Mike's room is only a corner of the unfinished attic, but it's fairly clean and there's no trash around. It has to be his doing. He roots around under the cot that's his bed and comes out with a supermarket bag. He stuffs some things I wouldn't use for rags in it and takes a pitiful toy dog from the cot. Its eyes are gone, the plush is worn to the backing, but he hangs on to it as if it's his only friend, which I'm sure until now it has been.
When we push past her at the door, Tor smiles at Mike. "Let's go home, Mike," and takes the bag. Mike holds the dog in one hand and clings to mine with the other. She's hanging on the porch railing to stay upright, watching us. When we're getting in the car, we hear her scream, "Goo' riddance, ya li'l bastard!"
Mike's asleep on my lap and we're only a few miles from home, when the enormity of what we're doing really hits me. "Tor?"
He grunts in reply, never taking his eyes from the road.
"How are we going to explain Mike to Curtis?"
The SL slows and Tor glances at me. "It's none of his business."
"In case you've forgotten, he knows we're gay and he's stood by us. What's he going to think when we show up with a kid? We owe him and it'll put him in bind along with us if anyone thinks Mike is chicken."
He doesn't answer until he pulls off the highway into a deserted rest area and stops. "You're right. It's always been just the two of us, so I didn't even think about anyone else knowing. We've got to come up with something to tell him."
"Why not the truth?"
"No! You said he'd think Mike was chicken."
"I did not. I said what if someone else thought that. Curtis knows us better. The worst thing we could do would be to lie to him. We could always tell everybody else we adopted him."
"I don't know, baby, but if you're determined to tell Curtis the truth, maybe he'll help us." Tor pulls back on the highway, but I can see doubt in his expression. It's late when we get home because of the time we spent in getting Mike ready to come with us. He wakes when Tor switches off the motor.
"Where?" He asks drowsily.
"Home." Tor lifts him out. I open the door and start to stand, but if Tor hadn't moved fast I'd have fallen flat. "What's the matter?"
"Leg's gone to sleep." He holds me up until I can walk, then takes Mike's things and holds his hand as we walk down to the dock.
"Where we going?" He mutters, still half asleep
"Home. We live on a boat, remember?" Tor says quietly.
Mike's more awake now. "That it?" He points to the research vessel.
"This one." Tor starts up our gangplank.
When Tor switches the lights on, Mike stands open-mouthed in the middle of the room.
"This ain't no boat, it's a house."
"It's both," I answer. "Tor, fix some soup and sandwiches while I make up the bunk for Mike."
As soon as we've eaten, I undress Mike and tuck him under the blanket, handing him the toy dog. Before he turns over, he asks, "Where do you sleep?"
Tor touches his cheek lightly. "Drew and I have the big bunk. Sleep well, babe." He kisses Mike on the forehead and we get in our bunk.
Sometime during the night I awaken, sensing Tor's not next to me. I sit up. In the glow of the nightlight, I see him sitting on the side of the single bunk stroking Mike's hair and crooning softly. He looks my way and shakes his head. In a few minutes he's back beside me.
"What's wrong?" I whisper.
"Didn't you hear him? He had a nightmare."
"Guess I was too tired." I put my arms around him. "What have we gotten ourselves into?"
"Nothing we can't handle. I know you don't like kids, Drew, but share my love with Mike. The poor little tyke doesn't seem to have had much."
"I know. It's not loving him I'm worried about, it's everything else."
"What else could we do, baby?"
The sound of breaking glass awakens me the next morning. I prop up in time to see Mike ease from the head. The shorts and T-shirt he has on are even worse than those of yesterday. When he sees me looking at him, he breaks for his bunk and curls into a ball, hugging the toy dog. Best as I can for so early in the morning, I smile at him and go to wash up. There's an overpowering reek of the shaving lotion Tor sometimes uses. I look, but the bottle is not on the shelf where it usually is. Shards of glass glitter in the trash can. Mike is still exactly as he was when I come out. I figure he's confused by being in a strange place, so I sit beside him, but he draws away. "What's the matter, Mike?"
He shakes his head and hugs the dog tighter. Now it dawns on me that he's terrified. I put my arm around him and hug him close, almost overcome by the fear I feel emanating from him.
