CHAPTER FOUR
HENRY WAS WALKING BACK from the store, the new groceries in the basket under the stroller. Bobby was squirming around, babbling, and waving his hands at the shivering leaves of the trees. Henry talked to him, enjoying seeing him happy. The air was warm, but breezy, keeping Henry from getting too hot. The birds were chirping. A man mowed his lawn, the noise of the lawn mowing droning sleepily.
Henry frowned, looking at the lawn mower man again. He was almost sure… the man was a little heavier, starting to gray a little. But Henry was sure it was him.
“Frank?” he called tentatively, not quite believing it.
The man turned the mower off and looked across the yard at Henry, frowning.
“Did you call me, kid?”
“You are Frank, aren’t you?” Henry questioned. His hands were suddenly slippery on the handle of the stroller. He had never expected to see Frank again, after all of the years. Frank was a distant memory.
“Yeah. Do I know you?” Frank questioned. He took a couple of steps toward Henry.
“Henry Thomas,” Henry said. “Do you remember…?”
“Henry?” Frank said in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
“I live just down the block,” Henry gestured in the general direction.
Frank frowned, shaking his head. He scratched his head. His hair had thinned over the years too. Henry was surprised that he looked so much older.
“I forgot that you lived in this part of town,” Frank said. “It’s been… well, a lot of years.”
“Nine, I think,” Henry said, quickly subtracting the years.
“Huh. I just moved here over the summer.”
Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Henry didn’t know what to say or how to act. He and Frank had been really close, when Frank was seeing his mom. Henry had never loved anyone more. Maybe not even his mom. He had been devastated when Frank and Dorry broke up. Frank was the only man who’d ever been like a father to Henry. Henry wanted to throw his arms around Frank, to ask him how he could have stayed away for so long. He wanted to feel safe in Frank’s arms again. But guys Henry’s age didn’t do that. So Henry just stood there, trying to figure out what to say.
“So is this your brother?” Frank questioned finally. “One of a long line?” he suggested.
“No, just me and him,” Henry said with a short laugh.
“I always thought Dorry would have a whole houseful of kids,” Frank said, smiling, his eyes reminiscent.
“No. She doesn’t like kids,” Henry said flatly.
“She used to. I wonder what made her change her mind.”
Henry thought back to that time. She’d been happy when Frank was around. They were a real family. Having fun times together, going out, lots of hugs and kisses. After they broke up, Dorry went into a deep depression. That was when Henry had to go into foster care. After that, things had never been the same. She never really smiled much when Henry returned. He tried to make her happy, but he couldn’t replace Frank.
“Things weren’t really the same after you left,” Henry said, shrugging and looking away.
Frank looked saddened. He stared down at Bobby. They both looked down at Bobby, too hurt to look each other in the eye.
“How much do you remember about when me and your mom were together?” Frank asked awkwardly.
“I remember,” Henry asserted. He might have been young at the time, but he remembered everything that Frank had been to them.
Frank touched Henry’s chin, lifting up his face so that they were eye to eye. Frank stared into Henry’s eyes for a disconcertingly long time. Henry frowned, wondering why Frank was being so intense. He was overwhelmed with Frank being so close to him. That familiar face. Those eyes. The smell of him that brought back so many memories. Frank looked so sad and worried. Henry gave in to impulse and threw his arms around Frank.
“I missed you. I never thought I’d see you again,” he murmured.
For a moment, Frank stood there, stiff and rigid, shocked by the contact. Then he pulled Henry’s head against his chest and kissed him warmly on the top of his head.
“I missed you too, sport,” he said hoarsely.
Henry walked in the door. He took a deep breath and let it out again. He got Bobby out of the stroller and put him on the floor to play.
“You took a while at the grocery store,” Dorry observed. “You run into problems?”
“No.”
