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narrans · 1 year ago

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My Borrowed Son | 27 | Strangers Like Me

Chapter Twenty-Seven | Strangers Like Me

Parker was in awe of the place he saw. This place was so strange and yet he knew it was a house. An aroma that smelled sweet and familiar lingered in the air and only got stronger as the four of them approached the structure.

Parker’s mind was completely numb. No part of him felt real. He felt like a helium balloon, floating along and merely existing. Every sense was taking in information, but processing it was another story.

As they approached, Parker noticed two other small children who were smaller and younger than him outside of the structure. It sounded like the two of them were talking – well, one was talking, and the other was babbling simple phrases.

It wasn’t until they were a few feet away that they instinctively stopped and turned toward the approaching group. The oldest of the two’s eyes were wide and he quickly took the younger by the hand and guided her inside. There was some kind of commotion inside and, a few seconds later, two more adults, one man and one woman who looked a little older than the man they walked outside of the structure. Their expressions told Parker everything he needed to know about seeing him with the others.

They were apprehensive, completely uneasy, and shocked into silence at seeing him.

Parker’s step faltered and he stopped dead in his tracks. He never considered himself a shy person, but too much had happened all at once and was making him retreat into himself. His body trembled as he pulled the cloak given to him by the man further over his shoulders.

This made the man stop and glance over at Parker.

“You’re alright. It’s going to be okay, kid,” said the man. The same instinct Parker had experienced all his life that raised when he sensed his mom coming or when he fell from a great distance wasn’t giving him any red flags. Usually, the hair would raise on the back of his neck or something inside him would be screaming to run away.

That was not the case here.

In fact, there was something homey about what was happening.

It was familiar.

Parker swallowed, his throat feeling like sandpaper from getting sick earlier, and followed behind the man.

The woman ushered the other two teens into the home, giving Kit a harsh stare, before her features softened as she looked back to Parker. The man did the same thing as Finnick and Kit passed, saying something along the lines of, “We’ll talk about this later,” as Kit crossed the threshold.

The woman exhaled slowly as though to calm herself down before stepping forward toward Parker. The young teen noticed she had a prosthetic leg, which seemed unfathomable. How could she have a prosthetic leg and not be human? How did she get the supplies for it? It looked 3D printed after all.

“Parker, sweetie, come on inside. I’m sure you have some questions,” said the woman as she turned on her heel and vanished inside the house. The man with her followed shortly behind after giving the man who helped Parker a stern look.

Parker wasn’t sure why, but he got the impression that there was something uneasy and unspoken between the group and the stranger. Regardless, Parker drifted along through the door and into the home. He immediately noticed so many odds and ends that were hung from the walls.

The items ranged from ones he actually used to help build his own space to creative alternatives for everyday items. Things like thumbtacks in the walls for coats and bags and twist ties for hinges on the doors. There was a cork in the corner with a paperclip in the back which made the thing look like a stool or chair and this was just the hallway.

The number of things in the kitchen and living area alone that looked like they had been fashioned out of the most obscure items and turned out okay. One of the things Parker noticed was a bundle of blankets in the corner that looked like it had been made from yarn. There were trinkets hanging in the air and cut paper dolls and origami creations that looked to be made from old gum wrappers.

The idea of using trash to decorate was an odd one to Parker, but the actual execution looked rather enchanting and homey. This was just one of so many things all around that he recognized for their actual use but appreciated its reused purpose.

What on earth is happening? This place is fascinating. They reuse everyday items to make new things and use them for something else entirely. That matchbox is a cabinet and drawers. This other one is a sofa.

Parker absentmindedly stepped into the kitchen and suddenly found himself sitting at the kitchen table with a thimble full of something that smelled like tea in front of him. The man who was in the house was sitting at the head of a table made of cards while the woman continued to bustle about the kitchen, snagging more “cups” of tea for everyone else.

Finnick, the older teen, sat next to his father at a diagonal from Parker while the girl, Kit, leaned against the door facing with her arms crossed as tightly as a twisty pretzel. The other two were in the living area. It was clear the older one was meant to watch over the youngest but was failing miserably because every few seconds the youngest managed to charge into the kitchen in pursuit of her mother.

The other man stayed leaned up against the kitchen counter as the woman sat down across from Parker. With her lack of movement, everything finally fell still in the house.

The tension was tangible, but Parker had no idea how to even begin. What did he ask? Did he have the right to leave? Was he being kept here? Were all of these people delusional and calling themselves “Borrowers?” Or was that actually what they were?

Was that what he was?

“Well, Parker, I’m sure you have a lot of questions. You can take your time if you’d like. We’re happy to answer anything,” said the woman. “I… suppose introductions are in order. I’m Mira, and this is my husband Toulouse. Our eldest is Finnick and our daughter, whom I’ve been told you met last night, is Sprokit. Our other son is Reed and our youngest is Dove. We’ve been living here for many years and, well… hearing about your arrival certainly sparked some discussion.”

Parker looked at the man in the corner. He pulled the cloak further over his shoulders and swallowed again. The smell of the tea was appealing, but Parker’s insides felt like they could turn for the worst at any moment.

“And… him?”