"I love you."
I can feel some of the tenseness leave him, but his lips quiver. "Don't beat me. Please. I didn't mean to bust it."
"I'm not going to beat you. I know you didn't do it on purpose. Let's go fix breakfast."
Giving me a look of disbelief, he puts the dog down and follows me to the galley. I show him how to work the coffee maker and turn to fixing bacon and eggs.
Tor stumbles into the head only to roar, "This place smells like a whorehouse!"
"Turn on the vent fan. I told you that lotion smelled like shit, but you didn't believe me," I yell back.
Tor sticks his head around the corner, scowling. "Why'd you bust it?"
Mike runs back to his bunk and sits hugging the dog. I push Tor back a little. "Shut up, damn it. Mike did it by accident. Now he's scared to death you're going to beat him for it." I jerk my head in his direction. "Look at him."
Tor's anger vanishes. "Poor kid." He goes across and sits down, taking Mike on his lap. "It's okay. I didn't like that stuff anyway." He says softly.
There's a look of hope on Mike's face. "You sure?"
"Sure I am. Drew hates it, too." He rocks Mike back and forth a little until Mike gives him a little smile, then they come to the table.
While we're drinking our coffee, Tor says to me, "If you're so determined to tell Curtis, we might as well do it and get it over with."
"We can't take him up there wearing those rags. Let's run into town and get him some decent clothes. We've got to get some groceries, too. Mike needs good food, so we can't pick-up and run like we've been doing."
Tor looks relieved that the visit with Curtis is delayed.
Shopping for Mike, I get some of the thrill Tor had in buying clothes for me, but it's more because this is our own money and our kid. Like he did with me, Tor doesn't give Mike much choice, but everything is right.
Mike trails along, still very quiet.
We wait until the institute closes for the day and most of the people have gone before we go up to see Curtis. Told that he's going to meet our boss, Mike's pleasure over his new clothes becomes subdued. He thrusts his hand into mine as Tor knocks on Curtis' office door and opens it.
"Tor, what's up?"
"We need to talk to you for a few minutes."
Curtis glances at his desk clock. "I can give you about forty-five minutes, then I have an appointment."
I push Mike in ahead of me. "Dr. Curtis, this is Mike."
Curtis raises an eyebrow, speaks to Mike, then looks at Tor and me, waiting.
"Mike's going to be living with us," Tor says. "That's what we want to talk with you about."
Any doubts I had vanish. Instead of jumping to conclusions, Curtis leans back in his chair and tells us to start at the beginning. Between the two of us, the story comes out as far as we know anything about Mike. I hasten to assure Curtis that neither of us will try to influence Mike in any way.
He waits until Tor and I have run out of words and are looking at each other before he speaks. "Let me have a few minutes alone with him."
Tor and I pace the hall until Curtis opens the door and calls us back in. His lack of expression makes me fear the worst. Only when Mike climbs up on my lap and gives me a smile am I saved from total despair.
"You two have a real talent for getting into sticky situations, haven't you? Whatever thoughts I may have had have certainly been changed by my talk with Mike. You're in an untenable situation legally, and you know that if any question is raised I'll have to disassociate the Institute from you. You'll be strictly on your own."
Tor interrupts. "Are you saying that it's either Mike or us?"
"I'm saying nothing of the sort." He gives us a scant smile. "Had I been placed in your situation yesterday, I'm not sure I'd have had the guts to do what you did. But it's done, and as far as I can I'll back you."
We both begin to relax.
"Now that you've drawn me into this, I might as well warn you that I'll be watching you closely out of my concern for Mike. I think, too, that you'd better bring him by the house and introduce him to Martha."
He leans forward and puts his arms on the desk. "What are you planning to tell anyone who asks about Mike?"
"As far as the school is concerned, I'm telling them that he's a relative placed in my care since he calls me daddy." I answer.
"If you can get away with that, it's what we'd best tell everyone. That way we won't get tripped up. Let him be your nephew whose parents have died. That's what I'll tell Martha."
"You mean you haven't told her about . . . "
Curtis fires back, "That's your affair."
