CHAPTER 4

The next few months seemed to pass very quickly. Uncle Aaron, Aunt Amy, Alex, Mum, and I went to Scotland for Thanksgiving. We'd left on the Tuesday before, and came back the following Sunday, and Granny came to New York for Christmas and New Year's. She arrived a couple of days before, and stayed with Uncle Aaron, Aunt Amy, and Alex for the next three days. We had dinner with them on Christmas Day, then Granny stayed with us until she returned to Scotland on January 2nd.

My fifth birthday also came and went. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. We had a party at Chuck E. Cheese. Luke and I were going to have a contest to see who could eat the most pizza without getting sick, but our mums were there to make sure we didn't go through with it. Grown-ups.

It was still a great party, though.

About a month later, Mum awoke me on a Saturday morning and said, "Jason, I need to go to Wal-Mart for a few things. And maybe whilst we're there, we can have your pictures taken at the Portrait Studio, because Granny and the other relatives don't have a recent photo of you."

"Okay," I yawned as I got out of bed.

Oh, that reminds me. Sometimes, what Mum will do—which I've always found funny—is walk her fingers across my arm and sing, "Rise and shine in the ear-ly morn-ing, rise and shine right through the day. Makes no differ-ence what you do, and it makes no differ-ence what they say. You're a ve-ry spec-ial per-son, e-ven if you have-n't got a dime. For you're God's child and Je-sus loves you, so you'd bet-ter just rise and shine!" And on that last part, she'd walk her fingers up my arm and across my shoulder, making me shrug.

After I got dressed, Mum helped me with the suspenders and lifted me up on the stepstool so I could look in the mirror. Now that I look back on it, I think I looked a lot like Harvey Stephens, who played Damien in the original version of The Omen, although there are some differences. For example, his hair is naturally blond, and was dyed black to play the part. On the upside, I don't have the piercing eyes or the "666" tattooed on my scalp. Actually, maybe I do have the piercing eyes, but I don't kill people just by looking at them. Also, my eyes are green, and his were made blue with contacts.

We ate breakfast, and were soon on our way.

At Wal-Mart, Mum and I headed to the Portrait Studio. I was riding in her cart, which I enjoyed. The fun part was, every time she came to an empty aisle, she'd let go of the cart and let it run, then run to catch it. In fact, if you were to ask a hundred people about their fondest childhood memory, don't be surprised if almost all of them say either riding in the shopping cart or riding the carousel at the fair. Why that question was never asked on Family Feud, search me.

Anyway, when we got to the Portrait Studio, we saw a big muscular man and his baby girl waiting in line. "Are you next?" Mum asked as she lifted me out of the cart.

He turned around. "Yes," he answered. "I came to have my daughter's one-year pictures taken."

"Really? My son and I moved here from Scotland about a year ago, and his relatives there don't have a recent picture of him."

"Scotland, huh? I was just trying to figure out the accent there. No offense."

"None taken."

"Oh, by the way, I'm Steve Everett, and this is my daughter, Bebe."

"Diann Crowe," Mum said as they shook hands. "This is my son, Jason."

I got a good look at them. Steve had dark brown hair, brown eyes, the beginnings of a moustache, and tan skin, and was wearing a green New York Jets jersey, dark blue jeans, black boots, and a dark brown leather bomber jacket. Bebe had shoulder-length strawberry-blond hair and gray eyes, and was wearing a light blue frilly dress, like she'd wear to a wedding or for Easter, black patent leather Mary Janes, white socks and jacket, and had a blue ribbon fixed in her hair.

"Hi," Steve said, kneeling down to my level. I stared at him while clinging to Mum's hand. Finally, I pointed to myself and held up five fingers. Mum and Steve smiled, and as Steve stood back up, he said, "Bebe here just turned a year old yesterday."

"Oh, she's just darling," Mum said lovingly. "I remember when Jason was that age."

"Next!" the photographer called.

"Well, I'll probably see you when Bebe gets done," Steve said. Mum nodded, and Steve and Bebe disappeared into the studio.

While they were having their pictures done (I could faintly hear Bebe screaming bloody murder the whole time), Mum knelt down to my level and said, "He seems very nice, don't you think?"

I nodded. "I wonder what happened to Bebe's mummy," I said.

"If we see him again, we probably shouldn't ask him. It may be none of our business, you know."

She had a good point. I mean, I sure wouldn't want a complete stranger—or someone I'd just met a few minutes ago—asking me a question like that, just out of the blue.

