319 Winesap Lane - 18. Chapter 18 - The Twins Come Home

Geoff’s POV

I sat in my office looking at the computer. It was the late spring after Jerry had been nearly murdered by the man who had attacked Billy. I assumed he was upstairs in his room reading something I’d given him on the French language, but I never knew exactly where he was due to the psychosis caused by the brain damage he suffered from being shot in New York City. His lawyer said that Jerry couldn’t get his wish to become my adoptive son until he was examined by a panel of psychiatrists to establish his mental stability. Tomorrow was to be Jerry’s first examination by his first independent psychiatrist.

Unexpectedly, my cellphone rang. I picked it up and saw that the call was from Bill Daniels, a social worker with the Wayne County Social Services Department.

“Hello?” I asked upon answering the phone.

“Geoff? Bill Daniels, I’ve got those two young boys we discussed before.”

“Could you refresh my memory?”

“They’re twin brothers; David Sumners and his twin Stephen, though he goes by Steve. They’re only nine. Well, they’ll be ten in a couple months. I guess they’re in fourth grade, but that’ll have to be determined by Warnton Elementary School. They’ve been living down near Bullis Park with their mother and step-father.”

“What’s the problem, again? There has to be a problem or you’d offer them to another foster home.”

“Their mother and step-father were killed in a traffic accident on Highway 31 in what has been described as a possible criminal situation. There aren’t any relatives willing to take these two boys in. They claim the boys are incorrigible. They’ve been in a temporary foster home down in Newark, but I think we need to move them into a more permanent placement.”

“Do you want to bring them up now?”

“If I can.”

“Okay, Bill, I’ll put out the welcome mat.”

I tried to think of having boys younger than the teens that already lived in the house. I could’ve said no knowing Bill might be able to find the boys another placement, but I knew these boys needed a home where they would be loved, Love went a long way to establish a foothold for a needy child. I went out into the living room and saw Jerry reading a book.

“What are you reading?” I asked as I walked up to Jerry.

“The Stories of John Cheever.”

“That’s a good book. Why are you reading it when I gave you that French language textbook to read?”

“I don’t know, it seemed the thing to do at the time. Don’t you love me?”

“Jerry, you ask me that question every day and I tell you, every day, that I do love you.”

“You know it’s hard for me considering all that happened.”

“You saved Billy’s life.”

“Yes, but was it worth it?”

“That’s only for you to decide. I just got a call from Bill Daniels; he’s bringing up two boys who need a home. They’re twins and they’re only nine-years-old.”

“I think we should put them on the second floor in the back. What do you think?”

“I think that is a good answer.”

“Good; I’ll go up and get the rooms ready.”

I went back into my study and looked at the arrangement of the reading chairs; and then thought about books suitable for boys who were nine going on ten. I went to my computer and searched for those kinds of books. In a matter of a few minutes, I came up with list of ten books and collections, but I hesitated buying anything at the moment because I wasn’t certain what I was getting myself into with these two boys. If I was to expect two incorrigible twins, quite possibly life in the house was going to be difficult for the first few days or weeks. The doorbell rang and I went out to answer. I saw Jerry standing at the door and then opening it. It was as if he’d been frozen in place and then he stepped back, pointed with his outstretch right arm, and screamed louder than I thought humanly possible. As he continued to scream, he slumped onto the floor and began convulsing.

I went to him, but not knowing what to do, I moved aside when Bill Daniels knelt beside Jerry. I took out my cellphone and called 9-1-1 and after putting in the report, I turned to the two boys still standing on the porch who, needless to say, appeared to be scared shitless.

“Bill, are you going to be okay?” I asked. “I’d like to take care of these boys.”

“Sure, I think Jerry’s coming out of it. Do you have a blanket or something to cover him?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

I ran into the study and picked up the throw Jerry kept on his chair. I was back in a flash and immediately saw we were missing two boys.

“Where’d they get off to?” I asked.

“Damned if I know,” Bill said. “How about you stay with Jerry and I’ll go find my charges?”

“Is this an example of what I’m in for?”

“Afraid so; you still want to have a go of it? I can still put them somewhere else.”

“Anything better than what I offer?”

“No.”

“Then find them and take them into the living room. We’ll deal with them when Jerry’s taken care of.”