Once he's eaten breakfast the next morning, Tor recovers his placid disposition. He looks at me over his cup of coffee, nodding his head toward Mike sitting on the bunk looking at a magazine. "Do we start him in school today?"
"We can't until Hilliard gets the paperwork to us. We ought to spend the day with him and let him get used to us. Besides, it'll be better if he doesn't go to a new school until those bruises clear up. It'll save some questions."
"God, what have I gotten us into?"
"Nothing we can't handle if we're careful. I didn't want to leave him back there any more than you did."
"I guess you're right. So, what do we do now?"
"Get dressed and show him around so some of the staff know who he is and he won't get lost."
Fortunately the day is cool enough to wear long sleeve shirts, so once I've helped Mike dress none of the marks show except for the Band-Aid on his forehead. We walk up to the institute and show Mike around. Tor's pleased when he presses his face against the glass of the aquarium and watches the fish intently, asking the name of each species. We're about to move on when he asks me, "What do you do?"
"I take pictures of fish and other things that live in the water."
"Here?"
"No. I have a lab on the boat, but sometimes I swim under water where the fish are."
"Don't your camera get wet?"
"It's waterproof."
"What's he do?" He asks, pointing to Tor.
"He writes about the things I take pictures of."
"Oh." When he seems satisfied, we walk on through the building. I stop at the door to the darkroom and point to the light, explaining that I work in there sometimes, but he must never open the door if the light's on as it is now. About that time the light goes off and John comes out. He grins at Mike. "Who's this?"
"He's Drew's nephew," Tor answers quickly. "He's going to be with us for a while. Mike, this is John."
"Hi." Mike says shyly.
John pats him on the head and walks on down the hall. We show Mike through the rest of the building. He's fascinated by the shallow water table set up for kids so they can touch the horseshoe crabs, starfish, and other examples of sea life, but he won't touch any of them. When Tor picks up a horseshoe crab and holds it out, Mike presses against me.
Gary is working on a flowerbed just outside the front entrance when we leave. He gives us an astonished look when he sees Mike and we stop to introduce him. Gary is quiet and gentle with Mike, and I'm saved having to make an explanation because Curtis drives up just then and stops us.
"You're all coming to the house for dinner tonight. Martha wants to meet Mike." He gives us a grin. "She doesn't think you two can take proper care of a child, so you might as well get used to listening to her advice."
Back at our boat, Tor gives me a worried look. "I didn't think things would move this fast. Don't you think Mike's being exposed to a lot of strange people just a little too quickly?"
"It was bound to happen and there's school, so he might as well get it all at once."
"Look at the way he clings to you."
"I'm 'daddy', remember? He'll ease up once he gets to feel comfortable with us and the surroundings. It just means I'm going to have to take some time with him and so are you. If it means you have to slack off on some of your work, that's the way it is. Whether you like it or not."
About five-thirty, I see that Mike bathes then dresses while Tor showers. I'm the last to get ready.
Mike backs off when Mrs. Curtis starts to hug him. She gives me a significant look and asks Mike if he likes TV. We're all surprised when his eyes get wide. "You got one?" He follows her to the far end of the family room and sits on the floor drinking orange juice and watching the cartoons she tuned while we're talking over drinks.
Dinner is terrific. Both Tor and I are amazed at how quickly Mike has relaxed and how such a small kid can put so much away. Mrs. Curtis looks pleased at the speed with which her dinner disappears. After dessert, Mike asks to go back to the TV. Once he's left the table and the coffee's been poured, she says flatly, "That child has been terribly abused."
Curtis shakes his head. "I should have known better, dear." He looks at us. "You may as well know that Martha is a child psychologist. She gave up her practice when we moved down here, but she still does some consulting and writing. I think it may be best for you and Mike if you tell her everything."
Tor and I stare at each other for what seems ages. I mean when you're faced with telling what you've spent most of your life trying to conceal . . . . We see a professional mask drop into place as she draws her chair closer to us and glances back to see if Mike is still absorbed in the TV program.
With a lot of looks back and forth, Tor and I tell her as much as we know about Mike and why we've brought him home with us. She says nothing but keeps on looking at us. Finally Tor blurts out, "Drew and I are lovers."