The man glanced up at Parker, keeping his arms folded loosely, before sighing heftily.

“Kers. I moved here with you and your mom.”

Parker recited the names a few times in his mind, but he knew they wouldn’t stick. He felt like his mind was frozen in time back when he first entered the walls, and it would take nothing short of an ice chisel to get information through his brain at the moment.

“R-right…”

“Parker, do…”

“You… said you’ve known me for a while, but what does that mean?” Parker asked, interrupting Finnick as he began speaking. Parker wanted desperately for them to stay quiet and let him process the information in front of him, but that was a pipe dream at this point. It was obvious they wanted to help and wouldn’t relent until they thought he was satisfied with their answers.

They looked over at Kers, as did Parker, and waited for the answer.

“I said it before, I was hidden. I found your home a little over four years ago and decided to live there and make sure you were okay,” said Kers. He sounded exhausted, but truthful.

But it still didn’t make sense to Parker.

“W-what? What does that even mean? Okay? Okay from what?” Parker heard Kit scoff before she piped up from her spot in the doorway.

“Oh, please,” she said exasperatedly. “Okay from the human. He was making sure you were safe from the human.”

“Sprokit!” scolded Toulouse firmly, making Parker jump slightly. Kit rolled her eyes and rolled her lips together to form a thin line on her face. The father sighed and nodded. “She means the woman you call ‘mom’.”

The woman I call “mom?”

Those words echoed hollowly in Parker’s mind. It made him bristle that these people were calling his mom “the woman,” reducing everything she did for him all of his life to two simple words that didn’t do her justice.

It also felt like a punch in the gut. “The woman” he knew as his mom wasn’t actually that thing. A mom was a woman who gave birth to you. A mom wouldn’t lie to you. A mom helped and protected as well as provided for you. A mom loved you.

Parker felt his insides swirl again and he coughed a little as his body lurched. Thankfully, nothing came up, but it did make Parker feel sicker by the second.

“B…but…”

“Parker, it’s okay. I’m sorry. We’re just not used to talking to a Borrower who has been seen and talked to a human before. Old habits die hard,” apologized Mira as she leaned forward onto the table and smiled while catching Parker’s eye.

That word is what helped snap Parker out of his stupor.

Now feeling completely detached, the questions started coming in clearer for Parker. Though still numb and waiting for something to break through his frozen mind, Parker’s questions started manifesting, and he wasn’t about to let them slip away.

“That… word… Borrower… what is it?” asked Parker. Sympathetic glances flashed from every set of eyes to one another before turning back to Parker. Mira looked visibly shaken and upset, but she still mustered a smile for the young teen.

“Well, that’s what we are. We’re Borrowers. We borrow things that humans won’t miss in order to survive. Little things like sugar, bread, pins, cloth, ribbons, and anything else we might find useful,” Mira replied.

“We usually don’t see other Borrowers often, but we all live by a code in order to keep ourselves safe,” Finnick chimed in as he too leaned forward in his chair. “It’s rare for so many Borrowers to be living together under the same roof since it’s more likely a human will notice things going missing.”

“What about those two who come to visit?” interjected Reed as he began dragging the youngest, Dove, back to the living room. “They said they come from a massive group.”

“Rey and Hero probably live in that abandoned house down by the creek. I can’t imagine they live in a human’s house, especially with a big group. You saw their clothes. Definitely Outies,” dismissed Finnick.

“Outies?” echoed Parker. Toulouse nodded.

“Yes, Borrowers are usually ‘Innies’ or ‘Outies,’ meaning where they live; either inside a house or outside in the wilds,” replied the father of four.

Parker had to physically rest his head on the table to keep from vomiting again. The entire room as spinning faster and faster, making the teen see stars, and his action quieted them for a minute while he regained his bearings.

When he did, he dared to take a sip of the tea Mira gave him just to quench his parched throat. It was soothing and made him feel a little less sick. The sweetness definitely helped add to the taste too.

“So… y-you… you’re saying… there are just… massive groups? Or… rather… small clusters of groups of B… Bor-row…” Parker couldn’t get the word out, but his meaning was understood.

“Yes, that’s correct,” replied Toulouse.

“Th-then… why haven’t I heard of you? Why isn’t it on the internet? W-why… h-how does n-no one know about you?” asked Parker.

“About us you mean,” grumbled Kit. Mira snapped her fingers harshly at her daughter and gave her a warning stare before turning back to Parker. The palpable tension dissipated after a few moments in intense silence, followed by the eldest son clearing his throat.

“Because of the rules,” Finnick replied. Parker’s blank expression prompted further explanation. This threw Parker for a loop.

“Rule? There are… rules?” Parker asked aloud unintentionally.

“Yes, quite a few of them. There are three we Borrowers generally abide by in order to keep ourselves safe.” The way Toulouse explained reminded Parker of how his mom would explain things to him. It was slow and simple, broken into multiple parts to make it easier for him to process the information.

“The first rule is to never be seen by a human because it is dangerous for you and for all of Borrower kind. The second rule flows into the first which is you must move if you think you’ve been seen. It’s for your protection, even if you weren’t seen. The last rule is to never talk to humans. If they know we’re sentient, they’ll only try and get answers out of us.”