Bill left the foyer while I knelt over Jerry. He was lying on his side lost in the remnants of his brain storm. I didn’t know what had caused this because never before had he had a seizure that I knew of. Maybe, he’d had one in the hospital and they simply hadn’t informed me. He began to stir and then he turned his head and stared deeply into my eyes. The way he looked at me was somewhat unnerving, but I didn’t turn away.

“Did you see them?” he whispered.

“Who, those two boys?”

“Yes, those boys; I’ve seen them before in the hospital. I saw them a lot in the hospital, but Dr. Avianca said they were only a figment of my imagination. You see, now, that they aren’t that. Are they moving in here?”

“Yes, we discussed them earlier.”

“Oh, those boys. Yes, I remember now. I hear a siren. Did you call an aid car?”

“Yes.”

“Good; I think I need to go back into the hospital; even though it’s in another dimension. Did Dr. Avianca discuss that with you; that I almost constantly hallucinated?”

“Yes, and she told me to be on the lookout for when you might do that here.”

“Those boys are real, aren’t they? So, I shouldn’t have a problem with them, right?”

“Yes, they’re very real.”

“Ah, I’m okay with that; sort of.”

“I think you need to spend some time with Dr. Avianca just to make sure.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“Is this the patient?” a medic asked as he came in the front door.

“Yes, he had a seizure; I think he needs to go the university medical center in Rochester,” I said.

“We’ll determine his destination. If you’ll move away, we’ll see what we need to do to stabilize the patient for transport.”

I followed his instructions and stood up. I walked over to the side of the foyer and watched the EMTs go about their duties. I could only hope either they would transport Jerry into Rochester or request a private ambulance to do the work. I know I should’ve been listening to their questions and Jerry’s answers, but I figured it would all work out in the end. As I suspected they called in a private ambulance and waited with Jerry until those attendants arrived.

“Does he have a psychiatrist of record in Rochester?” one of the EMTs asked.

“Yes, Dr. Belinda Avianca at the university medical center,” I said.

“Very good,” he said.

The private ambulance attendants came into the house with their stretcher and loaded Jerry for transport. I watched them leave and suspecting there might be some sort of fuck up in this situation, I called Dr. Avianca. She said she would be on the lookout for Jerry’s arrival. I explained that he had a seizure upon seeing two boys that were moving into my home. I told her he said he’d seen these two boys when he was hallucinating, but, now, he accepted they were real. She said she’d work with him on determining what was real and what wasn’t.

* * * *

After the ambulance left, I went into the living room and saw Bill sitting between the two boys he hoped I would accept into my home. I couldn’t tell if they appeared to be little angels or hellions. By their physical appearance I could tell they were definitely twins; the only thing difference between them was their clothes. Their straight black hair hung down into their crystal blue eyes and to their shoulders in back. Their faces were long with long narrow noses over thin pale lips.

“Well, Bill, what have you got for me?” I asked.

“On my right is David and his brother is Steve. I found them in Erik’s room. I don’t know if they’d taken anything, but I have to assume they were up to no good.”

“I suppose we should take their actions as an example of their history of being incorrigible.”

‘We’re not incorrable,” Steve said. “It was David’s idea to go in that room.”

“Was not!” David said. “You the one who said there might be money in there.”

“But you were in another boy’s room,” I said. “If you’re going to be able to stay here, you will have to promise never to go into another boy’s room without his permission.”

“Is that all?” David asked. “I was ’specting you’d hit us. That’s what Ernie did ’fore he and Mommy die in that car assdent. Sure, I’ll proms not to go in ’nuther’s rum.”

“What grade are you in?” I asked.

“What’s that?” David asked.

“You know, David, that’s what parens say their kids are at in school,” Steve said. “Misser, we homeschooled ’cuz Mommy said ’blic schools din teach God stuff. Oh, yeah, I proms not to go in ’nuther’s room, too.”

“It ain’t are faulth we don’ speak good,” David said. “Neither Mommy or Ernie talk good either. You can’ hold than agin’ us.”

“Wow, Bill, you’re throwing fire at me this time,” I said.

“Sorry, I didn’t know they were this bad, but then I didn’t do all that much talking to them,” Bill said. “Just a minute, I need to check with someone.”

Bill walked out to the foyer, but I was uncomfortable being left alone with the boys. There was something about them that was unsettling and it didn’t have anything to do with their language; or, did it?

