Chapter 2: New Home

As they say, timing is everything. Had I arrived home thirty minutes later that day in 1985 there would be no story to tell. I would probably be a high school dropout with first hand knowledge of the sounds and smells inside a jail cell. I can picture myself unemployed, having held a variety of jobs and having tried being a thief, marriage, and an experienced failure. Because that was the road I was traveling down.

I've been taught to look upon luck as something you make for yourself, not to depend upon someone else to push the domino for you.

Something drove me home early that day. It would be over a year before I would learn there was a fourth domino, not Becky's breasts, not Freddy's insistence that she remove her top, and not Sid's inviting her to go swimming with us in farmer Daniel Olsen's pond.

For the next two days the memory of Becky's bare breasts was uppermost in my mind. They were all I wanted to think about. I blocked everything else, blaming Becky's tits for my bad luck. I woke up sometime in the first night, smelled the clean pillowcase and let a snapshot of the frightened girl develop in my mind, her soft nipple grazing my back as she sought refuge from Freddy's pursuit. A kid was crying and a lady came into the room to quiet him before kneeling beside the bed where I was sleeping. "You were having a nightmare. Everything is all right. Go back to sleep," she said to me, covering my shoulders with the sheet.

The lady gave me a toothbrush, telling me for the third time that she was my foster mother and I would be safe here. Breakfast was cereal and milk with four little kids around the table, all vying for attention. One of Becky's tits peaked out from the bottom of the bowl, briefly. I tried to spear it with my spoon, blaming it for the mess I was in.

When Miss Baker came to see me, the foster lady ushered the young kids out of the kitchen. I recognized her from my seventh grade when the teacher reported a bruise on my neck. This time was different because my mom wasn't there to make up some story for me about how clumsy I was like when she came to our house. With just the two of us at the kitchen table I was reluctant to talk since I hadn't been told what to say.

To my surprise, Miss Baker didn't ask what had happened. When her hand reached out, I ducked. As she smiled I realized she wanted to pat my head so I let her touch me. She brushed the hair out of my eyes with one swipe of her hand, smiled at me.

"How are you?" The emphasis was on 'you, ' like she was really interested. I guess I smiled back at her.

"Can I go home now?"

"That's not for me to determine, Sammy. I'm here to find out if you are all right. The sheriff has already filed his report. A doctor will pay you a visit later today and tomorrow we will meet with Judge Slocum. Your future is up to the court, but this is my promise to you Sammy. By tomorrow at three P.M. you will have the court's decision."

Miss Baker stood up and I did too. We were about the same height. She smiled, and smoothed my hair again. I hated the bitch. What right did she have to talk about my future like that? All I wanted was to know when I could go home, and all she could talk about was some fucking court.

The doctor showed up that afternoon, but when he didn't take my pulse or listen to my heart I became suspicious. All he wanted to do was get me to talk about myself. What the hell kind of doctor was this?

"Do you like school?"

"No. Not for the most part I don't."

"Which classes do you like best?"

"Arithmetic."

"Why?"

"Because I understand it."

"Have you ever cheated on tests?"

"Yes. But not arithmetic."

"What do you like to do?"

"Hang out with my friends."

"Why?"

"They're cool."

"Do you think you have a temper?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Maybe I do, sometimes."

"Who is your best friend?"

"Sid."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe he asks me what I think about things."

"Who is your worst enemy?

"My mother's boyfriends."

"Why?"

"Because they treat me like shit."

"I want you to close your eyes for a moment. Picture yourself ten years from now when you will be twenty-four years old. Your life is perfect. You have everything you want."

I burst into laughter. Was he crazy? "My life is perfect?" I said surprised, questioning.

"Please Sammy, close your eyes and think about this for a minute. Your life is perfect. Tell me what you see."

"Can I open my eyes?" It seemed stupid for him to ask what I saw if I didn't open my eyes.

"Keep your eyes closed please. Tell me what you see in your mind."

