin, paper-wrapped package Melissa’s journalist friend was carrying.

Sam stepped forward.

“We spoke on the phone last weekend. You tipped me off to Thomas’ trial.” Roger suddenly remembered why Sam James’ name sounded vaguely familiar.

“I confess I only knew Sam James as an LGBT-friendly columnist. Until we talked, I assumed you were a man.” He was glad to see she didn’t seem offended by his admission.

“Journalism is still a man’s world, Mr. Cicero. Editors are more likely to publish a woman’s work if readers aren’t likely to realize it wasn’t written by a man.” She tried to mask the pain and frustration that fact caused. “Anyway, I wanted to thank you. Thomas, too.”

Sam held the wrapped item out towards the attorney. Roger’s curiosity was peaked, especially since the journalists at the major papers clearly hadn’t found Thomas’ trial a news-worthy event.

“Can you boys help me unwrap this?” Roger asked.

There is something almost magical about revealing a wrapped present, and the boys couldn’t help but step forward to join in the fun of tearing at the paper. Within seconds the job was done, and Roger held a framed front page of The Windy City Pages featuring a large color photo of himself, Melissa, and Thomas. Roger remembered that moment walking away from the courthouse together, their first steps into a scary world of hope and change.

He cherished the gift for the meaningful photo alone. He read the headline: Unwanted Son. Roger wanted to read the article immediately, but he decided the boys would grow board in the silence.

“Thank you, Samantha. I will read this as soon as I can find a moment.” He looked meaningfully at the boys now looking around the office as he dried his eyes.

“Of course. Please share it with Thomas too.” She pulled an unframed, folded paper from her bag and handed it to him as well. “Hey boys. How would you like to join Devon and I on an adventure to find some ice cream? I love ice cream in the morning!”

Roger noticed that the boys looked to Melissa, waiting for her encouraging nod before they each excitedly took one of Sam’s now empty hands. The attorney also saw the loving expression on Melissa’s face as she watched Sam lead the boys out the door held by Devon Jones.

“I’m not current on family law, Melissa.” Roger said compassionately after the door closed.

“Am I that obvious?” Melissa asked the man she had worked for since graduating college.

“I’ll do anything I can to help. I’m guessing you know that the boys may have family who will want to take them. Even if they don’t, it will likely be a fight.” Melissa was reminded of Qian Chang’s words: Fight for them.

“I will fight for them Roger. I will fight harder than I have ever fought for anything. I need to see them safe and happy.” Melissa wiped at her tears before opening herself up more than she ever would have before. “I need to be happy, too."

“Okay. If you are ready to fight, then so am I. I’ll call Juan to see if there are updates on the search for relatives. In the meantime, I would recommend keeping things with Samantha purely platonic in public.” Roger’s suspicions were confirmed by Melissa’s guilty expression. “I didn’t say forever, Melissa. You are talking to a gay man. I am happy and hopeful for you both, but it will be easier to get a judge to place the twins with a single woman than a lesbian woman. It's not fair, but it is true.”

Melissa had known Roger for over five years, but she had not known he was gay. She wondered what else she didn’t know about the man before realizing that she already knew everything she needed to know. Roger Cicero was on her side as a legal ally and a friend. That fact, along with Qian’s encouragement made her hopeful that a future with the twins might be possible after all.

. . .

“Good morning Mr. Miller, please come in.” The seventeen-year-old hadn’t expected the personal attention they were receiving from the bank employees.

He and Brendon stepped into the branch manager’s office and sat as the man closed the door and moved around to his side of the desk.

“I am glad to meet you Mr. Miller. What can I do for you today?” The important man’s searching look and friendly demeanor made Thomas uncomfortable; he wished he had accepted Roger’s offer to accompany them.

“I need some checks and maybe a debit card so I can access the money in my account.” Thomas pulled the papers Roger had given him from his folder.

