(5) Year 4

It was a rare day that Gilbert could manage to get out of the house on his own. But on one particular day, a neighbor had offered to watch Kevin while Gilbert went out looking for a surprise gift for the boy. He had the notion that he needed to broaden the child's horizons beyond the world of candy and toys, but wasn't sure what would be appropriate and appreciated as a gift, and he was loath to waste money on something useless. The supply of money the old lady had left would last him three more years at best, as long as he wasn't careless with spending.

"He's four years old, you say?" queried the itinerant vendor. "Then he should start to learn how to read and write soon if he wants to be something other than a servant his whole life." The vendor picked up a small book from his cart and showed it to Gilbert. "This story is wonderful for youngsters, and you can have it for only a penny."

Gilbert shoved his hand in his pocket, retrieved a dull coin and handed it over in exchange for the book, which turned out to be called "The Bell and the Cat," one of Aesop's fables.

Noting the title, it was with some reluctance that Gilbert offered to read it to Kevin. The boy sat still for all of two minutes, getting antsy as soon as the mice in the story called a meeting.

"Boring," said Kevin, hopping off the sofa. "Let's play hide and seek instead!"

Gilbert cringed. He hated that game.

"I'll be the ninja…you count to ten…bye!" Kevin ran off to hide, while Gilbert reluctantly counted to ten as slowly as he could, wondering if he could possibly light up and finish a cigarette before it was time to look for the boy.

"Ready or not here I come!"

He took a long drag on his cigarette, got up from the sofa and headed for where he'd last heard noise: the basement. Gilbert was not a big fan of basements. In fact, they pretty much gave him the creeps. So he only spent a few minutes looking, and when he couldn't find the boy, hollered,

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Silence. So he went back upstairs and called out again. Still silence. Then he went outside and called around the neighborhood, but couldn't find him.

Gilbert was starting to panic. He rushed back down to the basement, sure he must be there…and screamed,

"KEVIN!"

"What?" came a small voice from behind a small door.

"Kevin! Where are you? Come out right now!"

The door swung open and Gilbert peered inside. There was Kevin surrounded by bottles of wine, which evidently had been left by a previous resident. His upper lip was stained red and he'd spilled wine all over his shirt as well.

"Y-You've been drinking…that?"

"Mm huh…it tastes funny, but kinda yummy." Kevin wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"H-How much did you drink?"

Kevin shrugged and Gilbert snatched the bottle out of his hands. At least a third of the bottle was empty. Kevin climbed out of the niche and the dark-haired man looked for any signs of drunkenness, but there were none.

)(

Over time, the book vendor's words, "He should start to learn how to read and write soon if he wants to be something other than a servant his whole life" ate away at Gilbert's sense of responsibility as a foster parent.

One day he was trying to teach the boy how to write his name with a fountain pen, but Kevin was more interested in poking holes in the paper with the pen's metal nib.

"If you never learn to read or write, then you'll always have to rely on someone else to do your work for you!" Oh wait. Gilbert smacked his forehead with his palm, thinking of his years spent as Break's subordinate and all the work he'd always shuffled off on others.

"Someone else can do my work for me," said Kevin.

"I thought you wanted to do everything by yourself and not rely on anyone?" I've got you there, thought Gilbert.

"I want to do the things that I want to do," announced Kevin, pouring the contents of the ink bottle across the paper and watching it seep in. "And you can do the things I don't want to do."

Gilbert jumped up from his seat.

"Why did you dump out the ink!" he cried. "Clean it up!"

"No…you can do it," Kevin said, putting down the pen and ink bottle and walking into his room.

Gilbert grumbled as he capped what was left of the ink and threw the ink-stained paper in the dustbin.

"Selfish, spoiled brat."

)(

Eventually, Gilbert did find a book that Kevin was interested in. It was a book about King Arthur and the knights of the round table, which he found on a high shelf he'd neglected to clean after the old lady had died. The book contained a folded letter, which when Gilbert read he learned that the book was a gift from one Regnard to another…Kevin's parents? He wasn't sure. That's right, Kevin came from a family of knights…of course they'd have an interest in King Arthur.

Kevin would sit with rapt attention while Gilbert read to him from this book and soon began fancying himself a knight during imaginary play. Gilbert would watch him sword fight with one of the neighborhood boys. Sometimes he smiled a little when he watched the bravado and swagger with which Kevin fought. But then the sad reality hit him with the force of a thousand bricks. Kevin, you are going to grow up and be an excellent sword fighter. You'll even become a knight. But then you're going to make an illegal contract with a chain and end up killing 116 people. And there's not a darn thing either you or I can do to change that. Or is there?

to be continued