Little Boy Lost Chapter 10

For my beautiful Shawnee

Bobby made his decision. Knowing he was in trouble either way, he climbed up on the bed. The restraints were tight, and he had difficulty loosening them.

"Hurry up, Bobby! Before they come back!" Frances said urgently. Bobby tried, but it was slow going. "Do it!" she snarled.

Bobby shot a quick glance at his mother; seeing the look on her face frightened him, making him nervous and his fingers fumbled even more. Finally he got one side done. Frances pushed him aside. "Find my clothes!" she ordered him, and went about releasing the other one herself.

Bobby climbed down from the bed and looked in the closet. No clothes. He quickly checked the very small dresser. Empty. Then he looked back at his mother anxiously. "I… I can't…find them, Ma…."

Frances looked at her youngest son scornfully as she made her way to the closet. "You're worthless, Bobby," she told him, even as she looked in the closet and didn't see her clothes. "Your father is right about you. If Frankie were here…" Glancing nervously around the room, she whirled on Bobby. "I know what it is—you're one of them!" She looked fearfully at him.

Bobby never understood who "they" were, but he knew that whoever they were, he wasn't one of them. "No I'm not, Ma! I'm not!"

"No! Get away from me!" she hissed at him.

Bobby started to his mother, to show her he was not one of them, and to hug her and tell her he loved her. But she pushed him away hard, knocking him down, and now started shrieking. "Get away from me! Get away!" She worked her way to the door backwards; once at the door she turned and ran.

"Ma!" Bobby quickly picked himself up off the floor and made it to the door; already she was completely out of sight. And Bobby was scared. This was not the way it was supposed to go. He just wanted to make his mom feel better. He scooted out of the room and disappeared, too, back the way he had come. He knew he was in big trouble.

It didn't take the orderlies and nurses long to find Frances in her hiding place, and she was returned to her room, kicking and screaming the whole way. They re-did the restraints, confused as to how she had gotten out of them in the first place. They finally came to the conclusion that one of the orderlies had somehow managed to screw it up, and they could only pray that nothing came of it.

By this time Bobby made it back to join Frankie and his father, who by now had found out about Frances and had something else to go on about. Frank demanded to see the orderlies who had screwed up. And the hospital director, trying to soothe Frank, agreed.

The two orderlies were brought in, and were now trying to talk their way out of it. But Frank would have none of it. This might make for a nice little sum of money, he thought, if he brought about a lawsuit. He ranted on, making everyone uncomfortable.

Bobby didn't understand all the words that were said, but quickly realized it was about his mother. And that meant him, if they found out.

"What are they talking about, re...relieved… of their duties?" he whispered to Frankie.

"It means they're gonna get fired," Frankie said.

Bobby's spirits fell even more. "Fired? Why?"

"Because they didn't take care of Mom right."

The men were still fighting for their jobs, even tried the compassionate route. "Our kids won't have a Christmas. Please!"

"Let's go!" Frank said, indicating his sons, effectively ending the argument. "I'll be in touch," he told the Director. Frankie started to follow his father, but Bobby held back. "Come on!" Frank said, reaching for Bobby, who clearly was torn. If he admitted this now, after the way his father had reacted, he'd probably get the worst beating of his life. But those men, and their kids… his stomach suddenly started hurting really bad.

Frank grabbed him and marched out of the hospital. Once on the road , imagining a lawsuit, his mood changed. Frankie immediately homed in on this.

"Dad, remember that place I told you about? The one that Jimmy says has hamburgers for fifteen cents?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Well, can we go there? Then you won't have to cook…"

"You don't have to cook beer," Frank told him, chuckling, thinking his joke was really funny.

Frankie scowled. He knew it wasn't really a joke. "Well, can we, Dad? Huh?"

Frank glanced at Frankie, and grinned, the lawsuit still in his thoughts. "Yeah, I guess we can afford fifteen cents." His good mood even extended to Bobby. "What about it, Bobby? You up for a hamburger?"

By this time Bobby's stomach was in knots. He had a horribly guilty conscience about those workers, yet was too afraid of his father to tell him what really happened.

"What about it, Bobby?" Frank repeated.