Henry opened his mouth to tell her about Frank, then closed it, reconsidering. She had split up with Frank, even knowing how close Henry was to him. She hadn’t let Frank come over to visit, or let Henry continue to go on outings with him. She had erased Frank from their lives, knowing how it would hurt Henry. She’d been more worried about whatever they’d broken up over than about her own son’s feelings.
“It was just busy today,” Henry told her. “Long lineups.”
Henry started to unpack the groceries and put them away. His stomach was tense. He felt guilty about lying to her.
“Do you want me to make you some supper?” he offered. Maybe doing something nice for her would make him feel better about the lie.
“Oh, I’m not hungry, honey. Really. You go ahead and make something for yourself.”
She turned away from him to leave the room.
“You don’t eat enough, Ma,” Henry objected. “You’re getting too skinny.”
Dorry laughed and patted her flat stomach.
“Someone once said you can never be too rich or too skinny.”
“Someone never heard of malnutrition or anorexia,” Henry shot back. She went into the living room to watch TV, and Henry took care of his and Bobby’s supper instead.
Henry sat in math class the next day thinking about Frank. He couldn’t understand Frank’s awkwardness and reticence. It had been a long time since they saw each other, but Henry and Frank had always gotten along well. Whatever had happened to split them up had been between Frank and Dorry.
It was that long, piercing stare that was so disconcerting. Like he was trying to look into Henry’s heart, to read his memories. Why wouldn’t Henry remember him? It had been a lot of years ago, but how could Henry forget all the good times they’d had together? But Frank had seemed so awkward and worried. Like he was afraid of even talking to Henry. Henry decided to go see him again after school, after checking in on Bobby.
Funny what Frank had said about Dorry wanting a lot of kids, Henry mused. She couldn’t handle kids crying and getting under foot. For a long time after Frank had left, Henry didn’t think she even liked him anymore. Maybe Henry had just reminded her of Frank too much. The way little kids chatter, Henry had probably asked after Frank constantly after he had disappeared. Funny though, Henry couldn’t remember any of their conversations right after Frank had left. He clearly remembered the many outings with Frank and the time they’d spent together, but the period between Frank leaving and Henry being in foster care was all fuzzy and muddled.
When Dorry had accidentally gotten pregnant with Bobby, she and Clint had nearly broken up. They had long, loud, emotional arguments about the pregnancy. Dorry wanted an abortion. Clint was dead set against it. That was when Clint had turned to Henry, asking him to make sure she took good care of herself while pregnant. He had bought a baby care book and gave it to Henry to read. His mom eventually accepted the idea of continuing the pregnancy and stayed pretty much confined to bed. When Bobby was born, responsibility was handed over to Clint and Henry. But Clint was a bear if wakened in the night; so much so, that Henry feared for the baby’s safety, and moved the crib into his own room. During the day, Clint was out working, or looking for work. So it fell to Henry to try to juggle school and baby care, relying on Dorry to do little more than give Bobby an occasional bottle.
Someone poked Henry in the back, and he jolted and looked around quickly. The class was silent, everyone looking at him. Mr. Abrams looked at him expectantly, obviously having asked him a question. Henry scanned the board and looke
d down at his books.
“What?”
A few classmates giggled.
“Would you like to join us on this planet?” the teacher said sarcastically.
“Sorry,” Henry apologized, “I was just… distracted. Sorry.”
“Did you do your homework last night?”
“Yes.”
“We’re on 5(c). You want to walk us through it?”
“Uh, sure.”
Henry read through the question, ears burning, and then read through his answer, squirming uncomfortably in his seat.
Henry knew he had to see Frank again. Maybe he shouldn’t, but he really needed to see him again, visit with him. He went to Frank’s house after school. Another man answered the door. This was unexpected. Henry stood there, uncertain what to say.
“Well, what do you want?” the stranger questioned impatiently.
“Um—sorry… I was looking for Frank,” Henry said hesitantly.
“Hang on.” The man withdrew and shouted, “Frank, you got a visitor.”
He walked away without another word to Henry. Henry stood there, waiting. Frank came down the stairs and saw Henry.