After Steve and Bebe were done, it was our turn. The photographer was a pretty Japanese-American woman who looked like she was in her early twenties. She had five earrings in each ear: three on her actual earlobe, and two on the very top of her ear, and dark red streaks in her hair. Her demeanor was very cheerful, and I could tell she liked kids.

"Hi, there," she said to me. "What's your name?"

"Jason," I answered. "What's yours?"

"Ashley. Would you like to pick out a background for me?"

There were several backgrounds to choose from, but one in particular really captured my interest. It was a beach scene with waves crashing against the rocks, and the sun was setting. It looked so real. "That's the one!" I said excitedly as I pointed to it.

"No problem," she said. "You know, you're the fifth kid to choose that one this week."

"Really? Do I get a prize or something?"

Mum and the photographer laughed as I sat down on the table. After the photographer posed me the way she wanted, she went beside the camera, picked up the remote to make the camera flash, and said, "Okay, look up here for me, sweetheart. Can you give us a smile?"

I did just that. CLICK! It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust after the camera flashed, but it was worth it. For as long as I could remember, the one word that could never describe me was camera-shy.

After we were done, Mum paid for the pictures, and the photographer told us to come back in three weeks to pick them up.

When we came out of the studio, we saw Steve sitting on a bench, holding Bebe on his lap, and the bag with whatever he'd bought beside him. He was singing to Bebe to help her calm down. I couldn't understand the words, mostly because they sounded like they were in another language. "Um, excuse me, but what are you singing?" I asked.

Steve looked surprised for a moment, then answered, "Oh, this is an old Italian folk song that my mother used to sing to me."

"Well, it seems to have worked," Mum observed. And she was right. Bebe was fast asleep. "It was nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you, too," Steve answered.

He seemed like such a nice guy, and I could tell that Mum liked him, too.

We saw Steve a couple more times after that Saturday at Wal-Mart. One day, he said, "How about if the four of us go out to dinner sometime? My treat."

"I'd like that," Mum said. I nodded in agreement.

"Great. Why don't you give me your phone number, and I'll call you with the time?"

"Okay," Mum agreed. She gave Steve our phone number, and we were soon on our way.

Well, that following Saturday after we'd picked up the pictures (just don't call me Damien if I ever show them to you, okay?), we met Steve and Bebe at the Olive Garden, which was about a mile or so from Wal-Mart.

The maître d' showed us to a table in the non-smoking section, and got a booster seat for me and a high chair for Bebe. (I don't mean to get off the subject here, but back then, I was starting to hate booster seats because they would sometimes squeeze my tush, but there was nothing I could do about it for a while.) After we got our menus and placed our drink orders—milk for me and Bebe, unsweetened iced tea for Mum, and wine for Steve—Mum said, "This is a really nice place, Steve. Thanks for bringing us here."

"No problem, Diann," Steve said. "So, you're from Scotland, huh?"

"Aye," Mum answered. "I miss my family over there, and Jason misses his granny."

When I heard Mum say that, I immediately thought of Granny, and wondered how she was doing. I'm pretty sure that Mum was thinking of her, too.

"Must have been pretty hard for you to leave, huh?"

"I'll say," Mum agreed as the waitress brought Steve's wine, along with a coloring page and colored pencils for me.

"I think I know what you mean," Steve said, taking a sip of his wine as I started coloring. "I felt the same way when we left Canada."

"What happened, if you don't mind my asking?"

"No, not at all. You see, my divorce from my first wife, Marie, was finalized about three months ago. She was bipolar, and not keeping up with her meds. Well, after one pretty ugly night—and I'll spare you the details—I packed a couple of suitcases for us and left, leaving her with the divorce papers. I just didn't want anything to happen to Bebe, so we left. Between that, and telling my boss—who had been my father-in-law—that I had to leave, I couldn't tell you which sucked worse."

I looked up at him, stunned. Even though I was too young to fully understand what this was all about, I was glad he did what he did.

By the way, I recently asked Steve about whatever became of Marie, and he told me the last he'd heard, she was in a mental institution in Saskatchewan.

"You did the right thing concerning Bebe," Mum said, taking his hand. "I wish more people were that sensible when it came to a child's safety."

"Thank you," Steve said, kissing hers.

Blecch, I thought, very discreetly covering my eyes with my hand. How could anyone do something so gross? Oh, well, at least he kissed her hand.

By then, the waitress was returning with the rest of our drinks, and took our food orders. So far, I really liked Steve and Bebe, and it wouldn't surprise me if Mum and Steve decided to get married someday—which, of course, they did.

Foreshadowing? I think so.