The Unknown Need

 

            Stephen, the only child in the Adamos family, sat with his parents as they celebrated his tenth birthday. He looked around the relatively empty room, a small birthday cake in the center of the table and a frozen pizza slowly cooking in the oven in the kitchen behind him. He could feel the rage and disappointment emanating from his father, while his mother sat helpless across the table, her eye swollen shut, the fruit of his father’s uncontrollable hatred and rage.

              He put on a plastic smile to communicate the message that he was thankful for the meagre celebration before him, but his heart slowly shriveled as he replayed his mother’s cries and pleadings for mercy while his father beat her. Stephen was far too small to intervene or protect his mother, knowing that every morning when he emerged from his bedroom he would find his mother carrying new wounds on her tiny frame.

              The oven timer dinged, communicating the fact that dinner was ready, and Stephen watched his mother carefully rise from her seat, wincing with every movement to deliver their meagre dinner between the three of them. He thanked his mother as she placed the plate in front of him, while his father merely grunted and finished his beer.

              The three of them slowly ate the celebration meal and Stephen watched his father drink four more beers with his pizza. Now that the pizza was gone, the cake was divided into three portions, the largest for his father and the remaining portion was divided in half between him and his mother. The small boy hated his life, knowing that more beatings would be taking place that evening after he had gone to bed, the sounds of his mother crying and begging for mercy as he tried to fall asleep.

              He woke the next morning to a stream of profanity from his father and the sound of the front door slamming shut. Terrified at what he would find when he emerged from his bedroom, he waited a few moments with the hope that his father was truly gone from their home. He slipped out of his bed, changed from his pajamas into his clothes for school that day, to find his mother lying unconscious on the kitchen floor. Following what he had seen in the movies, he checked for a pulse to happily find that she was still alive and breathing.

              Knowing that his father would likely return, he locked the front door and the back door, sliding a chair under each handle, and quickly looked through each room in search of his mother’s cellphone, to eventually find it in her purse. He dialed 911 and gave a detailed description of what he found when he emerged from his bedroom. Within thirty minutes he welcomed the police into their home, who were shortly thereafter followed by the EMT’s who carefully lifted his broken mother from the floor onto the gurney.

              He sat in silence with two police officers until child protective services arrived to bring him somewhere safe. As they drove away, he told them everything he knew about his father, where he worked, his extended family whom he rarely saw, and his need to go to school that day. Sick with worry about his mother and the certain violent reaction from his father when he returned home to an empty house.

              Stephen was taken for a quick medical check-up and was delivered to school with instructions to the principal that CPS would be bringing Stephen to a safe home at the end of the school day. Distracted and terrified with concern over his mother, he felt like a zombie as he moved through the hallways, going from class to class, deliberately avoiding interaction with other students and teachers.

              The final bell rang for the day and Stephen hurried to the principal’s office to wait for the kind people from CPS to arrive and take him to see his mother before being transferred into a safe home with people he did not know. They arrived at the hospital, walked inside, and he took hold of his mother’s hand to then slide into bed next to her, knowing that she needed to be loved and protected.

              “You don’t need to worry, Stephen,” she said. “The police have taken your father away. He won’t hurt either one of us again. I need a few days to heal so you’ll need to stay with the nice family who have agreed to take care of you and give you all you need to recover. When I am strong enough, you and I can return home and be safe without the abuse we’ve endured for so long. Please be a good boy. I love you.”

              Stephen slid down from his mother’s side, kissed her hand, and joined the two CPS agents in the hallway. They returned to the car, drove for twenty minutes and entered the most beautiful and peaceful home he had ever experienced. He was introduced to a younger couple with an infant, who hugged him, offered him a snack and showed him to his own bedroom which was soft, beautiful and filled with toys and clothing, specifically chosen for him.

              He thanked them both, hugged them, and joined them for a dinner of fried chicken, steamed vegetables, and milk. He was in awe as he enjoyed the peaceful, gentle conversation that followed for the next thirty minutes. There was no violence, angry words, or threats of abuse. The three of them worked together, cleaning the kitchen, and leaving the house in an organized, beautiful state as they left the house to visit the elderly at a retirement home.

              Stephen was introduced to several other children his age, as they all began to engage in friendly conversation with many old people who had no one else, no family, no friends, and a deep need for kindness and love. The little boy marveled that such a world existed, where people were kind to one another, spoke gently to one another and truly enjoyed one another’s company, playing games, asking questions, and were genuinely interested in him.

              After two hours of pleasantries, they all left the retirement home and stopped for ice cream before returning home. Stephen could feel his heart growing warm and thrilled to learn that life was not at all about merely surviving but thriving. He and these new, kind people sat together in the restaurant enjoying their sweet dessert to then return to a quiet, beautiful, peaceful home, one without anger or violence.

              The three of them sat together listening to classical music, when the phone rang. “Oh, it’s CPS,” the woman said. She answered the call, stepped into the other room and returned within a few minutes. “Stephen,” she said. “They are saying that you’ll be staying with us tonight, tomorrow, and tomorrow night. Your mother is recovering quickly and will pick you up the next day. We will make sure that you go to school each day and come back here to wait for her to pick you up.”

              “Thank you, ma’am,” he answered. “Thank you so much for taking care of me and for being so kind. Your home is so quiet, peaceful and beautiful. I did not know that a home could be like this. I am quite tired. Can I go to bed now?”

              “Yes, of course,” she said. “I can help you get ready for a shower before bed if you’d like. I know that you’ll sleep well, and you’ll be safe with no need to worry about anything going wrong.”

              Stephen and his foster mother ascended the stairs, she took out a pair of pajamas from the dresser, started the shower for him, showed him where everything was in the bathroom and left him to take care of his needs. The little boy marveled at the beautiful bedroom, the beautiful private bathroom, the warm shower and the cozy pajamas that fit him perfectly.

              Two days passed, and he returned home from school to find his mother waiting for him in the kitchen of the foster home, looking rested and at peace. He carefully hugged her, knowing that she would still be somewhat sore from all that had happened.

              “Oh, Stephen, it is so good to see you,” she said. “We can be together now and there is no need to be concerned about your father. He will not be returning to our home. The police have established a safe new reality for us where he cannot be anywhere near us.” She rose from her chair, knelt down, and embraced him with a genuine motherly love, knowing that her little boy missed her as much as she missed him.

              “Thank you so much for taking care of Stephen,” she said to the foster parents.  They then left the beautiful, peaceful house, drove back to their own home and sat together in a home free of violence, anger, and profanity.

“Oh, Stephen,” she said. “The foster family has offered to help support us while your father is no longer part of our lives. They spoke very highly of you and thought that you were a very kind, thankful, and wonderful little boy. Of course, I already knew that. Our time together will be so good now. This is how life should be, a quiet, peaceful home that has nothing violent or ugly within it. We can spend good time together and love one another. I am so excited to hear about your time with the foster family. Tell me all of the details.”

“Now that father is no longer here,” he said. “I know that our home can be quiet and peaceful like their home. They spoke kindly and gently to one another with beautiful music playing in the background and no anger. I hope I have the chance to see them again and thank them for all of the good they have done for us.”

“Yes, we can make that happen,” she said. “I have their phone number, and I know we can spend some time together with them. They are good people, and I know they truly enjoyed their time with you. It is good to pay back kindness when someone else has been kind to us.”