Parker listened to the father’s explanation and something in his mind flashed. It was quick, like a lightbulb memory, but he remembered hearing those rules once before, along with the reason why. Slowly, Parker said, “Because… they’ll treat you like a… pet….”

The inquisitive glances the family members gave one another told Parker he had said something correctly.

“That’s right,” said Reed as he popped back into the kitchen to retrieve Dove once again. “You’ll get thrown in a cage and they’ll throw away the key. You’ll never be seen or heard from again, and that’ll be the exposure of Borrower kind.” Parker twisted around in the chair and glanced at the younger kid as he flashed a smile and, snagging his little sister under the armpits, hoisted her up and waddled back to the living room.

Parker’s vision blackened around the edges, and he once again needed to rest his head on the table. A cold sweat covered his body. Regret filled him as he realized he was probably soaking Kers’ cloak through with his perspiration. The family of Borrowers waited patiently for Parker’s recovery as they awaited his next question.

But his mind was running wild.

Everything and nothing made sense.

This had to be a dream, right?

Parker pinched himself under the table hard along the outside of his thigh, but the trick didn’t work, and he was met with five pairs of eyes staring at him expectantly. One thought was something he clung to, however, and he hoped in this moment to possibly disprove everything they just said.

“But… my mom… she said it was a genetic condition. She said I have Parvi Homunculi Syndrome. It’s just a rare condition. Are… you sure you don’t just have that?” Mira must��ve heard the desperation in Parker’s voice because her features filled once again sympathetically.

“I… I know how weird it must sound,” said Mira. She brushed her hair to the side and sighed before clasping her hands together and resting them on the table. “But we’re Borrowers. We’re different than humans for a number of different reasons, despite how similar we might look.”

“Differences?” Parker barely uttered the word, fearing the sip of tea he just had was going to churn his insides and reappear.

“Yeah, differences. We have instincts that humans don’t have. Our vision is better in the dark. We have great balance and land on our feet; well, most of the time,” Finnick stated.

“Tell us, Parker, have you ever experiences anything like that? Sensing something before it happened? Feeling the tremors in the ground as a human walks around when they’re rooms away? Finding curious places to hide? Or feeling the need to hide when you sense something coming?” asked Toulouse. “Haven’t you ever fallen from up high and landed safely on the ground? The instinct or need to reuse or create? What about walking around here in the walls? Didn’t you notice how well you could see in such low light?”

His scenarios made Parker’s blood run cold.

Every single one of those things he mentioned was something Parker had experienced. He had always attributed those things to his condition.

So… my condition… it’s a lie?

Well… not a lie…

I do have a condition….

I’m a Borrower.

Everything they’re saying makes sense. How would they know about everything if they hadn’t experienced it themselves? They don’t know about my climbing and falling habits. They don’t know about the things I’ve invented. They couldn’t have known about my senses unless they had it too.

Mira’s face softened and she quickly pushed herself to her feet and retrieved a single square of toilet paper, tearing off a side and gently pushing it over toward Parker. It was only now he realized warm, salty tears were soaking his face. The tears glided down his cheeks and puddled at his chin before dripping onto his shirt.

His entire body shook like a leaf in a windstorm as he numbly snagged the piece of toilet paper and hid his face away. Breathing was a chore, and the few breaths he sucked in wracked his body with sobs.

Over and over, he asked himself why?

Why him?

Why was this happening?

How many Borrowers were out there? Surely there had to be some reference to them specifically out there in the world.

How could an entire race of people just be completely unnoticed like this family?

The thoughts that followed only made Parker’s sobs double him over.

How long had his mom known about him and not said anything?

Why was he just finding all of this out now?

Why had his mom lied to him?

Didn’t she love him?

Why didn’t she just tell him the truth?

Parker wasn’t sure how long he stayed hunched over smashing the now soggy piece of toilet paper to his face, but he did suddenly notice a pressure on his hand that wasn’t there before. Not like he cared. Everything was spiraling out of control and off of the edge of a cliff. What was one more thing?

Eyes red and dry despite the moist tears, Parker blinked away the blur and finally realized the pressure on his hand was Mira. She had reached forward and gently clasped his hand in her own. Parker felt the urge to resist but couldn’t tear himself away from the comfort the pressure of her hand gave. Her motherly instincts were right.

All Parker wanted right now was a hug… but from whom?

His mom?

Someone his own size?

Even now, the thought of someone being able to wrap their arms around him and him being able to do the same was unfathomable.

As his breathing calmed, Parker felt a new emotion boiling in his belly, and it quickly consumed him.

Anger.

Frustrated anger and distrust filled him like magma filling a volcano. He felt ready to burst at any moment, but he wasn’t about to leave now.

He needed to know more about these strangers like him. He needed to know more. His desire for knowledge fueled by the fact he had been deceived for his entire life hardened his features and cleared the darkness away from the corners of his eyes.

