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Part Four
Art Class, One week later.
John Dunne, art teacher extraordinaire, was at a loss for words. A week ago his son introduced him to a new classmate. The child was well groomed and very polite. He seemed well educated, using a vocabulary that not even the sixth graders in the building could decipher at times (let alone some adults). Of all the students, he least expected this type of behavior.
But there, standing at the sink, with his shirt covered in bright red paint, stood one Ezra Standish.
The instigator in a very messy paint war.
In his Art Room.
HIS Art Room!!!!
Of course to add insult to injury, there not only stood Ezra but also his own son, Buck, and his nephew, Vin.
‘Some days, why couldn’t the snow fall harder. Where was a well deserved snow day when you needed it?
Come to think of it... could he use a sick day for mental health reasons?
Well a headache was beginning to form...’
John mentally shook his head to drive away the morose thoughts and again focused on the scene before him. Beside John, an equally flabbergasted Josiah stood, staring at the mess about him.
“This has got to be a first for me... how about you Mr. Dunne?” Josiah’s low yet overpowering voice broke through the silence.
“I...I...I.... uh, yeah,” was all John could manage to stammer out.
Josiah chanced a quick glance over to his young art teacher. He wasn’t sure if he was in shock or rage? In fact he can’t ever remembering seeing any expression like the one on young John’s face before...
... or on anyone!
Returning his attention to the three students standing before him, Josiah started his investigation.
“Boys, how did this start?”
No sooner was the question out of his mouth, he was receiving answers from two very excitable young boys.
“It was Lucas’s fault...”
“There was this spider....”
“He’s the one that poured paint all over Ez...”
“And Ez jumped up...”
“That just wasn’t right...”
“It was an accident...”
“Wait, wait, hold on!!!” Josiah was able to grab their attention without raising his voice.
The explanations so far did nothing to clear the air. All he understood was that Lucas and a spider poured paint on Ezra. Ezra swatted someone or something and it was all an accident. Looking around the room again... well something is missing here.
Now that he had their attention, once again...
“Ok, here is what i understand so far.
One, there was another student involved and... a... spider?
Two, paint was spilled, I am guessing by accident.
And three, ... Well , lets try this again, One. At. A. Time.”
He stated this last part by pointedly looking each one of the boys in the eyes. Just as he was about to begin questioning the three boys again, Ezra took a step forward.
*
Ezra was in complete shock. For the past week, since his he started school here, Vin and Buck had been constantly trying to befriend him.
They have taken it upon themselves to walk with him to special classes, sit with him at lunch and hang out with him at recess. Even though he never encouraged the actions of the other two, he did not discourage them.
Ezra was raised to be a very private, keep-everything-close-to-your-vest survivor. He found it hard to trust anyone of any age and near recent events just drove those lessons further home. As Mr. Sanchez tried to gain understanding in the events that had happened in class, Ezra couldn't help but reflect on the incident that led to his being here.
A little over one week ago, Ezra’s mother, Maude Standish, remarried and became Mrs. Frederick Berkley. No sooner had the wedding taken place, Ezra found himself on an airplane heading from Georgia to Pennsylvania.
Life with Maude was never easy. They were always on the move, at least he was and she was always leaving him behind with someone he never even met. So when he was rushed to his room before the reception and his mother helped him pack his belongings, Ezra had no reason to think this situation was any different from the others he has experienced.
He was wrong on that aspect. It soon became clear that this was not like all of those other times. The finality of Maude’s words brought that to the forefront.
“Ezra,” Maude began as she checked her hair in the mirror for the third time since entering the room.
“I am about to start a new life. A life with a man that I truly love. We want to start a family and have children of our own.
That is why you are going to go live with your father. This is going to be a new start for the both of us. You will get to be in a stable home with someone who loves and wants you.” She stopped there as she re-applied her lipstick.
“and I will get to make a real home with a real family.”
Her words were cold and unemotional. She never once looked at him. For the tone of her voice she might as well have been talking about the weather.
And Ezra thought that they came too easily and too quick.
He knew that their relationship was not like what other mothers and sons shared. But standing there with his bag in his hand, waiting to go to the airport, the words sliced through his young nine year old heart, tearing it to tiny shreds to lay heavy and cold in the pit of his stomach.
‘Did she really not want him? Was she sending him away forever? Wasn’t he “real family”?
Didn’t SHE LOVE HIM?’
On the verge of tears and stunned into complete immobility, the last parting words Maude gave him before he was carried to the car by an assistant to Mr. Berkley was,
“Ezra, your a big boy now. Don’t disappoint me again by showing such waistless emotions.”
She then turned and never looked back.
Ezra soon found himself in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Waiting in the security office for his father.
‘My father,’ Ezra’s brain kicked into motion with that very thought since leaving Georgia.
‘I have never even met my father.’
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of lonely footsteps echoing down a deserted hall.
‘Could this be him?’
Now Ezra’s brain was a flurry of activity. The once frozen synapses were firing in quick succession.
‘What was his father like?
Why had he not met him before?
Mother said that I was wanted here. But why did it take nine years?’