“Do you two like to read?” I asked.

“It ’pends on the subajeck,” David said. “Mommy dint let us read books not in our curree-uh-curr-uh, it’s a big word means books …”

“He means curriculumum,” Steve said. “It’s big word and David have ter’ble with big words. You be ’prised how many times Ernie beat David for not sayin’ big words right.”

I could see hours of instruction ahead until these boys were brought up to some semblance of grade level equivalence. There was a good chance the public school would simply give up on them until they reached the age when the schools could just send them on their own. Bill walked in and I couldn’t figure out the sour look on his face.

“Okay you two hellions, the jig is up,” Bill said. “It seems these two are a grade ahead down in Ithaca. They’re smart and can talk just like regular folk. Don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve whispered.

“David?” Bill said.

“Yes, sir,” David whispered.

“What grade are they in?” I asked.

“Fifth,” Bill said. “Isn’t that right, boys?”

“Yes, sir,” David and Steve whispered.

“Considering how they were raised, it’s surprising how they turned out so well,” Bill said. “Are you still willing to take them on?”

“I think I’m up to the challenge considering who’s already living in the house,” I said.

“Okay boys, go out and get your bags; it looks like you’re staying,” Bill said.

After the boys left, I said, “I’ll be retiring from teaching next month. I don’t expect Jerry to be going back to school with all his mental issues, but that’s up to him. With these two new boys, I now have four bedrooms available for new boys, but I’d appreciate it if we let these two settle in first.”

“Okay, no more emergency placements for a month or so,” Bill said.

“Unless, you have no other choice.”

“Thank you, I appreciate your honesty.”

“It’s the least I can do for a friend.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t seem to have very many friends.”

“No, for whatever reason I never cultivated any adult relationships after Tim died. Gay culture is so youth oriented as you get older it’s harder to find someone who you might feel is compatible in the long run. I mean who wants to get it on with a guy who is as old as your grandfather. So, you end up internalizing your sex life while hoping against all odds that you might come across a youthful gerontophile who sees something in you that you don’t realize.”

“I wonder what’s keeping those two,” Bill said as he stood up.

We walked out into the foyer and saw Jamie talking to the two younger boys as they walked toward the house. To say the least it was very encouraging that the older boy would take an interest in the other two. Possibly, this was going to work out.

“Where are they going?” Jamie asked when he reached the front door.

“On your floor in the back,” I said.

“Sure thing; come on guys I’ll show you where you’ll be living,” Jamie said.

“Jamie, what are you doing home so early?” I asked.

“Early release; I guess the teachers were going to have a meeting or something.”

“Where’s Billy?”

“Don’t know; not my day to watch him,” Jamie said with a smirk.

After the boys left, I walked out onto the porch with Bill. We said our goodbyes and he walked out to his car. Down at the corner I saw Billy walking slowly toward the house. The way he looked reminded me of myself at his age walking dejectedly and kicking a rock or can in front of me to get my mind off what was troubling me. Obviously lost in thought, he walked right by the steps up leading up from the sidewalk, but suddenly stopped, looked up, and turned around.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as he came up onto the porch.

“Oh, nothing,” he mumbled.

“Don’t give me that,” I said as I pulled him into a half hug. “Come on, tell me what’s troubling you.”

“A jock told me he knows where I live and he’s coming over this Saturday to rearrange my face,” he whispered. “What am I going to do?”

“What is his name?”

“I don’t know; I don’t know hardly anyone there except Jamie and Curt. What am I going to do?”

“Don’t worry; I know someone who can help. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen and I’ll fix you a snack.”

“That’s okay; I just had lunch,” he said as he disentangled himself from my embrace. He hurried to the stairs and practically ran up them.

I stood there for a moment and then looked up a number on my phone. When I found what I was looking for I sent it and waited while I listened to the rings. In a moment I heard, “Hello?”

“Gerry, is this Dr. Johnson.”

“Is there something wrong with Jerry?”

“No, he’s fine, considering, but I’m calling because I need your help.”

“What can I do for you?”

“One of the residents here was threatened by an upper classman who he described as a jock. He said this other boy was coming over to my house this Saturday and possibly get physical with him. I was wondering if you and some of your friends could come over to the house and intercede on this boy’s behalf.”