“Parker, I know this is a lot for you all at once,” said Mira, noticing the teen’s change in demeanor. “But…”

“Please…” said Parker, his voice cracking. The teenager was barely able to keep from falling apart as he sat there on that cork bottle chair. “Just… tell me what you can… about Borrowers? About what happens when… Borrowers are seen? What happens? And…. About me… and my….” Parker’s voice trailed off as he suddenly had trouble saying the word “mom.”

Toulouse sighed and leaned heavily onto the table and said, “Parker, are you sure?”

Parker nodded and squeezed Mira’s hand.

“Yes,” he said definitively. “Please.”

It took a few hours, but Toulouse and his family began telling Parker what he needed to know. They told him about how Borrowers had managed to keep themselves secret because of the rules and how they’ve had narrow misses in the past. They talked about how they went about creating their home and the balance Borrowers needed to live in secret with their human counterparts.

What really made Parker’s blood boil was the stories about what happened to Borrowers in the stories where the were caught.

Some were thrown in cages until they were rescued. Others managed to trick their ways out of their containment and away from their human captors. The one that hurt Parker the most was the ones that were treated as evolved pets.

Evolved pets had little homes they lived in with electricity and water. Repurposed doll houses were usually the container used rather than a cage with traditional bars – just like what Parker lived in.

Borrowers experienced isolation and every little thing was always taken care of. No need to borrow because food was always on the table. No need to climb because you’re carried everywhere. No need to go outside because entertainment is brought to you. The purpose of a Borrower was to go out and survive, not be taken care of at the whim of a human.

It was the exact existence Parker had been living.

It made his insides churn to think that his mom had been treating him like a pet for practically all of his life.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” said Kers, chiming in after hours of silence. He had remained practically emotionless and silent for most of the time while Toulouse and his family helped “educate” Parker in the ways of a Borrower. The family opened their mouths to object, but Kers beat them to it. “Parker has been gone for a while, and I’m sure his mom is worried sick about him being missing. She’s bound to have noticed by now. You don’t want her looking for him, do you?”

The question shut down any arguments the family might’ve had. Despite Parker’s reservations in returning, he sighed and pushed himself to his feet.

“Um… thank you… really. I…” Parker stammered over his words as he thought about everything he just learned.

“You don’t need to thank us, Parker. Just, keep yourself safe,” said Mira.

“And, if you don’t mind, keep your knowledge about this place and my family close to your chest. I apologize again on behalf of my daughter. We should’ve made it clearer that she wasn’t supposed to act rashly when it came to your… situation,” said Toulouse.

“Thanks. I… can probably do that,” said Parker. His head swirled dangerously fast with his first step, but thankfully Kers was by his side and guided Parker safely toward the door. The older Borrower watched the younger cautiously while Parker paid him no mind.

Parker’s mind was far from him. There were too many other things going on to be concerned about revealing the family’s home. With a final farewell, Parker and Kers left the house and headed back down the route they came.

The two Borrowers were completely silent for the majority of the trek, leaving Parker to fester and dwell in his own thoughts.

It wasn’t until they were by the wall at a familiar stretch that Kers physically stopped moving forward and turned to face Parker. There was something in his expression that was sorrowful and uneasy, but also determined. It reminded Parker of the look Toulouse gave him a few times.

Fatherly.

It was a new look and took the teen by surprise.

“Parker, I know this is not how any of us wanted things to go,” said Kers. “But I want you to know that I’m sorry. It was never my intention to help keep this truth from you. I… had actually planned on talking to your mom today to figure out how to talk to you.”

Parker wasn’t sure if he was buying it, but Kers continued.

“I know you’re going through a lot, and I know I have no right to ask this of you, but listen to me and don’t do anything rash,” said Kers.

Parker bristled at the words.

“Rash? You don’t want me to be rash?! You knew. You watched for years and let me believe…” Parker took a breath as his fury reared its head again. “You let me believe I was human. You and that woman both.”

Kers stiffened as he heard that word. The last thing he wanted to do was make an enemy out of Parker, but Kers needed to make a few things clear to Parker. Attempting to diffuse the situation, he kept his voice calm and low.

“Parker, that woman is still your mom. She loves you and only wants the best for you. Believe me. I’ve seen it every day for years. I don’t think she would intentionally hurt you. I don’t know why she didn’t say anything, but it can’t have been easy when your differences are so obvious,” said Kers firmly.

Parker jerked his head away as he looked down at the corner of a nearby beam.

“She lied.”

“I know, and that’s not the best look. Still, Parker, trust me on this. She loves you. Regardless of everything else, she loves you,” emphasized Kers.

“She treated me like a pet. How… can I trust someone who would lie to me so easily for so long?” The words spilled out of Parker like water leaking from a sponge. He felt like he couldn’t absorb another thing and his words were now just spilling out.

“No, she didn’t. She treated you like her son. Coming from a family who used to have pets, I can see where taking care of a kid and taking care of a pet are almost the same thing,” pointed out Kers.

“But…”

“Listen, Parker. Don’t do anything rash. Think about everything you’ve just learned and don’t act emotionally. That’ll only hurt more,” advised Kers. “Sit and think about everything. I’ll be back later tonight to check on you if you’d like.”

Parker nodded numbly, but the adult’s words simply added to the puddle that was his thoughts. Kers finished walking Parker to his room and, with a reassuring pat on his shoulder, left the teen to go back to the world he knew.

