Since his third
birthday and the big blow-out-up party, Samuel sensed a shift in his
world. It was sudden and seemingly
permanent. Gone were the cavalier
parenting practices advocated by Grammy and his mother. Ignorance had been their blinders, and now the
blinders were off. Dang it all. I thought the party
to be a great success…
Nana gave Grammy and
his parents a crash course in dealing with Samuel. After all, Nana had raised five sons (his
father being one of them), and reportedly all were varieties of Samuel. So that’s
why Uncle Henry and Uncle Dave are never here at Christmas…Joliet Prison…hmmm.
Samuel did not like
the way the future was shaping up as he observed Nana from his hiding
places. Except there were no more hiding
places; they were known to everyone. It
used to be so easy. They were more malleable
in those days. Oh, if only…
Samuel detected an
undercurrent of something major in the snatches of whispers he caught while
feigning nap time with his favorite dump truck. “…it would be five mornings a week…too much
for one person…small number of children…all my sons went there…juvenile hall…posting
bail…”
The next morning in the car seat with
the Father driving and Nana in attendance, Samuel tried to squelch his
unease. I just need more information.
Then I will work out my plans, lock ideas down…
The van stopped, and
both adults grasped each of Samuel’s hands.
Firmly. They approached the door
and Nana punched the electronic entry button.
She whispered into a mic and the door whooshed open. Another
door. Same thing.
Reaching their
destination, the emblazoned sign over the complex read, Education for the Gifted and creative, Jones & Richland, LTD.
A woman greeted them
kindly and Samuel gulped. She could have
been Nana’s twin. Where am I? Who is this
woman? What is happening?
For once in his life,
Samuel felt the spiraling loss of domination.
