The young woman walked up the steps, flanked by her mother and father and holding a basket with a sleeping infant inside. Together, they walked into the building and up to the receptionist. "Welcome to the public Orphanage. How may I help you?" She asked, looking up.
"My 15 year old daughter cannot care for her child. We have no home for a baby, so we have come here," the father said.
The receptionist pulled out some paperwork. "The mother's name, age, and place of birth?"
"Anita Sinclair, 15, Paris," the young woman said.
"Such a pretty young woman... how could such a thing like this happen?" She said, filling things out.
"I… I was raped," Anita said quietly.
"I'm very sorry," replied the receptionist. "Your son is beautiful. He has your beautiful blonde hair, even at his age. And your eyes, as well. His age?"
"Three weeks," Anita said. "And thank you. I hope they aren't my eyes, I'm terribly nearsighted," she said with a slight smile.
"I suppose, then, you don't know the father's name?" The receptionist asked.
"I do… I thought I knew him… he was my best friend," she said quietly again. "But it doesn't matter. Don't put him in the files. He doesn't deserve to be listed as a father of anything," Anita said.
The receptionist continued to ask questions of Anita and her parents. "Such a beautiful child," she kept saying.
"What is your name?" Anita asked.
"Jacqueline. Jacqueline Belpois," the receptionist said. "I've always wanted a child… but I can't. I… I feel your pain, Anita. At about your age, someone tried to rape me as well. I resisted, but…" Jacqueline placed her hands on her abdomen. "He had a knife."
The two women gazed at each other for a moment, and then both gazed at the sleeping infant. They broke into smiles. "Something tells me my son will find a wonderful home," Anita said.
"Will you excuse me? I need to call my husband," Jacqueline said.
Weeks later, Jacqueline Belpois and her husband Michael signed the final adoption paper. "What should we name him?" Jacqueline asked.
"How about… Jeremie? Jeremie Michael Belpois." Mr. Belpois recommended.
"I like it. A beautiful name," she replied. "For such a beautiful baby. I think our son is going to be… wonderful. A miracle."
"I think so too, Jackie. Now let's take our little miracle home. Our little Jeremie."
The elated couple took their new son home, tears rolling down Jackie's face the whole way home. The two lived in a small house in the suburb of Boulogne-Billancourt, France. They put Jeremie to bed in the crib they had just bought, and then Michael sat his wife down in the living room.
"Well, Jackie. Now we need to decide a few things. If he asks if he was adopted, are we going to tell him? Are we going to keep it a secret at all? Are we going to have contact with his birth mother?"
"We don't have to tell him right off. But if he ever asks, we will tell him. And if he doesn't ask by… his 13th birthday, we tell him anyway. If he ever wants to meet his true mother, we can't stop him, but I think the poor girl shouldn't see him all the time, she has enough to deal with as it is," Jackie said. Michael nodded.
"Well… we're parents now. This means no more wild parties," Michael said sarcastically.
"I've wanted a child for a very long time. And now we have one, Mike. We have a healthy, normal young child," Jackie said, tears coming to her eyes. "This is the beginning of the greatest time of our lives."
As the years went on, Mike and Jackie realized that their baby was very healthy, but perhaps not so normal. As Mike put it "I don't think normal two year olds can hold actual conversations with people. Or count to twenty." Young Jeremie Michael was a prodigy.
By the time he was four, he could count to two hundred and name most of the European capitals. He could add and subtract and was already reading the book that the local first graders were also reading. "My friend Allie, she's a sort of nanny, I guess, she takes care of a very smart young boy. She says to make sure Jeremie stays out of public schools."
"Jackie, we're second class, working citizens. A child who has a nanny can go to private schools, but do you think we can really afford to pay his way through all of his school career?" Michael said.
"Well… things will be tight. One of us could get a second job. We might have to move. But I want our son to be as successful as possible. We simply cannot let his mind go to waste! For crying out loud, Mike, he's four years old and he can spell screwdriver. And that's not even a French word!"
Michael finally caved in to his wife's demands. They moved from their home to an apartment and Michael got a second job as a worker on an auto assembly line. Often times, they had to leave Jeremie at a day care.
The fall after Jeremie's fifth birthday saw his entrance into the prestigious Sophie Neveu Academy, a private school for young students. Though Jeremie didn't fit in too well, he did work hard. His teachers noted his hard work and his abidance of the rules, but worried that he didn't communicate enough with the other students.
