I'd like to thank my new patron, babgg7, for contributing to my tip jar. :)
Also, many thanks to everyone who contributed to and commented on the review of my story The Swan and The Dove at .com.
I've been busy and having trouble focusing on writing this story for a little while, but your kind support has put some more gas in my tank! :D (Or petrol, if you'd rather.)
In other news, I'm sorry.
Every day is a risk. Every day we stand still, we learn to have faith that tomorrow will be like today, stretching forward into vague tomorrows. To expect things is problematic, but, as humans, it seems to be part of our make-up. If we're lucky, when we look ahead, it's with a positive view, instead of fear, an excitement for all the adventures and experiences we might have. We may even become confident of the choices we make, thinking everything will fall into place. To live in the moment is to take solace and gratitude in the concept that life is ever-changing, and we have no control of it. Each experience, whether we perceive it as good or bad, happens in the natural order of things, not because it's destined, but because it just is. We forget.
We couldn't have been more blind sided.
Teo, Michael and I were just inside the open double doors, talking to the woman who would be Sevvy's teacher. Sevvy was in the playground behind us, along with several other children giving the equipment a tryout and a teacher's aide who seemed both friendly and competent. It could've only been minutes before one of us turned around to check on him, but when Teo did, our son was no longer in eyesight.
Teo excused himself and took a couple steps to peer around the corner. Ms. Gleason was telling us about the music program, and we were joking about the endless tradition of kids practicing on recorders. Then Teo said:
"Honey?"
There was something about his tone of voice that made all of us turn to him immediately.
"I don't see Severo," he said, fully turning his body towards the section out of view from the doorway. "Sevvy," he called out, "Severo!"
"I'm sure Ms. Clarke-" the teacher began, and then
"Oh my God!" Teo gasped, and ran out of sight.
A cold wash of adrenaline rushed through my blood, and I was running before I knew it. Everything besides my desperate forward vision disappeared, turned into a blur as I looked to spot only two things: Severo and Teo.
Teo was still running, yelling something, and our son… was talking to a man through the chain-link fence. A man in a black suit, who was handing him something.
The man looked up at Teo, then straight at me. I nearly tripped at that look, it was so pointed, so cold. The faintest hint of a smirk curved his lips and it was anything but friendly. I felt another stab of adrenaline constrict my chest.
Teo was yelling at the man, asking who he was, and telling Sevvy to move away from him. The man didn't seem worried or hurried. A passing breeze did nothing to ruffle his perfectly neat, clipped hair, or his demeanor. He stepped back from the fence almost nonchalantly, and tucked one hand in his pocket. It looked loaded, heavy, like he had something in there, something metallic.
Then he glanced quickly at the both of us and turned around. Teo reached Sevvy and yanked him back from the fence, calling after the stranger. I caught up and stopped myself with my hands on the fence, sending a clattering wave down its length. The man's walk even looked malevolent, as he moved toward the circular driveway, up to a black SUV with dark-tinted windows. He slipped in the passenger side, not looking back, and the door closed as the car pulled away, disappearing from view behind a ridge almost immediately. I only got the first three letters of the license plate and they were mutable in my mind from my shock and fear.
I could have been there seconds. I could have been there weeks.
The sound of Sevvy wailing out a sob snapped me out of it. I turned around to see Michael had caught up, now, the teacher not far behind. Teo was tightly gripping our son's shoulders, looking from the direction the SUV had gone down to our boy's head, face, body, scanning him frantically to see if he was alright. Quickly I kneeled down and grasped Sevvy's arms below his shoulders, giving a quick tug to Teo's clamped fingers.
"Are you okay? Are you okay?"
My voice came out harshly to my ears. Michael had dropped beside me, putting his arms around his husband and child. He was shushing lowly, almost in a whisper, trying to calm them both down. As Teo realized he was unintentionally being rough, he loosened his grasp, and Sevvy leaned forward to anchor himself between Michael's and my shoulders, trembling, a baffled whimper seeping from his mouth, lips clamped in fear.
"Okay," I tried to reassure him, this time quietly in his ear, "we're right here, we've got you. Just tell me what happened, Cookie."
He sniffled and swallowed, glancing back at Teo, who also lowered himself to our son's level, face worried, but more composed.