“Did he say who is was?”

“No, and the thing about it is the boy is rather slight of build, so practically any of the upper classmen could’ve threatened him. The perp might not even be a jock, if you know what I mean.”

“Okay, sir, I’m more than happy to help,” Gerry said. “What time do you think we should be over?”

“I don’t really know, early I guess,” I said.

“How about if we show up about eight?”

“I’ll fix breakfast for whoever shows up,” I said.

“I don’t want to put you to too much trouble,” Gerry said.

“Your presence should be all that we’ll need. I’ll look forward to your arrival at eight.”

“See you then, sir.”

“Thank you, Gerry.”

“No problem, sir, glad to be of help.”

* * * *

For the rest of the afternoon I kept to my study listening to Tony Bennett, Simon and Garfunkel, Billy Joel, and a smattering of The Traveling Wilburys while sitting in my wing chair and worrying about Jerry and Billy. Mostly, I was just vegetating. In other words, trying as best as I could not think about the problems of the house. I hoped the two new boys weren’t going to create a problem with the atmosphere of the house, but suspected they were simply acting out because they’d been getting away with a lot of shit in their previous living situation.

Then there was Jerry and his abrupt change in mental status with the seizure he had when confronted with David and Steve who, for some unknown reason, he seemed to have recognized. How that was possible was something I wasn’t ready to get into. It was probably best to let Dr. Avianca sort it out.

Finally, after nearly two hours of not getting any relief from the music, I went over to my computer and selected the jazz guitar playlist. It was a rather innocuous selection of songs by various artists from Wes Montgomery to Joe Pass with Django Reinhardt and Pat Metheny thrown in just to make it mentally soothing. Finally, I sank into the melodious strains of Charlie Haden and Pat Metheny interacting on their album “Beyond the Missouri Sky.” Unfortunately, at the moment when I should have achieved the penultimate point of jazz perfection Jamie walked into the study with Dave and Steve in tow. I looked up and saw Billy slowly slip into the room and sit down in his chair all the while trying to seem as unassuming as possible.

I looked up at Jamie and asked, “Well, what’s up?”

“What are we having for dinner?” Jamie said.

“Well, Jerry has gone back to the hospital so I’m going to need help with whatever we’re having,” I said.

“I can help,” Jamie said.

“How about Chinese Scrambled Hamburger, Wilted Swiss chard, and Long Grain Rice?” I said.

“I don’t like Chinese food,” David said.

“Have you ever had Chinese food?” I asked.

“No.”

“Then how do you know you don’t like it?”

“I just know.”

“I tell you what. How about you scramble the hamburger?”

“You’ll help me so I don’t get it wrong?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t let you fail on your first try,” I said with a smile.

David looked at me unsure he wanted to go through with this, but finally he smiled and said, “Okay, but I’m not saying I’m going to eat it when it’s done.”

“Fine, if you don’t want to eat the meal you can have something else, say, maybe a bowl of vegetable beef soup.”

“I don’t like that,” David said.

“Have you ever tried it?” I asked.

“No, but I know I don’t like it.”

“Well, it’s either the Chinese Scrambled Hamburger or vegetable beef soup for you,” I said. “Okay, who’s going to volunteer to wilt the Swiss chard?”

“I’ll do that,” Billy said. “I’ve had it, but never made it, so it should be a good lesson for me.”

“As it should,” I said. “Okay, David scrambles the hamburger and Billy wilts the Swiss chard. Who volunteers to do the rice; which shouldn’t take too much attention so whoever volunteers will set the table, too.”

“How about if me and Steve do the rice and the table,” Jamie said.

“Sounds like a deal,” I said. “Okay boys let’s go make dinner.”

In the kitchen, I gave David a large non-stick skillet and two pounds of frozen ground chuck. He looked at me questioningly and I took down a dinner plate from the cupboard.

“Unwrap the beef, put it on the plate, loosely cover it with a paper towel—it’s in the pantry—and put it in the microwave for six minutes at 50 percent power,” I said. “Got it?”

“Sure, I can do that,” he said.

“Okay, Billy, get a large iron skillet down from the rack,” I said. “Then get some bacon from the fridge. We don’t need a lot; probably just a third of the package. Using the wood cutting board and a chef’s knife, slice it up into half inch pieces and put that into the skillet on medium heat. Then get the Swiss chard from the vegetable drawer in the fridge and rinse it thoroughly. Use the salad spinner to dry it. When you’re done with that, let me know.