Jeremie excelled in all of his classes, except for anything involving physical activity. He didn't enjoy team sports, and often tried to get out of any required physical education activity. So one day, he was sent home with a note from the PE teacher.
"Mommy, this is a note from one of my teachers," he said when he got home.
Jackie took the note and read it. "Your PE teacher says you don't participate, and that you don't even talk to the other children. Why?"
"They don't like me. And I guess… I just don't want to talk to them," Jeremie said.
"They don't like you? What do you mean?" His mother asked.
"They say I'm poor, and that my glasses are dumb. Are we poor, Mommy?" Jeremie asked.
"Well… those children are very rich. We aren't so rich," Jackie explained.
"How come you and daddy don't need glasses? And why do you have different hair colors?" Jeremie asked.
"I need to call this teacher, Jeremie," his mother replied. "And then I'll get dinner started." Jeremie nodded and Jackie grabbed the phone.
"Hello, is this the Neveu Academy PE teacher?" Jackie asked.
"Yes. Who is calling?" A man replied.
"This is Jacqueline Belpois, Jeremie is my son. You sent him home with a note today, asking me to call you?"
"Ah yes. I'm worried about your son. As I understand, he is a prodigy in all of his other classes, yet he is distant and quiet in my class, and does not participate," he said.
"He says the other children are unkind to him at times. And he's never been much of a mover," she said.
"I see. Well, here at Neveu, we try to give each child the attention they need. But we can only do so much. You must encourage your son to talk to people more, and to get active. He will be much happier this way. And I will be speaking with his classmates," he said.
"I will try, sir. Have a good day," she said.
"You as well." He hung up.
She turned to Jeremie. "What would you like for dinner?" But he was focused on the TV. A soccer game between two local colleges was on. Jeremie's eyes were fixed on a young blonde woman, her hair in a ponytail.
"She looks like me, mommy," Jeremie said. "Oh, and I want… spaghetti."
Jackie was quiet for a moment, then said "Alright. Spaghetti it is." She turned and looked at the name on her jersey- "A. Sinclair".
That night, after Jeremie was asleep and when Michael got home, Anita told him "Mike… he's been asking questions. He wanted to know why we didn't have glasses or blonde hair. And his biological mother was on TV today, she plays soccer. Should we… should we tell him?"
"They're just innocent questions, Jackie. Don't think too much of them," Michael said.
"But Mike, he's such a smart boy. This'll stay in his head for a long time, and he'll think about and think about it until he has an answer," Jackie said.
Mike was quiet for a long time, and then he said "Alright. Tomorrow, after school, we'll tell him."
The next day, Jeremie came home to both of his parents sitting on the sofa. "Hi, mommy! Hi, daddy! You're usually at work," he said, giving his father a hug.
"Jeremie… yesterday, your mother said that you wanted to know why we don't have hair like you, or glasses?" Michael said. "Do you still want to know?" Jeremie nodded.
"Well… before I answer… you know that your mother and I love you with all of our hearts, right? And we will never, ever stop loving you," his father continued.
"I know. I love you too," Jeremie said, and smiled happily.
"Well… Jeremie… we have different hair and eyes than you because… because you're adopted," Jackie said. "We adopted you from your birth mother when you were a very small baby."
Jeremie got very quiet, and his happy smile faded. "You're… you're not really my mommy and daddy?" He asked in a hushed voice after a silence.
"Sure we are! We are your parents! You were just born with someone else," Michael said.
"Why didn't they want me? Why did they give me up?" Jeremie asked. He began to cry.
Jackie walked over and sat down in front of Jeremie, and held his hand. "Because she was very young, your mother. She went through a hard time and she was too young to be a mommy. She wanted to make sure that you had the best life you could have, and she couldn't give that kind of life to you. And… I… I can't have any children, because I got hurt badly when I was young. But your father and I wanted a baby so much… and we met your birth mother and we adopted you."
"Your birth mother loved you very much, and she knew that we loved you very much and that we could give you a better life," Mike said, also getting down and sitting with Jeremie.
"But we're poor! How is that better?" Jeremie asked.
"Jeremie, you are a very, very smart boy. You are a little genius. And your father and I want to make sure that you stay that way, and be smart forever. And so… we spend extra money to send you to very good schools. And your birth mother was… she was just 15 years old. She wouldn't have had any money to raise you with," Jackie said.
