##PAST 1992##
"Duncan?" Tessa asked. The apartment was dark; the only light was the table lamp by the couch.
"Right here." Duncan was sitting on the couch staring at the wall. "How's the dog?"
Tessa sat down next to him and leaned into his chest. "They did everything they could... but he died. There was too much damage."
Duncan sighed and put his arm around Tessa's shoulders. "I was afraid of that."
"How's Richie doing?"
"He's lucky he didn't end up in a hospital room."
"Is he hurt badly?"
"He'll be okay."
"What did the doctors say?"
"I didn't take him, Tessa."
"Why not, he could be really hurt. Internal damage."
"I don't think there was any real damage. Just enough to hurt and scare the hell out of him." Duncan sighed. "I have a half a mind to go to Richie's apartment and do the same to that bastard."
"Did he tell you who did it?"
"His foster father."
"Someone at home did that to him?"
"That's why I encouraged him coming here. You'd be surprised how much weight he's gained since I hired him."
"Gained weight? He's tiny."
"I don't think he gets fed much at home. He's always hungry when he comes over."
"That's why he had the food in his pocket," Tessa realized. Duncan nodded. "And I treated him like dirt. I didn't even give him a chance. I just brushed him off as a delinquent."
"You didn't know, Tess."
"I should have noticed."
"You only knew him for a couple hours. And I don't think he had any bruises on him that night."
"Have you called the police?" Tessa asked, changing the subject. "We should report this."
"I know we should. But I can't bring myself to. They'll just send him to social services and they're the ones who put him with the bastard in the first place."
"But we can't let this man get away with it."
"You're right. We can at least let him get some rest, first. Tomorrow, we'll call the police."
They sat in agreeable silence for a minute. "Why do you think he was in foster care? Did they take him away from his parents?" Tessa asked.
"I'd hate to think where they would take him away from if they thought he was better off where they put him."
"Do you think he's an orphan?"
"I don't know, Tess. He doesn't tell anyone anything. Besides, it doesn't matter why they put him there. We just have to make sure he doesn't have to go back."
"Is he asleep now?"
"I think so. He's been pretty quiet."
"How did you get him to tell you?"
"I just told him that I would make it stop."
"He must really trust you."
"I don't get the impression he has anyone looking out for him. I've spent every minute I had with him trying to build his trust. I just wish I could have gotten it in another situation."
Silence took over again as they sat holding onto each other, until they heard a groan come from the spare room.
"I'll go check on him," Tessa said getting up. "I have to let him know he has two people on his side." She knocked softly on the door before opening it. "Richie, is anything wrong?" she asked.
"I'm okay," Richie said, struggling to sit up.
"I heard you groaning. Did you bump something?"
"I tried to roll over," he admitted with a slight blush.
"Is it that bad?"
Richie awkwardly shrugged. "I've been told."
"Do you mind if I have a look?"
"I'm not wearing any pants."
"I'll keep the blanket up," she promised. "I just want to see."
Richie thought about it. "I guess." He rolled slowly and stiffly flipped onto his stomach.
Tessa situated the blankets at Richie's waist. "Is this okay?" Richie nodded. She lifted up the t-shirt. "Richie..."
"I'm gettin' kinda cold," he said after she had been staring at him for a few minutes.
"Oh, of course." She put the shirt back down. "Does it hurt?"
"Waddya you think?"
"How far down does it go?" She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair.
"To his knees," Duncan answered from the door way. "But he'll be okay."
Richie turned back over and pushed himself up. "I'm fine."
Duncan sat on the edge of Richie's bed. "What's your foster father's name?"
"Why?"
"We need to report this."
"The police? You can't call the police," Richie told him.
"We need to file a complaint," Tessa said. "This is against the law. He should go to jail."
"You can't call the police," Richie repeated.
"Why not?"
"I'm not going back." Richie struggled out from under the blankets and crawled to the foot of the bed.
"Go where?" Tessa asked. "Your foster home?"
"Richie, the whole point of reporting your foster father is to get you away from him," Duncan said.
"I won't let them take me back there," Richie continued, getting off the bed. "I'll run away. I'd rather take my chances on the street than live with those hypocrites."
