The Lost Boy

quit shaking.
    I felt too ashamed to look into his eyes. “Uhm … Dad, before you say anything … I just want you to know …”
    “Shut up!” Father’s voice suddenly cracked like thunder. “Don’t even begin to tell me your lies!” He inhaled deeply before smashing his cigarette and lighting another. “For Christ’s sake, if they ever find out about this at the station … do you know what this could do to me? It’s not like I don’t have enough problems to deal with there!”
    I bowed my head, wanting to disappear.
    “Well?” Father’s voice rumbled. “And if that weren’t enough, you’ve given that crazy mother of yours all the ammunition she’s ever needed!” He stopped to take another drag. “Jesus H. Christ! You had it made! Then, out of nowhere, I get call after call from that social worker lady …”
    “Ms Gold?” I muttered.
    “I finally make time to give her a call, and she tells me you’ve run away and have been stealing and landing yourself into all kinds of …”
    “But Dad, I really didn’t …”
    “You had better shut that mouth of yours before I shut it for you!” Father roared. He stopped for a moment and blew out a cloud of smoke. “You couldn’t let it go, could you? It wasn’t enough for you to involve the police and have them take you away from school, then drag your mother and brothers into court. Jesus! You’re really a work of art, aren’t you? You had everything. A new life, a new start. All you had to do was keep your nose clean. And you couldn’t do that, could you?
    “Do you have any idea what your mother wants to do with you? Do you?” Father demanded, raising his voice. “She wants me to sign some papers. She’s been after me to sign them for … how long … do you know?” he asked, more to himself than to me. “Do you have any idea how fuckin’ long she’s been after me to sign those papers?”
    I shook my head no, tears rolling down my face.
    “Years! Ever since she threw you out that one day. Hell, maybe she was right all along. Maybe you do need … You think it’s easy on me? How do you think it makes me feel to have a son of mine at a place like that … or a place like this?” Father’s eyes seemed so cold as they pierced through me. “Arson. They’re charging you with arson! Do you know how many firemen die because of arsonists? Hell, maybe she’s right. Maybe you are incorrigible.”
    I watched the orange ring of the cigarette creep its way toward Father’s fingers.
    “Well, ” he said, after several minutes of silence, “I’ve got to get the car back. I’ll, ah, see …” Father stopped mid-sentence as he pushed himself away from the table.
    My eyes scanned his body. His eyes looked so tired and empty. “Thanks … for coming to see me, ” I said, trying to sound cheerful.
    “For Christ’s sake, boy, keep your nose clean!” Father snapped back. He began to push the door open when he stopped and looked deep into my eyes. “I’ve given up a lot for you. I’ve tried; God knows I’ve tried. I’m sorry for a lot of things in my life. I can forgive you for a lot of things – for all the trouble you’ve caused, for what you did to the family -but I can never,
never
forgive you for this.” The door shut behind him, and he was gone.
    “I love you, Dad, ” I said, looking across the empty table.
    That evening at dinner, while a sea of hands fought for any portion of every container of food, I nibbled away at my salad. I felt so sick and hollow inside. I knew I was the reason why my parents were so unhappy, why they had separated, why they both drank so much and why my father – a man who had fought to save so many people’s lives – now lived in a crummy apartment.
I
had knowingly, willingly, exposed the family secret. I suddenly realized that Father was right. Father had been right all along.
    After dinner, as I performed my work assignment, mopping the dining-room floor, one of the counselors peeked around the corner. “Pelzer. Visitor at the front desk.” Minutes later I sucked in a deep breath and closed my eyes before I again opened the door to the visitor’s room. I prayed deep inside that Mother had not come.
    It took several blinks of my eyes for me to comprehend that it was Lilian’s face, and not Mother’s, that I was gawking at.
    Lilian leaped up and hugged me from the other side of the desk. “So, how are you?” she asked.
    “Fine! I’m great now!” I exclaimed, “Wow, I can’t tell