“Oh… it’s you. What do you want, Henry?” he demanded.
“I… I just wanted to visit you,” Henry said, his voice small, faint in his own ears.
“Well, I really don’t know…” Frank said, scratching the back of his neck and looking around.
Henry tried to mask his disappointment and figure out why Frank wouldn’t want to see him again.
“Are you busy?” he questioned. “I could come back later…”
“No, it’s not that.”
“What, then?” Henry demanded, his voice cracking. “I thought you said you missed me too.”
Frank nodded.
“Yeah, I do,” he looked reminiscent, despite his previous tone. “We had some good times together, didn’t we?” he murmured.
Henry nodded eagerly.
“We used to do all kinds of things -- going to the zoo, or the park, or the mall. I know I’m not a little kid any more. We’re not gonna do any of that kind of stuff any more. But I want to… visit with you. Be with you again.”
Frank sighed.
“Well, you’d better come in off the doorstep anyways,” he conceded finally, stepping back and motioning Henry to enter. Henry stepped in and looked around. The room was sort of dim and disorderly, with a greasy food smell in the air. It was sparsely furnished and felt empty.
“So the other guy, you’re roommates?” Henry questioned.
“Well, housemates, yeah. It’s a—a few of us share the rent. We don’t have that much to do with each other. Other than living in the same house.”
Henry nodded. They both looked around for somewhere to sit. It was not an inviting room.
“Why don’t you come in the kitchen, and we’ll have some lemonade or something,” Frank suggested.
The kitchen was brighter and looked fairly unused, in spite of the smell of the place. Henry supposed that a group of carefree bachelors probably didn’t do a lot of cooking. They probably ate mostly takeout and frozen dinners.
Frank rummaged around in the fridge and came up with some pale colored punch of some kind.
“I don’t know what kind it is. Cherry or something,” he said apologetically.
Henry thought he was probably lucky they had anything other than beer.
“That’s okay,” he said.
Frank opened the freezer to find ice cubes.
“Do you remember we used to make popsicles together?” Henry said suddenly, the memory jumping to the front of his mind, “out of juice, or yoghurt, or pudding? I remember that!”
“Sure, we made some pretty decent stuff, too. You still like to mess around in the kitchen?” Frank questioned, putting a glass on the table in front of Henry. He sat down across from Henry.
“I do most of the cooking,” Henry said.
“What’s your mom do? Work?”
Henry was embarrassed to have Frank ask after Dorry like that. Casually, like he’d never been close to her.
“Ma doesn’t handle stress so well… Sometimes she’ll work at something for a few weeks. Then,” he shrugged, “she either gets fired or quits. And she hasn’t done that much since Bobby was born.”
“Well, a baby takes up a lot of time. Did she get married, then? She’s got someone to look after her?”
“No… we have Clint. He’s been around for a couple of years. He helps out a bit with the bills. And Ma gets welfare checks and disability.”
“Disability?” Frank repeated.
Henry shrugged and looked down, and didn’t explain.
“I always figured to marry your mom. I’ve never really met anyone I got along with like her,” Frank said.
“Then why did you guys break up?” Henry pleaded.
They looked at each other for a moment, each aware of the raw emotion in the other’s eyes. Neither could voice their innermost feelings.
“I don’t think we should talk about it,” Frank said finally.
“Yeah,” Henry agreed.
He knew it wasn’t a fair question to ask. He’d heard plenty of times how breakups and divorces were never just one person’s fault. About how some relationships just weren’t meant to be. It wasn’t fair ask why. It wasn’t Frank’s fault that they had broken up. It was Dorry who broke it up. She was the one who was so bitter and wouldn’t have anything to do with him again.
< < <
Henry went to Frank’s house a lot over the fall. Sometimes he’d go by himself, and sometimes he’d take Bobby. They would sit in the kitchen or out in the back yard talking. Frank let down his guard and seemed more natural, as time went on. But a few times, Henry was reminded that there was something Frank was not telling him.