"You aren't talking about your foster father, are you?"
"I hate it there."
"Where?"
"The orphanage. That's where I'm gonna end up."
"What's so wrong with the orphanage?" Duncan asked. "They'll take care of you there. You'll be safe. No one will be able to hurt you."
"Yeah. They'll just stick me in some room by myself countin' down the days until they can kick me out."
"What?" Tessa was confused. "They'll take care of you. It's their job."
"Yeah. Real 9 to 5."
"Richie, why don't you like the orphanage?"
"Because they're all...they're all just like you," he accused, pointing at Tessa.
"What are you talking about, Rich?" Duncan asked. He was pretty sure he didn't like the idea of Tessa being compared to these people.
"They pretend to care. They give you lunch and make sure you brush your teeth and say your prayers. They tell you that they're here for you if you need them. Then as soon as they think you can't hear them, they tell everyone what a pain in the ass you are!" Tears welled in his eyes. "And why you're still around 'cause no one wants a kid like you! How you're nothing but a trouble maker, how people just want to be rid of ya. You're just in the way. You're never gonna amount to anything. You're worthless. How the tax payers are going to support you for your entire life 'cause you're just going to end up in jail."
"Rich, did you hear someone say that?"
"It's not my fault!" he continued, ignoring the question. "It's not like I asked for this. I didn't ask to turn out like this." Tears rolled down his cheeks. "I didn't ask for my dad to leave us. I didn't ask for my mom to die. I didn't ask to end up a thief. But it's not like anyone ever noticed anything. How was I supposed to know that they'd suddenly care?"
"Is that why you did it, Rich? So people would pay attention to you?"
"I'm sorry if I'm not as smart as the other kids. Or not as big. Not as fast. Not as funny. Not as athletic. Not as talented. It's not my fault. I try, I'm just not. But I'm not a bad kid, honest, I'm not."
"I never thought you were, Rich," Duncan said. "Who said that stuff about you? Who made you feel like that?"
"Everybody. Everybody says stuff like that about me. Nobody cares. Nobody ever cared. They just want me out of the way."
"I'm sure that's not true."
"Do you know how many times I had to stay in a cell with a bunch of drunks and pimps for a week because my foster parents couldn't be reached? Or bothered? They couldn't care less."
"So no one cares about you. No one in this entire world. It's just you. You looking out for yourself."
"Someone has to!"
Tessa got up off the bed. "Richie, it doesn't have to be like that."
"How would you know? You just got back from France. I've never been out of the city. You have money. You're just like them. Some snot nosed rich guy's bratty kid born with a silver spoon in your mouth that thinks your better than that stupid kid. The thief. The no good punk."
"Richie!" Duncan scolded. "You better think about what you're saying. You're being very rude."
"I don't care. I'm sick of having to behave for everyone else. It never works. I always screw it up. I tried to behave for Jonathan and look what he did to me! I tried to behave for you and you're just going to send me away. I'm through. This is pointless. If it's not going to work then I'm not going to try!" He scrubbed at the tears on his face.
"We're not sending you away," Tessa told him. "We're just trying to help." She put her hand out and he moved away.
"You want to help? Then leave me alone!"
"Why? So you can go out and get hurt again? I know you don't trust me. I haven't given you a reason to. All I can do is apologize. I was rash. I didn't give you a fair chance. But I promise you, I am not like those other people. I can admit when I was wrong. And I was. And I can ask for a second chance."
"Why should I give you another chance? No one ever gave me one!"
"Because you are better than those people," Tessa told him. "I should have given you a chance. And I'm sorry I didn't. I would love to forget that I said those things about you, because they were wrong. We may be different, but I'm not better than you are. Right now you're just as bad as me. I wouldn't give you another chance, and you won't give me one." She made sure she was looking him in the eye. "I really want another chance. I want to be your friend. I want to help. I want you to know you can trust me."
Duncan watched as the teen finished his break down. He sobbed loudly and all but threw himself at her. She carefully hugged him and stroked his hair. She spoke softly to him; Duncan couldn't hear what she said. But he nodded and let her steer him back to bed.