I realize what a true professional she is when she says simply, "That was obviously difficult for you to say. But I thank you for having enough confidence in Dave and me to tell us the truth. I'd like to help you with Mike because I have every reason to believe you're going to need it, considering what you've told me of his background. There's no reason why you shouldn't be good parents for Mike, unless you . . . " It's a loaded pause accompanied by a sharp look.
"No way," I say quickly. "I mean there's no way Tor or I would do anything except to encourage Mike to be whatever his nature dictates. We'll be glad for your help."
It's then that she smiles. "I see Dave knows you quite well. He told me you were two of the most reasonable people he'd ever met, despite being unconventional. I want you to bring Mike here tomorrow morning about nine-thirty and let me test him before he starts school."
I'm surprised by how readily Mike agrees to go to Mrs. Curtis the next morning, considering how reluctant he was with her the previous evening, even though he did allow her to hug him when we left. After she tells me that she'll give him lunch, I go back home to type up some more of the notes Tor's gotten done.
Mike's watching cartoons when I go to pick him up. She sits at her desk and touches a small stack of paper. "Mike's very intelligent. In fact, he measures out at 140 on the IQ test I use, but in social skills he's the equivalent of a five-year-old. He's very immature, especially in human relationships; quite what I expected from what you and Tor told me."
"What do we do about that?"
"Being in school with others his age will help. I think I should be with you when you enter him because I expect the school is going to try to drop him back a year and that would be a mistake, though he's going to have some adjustment problems at first which I'll try to help him through. You and Tor are going to have to spend a lot of time with him, helping him with his schoolwork and, especially, taking him out in public so that he can get used to people. His tests show interest in the art areas: literature, history, music, so he needs to be exposed to museums, concerts, things of that nature. Because of his immaturity, he badly needs some toys to play with. He has a strong imagination that needs direction. You and Tor apparently fulfilled a large part of his fantasies when you took him out of the environment in which he was living, but that situation has caused him to be fearful of women, something we must remedy immediately. I also had some difficulty in persuading him that you hadn't abandoned him when you left."
When I tell her of the incident with Tor's shaving lotion, she nods. "You were both correct in reassuring him. Give him as much attention as he will take, but don't be surprised when he begins to assert his independence."
She calls Mike and his face lights when he sees me. "Daddy!" He jumps into my arms and I give him a big hug. It's the way he smiles at Dr. Curtis when we leave that I know she's gotten through to him.
Mike and I walk up to the Institute the next morning to check the mail. There's a large envelope from the Meadowview Collegiate School in our box. Hilliard has performed his slight-of-hand for there are Mike's records all neatly and officially done. Mike begins to whine when I mention school, and it takes Tor and me a patience-straining hour to convince him, but not before we agree to take and pick him up each day rather than sending him on the school bus. Dr. Curtis has agreed to meet us there the next morning.
Tor and I are scarcely in our bunk with the light out when Mike's beside us. "I want to sleep with you." I nudge Tor and Mike crawls in and snuggles down between us with a contented sigh and drops immediately into sleep. It's a bit crowded, but Tor's and my arms across him seem to provide the security he needs.
When the alarm goes off, I slap the button and nudge Mike. He hugs me and rolls over to hug Tor. "Wake up, daddy." Tor opens one eye and sort of smiles. When Mike hugs him again, he grabs him, "Gotcha!" tickling him. They horse around until I pull Mike away to get him dressed.
Since Mrs. Curtis is already in the principal's office when we get to the school, entering Mike is a breeze. The only awkward moment comes when we're asked our relationship with Mike and he pops up with 'daddy' each time before we can answer. Mrs. Curtis quickly explains that it's a joint custody situation and Mike is likely to make no distinction under the circumstances.
Tor and I go to pick Mike up at three. As soon as he comes through the door and sees us leaning against the car, he drops his books to the sidewalk and breaks into a run. He hugs first me then Tor. Some of the other kids point and snicker, but Tor's scowl makes them scatter.
"Michael, we do not throw our books on the ground." A prim woman I'd guess to be in her late thirties has come up, looking at us disapprovingly.