While thoughts raced through his head, Ezra almost missed the sound of the handle turning on the door. Eyes wide with wonder turned towards that door. A hand covered in expensive leather appeared through the initial crack of the opening.
All Ezra could think was ‘this is it, I am about to meet my father.’
*
Part 5
That same night, a few days before Ezra started school.
Mr. Guy Royal walked into the cold,dim room of security at the airport. The rage he still felt after receiving the phone call from Maude, was barely contained in his steel gray eyes. He noticed right away the small figure seated in the office.
‘My son? Yeah right, like that little slut would know.’
Though he was uncertain if this child was his, he figured, well more like his lawyer figured, that it would be easier to go and pick the boy up and then settle paternity through the courts and DNA tests.
Maude had contacted him two days ago saying that she was sending his son to him and that she had given up rights to the boy. That the paper work had all been filed and that he was now responsible for the child. She promptly disconnected the call and he had no way of getting in touch with her.
Just hours later, the papers arrived and he was on his phone with his lawyer.
Now here he was, picking up the little brat, and he had to make it look good.
Stepping up to the desk where a single security guard sat, Guy extended his hand and showed the proper papers and ID.
“Hello sir. I am Guy Royal and I am here to pick up my son Ezra Standish.” This was said with a pleasant tone and a sweet smile.
Standing, the guard took the papers, looked at them and seeing them in order, thumbed over his shoulder to the small, green eyed child sitting in the large wooden chair behind him, along the wall.
“That's him. Everything looks fine, he’s all yours.” The guard states with an I can really give a shit who you are attitude.
“Thank you sir!” Guy returns with a little too much cheer.
Stepping slightly to the right of the desk, to get a better view of his ‘son’, Guy holds out his arm to his side. A clear gesture that Ezra is to come stand beside him.
“Come Ezra, it is late and we have a long drive.”
*
Ezra saw the expensive leather glove as the door cracked open. When the man dressed in charcoal gray slacks and a slightly lighter gray, long over coat, stepped into the office, he was not sure what to expect.
Since his mother told him he was coming here, through the entire plane ride, he tried to imagine what his father might look like. Thoughts and images revolved in his head to the point he thought he would get sick from dizziness.
‘Would he be tall or short? Fat or thin? What color was his hair, his eyes? Did he really want him?’
And now that the moment was at hand, he didn’t know what to think.
He did know that he did not have a very good feeling about this.
It wasn’t just the thought of his mother not wanting him or that in reality this person was a complete stranger. Or even that to him this happened all in the span of about six hours.
It was something about the man. He was tall, maybe around six feet. His hair was graying at the temples and sides with just a hint of brown still noticeable. He wasn’t a bad looking man, he supposed. His face was slightly wrinkled and he was probably a good eight to ten years older than mother.
His eyes... that is what drew his attention. The cold steel gray eyes that briefly looked at him before dismissing him as unimportant and forgotten, before turning to the guard, he saw all of the contempt and rage that was there.
Were those feelings expressed there for him or for Maude?
The false want he expressed to the guard, was all too evident to Ezra. He had seen the look in his mother’s eyes as she hastingly explained her choices to him and dismissed him like the rice that adorned the air and walkways after the ceremony.
That was all he was to her now. Something to be swept aside and forgotten.
Now a sense of fear grew in Ezra.
‘What was going to happen to me now?’
He was pulled from his thoughts by a strong, no-nonsense voice.
“Come Ezra, it is late and we have a long drive.”
Ezra slowly gets up and grabbing his bag, makes his way past the security guard and the desk and steps up to the right of his... father?
A well callused and large hand descends upon his shoulder and slides over to his neck, cupping it loosely. As they begin to walk out of the office, the hand suddenly tightens, painfully, bringing both of them to an abrupt halt. Forcing Ezra to turn just slightly, the hand squeeze a little harder, causing a quick in drawn breath of pain from Ezra, an even quicker flash of pain to cross his angelic face and his grip on his suitcase to falter, allowing it to clank to the floor.
The security guard hearing the small intake of breath and the echo of the suitcase dropping, around the room, looks up.
“Now Ezra,” the voice of Guy Royal somewhat sneers as his grip tightens even more and a very false fatherly smile appears. “Where are your manners? What do you say to the gentleman for watching over you until I was able to get here?”
Swallowing back the small amount of bile that rose to his throat because of the searing pain that came with the still painfully tight grip on his neck, Ezra smiles weakly and turns to the guard.
“Please forgive my horrible manners. Thank you for watching over me during my wait. It was greatly appreciated.”
The guard barely even acknowledges the kind words and goes back to reading a newspaper that is spread before him.
Guy turns them both towards the door again and bends down to whisper in Ezra’s ear.
“I will expect no less than good manners from you boy. Show respect to your elders at all times. Do you understand me... son?” The last part was said with such disgust that Ezra truly thought this time he would throw up.
“Now pick up your case and lets go. I have already wasted enough of my time here.”
Quickly picking up his case after the grip was let lose from his neck, Ezra quickly and quietly follows his father from the room.
Vowing that he would not let the man see him cry.
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