"H-he, there was a man and he said he knuh-knew you," Sevvy finally managed, his eyes, nose and mouth leaking, cheeks and nose pinking. "He said is my mom Cosima N-Niehaus, and I didn't say anything, I swear, I didn't say anything!"
Shit. Tears pricked at my eyes, too. Our child, young as he was, knew not to talk too much about about me, like I was a criminal on the lam.
"Okay, nene, we're listening, we believe you. What happened next?"
Severo looked up at his papa from under dew-dropped eyelashes. He sniffled again, seeming to catch his breath.
"He… he said he knew you," he repeated. "I didn't, I wasn't sure, but he said if he could just give me a note for you… he said he w-wouldn't… he would just stay on that side of the fence and give me the note."
"Did he do or say anything else?" Teo quickly asked, Michael shooting him a look that said be gentle.
"He said it was g-good to meet me. He seemed okay. I didn't even tell him my name, I promise!"
"That's good, honey, that's very good," Michael crooned, giving him a slight, encouraging squeeze. Sevvy let out a small, receding hiccough of a sob, and wiped his face on Michael's collar. He looked down again, this time at his own tightly-clenched fist. He opened it, revealing a crumpled piece of paper. I took a deep breath and laid my hand over his, but I didn't snatch the scrap away from him.
"And that's all?" I asked him softly. He nodded. "He didn't scare you?" Sevvy went through a hesitant, stuttering shrug.
"I was careful. I didn't even touch his fingers. Then Papa…" his eyes welled up again.
"You were crying because Papa was upset? Was that kind of frightening to you?" Teo bit his lip as I posed this question. Sevvy nodded again.
"I'm sorry," Teo told him, placing his hand on our son's shoulder, carefully and gently this time. "I wasn't upset with you, okay, nene? I was just worried about you, my heart. I'm sorry I scared you."
Sevvy nodded once more, sucking at his lower lip, then leaned gingerly over to put his arms around Teo.
"I'm gonna take this, alright, Cookie?" I finally said, and slid the note out of his palm. My fingers trembled as I opened it, and I damned myself for it.
Hello, Cosima, it said, in printed lettering. We've been looking for you. My free hand flew up to my head, clutching it, before I read on.
We will arrange a meeting with you. Don't tell anyone. Don't try to run. We will know if you do. You are under surveillance, and so is your son.
I must have gasped, because Michael was suddenly beside me, supporting me.
If you comply with our instructions, it is less likely someone will get hurt. We will contact you soon.
And that was it. That was all it said. I fought against my fear, then tried to breathe through it. Neither worked. I turned over the paper. Nothing else on it, no name, no mark.
But I knew it was bad. It was very, very bad.
The teacher ran up to us. I guess she had gone somewhere. She had a man I vaguely recognized as the principal with her.
"Is he hurt? I called the school nurse; I called the police…" Her voice was shrill.
I looked up at her. All my boys were looking at me, all upset and needing answers, reassurance. I pressed my eyes shut.
"Shit," I hissed to myself. My eyes flew to Michael's, Teo's. "You know I can't…" I whispered.
I could see the emotions working under the straight face Teo was trying to maintain. His eyes narrowed and reopened, his jaw tensed so much that his temples contracted, drawing up his forehead while his brows remained in a frown. Then he leaned down and scooped up Sevvy in his arms, tucking him comfortingly against his chest.
"I promise you, nothing like this has happened before. We'll do whatever it takes, to the fullest extent of the law… once the police—" the principle was rambling at Michael, clearly trying to seem in control. As if any of us were.
"My son is very upset," Teo interrupted him, his voice brooking no contest. "I am going to take my family home, and the police can interview us there."
The principal, teacher and Michael all looked at him in consternation at once, the two school officials gawping like fish, while Michael compressed his lips in a tight line, but said nothing.
"But—" the principal tried, but Teo turned away from him touching my shoulder in order to get me walking away in front of him.
"We will also need to speak to our lawyers," he informed them as he began to follow me, and the principal paled. Teo looked back at Michael and something passed between them, because Michael quick-stepped and joined us in walking toward the parking lot, his arm wrapping over the shoulders of his husband and son. Quickly, we hustled into the car, Teo securing Sevvy in his car seat as I slumped into the rear seat beside our boy in a dreamlike, or rather, nightmarish state. Michael watched to make sure all belts were fastened and doors closed, then drove us, swiftly but with control, out of the school driveway.