"I'll be right back," she told him, taking Duncan by hand and leading him out of the room.
"What did you say to him?" Duncan asked, following Tessa into the kitchen.
She smiled at him. "That's between me and Richie."
"That was quite some speech you gave him. I'm impressed."
"You think you're the only one who can talk to children?"
"Are you making him a sundae?" Duncan asked, watching Tessa scoop out ice cream and put it in a rather large bowl.
"I think he needs a pick-me-up. He's been through a lot. He could do with some spoiling." She nearly emptied the bottle of chocolate sauce onto the ice cream.
Duncan smiled. "What made you change your mind about him?"
"I felt sorry for him, hearing what those people said about him, what he thinks of himself. It broke my heart."
"It is a sad story. The hell one kid can go through. I think there's more than one person who needs to answer for this. There's some pretty strong evidence of metal abuse in him. The kid has zero self esteem."
"We can work on that. But first..." she topped off the sundae with whipped cream and a cherry. "I think I'm going to heal the wound I gave him."
##PRESENT 1994##
Duncan gave Richie twenty minutes before going down to check on him. It was Sunday, so the gym was closed. Richie was currently taking out his frustration on the punching bag.
"Do you really want to do that bare knuckles?" Duncan asked. "I'm sure you'd save yourself some pain if you put on some gloves."
"I'm fine," Richie grunted, leaning into the bag.
"At least tape your hands."
"I'm fine."
"You're going to hurt yourself."
Richie stopped. "Mac, gimme a break would ya?"
"Come on." Duncan took Richie by the arm and pulled him to the mats. "Take off your shoes."
"Mac..."
"You want a work out, I want to work on your hand to hand; it's perfect."
"Fine," Richie groaned as he took off his shoes and socks.
"Remember that move I showed you last week?"
"Yeah."
"Then let's see it."
Richie got into position and Duncan put one arm over Richie's left shoulder and the other under his right arm.
"Okay. Bring up your left knee. Put your weight on your right foot. Reach around and grab..."
"Mac, I said I remembered it!" Richie groaned as he executed the move. He grabbed Duncan's left leg and twisted his knee before pulling him to the mat.
"So you do," Duncan grunted from the floor.
"Why don't we just skip the lessons and go for it."
"Go for it?" Duncan repeated.
"Yeah."
"You just want to start wrestling."
"I can take you," Richie boasted.
"Fine, let's go."
"On three."
"One, two, three!"
They ended up going best six out of ten.
"You were close," Duncan assured Richie, handing him a towel. "You're getting pretty good."
"Thanks."
"You up for some swords?" Duncan asked, sensing that Richie wasn't quite ready to quit yet.
"Sure."
"Grab a couple wooden ones. Just in case we get sloppy."
"Okay." Richie got the swords off the wall. "Let's go."
They went three rounds until finally calling it quits.
"I better take a shower," Richie decided. "I wanna get their early so I don't lose my nerve."
"Are you sure you want to do this, Rich?"
"For the last time, Mac, I'm doing this."
"Okay, okay, fine."
. . . . . .
Richie circled Tessa's sculpture for the fifth time. "Okay, Tess. You made all this okay before. I need you to do it again."
He stopped circling and leaned up against the sculpture. He had ten minutes before Jonathan was supposed to meet him. Richie was ready for this. He could do this. It was all a matter of keeping his head on straight. He knew what he wanted to say. He knew how this was going to go.
All he wanted to do was tell Jonathan what a creep he was. How much he hated him. And then he could leave. He would have total and complete closure.
"Richie, you're early."
Richie turned around. There stood his single greatest human fear in life. A six foot four, thirty eight-year-old bully. Richie's mouth went dry.
"You look great, kid. You look a few inches taller. A lot bigger." Richie numbly nodded. "How you been doing?" Richie couldn't seem to get his mouth to work. "You okay, kid?" Jonathan reached toward him and put his hand on his shoulder. Richie flinched, but didn't reject the touch. "You look a little pale."
It was obviously Richie's turn to speak. Jonathan was waiting for him to say something. So, he said the first thing that came to mind:
"You spelled my name wrong."