“Jamie, the rice is in the pantry. We’ll need enough for five servings. Just follow the directions on the box.”

“Where’s Jerry?” Jamie asked.

“He had to go back to the hospital.”

“Yeah, he really freaked out when he opened the front door,” Steve said. “He screamed and fell on the floor and started twitching like he was having a fit or something. He was really scary.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Jamie asked.

“We can only hope,” I said.

“That’s a shame considering what he been through,” Jamie said.

“Yes, he’s the albatross I’m forced to carry around my neck.”

“Samuel Coleridge, right?” David said.

“Yes, how do you know that?” I asked, surprised a boy his age would be aware of that old poem.

“The Rime of the Ancient Mariner was in a collection of poems Mommy had in the bookcase in the living room. It was real hard at first, but Daddy Earl helped me with the hard words. I know there are things going on in the poem that I probably won’t understand until I’m older, but I do remember the part about the albatross.”

“David, you’re a remarkable young boy and I think you’re going to work out okay in my home.”

“I didn’t like Daddy Earl,” Steve said. “He made me do things with him that were naughty. I told Mommy, but she hit me.”

“I told our teacher at school what Daddy Earl was doing to Steve,” David said, “and a lady and the police came to the house and she took us to another house where we had to live until Daddy Earl was put in prison.”

“Yeah, I had to go to the trial and answer questions about what Daddy Earl did with me,” Steve said. “When we moved back home, Mommy was living with Daddy Tom. I didn’t like him, either.”

“He hit us,” David said.

“Yeah, a lot,” Steve said.

“We told our teacher and we had to go live in another home until Mommy got rid of him,” David said. “When we finally came home she was living with Daddy Ernie. Mommy just couldn’t find a man who would love her children like she wished. Mommy wasn’t bad; she just needed a man who had a big dick. Unfortunately, most of those men don’t like kids like me and Dave; or, like Daddy Earl like us too much.”

I looked at these two twin brothers and tried to imagine how horrible their lives had been, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see these darlings being abused by the boyfriends of their mother. How could she be so unloving of these two darling boys. There must be something deficient in her mental makeup to willingly allow her boyfriends to abuse her children. I just couldn’t imagine how such a person was able to exist. I promised myself to do whatever I could to make their lives easier and more loving than what they had experienced when living with their mother.

“Sir? The microwave turned off,” David said.

“Okay, use a couple potholders and take the plate out,” I said. “Put it on the counter next to the wooden cutting board.”

“Sir? What do I get to do?” Steve asked.

“Well, let’s see, I said you could help Jamie with the rice and set the table, right?”

“But, he’s already doing the rice without me. What else can I do?”

“How about if you’re the chef who gets to put the dish together and put the meal on the table?”

“Oh, okay, I can do that,” Steve said suddenly showing pride that he was to play the most important role in this evening’s dinner.

“What do I do next?” David asked.

“Wash your hands and then put the hamburger on the cutting board and get two forks,” I said. “Use the forks to break up the hamburger into small pieces about two inches in size.”

“Like this?” David asked as he began to break up the hamburger. I could have told him to use his hands, but I was dealing with a nine-year-old and the risk of germs increased with the lessening of age. One swipe of a knuckle across a damp nose could ruin the whole meal.

“Yes, just like that. When you’re done get the biggest iron skillet from the rack; you can ask Billy or Jamie to help you.

“Okay, Steve, go into the fridge and get two stalks of celery and rinse them in the sink. Then go into the pantry and get a can of sliced mushrooms, a can of water chestnuts, a can of bamboo shoots, and a bag of fried chow mein noodles.”

“I don’t like mushrums,” David said.

“It’s pronounced mushr-OO-ms and you won’t notice them once all the ingredients are put together,” I said.

“I won’t eat this if there’s mushrums in it,” David said.

“Well, then you’ll end up going to bed without dinner,” I said.

“That’s mean,” David said. “I’ll tell Mr. Bill you’re mean to me.”

“Look, David, you’ll never know what you don’t like unless you at least try it,” I said. “Have you ever eaten mushrooms?”

“No because I don’t like them.”

