The Lost Boy

the long and drawn-out sessions in which I had to explain things I did not totally understand. In the beginning of our first session, I huddled at the far end of the couch while Ms Gold sat at the other end. Without my knowing, she slowly inched her way toward me until she was close enough to hold my hand. At first I was too scared to have her touch me. I did not deserve her kindness. But Ms Gold held on to my hand, caressing my palm, assuring me that she was there to help me. That day she stayed with me for over five hours.
    The other visits were just as long. At times I was too scared to talk and long moments of silence followed. Other times, for no apparent reason and not understanding why, I’d burst into tears. Ms Gold didn’t care. She simply held me tight and rocked me back and forth, whispering in my ear that everything was going to be all right. Sometimes we would lie at the end of the couch, and I would talk about things that were of no relation to my bad past. During those times I would play with the long strands of Ms Gold’s shiny hair. I’d lie in her arms and breathe in the fragrance of her flowery perfume. I soon began to trust Ms Gold.
    She became my best friend. After school, whenever I saw her car, I’d spring down the walkway and burst into Aunt Mary’s home, knowing Ms Gold had come to see me. We always ended our sessions with a long hug. She would then bend down and assure me that I did not deserve to be treated the way I was and that what my mother did to me was not my fault. I had heard Ms Gold’s words before, but after years of brainwashing I wasn’t so sure. So much had happened so fast. One time I asked Ms Gold why she needed all of this information on Mother and me. To my horror, she told me that the county was going to use it against my mother. “No!” I pleaded. “She must never know I told you!
Never
!”
    Ms Gold assured me that I was doing the right thing, but when she left me alone to think, I came to a different conclusion. As long as I could remember, I had always been in trouble. I was always being punished for one thing or another. Whenever my parents had fought, my name was always thrown into the ring. Was it really Mother’s fault? Maybe I deserved everything I got over the years. I did lie and steal food. And I knew I was the reason why Mother and Father no longer lived together. Would the county throw Mother in jail? Then what would happen to my brothers? That day after Ms Gold left, I sat alone on the couch. My mind raced with questions. I felt my insides turn to jelly.
My God! What have I done?
    Days later, on a Sunday afternoon, while I was outside learning to play basketball, I heard the old familiar sound of Mother’s station wagon. My heart felt as though it stopped beating. I closed my eyes, thinking I was daydreaming. When my brain responded, I turned and ran inside Aunt Mary’s home and smashed into her. “It’s … it’s my …” I stuttered.
    “Yes, I know, ” Aunt Mary gently spoke as she held me. “You’re going to be all right.”
    “No! You don’t under … she’s going to take me away! She found me!” I yelled. I tried to squirm myself away from Aunt Mary’s grip so I could run outside and find a safe place to hide.
    Aunt Mary’s grip didn’t budge. “I didn’t want to upset you, ” Aunt Mary said. “She’s just going to drop off some clothes. You’re going to court this Wednesday, and your mother wants you to look nice.”
    “No!” I cried. “She’s going to take me! She’s going to take me back!”
    “David, be still! I’ll be right here if you need me. Now, please, be still young man!” Aunt Mary did her best to calm me down. But my eyes nearly popped out as I watched The Mother stroll down the walkway with
her
four boys in tow.
    I sat by Aunt Mary’s side. Greetings were exchanged, and like a trained dog I became my old self- the child called “It.” In an instant I went from an enthusiastic boy to Mother’s invisible house slave.
    Mother didn’t even acknowledge my presence. Instead, she turned to Aunt Mary. “So, tell me, how is
The Boy?
”
    I looked up at Aunt Mary’s face. She seemed startled. Her eyes flickered for just a second.
“David?
David is quite fine, thank you. He’s here, you know, ” Aunt Mary responded, holding me a little tighter.
    “Yes, ” Mother said in a dry voice, “I can see that.” I could feel Mother’s hate burn through me. “And how does he get along with the other