A Love Story - 5. Chapter 5 - A New Life

Three weeks later, Benny rode in the red Camaro as it drove through Manhattan traffic. Occasionally, he’d look over at the driver and ask, “Are you really my foster father?”

“Yes, Benny, I am.”

“What’s your name, again? I think I might have asked you before, but I can’t remember.”

“My name is Ernie.”

“Ernie, yes, and your wife’s name is Alisha and you call your mother Mam and you have a son named Gerald and a daughter, but I can’t remember her name. You do have a daughter, right?”

“Yes, and her name is Dorie.”

“I think someone might’ve said her name was Doreen Lizabeth. Who would say such a thing?”

“That’d be my mother.”

“Mam, yes, I think I remember her. She has a restaurant near your home?”

“Well, it’s actually my restaurant, but she helps out there on occasion.”

“And, I’m supposed to work there, too, right?”

“That’s according to the plan.”

“Who made up the plan?”

“Your social worker and myself.”

“My social worker; have I ever met her?”

“I don’t think you have.”

“Should I?”

“Well, she isn’t just your social worker, she has a lot of clients.”

“What’s a client?”

“As far as your social worker is concerned, you and all the children she is responsible for are her clients.”

“Oh, I’m one of her clients, right?”

“Yes, Benny, that’s exactly right.”

“And, your name is, is, umm, Er something. Don’t tell, I want to work this out for myself. My foster father’s name is Ernie and he lives in a townhouse in Park Slope, Brooklyn, New York, which is actually part of New York City. So, let me think about this. My foster father is Ernie and he drives a red Camaro and I am now riding in a red Camaro that is being driven by you and your name must be Ernie. Oh, if your name is Ernie and my foster father is name Ernie; are you my foster father Ernie or are you a friend of his who is named Ernie?”

“I’m your foster father and my name is Ernie and I drive a red Camaro and I live in a townhouse in Park Slope, Brooklyn, New York, with my mother, wife, son, daughter, and foster son who is you.”

“And, you call your mother Ma’am, yes?”

“Well, actually my mother’s nickname is Mam, spelled M-A-M. You might be confusing that with the woman’s title M-A-apostrophe-A-M.”

“What’s an apostrophe?”

“Can this wait? It might be better if I show you on paper.”

“Oh, okay, I guess,” Benny said. “What’s that bridge over there?”

“That’s the Brooklyn Bridge.”

“What’s this one called?”

“This is the Manhattan Bridge.”

“I was in Manhattan when I was in the hospital, right?”

“Yes, you were.”

“This bridge goes to Manhattan, but we’re going to Brooklyn, right?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s a bit confusing.”

“You’d think we’d go to Brooklyn on the Brooklyn Bridge, right?”

“I guess that’s logical, but both bridges have traffic going in opposite directions.”

“So, we could go to Manhattan on the Brooklyn Bridge?”

“Yes, in fact, that’s the bridge I usually use.”

“Why didn’t you use it today?”

“Well, you see that thing on the dashboard?”

“Yes; what is it?”

“It’s a Garmin™ and it tells me where to go.”

“But, what if you wanted to go a different way? Will it let you do that?”

“If I don’t want to use it, I just don’t turn it on.”

“Then how will know where to go?”

“It’s just a matter of memory. Usually when I go to Manhattan, I’m going to see my stockbroker, lawyer, or visit the Coach at his apartment in the Village.”

“Who’s the Coach?”

“He was a pro football coach who made enough money to live comfortably after he retired.”

“In an apartment in the Village? Where’s that?”

“I tell you what. One day I’ll take you when I go visit the Coach.”

“Is he like Erik?”

“In what way do mean?”

“Well, Erik lives in an apartment on Fifth Avenue in the Upper East Side. He said it cost him over four million dollars because it has separate quarters for his housekeeper and cook.”

“Yes, but he has a view of Central Park, too.”

“But, he can’t see it. That’s what I can’t understand. Why did he move there?”

