The Lost Boy

with me. “Mr Pelzer?” the officer near me asks.
    My father nods yes. The two of them disappear into an office. The policeman closes the door. I wish I could hear what they’re saying. I’m sure it’s about me and how I’m always in trouble with Mother. I’m only relieved that
she
didn’t come, but somehow I knew that
she
would never dare risk exposing herself to anyone of authority. I know she always uses Father for her dirty work. She controls Father – the same as she tries to control everyone. Above all, I know she must hide the secret. No one must ever know about our private relationship. But I know she’s slipping. She’s losing control. I try to think what this means. To survive, I must think ahead.
    Minutes later the door from the office creaks. Father steps out from the room, shaking the policeman’s hand. The officer approaches me. He bends down. “David, it was just a small misunderstanding. Your father here tells me that you became upset when your mother wouldn’t let you ride your bike. You didn’t need to run away for something like that. So, you go home with your father now, and you and your mother work this thing out. Your father here says she’s worried sick over you.” He then changes the tone of his voice as he points a finger at me. “And don’t you ever put your parents through that again. I hope you’ve learned your lesson. It can be pretty scary out there, right?” the officer asks, while gesturing to the outside of the building. I stand in front of the officer in total disbelief. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Ride my bike? I don’t even have one! I’ve never even ridden on one before! I want to spin around to see if he is talking to some other kid. From behind, Father looks down at me. His eyes are blank. I realize this is just one of Mother’s cover stories. It figures.
    “
And David, ” the officer states, “treat your parents with dignity and respect. You don’t know how lucky you are.”
    My mind becomes foggy. All I can hear inside my head is, “how lucky you are … how lucky you are … , ” over and over and over again. I shudder when Father slams the door from the driver’s side of the station wagon. He exhales deeply before leaning over to me. “Jesus H. Christ, David!” he begins as he turns the ignition and pumps the gas pedal. “What in the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you did? Do you know what you put your mother through?”
    My head snaps toward Father.
Put
her
through? What about me? Doesn’t anyone care about me? But …
I tell myself,
maybe she broke down. Maybe she’s really concerned about me. Is it possible she knows she went too far?
For a moment I can imagine Mother sobbing in Father’s arms, wondering where I am, whether I’m alive. Then I can see my mommy running up to me with tears in her eyes as she wraps me in love, showering me with kisses, tears rolling down her face. I can almost hear my mommy say the three most important words I long to hear. And I’ll be ready to say the four most important words: I love you, too!
    “
David!” Father grabs my arm. I jump up, striking my head against the top of the car. “Do you have any idea what your mother’s been doing? I can’t get a moment of peace in that house. For Christ’s sake, it’s been nothing but hell since you left. Jesus, can’t you just stay out of trouble? Can’t you just try and make her happy? Just stay out of her way and do whatever she wants. Can you do that? Can you do that for me? Well?” Father yells, raising his voice so loud I can feel my skin crawl.
    Slowly I nod my head yes. I don’t dare make a sound as I cry deep inside. I know I’m wrong. And, as always, it’s all my fault. I turn to Father while shaking my head up and down. He reaches over to pat my head.
    “
All right, ” he says in a softer tone, “all right. That’s my Tiger. Now let’s go home.”
    As Father drives the car up the same street I walked down hours ago, I sit at the far side of the car, resting the weight of my body on the door. I feel like a trapped animal who wants to claw its way through the glass. The closer we get to The House, the more I can feel myself quiver inside. I need to go to the bathroom.
Home,
I say to myself. I stare down at my hands. My fingers tremble from fear. I know in a few moments I’ll be back where it all started. In all, nothing’s changed, and I know nothing will. I wish I were someone, anyone but who I am. I wish