“If you’ve never eaten mushrooms, then how do you know you don’t like them?”

“I just do because they’re grown in horse shit. I don’t want to eat any kind of horse shit.”

“How do you know they’re grown in horse manure?”

“We went on a school trip to a mushrum farm and they told us mushrums eat horse shit.”

“Did they tell you the horse manure had been composted and the mushrooms didn’t transfer any dangerous bacteria that might make you sick?”

“Yeah they did, but David refused to believe them,” Steve said.

“Uh, huh, typical hardheadedness of an inexperienced little boy who refuses to look out of his miniscule worldview,” I said. “I have to feed you something, it’s in the rules. So, what will you eat?”

“Peanut butter and jam,” David said.

“Any kind of jam or are you particular there, too?” I asked.

“What do you mean? All jams are the same.”

“Hate to spoil your view of jams, but there is a large variety of jams staring with strawberry and going to gooseberry. Have you ever had gooseberry jam?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know you’ll like eating a peanut butter and gooseberry jam sandwich?”

“I don’t know; maybe I just will.”

“Look, David, I’m not willing to giving up on you eating scrambled hamburger the way I make it,” I said. “So, how about we go forward on the assumption that you’ll at least try it and possibly like it. If, on the other hand, you find out you don’t like one of my favorite dishes, I’ll personally make you a peanut butter and jam sandwich. Of course, since you didn’t eat the meal that was prepared for everybody else you’ll forego having dessert tonight and any subsequent nights that you do not eat what’s put on the table. Sound fair enough?”

He stood there staring at me with the defiance only a little boy can muster. Did I see a little extra moisture in one eye? No, he wasn’t about to start crying. I’d given him a choice and it was up to him to decide his future. He was at that proverbial fork in the road.

“Okay, but I know I’m not going to like it,” David said.

“Atta boy, you won’t regret your decision,” I said.

“I’m done with the Swiss chard,” Billy said.

“Okay, go in the pantry and get a small white onion and a medium sized one, too; bring them out here and I’ll show you how to chop yours and Steve’s,” I said.

“Jamie, can you get me the big skillet?” David asked.

“Sure thing, kid,” Jamie said.

“Are these white onions?” Billy asked.

“No, those are yellow onions. The bins are marked as to what onion is in them.”

“Could you show me?”

“Okay.”

I followed Billy into the pantry, which was about the size of a big walk-in closet. He stopped in front of the onion bins—which were over the potato bins—and tossed the yellow onions back into their bin. He turned to me and whispered, “With Jerry not here, can I sleep with you tonight?”

“No!”

“Be quiet! I don’t want the other boys to hear us. Why can’t I?”

“Because you’re way too young to be in my bed.”

“What if I tell my social worker you sleep with Jerry?”

“Then, in all likelihood, you and all the other boys will be sent to other facilities. Do you want to ruin their lives, too?”

“No, but I want someone to be close to hold. We don’t have to have sex. I just need …”

“Unfortunately, Billy, you can’t have me. You’ll find someone. Have you been attending the GSA meetings?”

“Yeah, but all the boys are older, except for, well, Per, but he’s all emo and a fem and, besides, he wears skinny jeans like he’s advertising what he’s got. I don’t like that.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“Yeah, but he’s so faggy. He talks like he’s from Quebec with a fake French accent, but I know he’s not.”

“Why don’t you invite him over for dinner some Saturday?”

“Do I have to?”

“If he’s the only boy your age who’s out, I think you should make an effort to get to know him. What is the color of his eyes?”

“Green; why?”

“See, you’re already seeing yourself getting up close and personal with him. How about you invite him over this Saturday? We’ll fry up some chicken, fix mashed potatoes with country gravy, green beans, and I’ll bake a couple pies.”

Billy stared at me with the strangest expression and said, “You mean this weekend when I get beat up?”

“You’re not going to get beaten up,” I said as I put my hand on his shoulder. “I told you we have friends and they’ll be over Saturday morning to confront this bully.”

“I wish I could believe you,” he said as he looked down at the floor.

“Come on, get your white onions and let’s get out of here,” I said as I turned him around to face the onion bins.

When we got back into the kitchen David looked up from the skillet with the ground beef and said, “I think this is almost done.”

“Jamie, come over here and get an onion,” I said. “Billy, give him the larger one. I’ll teach both of you how to chop onions.”

