Broken Identity (3 page)

His dad was still snoring deeply in the next room, giving off sounds like he was hacking up a log. That’s all the fool ever did. Sleep his life away as if his days would last forever. Well, the world was still spinning and the hourglass still sifting sand; and now, Drake wasn’t going to watch life pass him by. He was going to pursue it.

He hastily threw on his clothes and splashed his face with water. Most of his acne had cleared up in the last few months—definitely a plus considering appearance had a lot to do with being hired. After patting down a stray hair above his ear, Drake snatched up his wallet and keys and stole quietly out the door.

A local pizza place situated between a nail salon and insurance company was Drake’s first stop. He had had his eye on that place ever since he first considered getting a job, which in reality hadn’t been longer than a month. It didn’t seem like much on the outside, especially with the cracks in the bricks being crammed full of gum and the windows still advertising last year’s Christmas parade. But outside appearances didn’t matter much, Drake guessed. As long as he received a paycheck every week that he could call his own, he would be thrilled.

A tiny bell jingled as Drake pushed open the door. Instantly, the aroma of hamburger and pepperoni pizza rushed to fill his nostrils.

“What can I do for you?” The 42-year-old owner’s New York accent was still as sharp and defined as it had been twelve years ago when he moved to Missouri. He wiped his greasy fingers clean on his apron, which had the company’s giant logo printed on it, and grabbed a pen from his pocket. “Our specials today are—”

“Uh, actually I saw your now-hiring sign out front and wondered if you still had positions available,” Drake interrupted, doing his best to keep the quiver in his voice unnoticeable. “I’m a hard worker, and—”

“Sorry, kid,” the man said, cutting his sentence short. “Interviewed a guy and girl yesterday. Gave ’em the job on the spot.”

Drake melted inside. “You don’t have anything? I mean, I could wash the floors or clean the pans or something. Anything. Please, I need this job.”

“Already filled. Besides, we don’t hire students.”

“In two days I’ll be eighteen,” Drake protested.

The man sighed and returned his pen to his shirt pocket, obviously realizing he wasn’t going to make a sale. “Look, we aren’t hiring anymore,” he said flatly.
“Period
. Meant to take the sign down yesterday and forgot, OK? Sorry.”

Drake caught the emphasis. This man clearly wasn’t interested in him and probably would never be. He doubted the man had even interviewed anyone. It was just as his dad had told him yesterday: People didn’t hire trash, especially the son of a man this town knew too well for all the wrong reasons. Besides, this pathetic excuse for a county was too small anyway, cutting his chances for work to an even scarier fraction. So it wasn’t like the blame was all on him; opposition was plainly stacked against him on all sides.
It’s just one place, Drake. Don’t beat yourself up over it. There’s plenty more places willing to hire.

The next four places gave him the same message—not hiring. Tired and feeling as if his confidence had fallen lower than a zero, Drake followed their advice and went home.

Andrew’s heart thumped rapidly against his rib cage as the judge commanded the defendant to rise.

Say it. Say it.

The air seemed to rush from the room. Andrew tried to read the judge’s face, but all he saw were Ronnie’s eyes and the cluster of freckles underneath them instead. His pulse quickened, his heart pleaded for an answer.
God, let it be good. Let Ronnie come home with me today. Please, please let today be the last day I ever have to come back to this courtroom.

The courtroom was dead silent as the judge cleared his throat and pushed his thin-rimmed glasses higher up his nose.

I’ll never ask You for another thing again. Just let him say the words I’ve been waiting to hear.

Kevin watched like a stone-faced gargoyle, beyond caring any longer. This was all a boring formality that needed to end today.

The judge made eye contact with both Andrew and Kevin before finally uttering his verdict. “I rule this case in favor of Mr. Andrew Tavner. This court grants full custody of Ronnie Tavner to his uncle, Andrew Tavner, effective immediately.”

Andrew almost collapsed into the chair behind him. A sudden coolness swept over his entire body, as if life and peace were welcoming themselves in again. So long…too long. Tears burned his eyes as he thanked God.
Oh, God, thank You. You’ve answered my prayers. Now all I ask is that You help me raise this child right.

“All visitation rights for Mr. and Mrs. Kevin Tavner are terminated at this time,” the judge continued, his deep voice booming as it reverberated off the walls.

Andrew rubbed his eyes, finding it hard to listen to the rest of what the judge had to say when all he could think about was Ronnie.

Drake burst through the front door too quickly and collided smack into his father. He ducked his head and walked toward his bedroom.

“Don’t go runnin’ off now, Drake!” Ben said with a curling sneer. “I wanna hear all about your little experience of finding a job!”

“Go take a bath. You reek of old beer and body odor.” Drake rounded the corner to his room.

Ben followed close behind him. “So will you be taking fast-food orders, or…”

“Leave me alone!”

“Didn’t get one, did ya?” He cackled with laughter. “How does it feel to stoop to the level of admitting your old man was right and you were wrong?”

Drake swore. “Don’t start with me today!”

“I asked you a question, you disrespectful brat!”