“I suppose you’ll just have to ask him.”

“I did and he said his attorney bought it for him because it was across the street from the park.”

“Well, I guess you’re just going to have to go visit him and take him to the park.”

“Do you think I can do that?”

“I tell you what, until you’re more familiar with getting around this big city, I’ll hire you a cab to take you over and pick you up to come back.”

“You can do that?”

“For you, I’d hire a horse drawn carriage, if that was possible.”

“That’s silly; you can’t hire a horse drawn carriage in the city.”

“You can in Central Park.”

“I can?”

“Certainly, I bet Erik would like it, too.”

“He’s gay.”

“He told you?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“What if he tries to kiss me or do something else?”

“I’m positive he will never do anything to you that you do not want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Benny, gays do not go around trying to do things with straight guys.”

“Am I straight?”

“It means you’re heterosexual.”

“Heterosexual is what?”

“You want to date girls.”

“I do?”

“Don’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, maybe, you’ll figure it out someday.”

Benny thought about that as the car worked its way up Flatbush Avenue. Something somewhere in his mind said he’d been this way before, but he couldn’t pin it down and decided that, maybe, it had been only in his imagination, which he’d finally come to accept since his psychiatrist had explained to him that the imagination was the part of the mind that was able to conceptualize images or ideas from conscious input from visual or auditory perceptions hitherto not experienced by the mind. He still hadn’t quite understood all of that in his mind, but accepted the process simply on the authority of his psychiatrist, whatever her name was. He knew she was a woman because she wore a dress, had the indication of breasts by the mass of flesh under her blouses and jackets in the vicinity of where you would expect breasts to be. Also, she had hair that was pulled back into a bun; although, when he was in the hospital he had seen other people who had their hair in buns, but some of them were masculine in appearance and, therefore, couldn’t be women or so he thought.

The car turned off Flatbush and headed down Seventh Avenue. For some reason Benny couldn’t understand, the route seemed familiar as if he had been this way before, which was possible because his psychiatrist had told him he had been in Brooklyn before he came to Bellevue Hospital that day that boy named Troy had acted out in front of his foster father whose name was Ernie.

He looked over at the driver and asked, “Are you my foster father?”

“Yes, I am.”

“And, your name is Ernie, right?”

“Yes.”

“I hope I get this straight one of these days.”

“Benny, take your time. I understand the problems you’re having with your mind.”

“When is it going to be Saturday?”

“Let’s see, today is Wednesday, so it’ll be Saturday in three days. Why do you want to know?”

“I’d like to go see Erik if it’s okay.”

“Well, Saturday is generally our busiest day at the restaurant and I’d appreciate it if you could be down there learning your way around the place.”

“Then when can I go see Erik?”

“How about Sunday?”

“When is that?”

“Sunday is the day after Saturday.”

“How many days is that from now?”

“Well, Saturday is in three days, so Sunday will be in four days from now.”

“Do we go to church on Sunday?”

“Mam, Alisha, Gerry, and Dorie, usually go to church on Sunday mornings and the restaurant opens at three in the afternoon. I suppose you can go to church with them if you want.”

“I’d like that, but when can I go visit Erik?”

“How about after church on Sunday?”

“Will I have to come home for dinner?”

“No, you can have dinner with Erik if you want.”

“Yeah, maybe we could go out to a restaurant.”

“That’ll have to be up to Erik, won’t it?”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Maybe, he’ll want to eat at home. I’ll have to discuss that with him. Can I ask you about school?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Well, I know I’m seeing Miss Sylvia and Mr. Thompson, but am I going to go to a real school sometime?”

“Well, that depends on your progress at home. If you eventually reach a point where you are at an equivalent grade level and your psychiatrist agrees, we might consider moving you to a public school. Well, here we are.”

The Camaro pulled into its spot in front of the townhouse and Ernie got out and came around to open the door for Benny. The boy got out of the car and stood on the sidewalk looking up at the townhouse. He turned to Ernie and asked, “Do you think some day I might be able to have a model train layout?”

“Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know, it just seemed to come out of my mind. By the way, what is a model train layout?”

“Well if you want one,” Ernie said, “I’m going to leave it to you to figure out what it is.”

“Okay, but how am I going to find out?”

“You have your smartphone and you have a computer in your bedroom, so I suppose you could use either of those two to find out.”

“I have a computer in my bedroom? Where did I get it; I don’t have any money.”

“I bought it for you.”

“Oh, okay, thank you, I guess.”

“That’s okay, Benny, I know it’s hard for you to express your emotions.”

“Emotions, I wonder what those are? I suppose I should use my computer to find out, right?”

“Yes, Benny, that’s a good idea. Come on, let’s go inside.”

Benny followed along wondering what he was going to do about clothes. For some reason, he no longer had his backpack, where all the clothes he had were kept. Now, he was at a loss as to what he was going to wear tomorrow. He followed the driver of the Camaro who might be his foster father up the steps and into the townhouse where he was supposed to live until he went to college or some other goal after he graduated from high school, whatever that was. Once inside, after the man closed the door, Benny stood looking around not too certain where he was supposed to go. He saw a woman come into the foyer and stand next to the man.

“So, we’re going to try dealing with this boy once again,” the woman said.

“Yes, Mam, that’s the plan,” the man said. “Benny say hello to Mam.”

“Hi,” Benny said.

“Is that all you can say to me?” the woman asked.

“Who are you?” Benny asked. “Am I supposed to know you?”

“Ern, what’s going on?” the woman asked.

“Like I told you, Benny has lost most of his past memory and has a limited ability to gain new memories.”

“Meaning?”

“It will take him a long time to get to know you and the rest of the members of the family and even then, he might not recognize you if you wear a different outfit or comb your hair a different way.”

“What I want to know is why are you trying to help this boy when they could’ve put him any number of foster group homes in the city?”

“I think it’s because I made a commitment to him the first day I met him. He doesn’t have anyone in the world other than his relations in Mississippi.”

“Why don’t they send him down there?”

“They don’t want him, that’s why.”

All the while Benny stood there listening to this conversation wondering if they were talking about him or some other boy who might be in the house. Then, unexpectedly, the door opened and the boy named Gerald walked in. Benny turned to him and said, “Hi, Gerald, did you have a good day at school?”

Gerald quizzically looked at Benny and said, “Yeah, I did. Are you going to live with us now?”

“That’s the plan, I guess. Are you going up to your room now?”

“Yeah, sure. You want to come up with me and see your bedroom. We’ve made some changes to it.”

“Okay,” Benny said. “Sir, Ma’am, I’m going upstairs with Gerald. If you need me, I’ll be up there.

“Okay, Benny, go on,” Ernie said.

As Benny followed Gerald out of the foyer and up the stairs, he heard the older woman say, “He knew Gerald; how did he do that?”

“Don’t ask me,” Ernie said. “That’s what his psychiatrist said. There are some memories that stayed and some that went away.”

“I think I’m going to need to go to a psychiatrist myself,” Mam said, “if I have to deal with this boy on a daily basis.”

“Now, Mam, it’s not that bad. Besides, he wants to go to church with you and Alisha.”

“He remembers going to church?”

“Strange as it may be, that boy is a Christian.”

“Praise God, that boy does have hope.”

* * *

Upstairs the boys walked down the hall to their bedrooms. Gerald said, “Just a minute, let me put my things in my room and I’ll show you what we’ve done to your room.”

Benny watched the other boy go into his room and not thinking it might be inappropriate to do it he followed Gerald into the bedroom. The posters on the walls immediately caught his attention and he went up to one that showed two young adults or older teenagers in an embrace. One of the boys didn’t have a shirt on and the other boy was holding his head as they embraced.

“Hey! I didn’t say you could come in here,” Gerald said.

“These posters all show guys touching, kissing, and some of them don’t have all their clothes on. What does this mean?”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Well, I suppose I might as well tell you; I’m gay.”