“What should I do with this hamburger?” David asked.

“Turn down the heat to warm and keep stirring it. Come on, boys, let’s chop some onions; Steve, you can watch, if you want.”

“Why can’t I watch, too?” David asked.

“Because you’re responsible for the hamburger, the most important part of dinner. If you let the hamburger get burned, it will ruin the whole meal.”

“I never get to do anything,” David moaned.

“That’s okay, little brother; I’ll watch the hamburger and you watch them chop onions,” Steve said.

“Fuck you!” David yelled.

“David! No swearing in my home,” I yelled.

“I’ll say whatever the fuck I want and there’s fucking nothing you can do about it. I’m going to my fucking room.”

With that he stomped out of the kitchen. All of us heard him stomping as loud as he could up the stairs and into his room. The bang of his door being slammed shut resounded throughout the house.

“Okay, Steve, what’s this ‘little brother’ stuff?” I asked.

“I was born first,” he said. “It really pisses him off when I reminded him of that.”

“Can we get to the onions?” Billy asked. “Plus, we have to chop Steve’s celery.”

“You watch the hamburger,” I said to Steve pushing him over to the range and handing him the large offset spatula. “Just push it around to keep it moving over the heat.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Don’t worry about it.”

The rest of the preparation went rather smoothly. I taught Jamie and Billy how to chop the onions and Jamie how to chop the celery. Billy fried the bacon and added the chopped onion after the bacon had rendered its fat. Meanwhile, Steve added the chopped onion to the hamburger. Jamie drained the canned sliced mushrooms, the sliced water chestnuts, and the sliced bamboo shoots. I had Steve add about a tablespoon and a half of fish sauce to the hamburger. Then I had him add a couple squirts of Worcestershire sauce. Finally, I had Jamie break three eggs in a bowl and after searching through the eggs for bits of shell, I had him open space in the hamburger Steve was watching.

At some point in time, unbeknownst to all of us David had come downstairs and quietly slipped into the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed him over by the cabinets and went over to him.

“Would you like to set the table?” I asked.

“Can I?” he asked.

“We’ll need a dinner plate, fork, knife, and spoon at each place setting,” I said. “Do you know how to do that?”

“No,” he whispered.

“Jamie, when you’ve finished with Steve, will you help David set the table?” I asked.

“Sure thing, Geoff.”

“David, the dinner plates are in the cabinet by the kitchen dinette,” I said. “If you can be careful, go ahead and take down five dinner plates and put them on the dinette table.”

“Okay.”

I went back to the range and perused the situation. Steve had added the nushrooms, water chestnuts, and bamboo shoots so the scrambled hamburger was almost ready to be served, but the wilted Swiss chard had one step to go.

“Billy, get the tongs out of one of the kitchen tools drawer and bring it over here to the range,” I said. “After you’re through with that get the Swiss chard and bring it over, too. Time to wilt your chard.”

I got a teaspoon out of a drawer and sampled the scrambled hamburger; it was a little bland.

“Steve, get a teaspoon out of the drawer and sample your dish like I did,” I said.

After he’d done that, I asked, “How does it taste?”

“It’s missing something,” he said.

“Go to the spice rack and bring the five-spice powder over here,” I said. After he came back, I told him to add just a couple pinches and then said, “Take the salt shaker and add a little salt to the dish, too, not too much now; there that should do it. Now, take the pepper grinder—it’s that tall thing there—turn it over the hamburger to add a little pepper. Stir the dish—that should do it—and give it another taste. How’s that?”

“It tastes good.”

“Okay, turn the heat off and we’ll wait for the wilted chard, which shouldn’t take but a minute. Billy, put all the chard in the skillet and using the tongs start mixing it up. You want to heat the chard thoroughly, but not let it get so hot that it burns.”

I stood there watching the boys go about finishing the preparations of the evening meal and strangely began to think back to the way things were not so many years earlier when I had a young underclassman preparing our meal all the while in anticipation of a night filled with all sorts of gay sex acts that only now could I see weren’t morally right and in a few cases resulted in young men who couldn’t handle the prospect of a future where they might be expected to perform unspeakable sex acts to achieve futures they desired. What kind of fiend was I? And, was there any redemption for me before I stood before Saint Peter and watched his hand move from the latch to the pearly gates until his forefinger pointed down at that eternally dark hole smelling of brimstone.