As Parker jumped back through the electrical cover and climbed the stairs to his little house, he suddenly realized he was still wearing Kers’ cloak. The heavy fabric had been draped over his shoulders the entire walk back, and Kers must’ve thought Parker needed it more.

It felt like a hug from behind, and the warmth of the fabric kept Parker’s shaking at bay.

The teen made it back into his room and into his space with every intention of resting in his bed until dinner. The words he wanted to say were locked somewhere in his brain. He just needed time to muddle through.

It was what he saw in his kitchen as he entered the little house that instantly changed his mind.

Parker noticed a massive plate with cut apples just sitting there. Before, this would have been an enjoyable treat. Now, however, all Parker saw was those videos on his social media where some tasty treat was delivered on a platter to none other than the family pet.

Something about seeing that plate snapped something in his mind.

You’re just a pet to her.

It was a bold, hateful thought that spawned out of nowhere in his mind, fueled only by recent events.

Despite Kers’ warning, he wanted to know the answers.

He wanted to know why his mom hadn’t told him anything and everything she knew about him.

Another, greater part of him hoped that everything he just heard was a lie. He wanted it to be untrue. He wanted Kers and Toulouse and Mira and Finnick and Reed and Kit all to be lying to his face to abduct him into the walls.

Parker spun on his heel and marched back down the stairs and dared to climb the steps all the way down to the kitchen where he heard his mom… that woman… working away. Trembling in his shoes, Parker finally made it to ground level and came around the corner. The urge to vomit as he saw her filled him, which contrasted greatly with the expression on her face as she saw him.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Amanda had been pacing the floor for what felt like hours. She had practically torn the house upside down trying to find her son, Parker. After their little disagreement this morning and the fear eating her alive, she couldn’t find him.

His room?

Not there.

Living area?

Not there.

Bathroom?

Nowhere to be seen.

Kitchen?

Nope.

She had cut up some apples in the hopes of luring him out and to make sure he had a little something to eat if he was still upset with her, but to no avail.

She hoped that he hadn’t done something foolish or decided to go into the walls and got hurt. It was an idea she should have supported, but was afraid to.

It was clear now more than ever that she needed to talk to Parker about everything, and now she finally had the words to do so. The moment she found him, she would tell him everything. It was long overdue, but it was time.

If only she could find him!

Now, after she was about to start calling and shouting, there he was.

Parker came out from around the corner and relief immediately flooded over her. She rushed over and knelt, which made Parker flinch and shy away. Struck by the odd interaction, Amanda glanced over him and immediately noticed his appearance.

Parker looked drained. He had obviously been crying and looked ill. What really caught her off guard was what he had draped over his shoulders. It looked like some kind of cloak, but it was way too big for him. Brown, frayed, and torn, this thing obviously didn’t come from anything either of them had made.

There was time to ask questions later.

Right now, she was relieved beyond words that Parker was here.

“Parker! I’m so glad you’re here. I was worried sick. Where were you? Are you okay? Sweetie, I’m so sorry about earlier. I don’t know what came over me. I should’ve…”

“You should’ve what?” interrupted Parker, something that wasn’t like him. Amanda, caught off guard, felt her heart clench as she met her son’s eyes. There was something in them that she registered immediately.

Hurt.

Pain.

Anger.

Frustration.

Desperation.

Before she could say anything, Parker continued.

“How long?”

Those two words shook Amanda to her bones.

No. What?

“H-how long? How long what?”

“How long have you known I’m not your son?”

The words hung in the air. Like a dense fog, Amanda suddenly felt lost. Tendrils of tension clutched her chest.

No… I’ve run out of time. I’m too late.

Amanda’s throat clenched. She knew this conversation was going to happen, but not like this. She looked into Parker’s soft brown eyes and saw he was clinging onto the last threads of hope. It was part of that desperation she saw earlier.

And she had no lifeline to give him.

“Well?!” Parker’s voice cracked as tears welled up in his eyes. He looked to be on the verge of collapse.

Amanda bit back her own emotions as they constricted her throat. A bottomless void opened in Amanda’s heart.

“Parker… you are my son. I’ve always been your mom,” said Amanda. Parker couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was she serious? Or was she lying. The tether he thought he was receiving was just within grasp. Maybe this was all just a bad dream.

Her next words shattered him.

“But I’m not your only mom. Someone… some beautiful, wonderful woman gave birth to you.” Amanda’s cheeks were etched with tears at this point. With the last bit of her strength, she choked out, “I love you, Parker, as if you came from me… but you’re right. You are not mine.”

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

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narrans · 1 year ago

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My Borrowed Son | 7 | Tempest and Taxonomy

Chapter Seven | Tempest and Taxonomy

Time had truly flown. It was hard to believe, but a month had gone by and Amanda could hardly fathom she had been taking care of the little boy for all of this time. While he still hadn’t uttered a word during the entire month, it was getting easier to decipher his requests through his body language and simple signs.

Hands up meant he wanted to be held.

Pinched fingers pressed to his mouth meant hungry.

Open hand to his mouth meant thirsty.

Rubbing eyes meant tired.