Mike's smile vanishes and he presses against me. Tor scowls at her. "If you haven't talked with the principal, I'd suggest you do so. As for the books, it won't happen again."
She isn't the least intimidated. "I assume you're Michael's father?"
"We both are," he snaps and jumps in the car, leaving her with an astonished look.
Only with his arithmetic homework does Mike have trouble. Tor shows him a couple of shortcuts Mike catches quickly. Tor puts him to bed and we go back to our work for a while, but sometime during the night I rouse when Mike squeezes in between us again.
Tor's busy writing, so I go to pick Mike up. He's sniffling when he comes out and wraps his arms around me. As best I can make out, it seems his teacher yelled at him for not doing his math homework the step by step way she wanted. That would have been okay had she not added something about what could she expect from a kid so dumb he doesn't know which of us is his father. My temper pops and poor Mike has to trot to keep up with me as I head for the principal's office. The secretary tries to stop me, but with the door open I can see there's no one in the office with him. I barge in.
"What the hell kind of teachers do you have here?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean a teacher so damn mean she tells a kid he's too dumb to know who his father is! You either put Mike with another teacher, or by God I'll take him out of this place and Tor and I will teach him at home. I thought Dr. Curtis made his situation clear enough that he'd get some support and understanding, instead his teacher dumps on him because he did his homework correctly rather than use her method."
"I can't believe Miss Proctor would do such a thing!"
"Ask her."
Proctor is the same woman we saw yesterday, and she's on the defensive when she enters the office and sees me. Questioned by the principal, she says that her method is approved and she will not tolerate any deviation.
I can take her arrogance no longer. "Why did you find it necessary to indulge in ridicule to correct a student?"
She gives me a sour look. "What do you know about teaching? He addressed both you and the man with you yesterday as 'daddy'. It's obvious you're too young, so if the other man's his father, why should he call you the same? A child can have only one."
Before the principal can interrupt, I draw myself up full height, ready to murder her. "My brother and I both have PhD's and are professors at the university. Biologically neither of us is Mike's father, but we are his guardians. He's had no family experience until now, so he chooses to relate to both of us as his father which pleases us. You would be well aware of his background had you bothered to read Dr. Curtis' evaluation."
When she offers no explanation, the principal dismisses her and sends his secretary for a Mrs. O'Neal.
My anger vanishes when I see a sweet-faced older woman enter the outer office and stop to say something to Mike that makes him smile before she comes into the inner office. The principal introduces her and asks if she will take Mike in her class, handing her Mike's folder. I'm really pleased when she sits down and reads Dr. Curtis' report before saying a word. She closes the folder and looks at me.
"Poor little boy. I'll be happy to have him in my class and you can be sure I'll do my best for him. I hope I may call either you or Doctor Curtis if I feel it necessary."
I love this woman, praying she means what she's said. "Absolutely. And if there's anything Tor and I can do to help you, just let us know."
She calls Mike in and hugs him. "I'm Mrs. O'Neal. You're going to be in my class now. I'm so glad to have you. Do the homework Miss Proctor assigned and bring it in tomorrow. All right?"
Mike gives her a little smile and comes to me. When she leaves, I apologize to the principal for my outburst. He's gracious enough to apologize for not having put Mike with Mrs. O'Neal to begin with.
Tor and I are both relieved when Mike comes out of school laughing the next day and he stays in his own bunk for the first time since he's been with us.
Now that Mike's happy in school, Tor and I get back to our own work, but we're careful to make time for him in the afternoons. I surmise he loves fresh fruit from the way he looks at it while we're shopping in the market. He has yet to ask us for anything, so I buy a large bunch of seedless grapes, some plums, and bananas. When we get home I wash the fruit and put it in a bowl on the counter so Mike can help himself. It's when I look up from my typing a little later and see him looking at the fruit hungrily and sucking his thumb that I realize he hasn't touched a single grape, even though I pulled a handful from the bunch before I started work.
"What's the matter, Mike? I thought you liked grapes and you haven't eaten any."
"I can have some?"
"Of course you can. I bought them for you. Why haven't you helped yourself?"
