The Lost Boy

the cold shoulder, I found myself spending all of my time fiddling in my room. I didn’t even care that my Murray bike began to rust.
    One Friday afternoon, in July 1974, Gordon Hutchenson dropped by. I felt a surge of excitement as he marched up the stairs and to my room. I couldn’t wait for someone to talk to. But I knew by his grim look that something was horribly wrong. “What is it?” I asked in a low voice.
    Gordon placed a hand on my shoulder. “You need to pack a bag, ” he said with pity.
    I brushed his hand away. Visions of Hillcrest filled my head. “Why?” I exclaimed. “What’d I do?”
    Gordon gently explained that I was not in any trouble and that he knew about the struggle I was having at the Catanzes’ home since I had moved back. He also stated that he had been trying to move me into another foster home with fewer kids. “Besides, ” he confessed, “I’m in a jam. I got a bigger kid being released next Monday from The Hill and, well, he’s been assigned to live here. So come on now, move it.”
    I wanted to cry, but instead I ran to my room. My heart raced from a combination of excitement and fear of not knowing what was going to happen to me next. With the speed of lightning I flung drawers open, yanked clothes from hangers and stuffed everything I could into a large brown grocery bag. Minutes later, I stole a moment of time to take a final look at the room I had slept, cried, played and spent so much time thinking in for just over a year. Even when I had thought that my world was crumbling around me, I always felt safe and secure in
my
room. As I gently closed the door, I closed my eyes and yelled at myself for again being so stupid. The first two ultimate rules of being a foster child that I had learned while at Aunt Mary’s were never to become too attached to anyone and never to take someone’s home for granted. And I had foolishly broken both rules. I had been so naive as to convince myself that I would live with Rudy and Lilian for the rest of my life. I closed my eyes as I fought back the tears.
    After Gordon placed a phone call to another foster home, he had to separate Lilian and me as we sobbed in each other’s arms. I looked into Lilian’s eyes, promising her that I would be a good boy and that I’d stay in touch. Outside, Gordon swung open the door to his brown Chevy Nova, then hurled my belongings in the backseat before allowing me to slide into his car. As he backed out of the driveway, I could clearly see the streaks of black mascara run down Lilian’s face. She stood in front of the same living room window where I had spent so many endless hours – waiting for the remote possibility of a visit from my father. As I waved good-bye to Lilian for the last time, I suddenly realized that she and Rudy had cared for me and treated me better than my own parents.
    Neither Gordon nor I spoke a single word for several minutes. He finally cleared his throat. “Hey, Dave, I know this is all coming at you pretty fast, but, ah …”
    “But why?” I whined.
    Gordon’s face tightened with frustration. “Listen!” he barked. “It’s rare, damn rare, that a kid stays in a home for as long as you did. You know that, don’t you? And you were there for how long? Over a year? Hell, that’s a record.”
    I sank in the seat, knowing that everything he was saying was true. I had taken so much for granted for so long. I turned my head to the window, watching familiar parts of the city zoom past.
    Gordon broke my concentration. “Hey, David, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped on you like that. It’s just that sometimes I forget what it’s like to be a kid in your position. You see, I had assigned you to another home yesterday, but I got stuck in court before I could pick you up. And, well, now that home has another kid and … hell, I don’t know what to do with you.”
    “You could take me back to the Catanzes, ” I suggested in a soft voice.
    “Can’t do that. Like I already said, I had signed you out of the Catanzes’ yesterday, which means they are no longer your legal guardians. It’s, well, very complicated to explain. The bottom line is, I’ve got to find you a home.”
    As Gordon stumbled for words, my heart seized with fear. I suddenly realized that I had forgotten my bike and, more important, my pet turtle. Gordon laughed when I told him, so I playfully tugged his arm. He knew how much my things meant to me, but we both knew finding me a place to stay