"We work so hard for you, Jeremie. We want you to be happy. That's all mommy and I want, is for you to be a happy little boy. We t-try so much, Jeremie, and we love you. So very much," his father said, as he started to cry. Jeremie hugged his father and started to cry as well. Soon his mother joined in and the Belpois family cried together.
Months passed, and Jeremie grew to accept that he was adopted. He never stopped loving his parents, and he never did get the hang of PE either. Though he eventually did start to actually participate, he was never very good at the class. It was always his least favorite.
Years passed. Jeremie grew smarter and smarter. By the time he was seven, he was already long dividing. By nine, he had won the Paris Citywide Spelling Bee. At ten, he was correcting his math teacher so much that he retired halfway through the year. At eleven, he knew more English than the English teacher, albeit the English teacher was only fit to teach at a fifth grade level.
By sixth grade, Jeremie was well known to be one of the smartest kids in the school. He had a small group of friends who were also very smart. At lunch one day, the topic somehow switched to sports.
"Do any of you watch soccer? I was watching it yesterday, and there was this amazing player. She was from Paris, too. Anita something, I think her name was. She had blonde hair… a little like yours, Jeremie. Anyway, she scored this goal and it was awesome," Jeremie's friend Jean-Claude said.
"No… I don't watch soccer, not usually… what did you say her name was again?" Jeremie asked.
"Anita. Anita… Sinclair! That's it, Anita Sinclair," said Jean-Claude.
That day, when Jeremie got home, he asked his mother "Mom, who is my birth mother?"
Jackie was quiet for a moment. "Her name is Anita, why?"
"Because apparently there's this soccer player, Anita Sinclair, and my friend says she looked kinda like me," Jeremie said. "Can't I meet my re- er, my birth mother?"
Jackie was quiet again. "Well… I'll see what I can do, Jeremie."
That evening, Jackie pulled out a phonebook and tried to find the number. After three calls, she finally found her. "Hello, is this Anita Sinclair, the soccer player?"
"Uh… yeah. Who is this?" Said Anita.
"Well, I don't know if you remember me… but my name is Jacqueline Belpois. We met about twelve years ago," Jackie said.
There was a sharp gasp on the other end of the line. "You're the woman I… I gave my son to. What can I do for you?"
"Anita, I have someone here who wants to meet you. His name is Jeremie," said Jackie.
"I… uh… I don't know what I would say… or what to do… I…" She was quiet for a few moments, and then said "Give me your address. I'll be there tomorrow."
The next day, when Jeremie got home, there was a soccer player sitting on the couch, along with his parents. Anita stood up slowly. "Hi, Jeremie. I… I'm Anita, and I'm your birth mother."
Jeremie walked over slowly and looked at her. She had glasses just like he did, and eyes just like his behind them. Her hair was blonde and in a ponytail, and she had a beautiful smile. "Hi," he said eventually.
The two walked up to each other and looked at each other silently, until they both spontaneously went to hug each other. "I'm so glad to finally meet you, Jeremie. I've always wondered what you would look like, what you would be like. I've always wondered where you were and what you liked to do. I think about you so much," Anita said.
"Me too," Jeremie said, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Me too."
They pulled away. "I got you some things," Anita said. "I heard you were very smart, so I got you this," she said, handing him a rolled up piece of paper.
Jeremie unrolled it and smiled. "It's a poster of Albert Einstein!" He said happily. "That's so cool! Thank you," he said.
"Oh, and I got you this, too. It wasn't until I got home that I realized it would be way, way too big," she said, handing him a blue sweater. "Wear it when it gets cold, and maybe you'll grow into it later," she said with a smile.
"I will," Jeremie said. "Blue is my favorite color, anyway."
The whole family went out for ice cream, and then Anita had to part ways with the Belpoises. "I had such a wonderful time, and I'm so glad to finally meet you," she said to Jeremie. "If you ever want to, feel free to call me."
Jeremie went through the rest of sixth grade like he had every other year, top of the class, with a low grade in PE. The next year, he was enrolled in the very prestigious Kadic Academy.
There, he developed a love for robotics. All of seventh grade year he made plans to build robots. For his thirteenth birthday, he received a state-of-the-art computer from Anita. He proudly put it in the front of his room, and his poster of Einstein was next to his bed. He didn't make too many friends that year, but his computer and robots kept him occupied.
But it was the next year when his love for robotics would really change his life forever. It was October 8th, he was wearing the blue turtleneck, and he finally had some prototypes built. However, he needed more parts, and he decided to go scrounging in an old abandoned factory.
You know the rest of the story.