"First off I see a big car, no, a foreign sports car, a convertible and a girl, a beautiful blonde with nice boobs."

"What about a house? Describe where you live?"

"Me and the blonde live in a penthouse with lots of windows. The rooms are huge. The blonde walks around without her top on and there's always a helicopter flying around, loaded with guys wanting to see her boobs."

"It sounds like you've become rich at a very young age. How did you achieve this wealth?"

"I must have stolen it." I laughed.

"Your dream to become wealthy is not unrealistic. Do you see a college education in your future?"

"Hell no, I hate school." I listened closely but there was no audible reaction from the doctor.

"Please think about this before answering one last question Sam, and then you may open your eyes. You seem to have a fascination with blondes, boobs, sports cars and exhibition. Is that a fair observation and if so, what do you think makes you hold these objects in such high regard and what do you think makes you want to display your many possessions to others?"

I opened my eyes and laughed in the doctor's face. "Don't you know I'm shitting you? There's no way I'll get all that stuff. Can I go home now?"

He was writing something on a pad of paper. When he looked up there was a slight smile on his lips. "I knew you were shitting me, but you're incorrect. It is possible to get ... that stuff." He didn't answer my question about when I could go home.

After he left I pondered his questions and the answers I had given. Before that day I had never given any thought as to what kind of life I would have. Ten years was a long time, too distant in the future to make plans for. What made me say I wanted a blonde with nice boobs? I didn't know any blondes and until yesterday when Becky lost her top the only boobs I had seen were my sister's and that was by accident. Now all I could think about was Becky's tits and she wasn't blonde. I wondered if I could sneak out after everyone went to sleep that night.

Miss Baker kept her word. She arrived the next morning and said I was to come with her. The lady that called herself my foster mother brought my new toothbrush and tried to give me a hug, but I backed away, pretending to look for a place to put the toothbrush. I had been wearing the same cut-offs and T-shirt for two days. I didn't want any hugs.

We drove Miss Baker's Honda to the county courthouse. This was the first time I had been inside the building. Miss Baker led me up the stairs to an office on the second floor. There were two men there. Miss Baker introduced us. "Judge Slocum and Mr. Proctor, this is Sammy Kovel." The younger man shook my hand. The older one did the talking.

"As a ward of the court, Mr. Kovel, your wellbeing is my responsibility. After seeking the advice of other county officials, and after due deliberation, I have called upon an old friend who has agreed to take you into his home, protect you and oversee your education. I have appointed Mr. John Oldham your legal guardian."

I went into an extended howl before the judge finished the last sentence. "You can't do that! I want to go home," I screamed at the top of my voice, feeling blood drain from my brain, making me woozy and my hands numb. I looked menacingly at the younger man, thinking he was John Oldham.

"Trouble in here, Judge?"

I looked around and saw the face of a black man pushed through the doorway at the back of the Judge's office. The door opened and I saw that he was wearing a uniform. He was watching me with a curious grin on his face.

"Everything's fine but thanks for looking in, Officer Preston," the Judge said without turning his head toward the uniformed man.

The younger man took two steps forward. "Miss Baker, is there a McDonalds nearby? Let's take this young man to lunch and get to know each other." Then, looking at the judge, "You're invited to join us if you have time, sir."

"Thank you Mr. Proctor but I have a courtroom full of people waiting for me. Please extend my regards to John," the judge said. He patted me on the head. The black man was helping him put on his robe when we left his office.

I decided to have lunch with them before making a break for it. Mr. Proctor removed his tie and jacket and threw them in the back seat of a Volvo. We followed Miss Baker's car to McDonalds where I stuffed myself while they talked about everything but me. Miss Baker told us things about the town where I had lived for fourteen years that I had never heard before, not that I cared how long the town had been in existence or that the high school marching band had played at the Sugar Bowl parade three years ago. Mr. Proctor talked about the town where he lived, telling Miss Baker little things that made her laugh. I noticed he didn't mention Mr. Oldham or the name of the town. It was like I wasn't there.