“Sir? Sir? What do I do now?” I heard Billy asked, shaking me out of my awful reverie.

“Oh, yes, turn off the heat and, oh, we don’t have a serving dish; Jamie, please get serving dishes for the hamburger and the wilted chard,” I said. I watched as Jamie, Steve, and Billy got the serving dishes sorted out and put on the tabled. “Okay, boys, let sit down and enjoy our meal.”

“We have to say grace,” David said.

“Okay, everyone clasp your hands, shut your eyes, and bow your heads,” I said. “David, it’s your show.”

I knew he and his brother crossed themselves and then in unison said, “Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen,” followed by another cross. In many ways, I envied them and their devotion. Then I wondered if there was a local Catholic school they should go to in the morning.

“Okay, boys, place a serving spoonful of rice on your plate and put a spoonful of the scrambled hamburger on the rice,” I said. “Then put a handful of chow mein noodles on top of the hamburger. There should be enough wilted chard for everyone if no one takes too much.”

The meal went rather well with the two older boys helping the younger ones without making too much of their age difference. I watched with pride as Jamie got David to try a piece of a mushroom amongst a lot of hamburger. At the end, the dishes were cleared and chocolate mint ice cream and bowls were brought out for dessert. Jamie was given the honor of serving. All the while I watched them wondering how it was the three goddesses decided that I should be given the task of caring for young boys in need considering my past.

* * * *

It had been quite a remarkable day. Jerry had seen two boys from the hallucinations he had been having at the hospital show up at the front door of the house and went into convulsions because of the shock. The two boys turned out to be twins who had been taken from their home and brought to my house because Bill Daniels thought they would do better in a placement that might turn out to be permanent. The twins turned out to be quite a bundle of trouble until Jamie came home from school and took charge over them.

Billy came home with the threat that some bully was going to come over to the house on Saturday to physically attack him. I contacted one of Jerry’s friends and he agreed to come over to the house with a few of his friends to confront the threat. Then during the preparation of dinner Billy and I ended up in the pantry alone and he propositioned me. Even though he threatened me with a false accusation, I told him nothing was going to occur.

After dinner when Jamie and Billy did their homework, I brought the twins into my study and gave them some nonfiction books with lots of pictures to keep them busy while I went online and ordered some fiction works suitable to their age group. When Jamie and Billy came into the room in their boxers and t-shirts and with their novels, the twins stared at me as if questioning what this was about. I explained it was now the reading hour for the older boys, but it was bed time for them.

They were obviously quite sleepy and there was no defiance to my decision. I took them up to their rooms, but they asked to sleep in the same bed. Knowing they would do what they wanted if I said ‘no’ and then left, I let them do as they wished. I told them to take showers, brush their teeth, and get right to bed. I said I would check on them later. They seemed satisfied I was taking an interest in them.

Finally, after two glasses of a fine Islay single malt I told Billy and Jamie it was time for bed. On the way to my own place of slumber, I stopped off at David’s room and looked in. He was lying there softly snoring with Steve tightly snuggled against his side. I hoped they would have peaceful dreams. I went up to my own room, undressed, and took a quick shower in hot water. I crawled into bed expecting a full night’s sleep.

Unfortunately, sometime in the middle of the night I was awakened by the sensation that someone was in my bed.

“Billy! You can’t sleep with me,” I said perhaps too loud. I turned on the nightstand lamp, but I was alone.

I lay there staring at the ceiling and then I felt it, the obvious moisture of a wet dream. My mind raced through whatever previous memories were available, but nowhere was there an image of Billy’s imagined naked body. I got up and went into the bathroom where I cleaned the emission from my groin and finally went back into the bedroom. I got some new pajama bottoms and went back to bed—checking just to make sure there was no semen on the bed—and lay down wondering what was wrong with me. How could I have a wet dream of performing some sort of sex act with Billy? I thought that maybe I should go see a psychologist, but then rejected that idea knowing that whoever I saw was obligated to report me as a possible child molester all the while being a foster parent to boys. Not only would I be ruined, but my five charges would be dispersed among the various foster establishments around upstate New York.

I lay back on my pillow and for the first time in a long time prayed to whomever I thought was my god to have mercy on me and the boys in my care.