I found a motel room to rent for a few days until I could find a place to
live. Since we
were staying for a while, I pulled everything from the car, including Logan's spare
wheelchair. Don't ask me why I kept it; I had some of his clothes, even his cell phone, to
remember him by, I guess. But what I did with it is weird. While Nicolas and Patrick
napped, I walked around the room, checking it out, putting a few things away, stuff like
that. I went down to the car and hauled the wheelchair out, along with the final bag of
stuff, some clothes I had obtained for the kids. I opened the wheelchair and put the bag
on it, pushing it into the motel room. I put the kids clothes in one of the dresser drawers,
then sat down in the wheelchair, putting my feet on the rests. I closed my eyes and rolled
back and forth in the chair, thinking of Logan. I thought I felt a tear escape from under
my eyelid, but when I went to rub it away, my cheek was dry. I hadn't cried since that
day, and haven't since, believe it or not. But, was sitting there, rocking back and forth,
my eyes closed and remembering. I think I almost fell asleep, until I heard Patrick's cry
from the bed. Just as he cried out, an idea popped into my head. I got up and tended to
Patrick, then woke Nicolas. Sitting in the wheelchair, I tried to explain to the three year
old what had to be done.
"Do you remember what we have talked about the last few days?" I asked him. He
nodded, so I continued, "Ok, let's go through it again, is that alright?" he nodded again.
"Alright. What's your name?'
"Nicolas."
"Ok, Nicolas, do you have another name?" he shook his head no. "Ok, now we have to
change something. Your new last name is Cale, ok? Your name is Nicolas Cale." He
nodded again.
"Alright, so if I ask you your name, you say."
"Nicolas Cale."
"Great! And how old are you?"
"Trois.Non.Three!" He hollered, giggling. I was glad he thought this was a game; it
would make it much easier on both him and me.
"Alright! Nicolas, do you have any brothers?"
"Yup!"
"How many?"
"Une."
"How many?"
"Umm, ONE!"
"What his name?"
"Patric."
"Is it Patric? Or Patrick?"
"OH! Patrick!"
"How old is he?"
"Bebe."
"Bebe? What do you mean?"
"Baby."
"Ok, baby. He's a baby, right?"
"Uh huh!" he giggled again.
"Alright, would you like a treat?" "YA!!" I put my feet on the footrests again and went over to the tiny fridge. Opening it, I
pulled out a bag of chocolate cookies and gave him one.
"Ok, Nicolas Cale, right?" he nodded, mouth full of cookie. "Good, so who am I?"
"Mama?"
"No." I wasn't really sure I wanted him calling me mama, I was going to let everyone
believe I was their sister or aunt or something.
"Ya, tu a mon Mama. You are Mama." I thought about it for a few minutes.
"Ok, Mama. Sure. All right. Mama." I let him go play for a bit while I got Patrick ready
to go out, then I took them to a barber and got Nicolas' hair shaved off. He really liked
the effect, and I hoped it would disguise him enough for a while. I got my long curls cut
really short, just below my ears. By now, the dye had been washed and grown out, so I
figured I was safe. Now, all we had to do was find a permanent place to stay.
~~
were staying for a while, I pulled everything from the car, including Logan's spare
wheelchair. Don't ask me why I kept it; I had some of his clothes, even his cell phone, to
remember him by, I guess. But what I did with it is weird. While Nicolas and Patrick
napped, I walked around the room, checking it out, putting a few things away, stuff like
that. I went down to the car and hauled the wheelchair out, along with the final bag of
stuff, some clothes I had obtained for the kids. I opened the wheelchair and put the bag
on it, pushing it into the motel room. I put the kids clothes in one of the dresser drawers,
then sat down in the wheelchair, putting my feet on the rests. I closed my eyes and rolled
back and forth in the chair, thinking of Logan. I thought I felt a tear escape from under
my eyelid, but when I went to rub it away, my cheek was dry. I hadn't cried since that
day, and haven't since, believe it or not. But, was sitting there, rocking back and forth,
my eyes closed and remembering. I think I almost fell asleep, until I heard Patrick's cry
from the bed. Just as he cried out, an idea popped into my head. I got up and tended to
Patrick, then woke Nicolas. Sitting in the wheelchair, I tried to explain to the three year
old what had to be done.
"Do you remember what we have talked about the last few days?" I asked him. He
nodded, so I continued, "Ok, let's go through it again, is that alright?" he nodded again.
"Alright. What's your name?'
"Nicolas."
"Ok, Nicolas, do you have another name?" he shook his head no. "Ok, now we have to
change something. Your new last name is Cale, ok? Your name is Nicolas Cale." He
nodded again.
"Alright, so if I ask you your name, you say."
"Nicolas Cale."
"Great! And how old are you?"
"Trois.Non.Three!" He hollered, giggling. I was glad he thought this was a game; it
would make it much easier on both him and me.
"Alright! Nicolas, do you have any brothers?"
"Yup!"
"How many?"
"Une."
"How many?"
"Umm, ONE!"
"What his name?"
"Patric."
"Is it Patric? Or Patrick?"
"OH! Patrick!"
"How old is he?"
"Bebe."
"Bebe? What do you mean?"
"Baby."
"Ok, baby. He's a baby, right?"
"Uh huh!" he giggled again.
"Alright, would you like a treat?" "YA!!" I put my feet on the footrests again and went over to the tiny fridge. Opening it, I
pulled out a bag of chocolate cookies and gave him one.
"Ok, Nicolas Cale, right?" he nodded, mouth full of cookie. "Good, so who am I?"
"Mama?"
"No." I wasn't really sure I wanted him calling me mama, I was going to let everyone
believe I was their sister or aunt or something.
"Ya, tu a mon Mama. You are Mama." I thought about it for a few minutes.
"Ok, Mama. Sure. All right. Mama." I let him go play for a bit while I got Patrick ready
to go out, then I took them to a barber and got Nicolas' hair shaved off. He really liked
the effect, and I hoped it would disguise him enough for a while. I got my long curls cut
really short, just below my ears. By now, the dye had been washed and grown out, so I
figured I was safe. Now, all we had to do was find a permanent place to stay.
~~