Wanting to play was spinning either clockwise or counterclockwise.

Bathroom was relatively obvious, but still something Amanda learned to read from the boy.

Every day, Amanda learned to read the boy a little more. The smallest facial expressions were signals he understood or was processing the world around him. Amanda could tell he understood quite a bit, especially when she brought him back to the park bench where she found him.

The little boy would fall very silent, and his shoulders would slouch. He would look around the base of the pole and, after a minute, would try and rejoin Amanda. When she stepped farther away, he would hunker down by the base and patiently wait for her to return.

That was something else Amanda had worked on with him – separation.

Amanda didn’t want the little boy to become completely dependent on seeing her every second to feel secure and would step away a little for longer periods of time before returning. The most she was gone was for two minutes, but it seemed to be conditioning the boy to expect her to come back. He was still clingy and would ask in his own way to be picked up and held for comfort, and each time Amanda would make sure he understood she would always come back for him.

After three consecutive weeks of her returning him to the park bench, Amanda solemnly concluded that the parents of the little boy were not coming back.

What else could she assume?

A month had passed with no signs that anything or anyone had been back to that place under the bench.

The timing worked out well too.

Amanda’s friend, Mel, had managed to secure the paperwork for the delayed birth certificate. One of Mel’s midwife friends who was sworn to absolute secrecy agreed to help her out for a fee. Times were hard and filing a little paperwork that had “slipped her mind” didn’t seem to weigh on her conscious. She managed to be convincing enough that she thought the paperwork had been filed by her trainee at the time and that she had forgotten to check up on them.

In all reality, Mel’s friend didn’t go into specifics of how she was able to get the proper documents to register the child’s birth, just as Mel’s friend didn’t know the specifics about the boy and his size. What all parties understood, however, was that discretion and secrecy were paramount. Everything was meant to be kept under wraps about the boy. Amanda managed to get the necessary paperwork in the end and, all of a sudden, she was a single mother of one with no declared father. Her ex-husband would never have to know since he wasn’t named on the certificate.

There was one last thing that needed to happen before everything was official, however, and that was the name of the child.

Despite every attempt Amanda made, she couldn’t get the boy’s name out of him. His unintentional vigil of silence was hindering the process, and it was getting close to when Mel’s friend needed to finalize the paperwork.

“Mandy, do you think he even has a name?” asked Mel as she carefully handed the child a piece of cracker which he took timidly. His brow furrowed as he looked at the cracker piece, which Amanda learned that the boy did when he was confused or concentrating on something he couldn’t remember.

“I… I think so. He has to have a name, but… maybe he just doesn’t remember? Maybe whatever happened affected his memory and he can’t recall it?” suggested Amanda. “It’s the only explanation I can think of.”

Amanda leaned against the edge of her kitchen countertop and gazed at the little boy, but he didn’t meet her gaze. He was still sitting there contemplatively. Mel sighed and glanced back at her friend, words escaping her.

“Well,” she said as she stood up and looked around the apartment. “The sooner you get his name, the better. My friend is starting to get antsy about the whole thing. Not a threat or to put pressure on you. Just a reminder. Anyway, I have to go. Your place looks nice by the way. Last of the boxes unpacked?”

Amanda glanced at her apartment and saw what Mel was talking about. It was hard to believe she had finally managed to unpack the last box. The furniture was finally out and arranged. The dishes were in the cabinets. The blankets were folded and put away.

The place finally felt like a home.

“Um… yeah,” said Amanda after a moment of being lost in her thoughts. “I kept a few of the boxes since he likes playing with them, but they’re all empty.”

Mel glanced over her shoulder and smiled at her friend. “That’s really cute,” she said. “And, on that note, we’ll have a proper house-warming party next time I come over. Just you and me and probably some Chinese takeout and a bottle of box wine. You know – the classy stuff.”

Amanda rolled her eyes and stepped up to her friend. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Are you sure you have to go so soon?”

Mel nodded and hugged her friend, muttering, “Yeah. There’s supposed to be some kind of big storm tonight and I’m not getting caught in it. Hunker down and enjoy your night. I’ll text you when I get home.”

The two of them exchanged their goodbyes and, with that, Mel set off into the night. The little boy waved a sweet little goodbye as Mel left before lifting his hands into the air, signaling Amanda to pick him up. This made Amanda chuckle.

“You little tyke. Always so affectionate when it’s just you and me,” Amanda teased as she laid her hand down on the counter and the little boy clambered onto her palm. “Mel is a friend,” sighed Amanda. “And she’s right. I need to figure out your name.”

The boy, neck craning upward to look at her, made the same confused face before averting his eyes. His little brow was furrowed again, pinched as he was obviously trying to remember.

Amanda sighed and walked over to the bathroom to begin their nightly routine.

“Do you remember your name, sweetheart? Something your momma or daddy would have called you?” asked Amanda. The boy drew his legs closer to his chest as he kept his eyes averted. “It’s okay if you don’t remember. I’m not mad or upset. I just want to know your name. My name is Amanda. Can you say Amanda?”