“My friend said he is gay. Do you know him?”

“No; should I?”

“Don’t all you gay guys hang out at the same places?” Benny asked as he sat down on the bed.

“Where does your friend live?”

“Over on Fifth Avenue across from Central Park. He’s blind so he can’t see it.”

“I’ve never been over there exactly, but next fall when I start at Julliard, I suppose I’ll be in the neighborhood.”

“What’s Julliard?”

“It’s a school for the performing arts.”

“Don’t you play the clarinet?”

“Yes, that’s right. I’m surprised you remembered that.”

“I’m surprised, too.”

“Do you have a lot of trouble with your memory?”

“Yes, since I had my stroke.”

“When you were here before, you were some other boy and then you came back,” Gerald said. “Is that going to occur, again?”

“My psychiatrist, I think her name is, umm, Dr. Goldmeier, says that’s unlikely to happen because my stroke seemed to have erased quite a lot of memories and the portion of my brain where multiple personalities are generated,” Benny said. “She said that my mind is basically a clean slate, but there are memories that leak through, like your name is Gerald and you play the clarinet.”

“But, the memories of you having a split personality are gone?”

“Yeah, and she doesn’t understand that, nor do other doctors who she’s consulted. According to them I should still be plagued by Dissociative Identity Disorder, but I’m not; at least, as Dr. Goldmeier and those other doctors have determined. They did PET scans of my brain when I was suffering from DID and they’ve done new ones since I suffered my stroke and for some reason they don’t understand my brain patterns are different. The experts aren’t willing to admit that I’ve been cured, but, so far, the evidence shows that I have been cured. I guess I’m a bit of an oddity.”

“Well, I hope you’ll be okay from now on,” Gerald said as sat down next to Benny and laid back across the bed.

Benny looked at him and followed suit. He looked over at Gerald and asked, “So, what do gay guys do when they’re together? Do you have sex?”

“Well, Tommy, that’s my boyfriend, and I haven’t had anything close to actual sex, but I don’t know about other guys.”

“What kinds of sex should I expect Erik to want me to do with him?”

“Are you gay?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Then I wouldn’t expect Erik to do anything with you if you’re not gay. You have to understand that gays don’t go around trying to seduce straight kids just because they’re cute. Not all cute boys are gay, darn it.”

“Am I cute?”

“To me?” Gerald said. “Well, you’re a bit too young, but you have a nice body and a face that is attractive. But, since I don’t know if you’re gay, I’m not going to make any moves on you, mostly because I have a boyfriend and I don’t want to lose his trust in me by trying to get it on with you.”

“But, you think I’m cute,” Benny said.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Unexpectedly, there was a knock at the door and Gerald got up to answer it. When he opened the door, he saw a graying, portly middle-aged man standing in the hall.

“Yes?” Gerald asked.

“I’m Benny Hensley’s general education tutor, is he here?” the man asked.

“Yes; Benny your tutor is here,” Gerald said.

“Okay,” Benny said as he got to his feet and went to the door. “Oh, hi, Mr. Thompson. Is it time for my lesson?”

“Yes, it is; shall we do it in your room?”

“Sure; Gerald, I guess I’ll see you when I’m done with my afternoon lessons,” Benny said. He walked into the hallway and opened his bedroom door. “Come along, Mr. Thompson, you can instruct me in my bedroom.”

* * *

Benny sat at his desk and waited for Mr. Thompson to start the day’s lesson. He looked at the screen of his new computer, but it was blank. In fact, it wasn’t even turned on. Benny looked down at the keyboard and as his eyes scanned the letters occasionally his eyes glanced at the other keys causing him to wonder what they were and what he was supposed to do with them.

“Now, sign onto the high school studies application on your computer,” Mr. Thompson said.

“How do I do that?” Benny asked.

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“I see; okay, turn on the computer.”

“How do I do that?”

“Let’s see,” Mr. Thompson said as he looked over Benny’s shoulder and saw the “I/O” switch. “Here, this is the button you push to turn on your computer. Go ahead and push it.”