Even though Bobby couldn't eat if he tried, the last thing he wanted to do was to upset his father's good mood. "Yes," he answered softly.

By the time they got to the restaurant, Bobby's felt sick. Frank escorted them in, and ordered. Frank ordered cheeseburgers with fries and a milkshake for the boys, (one cheeseburger for Bobby, two for Frankie) and four cheeseburgers, fries and a large Coke for himself.

Once at their table, Frank and Frankie dug into their food, really enjoying themselves. Bobby didn't touch his food, his stomach hurt too badly. It didn't take long for Frank to notice.

"Gonna eat, Bobby?"

Frankie stopped, cheeseburger halfway to his mouth. Uh oh…

Bobby looked at his father miserably. "Daddy… My belly hurts…"

Frank stared at him. "You little shit. You have to ruin everything, don't you?"

Bobby hung his head, but his father wasn't going to let him off that easily. "Eat."

Again Bobby looked at his dad, his eyes pleading, "My belly hurts," he repeated.

Don't, Bobby Frankie thought.

Frank leaned into Bobby, and whispered loudly, "You don't take a bite of that hamburger right now I'm gonna jam it down your damn throat! Eat!"

Bobby brought the hamburger up to his mouth and took a tiny bite, Frank watching him all the way. He took forever chewing it, but finally swallowed it. "Another," Frank ordered.

Bobby repeated his earlier actions, and Frank ordered him to eat some more. Finally Frank tired of the whole thing, and slapped the burger right out of Bobby's hand onto the floor, startling both boys.

"Pick it up!"

Bobby scampered off his chair and quickly picked up the splattered cheeseburger, and sat down again. Frank looked around the small restaurant. If other patrons hadn't been staring at them, he would have made Bobby eat the gooey mess.

He did make Bobby eat all the fries, and drink the milkshake. "Pretty damn bad," Frank complained, loud enough for the other patrons to hear, "when you buy your kid a milkshake and have to force him to drink it. Last time that happens."

Nobody said anything, but a few people just shook their heads.

Bobby was feeling worse by the minute, and an odd looked crossed his face. "Daddy…" Suddenly everything Bobby ate came gushing up and out.

Frank was shocked and mortified, and Frankie moved quickly to avoid any splatter.

"Frankie! Go get some napkins. Hurry up!"

Frankie wrinkled his nose, but started after the napkins. Frank glared at Bobby, who by this point felt so horrible he didn't care. He threw up again.

One of the managers, who'd witnessed the whole thing, quickly came up to Frank. "It's okay, Sir, we'll take care of it."

Frank stared at the guy, but the manager continued. "It happens all the time. Kids are always getting sick, eating too fast, too much… ya know?" He was trying to excuse Bobby's accident, and Frank was only too glad to get out of there.

Without so much as a thank you, Frank barked, "Let's go!" and the Gorens hurried to the exit.

They were almost to the car when Bobby held up. "Daddy…"

Frank turned around just in time to see Bobby throw up again. He shut his eyes, his hands balling into fists as he tried to control his temper. Then he just turned back and continued on to the car. As he sat there waiting for Bobby he imagined himself taking off and just leaving Bobby there. But knowing his luck the kid would somehow find his way home again. So he just sat there with Frankie, seething.

Finally Bobby made it to the car. Anticipating a backhand, he got in on the opposite side of his father. "I'm sorry," Bobby whispered.

Frank turned to him. "You better hope to hell you don't puke in this car." He didn't say anything more, just peeled out of the parking lot, throwing Bobby around in the back seat, and Frankie grabbing for something to hold onto.

The ride home was quiet, no one said a thing; so far Frank had driven the whole way white-knuckled, his face grim. Once Frankie turned around and glared at Bobby, who turned his face away, knowing that not only was the whole night ruined because of him, he had also caused some little kids to lose their Christmas, and that very likely he would pay for it when they got home. He got on his knees on the seat, and just stared out the back window at the stars just now starting to light up the sky. He wondered why everything he did was wrong. He stole a look at Frankie, who was now chatting happily with his Dad. For the first time ever Bobby felt jealousy and resentment towards his brother. Tears welled up in his eyes; not only did he want to be like Frankie, he wanted to be Frankie.

tbc