"Duncan?" Tessa asked. The apartment was dark; the only light was the table lamp by the couch.
"Right here." Duncan was sitting on the couch staring at the wall. "How's the dog?"
Tessa sat down next to him and leaned into his chest. "They did everything they could... but he died. There was too much damage."
Duncan sighed and put his arm around Tessa's shoulders. "I was afraid of that."
"How's Richie doing?"
"He's lucky he didn't end up in a hospital room."
"Is he hurt badly?"
"He'll be okay."
"What did the doctors say?"
"I didn't take him, Tessa."
"Why not, he could be really hurt. Internal damage."
"I don't think there was any real damage. Just enough to hurt and scare the hell out of him." Duncan sighed. "I have a half a mind to go to Richie's apartment and do the same to that bastard."
"Did he tell you who did it?"
"His foster father."
"Someone at home did that to him?"
"That's why I encouraged him coming here. You'd be surprised how much weight he's gained since I hired him."
"Gained weight? He's tiny."
"I don't think he gets fed much at home. He's always hungry when he comes over."
"That's why he had the food in his pocket," Tessa realized. Duncan nodded. "And I treated him like dirt. I didn't even give him a chance. I just brushed him off as a delinquent."
"You didn't know, Tess."
"I should have noticed."
"You only knew him for a couple hours. And I don't think he had any bruises on him that night."
"Have you called the police?" Tessa asked, changing the subject. "We should report this."
"I know we should. But I can't bring myself to. They'll just send him to social services and they're the ones who put him with the bastard in the first place."
"But we can't let this man get away with it."
"You're right. We can at least let him get some rest, first. Tomorrow, we'll call the police."
They sat in agreeable silence for a minute. "Why do you think he was in foster care? Did they take him away from his parents?" Tessa asked.
"I'd hate to think where they would take him away from if they thought he was better off where they put him."
"Do you think he's an orphan?"
"I don't know, Tess. He doesn't tell anyone anything. Besides, it doesn't matter why they put him there. We just have to make sure he doesn't have to go back."
"Is he asleep now?"
"I think so. He's been pretty quiet."
"How did you get him to tell you?"
"I just told him that I would make it stop."
"He must really trust you."
"I don't get the impression he has anyone looking out for him. I've spent every minute I had with him trying to build his trust. I just wish I could have gotten it in another situation."
Silence took over again as they sat holding onto each other, until they heard a groan come from the spare room.
"I'll go check on him," Tessa said getting up. "I have to let him know he has two people on his side." She knocked softly on the door before opening it. "Richie, is anything wrong?" she asked.
"I'm okay," Richie said, struggling to sit up.
"I heard you groaning. Did you bump something?"
"I tried to roll over," he admitted with a slight blush.
"Is it that bad?"
Richie awkwardly shrugged. "I've been told."
"Do you mind if I have a look?"
"I'm not wearing any pants."
"I'll keep the blanket up," she promised. "I just want to see."
Richie thought about it. "I guess." He rolled slowly and stiffly flipped onto his stomach.
Tessa situated the blankets at Richie's waist. "Is this okay?" Richie nodded. She lifted up the t-shirt. "Richie..."
"I'm gettin' kinda cold," he said after she had been staring at him for a few minutes.
"Oh, of course." She put the shirt back down. "Does it hurt?"
"Waddya you think?"
"How far down does it go?" She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair.
"To his knees," Duncan answered from the door way. "But he'll be okay."
Richie turned back over and pushed himself up. "I'm fine."
Duncan sat on the edge of Richie's bed. "What's your foster father's name?"
"Why?"
"We need to report this."
"The police? You can't call the police," Richie told him.
"We need to file a complaint," Tessa said. "This is against the law. He should go to jail."
"You can't call the police," Richie repeated.
"Why not?"
"I'm not going back." Richie struggled out from under the blankets and crawled to the foot of the bed.
"Go where?" Tessa asked. "Your foster home?"
"Richie, the whole point of reporting your foster father is to get you away from him," Duncan said.
"I won't let them take me back there," Richie continued, getting off the bed. "I'll run away. I'd rather take my chances on the street than live with those hypocrites."