Benny looked at the button and after a moment of absent contemplation, he pushed it. Images on the screen went through a series of extreme abstractions until the computer asked, “What is your user ID?”

“What is my user ID?” Benny asked.

“Whatever you want it to be,” Mr. Thompson. “I suggest you use your name and the initial of your last name.”

“What is that?”

“Type b-e-n-n-y-h.”

Benny looked at the keyboard and eventually found the required letters and typed them as instructed; and, then the computer asked him to enter it again, which he did. Then the computer asked him to enter a password. Benny looked up at Mr. Thompson and asked, “What do I do now?”

“I suggest you enter a series of characters that you will remember every time the computer asks for your password.”

“Like what?” Benny asked.

“What is your birthday?”

“May 16, 2000, I think.”

“Okay, I suggest you enter 05M16D00Yr!.”

It took Benny a while to find those character and then he entered them as Mr. Thompson said. Then the computer asked him to enter it again. After doing so, the computer asked him to enter his email address.

“What do I do now,” Benny asked.

“Do you have an email address?” Mr. Thompson asked.

“Not that I know of.”

“Then press the enter key.”

The computer asked him to enter a preferred email server, e.g., Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo, etc.

“What do I do now?” Benny asked.

“I suggest you enter Gmail.”

Benny did as instructed and the computer asked for his email address.

“Now what?”

“I suggest you type in your last name and the last two numbers of your birthdate.”

“What would that be?”

“Type Hensley00.”

Benny did as instructed, but the computer responded that that User ID was already taken.

“Now, what?”

“Type Hensley51600.”

Benny did as instructed and after a few moments the computer said, “Email address established on Gmail.” Then a screen came up that said, “Welcome BennyH, proceed to setup of utilities and apps.”

“What do I do now?” Benny asked.

“Get a piece of paper and write down your user ID and your email address.”

“What is my user ID?”

“It is BennyH.”

Benny wrote it down and asked, “Now, what is my email address?”

“It is Hensley51600@gmail.com.”

Benny wrote it down and asked, “What do I do now?”

“Press the enter key and follow along with the screens.”

After almost an hour the computer screen came back to the beginning and showed, “BennyH:”

“What do I do now?” Benny asked.

“Type in this,” Mr. Thompson said as he showed a piece of paper to Benny.

The boy typed in the characters and the computer asked him to enter his name, address, social security number, and his instructor’s user ID. Benny did this and the screen changed to: “Welcome to the Universal Zodiac Online School/please enter your user ID.”

“What do I do now?” Benny asked.

“I would suggest using your system ID,” Mr. Thompson said.

“The one I use to sign on, right?”

“Yes.”

Benny entered that and a graphic of spinning short lines appeared on the screen. After a few moments, the screen said, “User ID accepted … Welcome Troy, your first lesson of the day is American History, Module 7, Section 3. Please acknowledge …”

“I wish I could use my middle name,” Benny said. “I don’t like being called Troy.”

“Well, son, all I can say is sometimes you don’t get the way you want,” Mr. Thompson said. “Go ahead and hit the “Enter” key.”

Benny did as he was told and the lesson came up on the screen.

“Do you have paper and a pencil to take notes?” Mr. Thompson said.

“I don’t know; wait, here’s some in the desk drawer. Okay, I’m ready to go.”

Benny watched and listened as a series of pictures filled the screen with commentary by a soft female voice. He looked over at Mr. Thompson and said, “This is really interesting. Can I go on?”

“You can go as far as the unit lesson, but, as before, I recommend you take notes.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Benny said. “That’s why I have this paper and pencil. I think I’m going to like learning with you, Mr. Thompson.”

“That’s why I’m here, son.”

Benny went back to the computer and scrolled through the screens all the while writing down what he was seeing. This kind of school was far better than anything he could imagine. Unfortunately, he was four years behind his grade level and he had a lot of work ahead to catch up.