Chapter 6
Theo’s hidden life had changed guardians repeatedly.
Lucille.
A Hayes soldier named Martin.
A retired couple connected to Gregory.
A warehouse caretaker.
Back rooms.
Spare apartments.
Places where neighbors did not ask why a child rarely attended school consistently.
That part enraged Clara most.
“He should be reading at grade level.”
“He isn’t?”
“He’s behind.”
Not incapable.
Deprived.
Different.
Theo could calculate money quickly.
Count cans.
Remember bottle deposits.
Estimate how much food twelve dollars bought.
Survival arithmetic.
But reading?
Interrupted.
School enrollment created records.
Records created risk.
So they kept education irregular.
I confronted Gregory.
“You stole five years and then made sure he couldn’t even leave a trail.”
“He had tutors.”
“When?”
Silence.
“Gregory.”
“A while.”
“How long?”
No answer.
Maybe months.
Maybe less.
I leaned back.
“What was the plan when he became ten?”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Fifteen?”
Silence.
“Eighteen?”
He had none.
That was the horror.
The kidnapping began as strategy.
Then strategy became maintenance.
Every year they solved the immediate problem without imagining the child growing older.
“Were you ever going to tell him?”
“He knew we were family.”
“He thought you were his father?”
Gregory’s face changed.
“No.”
Interesting.
“What did he call you?”
“Uncle Gregory.”
At least that lie had limits.
“Did he ask about his parents?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
Gregory looked ashamed.
“My mother handled it.”
Coward.
Lucille told Theo his father died before he was born.
His mother chose never to return.
Two dead ends.
No one to search for.
No one to hope for.
They did not merely hide him from me.
May you like
They hid me from him.
And then called hopelessness discipline.