It was no use. He said nothing and merely drew further in on himself, confusion and confliction in his features. The question was something he understood, but something kept him silent. Amanda could only guess the trauma was what kept him quiet since he seemed comfortable enough around her.

So, deciding to not pressure the boy any further, she rubbed his back and began running a warm bath, humming thoughtfully some of the songs she knew from her favorite kids’ shows growing up.

Like clockwork, the boy fell asleep as Amanda dried him off and slipped on his pajamas. She carried him to bed and settled in for the evening, mind still preoccupied with the thoughts of what the boy’s name could be.

~~~^*^*^~~~

It was hours later; that much she knew for certain. A deafening crack of thunder sounding like the end of a whip right in her ear had her sitting bolt upright in bed, eyes wide and heart racing. Amanda glanced around and saw her room was plunged into a pitch black abyss.

The power was out.

She knew it the moment she looked around.

The nightlight was off and the electric clock beside her bed had no numbers glowing in red indicating the time of night.

Amanda would have simply calmed herself and turned back over to go back to bed if not for the terrified cry she heard from the boy’s box. It was obvious he was terrified, but that’s not what caught Amanda’s attention.

It was what she heard.

She heard him. The little boy spoke for the first time.

It was undeniable, clear as a bell – and it was heart wrenching.

“Momma! Mommmmaaa!”

The sound alone brought tears to Amanda’s eyes. He was calling out for his mother – a mother who was probably no longer out there and who wouldn’t hear his cries for help. That maternal instinct kicked into high gear and, though unable to see, Amanda carefully leaned over toward the box and laid her hand inside of the box.

“Sweetie? Sweetheart, it’s okay. Amanda’s here. I’m here. Come to me, sweetie. I’ll protect you. It’s just a little rain,” coaxed Amanda. The wind whirled outside, making an odd haunting sound as it pelted the rain relentlessly against the windows. Amanda wondered if the boy might be dreaming and crying out in his sleep. Another streak of lightening illuminated the room just enough for Amanda to see the boy was huddled in the far corner of his box with his hands over his ears.

No. He was clearly awake.

She couldn’t see well, but she could have sworn his cheeks were glossy with tears, face twisted in terror.

Was his mother taken in a storm? There was a storm right as I moved in. Is that what has him frightened so much? Or is it just the storm in general?

Amanda inched her fingers closer to the boy as she called to him again. “Come on, sweetie. I’m here. It’s okay. It’s just the rain. We’ll be okay. I’ll protect you.” The last thing she wanted to do was grab him. Holding him was supposed to be a positive thing. She wanted it to be a source of comfort and let that be a bonding experience for herself and the boy. Grabbing him felt invasive and might shatter her limited trust with him.

Another flash of lightening followed by a crack of thunder revealed little boy once more, but this time he was looking up at Amanda, eyes wide with primal fear. The power flicked on and off, making the night light and the clock flash ominously in the dark room.

Then, as Amanda was about to call to him again, he held up his hands and made that familiar grabbing motion as he, for the first time, intentionally spoke to her.

“Momma!” he sobbed. Amanda was taken aback. She had been taking care of him, yes; but could she dare call herself that? “Mommmaa!” His tears and his cries compelled her to act without correcting him.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here. Come to me,” encouraged Amanda as she moved her hand closer to the boy. In a heartbeat, the boy stood and flung himself onto her fingers, once again covering his ears and cowering in her hand.

Amanda waisted no time in bringing the boy close and under the blankets with her, pressing her hand to her chest and slowly rocking back and forth. She couldn’t imagine what he was experiencing. His senses seemed heightened, at least more than a human’s senses. Did that mean the sound of the thunder was amplified? Could he hear her heartbeat over the overwhelming storm outside?

“Sshhh… it’s okay. I’ve got you,” soothed Amanda.

Again, she heard the boy’s cries. “Mommaa!” They were muffled because of her hand, but they were still clear. The boy had quite the clear voice for someone so small. It was gentle and sweet but overridden with distress. Thinking quickly, Amanda decided she had no choice. It felt disrespectful in one weird way or another to his real parents, but perhaps it would help calm him down.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Momma’s here. Mom’s got you. I won’t let anything hurt you,” soothed Amanda. “Please, sweetie. It’s okay. Just take a deep breath for me. The storm will be over soon.”

The sobs and sniffles eased ever so slightly but continued for nearly ten minutes as the storm continued to rage outside. It wasn’t until Amanda heard his cries soften while his body trembled against her that she dared to pull her hand away from her chest and look at him. To see better, she turned on her phone flashlight and pointed it at the ceiling to illuminate the space ever so slightly.

The boy’s eyes were red and puffy, but his soft brown gaze conveyed understanding as he looked up at Amanda. His face was dripping in snot and tears, which Amanda wiped away with a piece of pinched tissue.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? Wipe away those tears?” Amanda smiled. Perhaps it was simply the magic of the moment or maybe they were in the eye of the storm, but something about the way the child looked up at Amanda felt different. It was like the last barrier had broken down and a new relationship between them was born.

With some kind of newfound affection, Amanda asked, “Is that better?” To this, the boy nodded and smiled, leaning into Amanda’s touch.