"She wouldn't never give me none when she bought 'em. I asked her one time and she beat me."
It makes me furious to think she was so mean to a little kid, and I'm more convinced than ever that we've done the right thing. I get up and hug him.
"Mike, if I put something on the counter like that, it's for all of us. You don't have to ask. Get some any time you want." But I notice that he still gives me a wary look whenever he takes some, so if I see him looking at me, I smile.
A few weeks later Tor finds it necessary to run up to the library at the U to do some research. We wait until Saturday so we can all go together.
We buy Mike a comic book at the student union and get him settled in one corner of the research room. He's as good as can be while we're working, interrupting me only once to ask for the restroom. When we leave, I remember the way he looked back at a toy store we passed.
"Tor, stop at the toy store on the way out. Mike deserves something for being so good and you remember what Martha said."
As soon as we push open the door I see Mike's and Tor's eyes lock on the same place instantaneously. At the back of the store there's a display of trains and a couple of layouts with trains running. There's no way I can keep up with them as they stampede. Mike just stands in front of a layout in awe, but Tor! I can't believe he's gazing at the trains saying, "Oh, my God, oh, my God." When he finally becomes aware of me standing beside him, he throws his arm around me and squeezes. "I've wanted a train all my life." He might have continued if Mike hadn't grabbed my arm and pulled me to another display of a smaller gauge. "Look, daddy!" I can see from the glow in his eyes that his imagination is going full blast. Another look at Tor tells me there's going to be a train in the car when we leave.
One display fascinates me. The thing is so tiny the entire layout would fit in a big suitcase, yet it has lots of track, scenery, the whole nine yards.
"That's Z gauge," a voice says. A young man has come up beside me. "Were you looking for something in particular?"
"I'm not, but my brother and our son sure are." I nod towards Tor and Mike. The words are hardly out of my mouth when I realize it's the first time I've said son. A feeling comes over me that I can compare only to the night I first spent in bed with Tor, his arms around me. I'm so overwhelmed I almost don't hear the clerk ask me how old Mike is.
"Ten."
"I wouldn't recommend this for him. It's too small and delicate for a child. If you're into modeling, a larger scale would be more suitable."
"We don't have a lot of space to put it."
"N or HO is compact. I'll show you." He points to the layout Mike had been looking at and I see the trains are of two different sizes. Mike has moved over beside Tor, looking at the really big ones. The clerk gives me a curious look when he adds, "Your son is looking at Scale 1"
Tor beckons me over. "What do you think?"
"It's too damn big. Where would we put it?"
"It's sturdy enough for your son to play with and it has the advantage of being relatively waterproof." The clerk says quickly.
"What about being waterproof?"
"A number of people in Scale 1 put the track in their yards and leave it. Just the engine and cars need protection."
"We don't have a yard," Tor tells him.
"Then I would suggest one of the smaller gauges," the clerk says.
"We've got that space outside your darkroom and my lab," Tor says to me. "We could clean and paint it and the train wouldn't be in the way."
"I thought this was for Mike."
Tor looks disappointed that I'm not as enthusiastic as he, but my idea of a toy was a car or boat, but I get nowhere when I mention it to Mike.
"I like the train, daddy."
"Which one?"
"The other one I looked at." I give up. There's no way I can fight Tor and Mike together.
The clerk has followed Mike to the HO gauge layout. "Let me show you the selection." He points to the wall display behind the layout. Tor and Mike walk back and forth pointing first at one and then another. It's near an hour before they make up their minds and the clerk's smile gets bigger as the pile of boxes next to the cash register grows.
"Enough, damn it," I tell Tor. "We won't be able to get all this in the car."
"Let me show you something that's just come in." The clerk takes down a little handcar and sets it on the track of the working layout. It takes off with the two little men bobbing up and down as they pump the handles. Even I have to admit it's cute.
"Love it!" Tor yells, and it's added to the pile.
It's a good thing I have our bankcard in my billfold, for even Tor's a little shaken by the total. Mike hasn't said anything until the clerk and Tor begin to load the boxes in the boot of the SL. Suddenly his eyes get wide. "I can have it?"