"You aren't talking about your foster father, are you?"
"I hate it there."
"Where?"
"The orphanage. That's where I'm gonna end up."
"What's so wrong with the orphanage?" Duncan asked. "They'll take care of you there. You'll be safe. No one will be able to hurt you."
"Yeah. They'll just stick me in some room by myself countin' down the days until they can kick me out."
"What?" Tessa was confused. "They'll take care of you. It's their job."
"Yeah. Real 9 to 5."
"Richie, why don't you like the orphanage?"
"Because they're all...they're all just like you," he accused, pointing at Tessa.
"What are you talking about, Rich?" Duncan asked. He was pretty sure he didn't like the idea of Tessa being compared to these people.
"They pretend to care. They give you lunch and make sure you brush your teeth and say your prayers. They tell you that they're here for you if you need them. Then as soon as they think you can't hear them, they tell everyone what a pain in the ass you are!" Tears welled in his eyes. "And why you're still around 'cause no one wants a kid like you! How you're nothing but a trouble maker, how people just want to be rid of ya. You're just in the way. You're never gonna amount to anything. You're worthless. How the tax payers are going to support you for your entire life 'cause you're just going to end up in jail."
"Rich, did you hear someone say that?"
"It's not my fault!" he continued, ignoring the question. "It's not like I asked for this. I didn't ask to turn out like this." Tears rolled down his cheeks. "I didn't ask for my dad to leave us. I didn't ask for my mom to die. I didn't ask to end up a thief. But it's not like anyone ever noticed anything. How was I supposed to know that they'd suddenly care?"
"Is that why you did it, Rich? So people would pay attention to you?"
"I'm sorry if I'm not as smart as the other kids. Or not as big. Not as fast. Not as funny. Not as athletic. Not as talented. It's not my fault. I try, I'm just not. But I'm not a bad kid, honest, I'm not."
"I never thought you were, Rich," Duncan said. "Who said that stuff about you? Who made you feel like that?"
"Everybody. Everybody says stuff like that about me. Nobody cares. Nobody ever cared. They just want me out of the way."
"I'm sure that's not true."
"Do you know how many times I had to stay in a cell with a bunch of drunks and pimps for a week because my foster parents couldn't be reached? Or bothered? They couldn't care less."
"So no one cares about you. No one in this entire world. It's just you. You looking out for yourself."
"Someone has to!"
Tessa got up off the bed. "Richie, it doesn't have to be like that."
"How would you know? You just got back from France. I've never been out of the city. You have money. You're just like them. Some snot nosed rich guy's bratty kid born with a silver spoon in your mouth that thinks your better than that stupid kid. The thief. The no good punk."
"Richie!" Duncan scolded. "You better think about what you're saying. You're being very rude."
"I don't care. I'm sick of having to behave for everyone else. It never works. I always screw it up. I tried to behave for Jonathan and look what he did to me! I tried to behave for you and you're just going to send me away. I'm through. This is pointless. If it's not going to work then I'm not going to try!" He scrubbed at the tears on his face.
"We're not sending you away," Tessa told him. "We're just trying to help." She put her hand out and he moved away.
"You want to help? Then leave me alone!"
"Why? So you can go out and get hurt again? I know you don't trust me. I haven't given you a reason to. All I can do is apologize. I was rash. I didn't give you a fair chance. But I promise you, I am not like those other people. I can admit when I was wrong. And I was. And I can ask for a second chance."
"Why should I give you another chance? No one ever gave me one!"
"Because you are better than those people," Tessa told him. "I should have given you a chance. And I'm sorry I didn't. I would love to forget that I said those things about you, because they were wrong. We may be different, but I'm not better than you are. Right now you're just as bad as me. I wouldn't give you another chance, and you won't give me one." She made sure she was looking him in the eye. "I really want another chance. I want to be your friend. I want to help. I want you to know you can trust me."
Duncan watched as the teen finished his break down. He sobbed loudly and all but threw himself at her. She carefully hugged him and stroked his hair. She spoke softly to him; Duncan couldn't hear what she said. But he nodded and let her steer him back to bed.