She wasn’t sure how much time had truly passed. After switching off her phone light and laying there with the boy on her chest, the two of them stayed up and listened to the storm. Amanda continued to hum different tunes to help soothe the child when the storm began to kick up again, but alas he wouldn’t go back to sleep.

It was a pointless endeavor to go back to bed at this point, so Amanda sat up and, instead, began reading one of her eBooks from her phone; one of her personal favorites called “The Hobbit.” It felt fitting with how she was now on this unexpected journey with this child, and it was something she always wanted to share with her own children if and when she had them.

Now seemed as good of a time as any to begin reading.

Amanda started the first chapter and, before she knew it, was reading segments of the fourth chapter before she remembered to glance down at the boy to check and see if he was awake.

He was, with eyes wide open as he absorbed her words.

Now that she had heard him speak, it felt like now was as good of a time as any to talk to him and try and find out some answers. Keeping her phone light on and pointed at the ceiling so she could faintly see him, Amanda readjusted herself and him so she could rest her hand on the bed rather than hold it up.

The rain still pattered against the windows, but the intensity had subsided a little while ago. The little boy repositioned himself on her hand and laid down when Amanda began speaking to him.

“That storm was a little scary, huh?” she asked. The boy’s eyes glossed immediately as he nodded while he leaned into her hand, little arm draping over her thumb as he rested his chin on the knuckle of her thumb. “Is… do you remember another big storm? One when you were outside?”

Amanda didn’t need to look to know he was shivering. She took the answer for a yes.

“Is… that when you were left outside? Where I found you? Did something happen there?” asked Amanda. Again, the boy merely shivered. It was a heart wrenching feeling, and the questions weren’t making it any easier.

She decided to try and switch topics. Perhaps he felt more comfortable now or, in some weird way, perhaps the storm had helped trigger his memories.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I won’t let the storms hurt you. You’re safe here,” Amanda encouraged. “Do… you remember anything else about that day? Do you remember your name?”

He shivered again and held Amanda’s thumb tighter.

Alas.

No luck.

Whatever he had gone through obviously was either keeping his memories locked up tight or he truly didn’t remember his name.

“Well, that’s okay, but I would like to call you something other than sweetie,” sighed Amanda. She glanced over and saw those thoughtful, soft-brown eyes of the little boy once again. He was looking at her earnestly, as if he wanted to help but couldn’t, and understanding.

Amanda then thought of something. She knew the paperwork was coming in soon and that she needed to come up with something to put on them.

Perhaps he would be willing to compromise? Be called something now and change it when he remembered?

It was worth a shot.

“Would… it be okay if I called you something other than sweetie? Just until you remember your name? Maybe you can help me pick it out?” Amanda asked. There was a look of mild comprehension on the boy’s face, but also reluctance. Maybe he didn’t want to be called something else. Amanda was about to give up on the idea when, to her surprise, the boy nodded.

He actually agreed? He was fine with it?

Maybe he didn’t like being called “sweetie” so many times.

She wasn’t about to question it now.

“Okay? Yes? You’ll help me pick out a name for now?” Amanda confirmed. The boy nodded. Every little boy name flooded her mind and yet vanished at the same time. She wanted something that would fit him, and she didn’t want something that would be too on the nose. Calling the boy Tom in honor of Tom Thumb felt belittling, no pun intended.

“Okay, okay. Um…. How about… Jon?” asked Amanda. The child wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Not Jon. Um… Gabriel? Levi? James? Gale? Adam? Peter?”

Each name Amanda thought of didn’t quite fit the boy and, more importantly, he shook his head in disagreement. The only one he seemed to perk up at was Peter, but even then he shook his head no. She made her way through a few dozen names, accidentally repeating a few of them, when one came to mind.

It was a name she had always liked, and, in all honesty, she wanted to name her own child this if she had a son. The name also felt a bit on the nose, seeing the place where she found him, but Amanda thought she’d suggest the name all the same.

“What about Parker?”

The child’s eyes narrowed for a moment and his brow furrowed contemplatively. For a long while, he was quiet and made no indication that he liked or disliked the name. As Amanda was about to move on, he nodded.

It was a complete shock to Amanda.

“Yes? You said yes to Parker? That’s what you want to be called?” asked Amanda. Again, the boy seemed to think long and hard before nodding.

That was it.

He had a name; at least, one she could call him by.

“Okay then, Parker. Why don’t we close our eyes and try to get some sleep? The storm is gone, and I’ll protect you if it comes back,” Amanda said, keeping her tone light and pleasant. He smiled and nodded, curling into her hand. Amanda fished out his blanket and laid it over him as he stayed curled in her palm.

Her own lids were growing heavy by the second, and Amanda felt herself drifting off to sleep.

“Goodnight, Parker,” she whispered. Sleep would have taken her if not for the thing she heard next.

“Night… momma.”

Three words. In one day, he had said three whole new words to her after a month of silence. She could only hope they would continue to make progress, but she would think about that later. Instead, Amanda thought about how good it sounded for Parker to call her mom. She felt a twinge of guilt and sadness, but it also meant he was trusting her more and more.

She drifted off to sleep, his nearly imperceptible weight in her hand, as the dream she thought would never be became her reality.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

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