I melt again at his excitement. "I thought that's what you wanted."
He almost knocks me down when he jumps into my arms and hugs me, then does the same to Tor.
For a couple of days Mike runs the trains on a circle of track on the floor meaning that we have to be careful to step over or around it every time we move. I have to be particularly careful, but when I catch my fake foot on the track and fall, almost wrecking the best of the locomotives, that's it. Before I get a chance to say something to Tor, I hear Mike calling from the dock, "Gary, Gary, come see my trains!"
While Gary's playing with Mike, Tor sticks his head through the hatch that leads down to our labs. "Gary, come down a minute, would you?"
Friday afternoon a truck from the lumberyard pulls up on the dock and begins to off load. When I question the driver, he holds out an order form signed by Tor.
The weekend is filled with the noise of construction as Tor and Gary line the space opposite our labs with bench-work for the trains. Helpless when it comes to carpentry, I stay out of their way. Not only am I glad the trains are now going to be out of the way, but the space below is clean, painted, and well lighted. Tor and I had talked several times about doing it, but things like that are easily put off.
The Saturday morning after Tor and Gary have laid all the track and the trains are running smoothly, Tor yells at me, "Bring your camera and let's go."
When I ask which one, he tells me the small automatic equipped to make panoramic shots. I have no idea what he's up to. "Where are we going?" I ask him when we're all in the car.
"You'll see." We cross the bridge to the mainland and drive for nearly an hour until the land begins to roll a little. Suddenly Tor stops where the rail line is close to the highway. "This is what I want."
I shoot a series of pictures, careful to frame them so that the end of one shot will merge neatly into the other as Tor has asked. "What do you want these for?" I ask when I've finished.
"Mike and I want you to enlarge these enough so we can glue them to the masonite behind the trains for a background. We'll work the scenics from the front of the table to the pictures so it'll look natural."
I have to send the negatives to the commercial lab I sometimes use to have them printed in the size Tor wants. When they return and we lay them out, it takes only minor trimming for the scenes to fit seamlessly together in one long picture. Tor's delighted and together we mount them back of the trains which improves looks of the layout.
With a few weekends of work, Tor, Mike, and Gary have created a natural looking landscape for the trains to run through. I'm drafted into creating trees for them from weeds, twigs, and a commercial product we get from a hobby shop. It appears that a layout is never finished, but Tor's satisfied at last and Mike's thrilled with the appearance. Seeing it, I'm ready to concede that creating all this has been more rewarding than a toy boat would have been. Mike's enthusiasm grows instead of waning as I had expected it might. Tor, too, loves running the trains with him.
Gary seems fascinated by the trains also, because he drops in several times after work to help Tor and Mike lay additional track and improve the layout. When he takes time for a drink with us one afternoon, he says plaintively, "I wish my little brother could see them trains."
"Lord, Gary, do you have to ask?" He always refuses any pay for the things he's done for us though I know he needs the money. When he isn't working at the institute, he works on his dad's fishing boat. "He can come home with Mike after school and stay 'til you get off work. What grade is he in?"
"Same as Mike, but he's in the other class."
A couple of afternoons later, the kid Mike brings home with him peeks at me shyly from under a heavy fringe of hair before they disappear down the hatch. I'm not surprised that Johnny's shyer than Gary, for the whole family, what few times I've seen any of them, appear to stay to themselves. I soon hear cries of delight coming through the hatch, so I leave them to their play while I get some of the typing out of the way.
Later I fix them some milk and cookies and hand it down through the hatch. They're running both trains and argue good naturedly over who has the right-of-way until Gary comes by for Johnny.
Mike brings another kid or two to see the trains, but it's Johnny who comes most often. He's still shy around Tor and me, but he proves to be a good-natured kid and he and Mike play together without fighting or raising hell.
All of this cuts into the time Tor and I have for our research, but it's worth it to see a mistreated, withdrawn little guy turn into a happy kid who loves school and reciprocates our affection for him. I still get a thrill every time he calls me daddy.
After a couple of weeks of near daily visits by his brother, Gary seems a little uneasy when he comes by for Johnny one afternoon after work. When I ask, he says, "It ain't that I mind, but it's too often."