"I'll be right back," she told him, taking Duncan by hand and leading him out of the room.
"What did you say to him?" Duncan asked, following Tessa into the kitchen.
She smiled at him. "That's between me and Richie."
"That was quite some speech you gave him. I'm impressed."
"You think you're the only one who can talk to children?"
"Are you making him a sundae?" Duncan asked, watching Tessa scoop out ice cream and put it in a rather large bowl.
"I think he needs a pick-me-up. He's been through a lot. He could do with some spoiling." She nearly emptied the bottle of chocolate sauce onto the ice cream.
Duncan smiled. "What made you change your mind about him?"
"I felt sorry for him, hearing what those people said about him, what he thinks of himself. It broke my heart."
"It is a sad story. The hell one kid can go through. I think there's more than one person who needs to answer for this. There's some pretty strong evidence of metal abuse in him. The kid has zero self esteem."
"We can work on that. But first..." she topped off the sundae with whipped cream and a cherry. "I think I'm going to heal the wound I gave him."
##PRESENT 1994##
Duncan gave Richie twenty minutes before going down to check on him. It was Sunday, so the gym was closed. Richie was currently taking out his frustration on the punching bag.
"Do you really want to do that bare knuckles?" Duncan asked. "I'm sure you'd save yourself some pain if you put on some gloves."
"I'm fine," Richie grunted, leaning into the bag.
"At least tape your hands."
"I'm fine."
"You're going to hurt yourself."
Richie stopped. "Mac, gimme a break would ya?"
"Come on." Duncan took Richie by the arm and pulled him to the mats. "Take off your shoes."
"Mac..."
"You want a work out, I want to work on your hand to hand; it's perfect."
"Fine," Richie groaned as he took off his shoes and socks.
"Remember that move I showed you last week?"
"Yeah."
"Then let's see it."
Richie got into position and Duncan put one arm over Richie's left shoulder and the other under his right arm.
"Okay. Bring up your left knee. Put your weight on your right foot. Reach around and grab..."
"Mac, I said I remembered it!" Richie groaned as he executed the move. He grabbed Duncan's left leg and twisted his knee before pulling him to the mat.
"So you do," Duncan grunted from the floor.
"Why don't we just skip the lessons and go for it."
"Go for it?" Duncan repeated.
"Yeah."
"You just want to start wrestling."
"I can take you," Richie boasted.
"Fine, let's go."
"On three."
"One, two, three!"
They ended up going best six out of ten.
"You were close," Duncan assured Richie, handing him a towel. "You're getting pretty good."
"Thanks."
"You up for some swords?" Duncan asked, sensing that Richie wasn't quite ready to quit yet.
"Sure."
"Grab a couple wooden ones. Just in case we get sloppy."
"Okay." Richie got the swords off the wall. "Let's go."
They went three rounds until finally calling it quits.
"I better take a shower," Richie decided. "I wanna get their early so I don't lose my nerve."
"Are you sure you want to do this, Rich?"
"For the last time, Mac, I'm doing this."
"Okay, okay, fine."
. . . . . .
Richie circled Tessa's sculpture for the fifth time. "Okay, Tess. You made all this okay before. I need you to do it again."
He stopped circling and leaned up against the sculpture. He had ten minutes before Jonathan was supposed to meet him. Richie was ready for this. He could do this. It was all a matter of keeping his head on straight. He knew what he wanted to say. He knew how this was going to go.
All he wanted to do was tell Jonathan what a creep he was. How much he hated him. And then he could leave. He would have total and complete closure.
"Richie, you're early."
Richie turned around. There stood his single greatest human fear in life. A six foot four, thirty eight-year-old bully. Richie's mouth went dry.
"You look great, kid. You look a few inches taller. A lot bigger." Richie numbly nodded. "How you been doing?" Richie couldn't seem to get his mouth to work. "You okay, kid?" Jonathan reached toward him and put his hand on his shoulder. Richie flinched, but didn't reject the touch. "You look a little pale."
It was obviously Richie's turn to speak. Jonathan was waiting for him to say something. So, he said the first thing that came to mind:
"You spelled my name wrong."