“This is an account held in trust. It stipulates that you must be eighteen or otherwise considered an adult to manage the account yourself.” The man sounded apologetic as he re-read the salient points of the document. “That is rather odd language.”

“I am an emancipated minor.” Thomas presented the court documents that validated his claim.

“Ah, I see. Very good." The banker handed the documents back to Thomas without more than a glance. “Thanks to the unique qualifier in the language of the trust, you can do as you like with the money in the account. I would recommend opening a checking account and transferring money into it as needed. Your trust will continue to grow with interest, while a checking account will not. Of course, that is only a suggestion. The choice is yours, sir.”

Thomas glanced at Brendon and found that his boyfriend was as unbalanced by their visit to the bank as he was. He took a deep breath and took another step into his pre-mature adulthood.

Ten minutes later, Thomas had a book of starter checks and the promise of a debit card in three to five business days. He reviewed the printouts the man had given him to make sure he understood everything that had been done. He had moved five thousand dollars into his new checking account. The balance was clearly stated on the deposit receipt in his hand and in the small book the man had referred to as a check register as well.

Next, he checked the remaining balance in the trust. Thomas’ stomach lurched as he saw the wrong number printed plainly.

“Sir, I think there must be some sort of mistake. There should only be twenty thousand dollars left in my trust, but this says I have over three hundred and forty thousand dollars.” Thomas’ shaky finger pointed at the inflated balance.

“There is no mistake, Mr. Miller.” An excited smile grew on the man’s face.

“I don’t understand.” Thomas felt confused and slightly ill.

"Everyone at the bank has been anxious to meet you, Mr. Miller. People have been coming into all of our branches for several days, asking to make deposits into your trust. Eventually, we asked someone what was going on.” The man turned in his chair and retrieved a cardboard box from the credenza behind him. “It seems you have a rather large family now Mr. Miller. You are no longer unwanted, son.”

The man reached into the box and pulled out a folded newspaper. Thomas saw the photo first and then the headline.

“This box is full of letters and cards that were left for you. I am certain there will be many more here and at our other seven branches. I’ll request they be forwarded here so you can collect them at your convenience.” Thomas grabbed Brendon’s hand for support, feeling overwhelmed and lightheaded.

The man behind the desk noticed. The gesture made him smile.

“Good for you boys. I wish you the best. Please ask for me any time you stop in. Your account balance makes you a VIP at Indemnity Bank, but your story makes you family to me. Like I said, it is an honor to meet you. Both of you. If you ever need anything, and I mean anything, just ask.” Brendon’s bruises were still visible, which brought painful memories from the banker’s own past to the forefront of the man's mind; he knew how it felt to be an unwanted son.

Brendon held his boyfriend’s hand watching the tears fall from Thomas’ eyes as his boyfriend read Sam’s article.

. . .

Roger and Melissa both jumped as the phone on her desk began to ring. Out of habit, Melissa moved to pick it up.

“Cicero Law Office, this is Melissa.” She listened for a few seconds before interrupting the caller. “Thomas, can I put you on speaker phone? Roger is sitting right here.”

She pushed a button, before replacing the handset.

“Go ahead Thomas,” Melissa prompted.

“Dad, can you come pick us up at the bank?” Thomas was obviously crying.

Melissa raised her eyebrow at the word ‘Dad,’ but Roger Cicero was too busy staring at the phone to notice.

“Are you two okay?” The attorney was already preparing for battle.

“Yeah. We’re good. Really good. We just don’t want to take a cab, and I was hoping you would go with us to the courthouse to change my name.” Thomas’ voice grew steadier with each word.

“Sure, son. I’ll leave right now,” Roger replied, allowing his armor to fall away.

“I love you, Roger,” Thomas said.

“I love you boys as well.” Melissa disconnected the call and looked expectedly at her boss.

“You’re not the only one interested in family, Melissa.” Roger smiled at the woman who had taken care of him for so long, realizing in that moment they had already been family for a long time.