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June 7th. The rootbeer pop and pepsi was long gone. yet we still sat on the front porch steps. We both would glance at each other and taking deep breaths every now and again. questions filled my head, as I'm sure they did his also. I wondered if there was a book somewhere that gave instructions on how to talk to the maybe son, you never knew you had? The kid was dirty, raggy clothes two sizes to big. but he was still cute....I guess. I think he had freckles across his nose, or maybe it was just ground in dirt. his hair was dark and greasy, kinda just caked to his head. kinda stringy looking. his t-shirt was torn, filthy and baggy his jeans were baggy, both knees blown right out, zipper was down, the bottoms were shredded from being way to long and walked on. mismatching colored socks and very worn out shoes. his big toe was trying to peek out of the hole on the side. his shoes seemed to be the one that was to small for him. he had scrapes on his knees, elbows and hands. I asked him the only thing, I could think of at the time "you hungry?" He looked up at me with his big brown eyes. his eyelashes were striking, mesmerizing. he looked as if he wasn't sure he should answer me. maybe he was scared to go in the house with me. hell, I would be, if I was him...... was he really my son? I got up and headed for the door. as I opened it, I asked him "you like peanut butter and jelly?" he looked over his shoulder at me and I think he shook his head yes. I went on into the kitchen to make some sandwiches. I had made four pbj's and was cutting them when he slid quitely into the kitchen. his eyes exploring everything. I pulled a kitchen chair over to the sink. "hop up here and wash your hands......you want regular chips or cheesepuffs?" I asked as I held up the two bags. he pointed to the puffs, then climbed upon the chair. I poured some puffs into a bowl as he washed his hands. then poured us both some apple juice. Once he sat at the table he started wolfing his food down. "Whoa! slow down" I said "the foods not going to run away" at first a scared look shot through his eyes, then disappeared as if he sensed there was no danger. He looked almost robotic as he forced himself to eat slower. We ate in silence, except for the peanut butter smack or drink slurp every now and then. once finished, I asked if he wanted more. He shook his head and actually said no. but then asked for more juice. I could feel him watching me, as I moved around the kitchen. studying me. "are you really my dad?" I think I ducked when I heard that question. like it was something that would knock me down. We watched each other a moment, before I answered. "I'm not sure, I might be" my voice sounded as bad as the words....very unsure. We stumbled around each other for the rest of the day. two strangers, not knowing how to ask the questions burning in our minds. both I believe filled with fear of each other. As darkness fell, I sent him in for a bath or shower, which ever he wanted to take. as he scrubbed himself clean, I fixed supper.....hamburger helper and buttered bread. We finished at about the same time, his bathing and my cooking. He came into the kitchen wearing the tee shirt I laid out for him as I was putting the plates on the table. I couldn't help but stare at him as we ate, taking in every feature. What was I going to do with him? I couldn't just keep him............could I? was he my son? If he wasn't what do I do with him? hell what do I do if he was? After supper, I put him in front of the TV. I still needed to finish the article for readers digest. my mind sure wasn't in the writing frame, but it needed to be done so I forced out the rest. He was asleep on the couch, when I finished. I quitely turned the TV off, then got a blanket and covered him. I then showered and went to bed. |