One time, Henry had taken Bobby with him, and Frank asked to hold him.
“Yeah, sure,” Henry said, and took Bobby out of the stroller.
Frank sat Bobby in his lap and bounced him.
“He’s a pretty good baby?” he questioned, smiling, looking like this was how it was supposed to be, a father figure yet again, happy to be holding a child.
“Yeah,” Henry agreed. “I worry about him, though. About if we’re raising him right. Taking good enough care of him.”
“He seems happy and healthy,” Frank said, looking at Bobby’s face, still bouncing him.
“Yeah. But ma doesn’t really look after him, and I just go from the book…” Henry trailed off.
Frank suddenly looked down at Bobby with a different expression on his face.
“You’d better take him back,” he said hurriedly, picking Bobby up and handing him over.
“Is he wet?” Henry questioned, thinking he recognized that look. Bobby’s diaper must have leaked on Frank’s pants.
“No. I just remembered I have to be somewhere,” Frank said hurriedly, standing up, and moving away sideways, crablike. “We’ll have to do this some other time.”
Frank disappeared into the house. Henry stood there with Bobby, staring after him, trying to figure out what had just happened.
> > >
Henry got the diaper bag together and got Bobby into the stroller. Dorry looked up from the TV, and rubbed her temples tiredly.
“Where are you going?” she questioned.
“Taking Bobby to the doctor,” Henry told her patiently. She should have known already. Not only was it written on the calendar, but he’d told her not half an hour ago.
“He’s not sick, though,” she protested.
“No. It’s just a ‘well baby’ check-up.”
“If he’s not sick, why does he need a check-up?”
“Just to make sure he’s growing and developing like he is supposed to,” Henry explained. Hadn’t she taken Henry to doctor’s appointments when he was a baby? Had she just forgotten, or had she not even bothered to do that?
Dorry shook her head, then shrugged.
“I don’t know why he need
s one, but… whatever.”
Henry put a bottle of formula into the diaper bag, and handed Bobby a rattly teething toy. They waited for a while at the doctor’s office. Bobby was doing pretty well, not making a lot of noise. Henry was glad that he wasn’t crawling around yet. The other kids were coughing and slobbering over the doctor’s toys. Henry read the public health posters on the wall, and picked up a couple of pamphlets on nutrition and development, tucking them into the diaper bag.
The doctor asked questions while he weighed and measured Bobby and checked his eyes and ears, listened to his chest and back with his stethoscope, and so on. He wrote some notes on the file, and looked up at Henry, crossing one leg across his lap.
“So, tell me something, Henry,” he said.
Henry shifted uncertainly.
“Yeah?”
“Are you taking care of this baby by yourself?”
Henry’s heart thumped and his breathing felt strangled. He looked into the doctor’s eyes, but they were not accusatory, only inquiring.
“Is there something wrong with him?” Henry stalled.
“No, no. Very healthy, happy, strong boy. Developmentally on par,” the doctor assured him.
“Then why do you think that?”
“We don’t generally see babies in here with kids your age. Unless they’re teenage moms. Now, confidentially, are you?”
Henry tried to figure out what to tell him. The doctor seemed trustworthy. His face was sympathetic. The doctor smiled encouragingly.
“My mom looks after him while I’m at school,” Henry said slowly. “The rest of the time…” he hesitated, “yeah, mostly.”
“Are you managing okay? There are places you can go for help. Community resources.”
Henry licked his dry lips.
“People that won’t tell Social Services that Bobby’s neglected, or something?” he questioned tentatively.
“I can’t promise that. But I don’t think you’ll run into problems. You’re doing a good job, and you don’t need to be penalized for getting some extra help if you need it.”
Henry nodded.
“Now and then, I wish there was someone I could trust, to look after him when I’ve got somewhere else I have to be,” he admitted.
“I’ll get you a list. There are some good programs that I think could help you.”
“Okay, thanks.”
< < <