Drake braked in his tracks and whirled around. “No, Dad, I didn’t. Does it make you feel better knowing your son’s a failure just like you?”

Ben held up his hands innocently, though a cynical smile still covered his face. “Don’t blame me for it,” he said cheerily, slurping down the rest of his stale beer. “I tried to tell ya, but nooooo, you wanted to do it your own way. Didn’t want my help, when I plainly told ya—”

“Yeah, always trying to watch my back aren’t ya? I’d probably fall over dead if you actually encouraged me just once instead of spotlighting every one of my flaws. But I guess that’s askin’ too much, isn’t it? Especially from a waste like you.”

Ben slammed his fist lividly against the already dented wall and cursed. “Encourage you how? By feeding you lies? I try to be honest with my own son, and I get hated for it!” The veins in his neck grew taut.

“I’m still leaving!” Drake shouted angrily, not willing to accept defeat this soon. “I hate this house, I hate my going-nowhere life, and I—” He clenched his keys in his hand and held them in a fist in front of his face. “I’ll drive a thousand miles away and steal, kill, do whatever it takes to get my break in life. I’m ready to explode on the inside, and you’re about to set me off!”

“You’re all talk and no guts. Going away takes money. Lots of it. And stealin’ ain’t as easy as you think, else I would have had my hands on plenty of it years ago.”

Those words cut deep. Not have the money to leave? He’d do anything before he let that happen. He could pull it off and make it work. “I don’t know, but I’ll find a way!” he yelled, sick and tired of the constant nagging. “With or without the money, I’m leaving. Just get off my case!”

“You remind me of your mother,” Ben said, slowly crushing the beer can in his hand.

Drake stared at him, wondering why those words sounded so much more threatening when coming from his mouth. “Oh, so now that’s a bad thing?”

“Will I never see Daddy or Mommy again?” Ronnie said during the long drive back to Andrew’s home in Springfield, Illinois.

Andrew pressed his lips closed and watched the 7-year-old cuddle his overstuffed panda as he gazed curiously out the window. He swallowed and said hesitantly, “Do you want to, Ronnie?”

Ronnie shrugged and hugged his bear tighter. “No,” he said, so quietly Andrew almost didn’t hear him. “They were mean to me. I dunno why.”

Andrew felt terrible for the kid. He remembered a little over a year ago when Ronnie had come to visit him one Christmas—that was when he had first noticed the cigarette burns on the young child’s skin and the small bruises that Ronnie’s parents had always justified by saying, “He’s always running into things.” Andrew had known it was a lie. Pain always had a way of surfacing itself, whether through a kid’s sad eyes or his tense body when his father came too close.

Andrew wilted like a dead leaf on the inside just thinking about it. He wanted it to be different for Ronnie this time, for relationship to mean something. He just prayed he was strong enough to reach out and pull Ronnie back to love again.

Ronnie hardly blinked. His eyebrows were tilted in confusion as rows of shadows swept across his expressionless face. Slowly, he pulled the bear closer to his heart and buried his frown in the fur of its head.

Andrew shifted a little in his seat, dreading that the thin ice he was tiptoeing on would crack under his feet at any moment. Ronnie was happy, wasn’t he? Surely he hadn’t made a mistake. “Were your foster parents good to you, Ronnie?”

Ronnie shrugged.

“I mean, I know we talked on the phone about it a lot, but…”

Silence.

“Did they treat you all right? Feed you and give you a bed?”

“Sure.”

Andrew glanced in the mirror and hesitated. “You don’t make it sound that way now.”

“They were OK, I guess. The man worked a lot, and the lady liked to talk on the phone.”

Straightforward, Ronnie. Please answer my questions and don’t walk around them.
“Did they have any kids?”

Now Ronnie met his gaze. “Two boys, both older than me,” he answered. “I don’t think they liked me very much, though. Called me names sometimes when their parents weren’t around. One of them told me I was there just so their parents could make more money.”

The ice shattered, along with what was left of Andrew’s bruised heart. “I’m sorry, Ronnie. People are just mean like that sometimes. You know why?”

Ronnie shook his head.

“Because they’re jealous.”

Ronnie blew air out of his nostrils. “Jealous? I don’t think so.”

“Sure. Why else would they say mean things about you? I’ll bet it’s because they know they can never be you, and that makes them mad. You’re special. There will never be another Ronnie, you know that?”

Ronnie stared at him doubtfully. “A lot of people are named Ronnie.”

“But they’re not my Ronnie,” Andrew said, smiling.

Ronnie shyly smiled back. “You’re silly.”

“Forget about your foster home. You’re going to be living with me from now on, and those stairs are practically begging for someone to run up and down them every day.”

“Can I still keep all my toys?”

Andrew smiled.
Just like a kid to be worried about his toys at a time like this.
“Of course you can.”

“And my other stuffed animals too?”

“And all your stuffed animals too. You’re going to stay with your grandma this evening while I go get your stuff, and when I get back, we can—”

“But I want to go with you, Uncle Andy,” Ronnie said softly, struggling to peer over the headrest.