"He and Mike get along fine and he's no trouble, so what's the difference?"
Gary thinks a bit. "It ain't that. I mean it's good fer Johnny 'cause he don't get much chance to play with other kids. It's just . . . well, it makes him beholden."
"For what?" I ask. "Look at how Mike's come out in just three months. He's needed a friend like Johnny and it's helped him feel at home with us. We owe Johnny for that. You, too, for the work you put in setting up the trains so Mike can have them to play with any time."
Gary shrugs. "That weren't nothin'."
There's no getting around Gary. Though Johnny still comes frequently, at least once a week Gary drops off a package of shrimp, crabmeat, fish, clams, whatever he and his father have gotten fishing over the weekend.
Mike also spends one afternoon a week with Martha Curtis. He thinks it's a game, but she's so delighted with his development that she's making him the focus of an article she plans to submit for publication on the effect of home and social environment on a child. With her promise of anonymity, Tor and I talk openly with her so that she can try to correlate the effect on Mike having moved from a female-dominated neglected environment into a gay household. One afternoon near Thanksgiving her frustration bursts forth.
"Damn it! The only abnormal thing I can find is that you both spend more time with Mike than most parents and you're more open in your affection for him."
"You're the one said that's what he needs," Tor replies.
"I know I did. Worse yet is that you don't overdo it; you've let him assert his individuality and independence."
"What do you mean worse yet?" I ask.
She looks chagrinned. "For my study. You're too damned normal. How does he respond to your love for each other? Living in a restricted space as you do must limit your privacy."
"Not that much. We arrange our time around Mike. As for how he feels, I don't guess I can say. Tor's dad wasn't affectionate and I had only my old man, but I doubt he feels any different when he sees us hug and kiss than any other kid would seeing his parents do the same. His calling both of us daddy proves it to me."
Tor nods in agreement and adds, "There's no way we'd make it together when he's around, even though there've been times when we've been tempted."
"The only real problem seems to be his calling both of you daddy. I had to straighten the school out on that again."
"What do you suggest," I ask.
"Why not let him call you by your given names, at least in public. It will save him some possible teasing by other children. Oh, yes, I retested his IQ. It's even higher than the first test indicated."
"I thought those things were standardized," Tor says.
"True, but they're not that accurate and social environment has some effect on the results. I'm recommending to the school that they advance him a grade next year. I'll give you the results of his tests when school is over. You might work with him some during the summer in areas where he's weak. Now, has he shown any curiosity about your handicaps? If so, how did you treat his curiosity?"
"Just open and honest," Tor answers. "I showed him how the hook and hand operate and let him play around with the hook for a few minutes. That was it."
She looks at me.
"I guess I did pretty much the same. He wanted to touch my stump and asked me if it hurt when he did."
"Just curious as any child would be. It's a healthy sign that he accepts you as you are." She quits smiling and looks uncomfortable. "I know this is probably going to sound ridiculous to you, but Dave and I consider the church an important part of our lives. We want to know if you and Tor have given any thought to Mike's religious training?"
"Not really. Dad used to take me to church Christmas Eve and Easter," I reply.
"Never been inside one," Tor growls. "Besides, they don't like gays. Why?"
"Dave and I are so fond of Mike that we'd like to see him baptized in our church with Dave and me as his godparents, if you have no objection. As far as the church is concerned, you'll be brothers just like anywhere else. Lutherans are becoming a little more liberal, but neither Dave nor I really care what the pastor or bishop might object to."
Tor shrugs.
"We won't influence Mike one way or the other, but if you and Dave want to take the responsibility, it's fine with us. I can't think of anyone we'd rather have for his godparents. You don't know how much we appreciate all the support you've both given us." I tell her.
Her smile says it all.
After an hour session with the pastor who's not happy over the fact that neither Tor nor I have been baptized, we stop on the way home for Tor to buy a new suit to wear for the service. When we join Mike and the Curtises at the font, I feel a little awkward and I can tell Tor's uncomfortable from his rigid posture and the way he mumbles the responses, skipping a few. Then it's over and Tor starts quickly for the door the moment the postlude begins.