Surrogate Child Read online

  What they used to do in his room all those hours, he didn’t know. He never asked his son about it. He never even made a humorous comment about it, hoping to extract some information. There was nothing Solomon held so dearly as his own privacy. Whenever he did tell Joe anything about himself, whether it was some achievement in school or something that drew his interest in a book or magazine, Solomon always made it sound as though he were granting his father the privilege of knowing some deep secret, no matter how simple or insignificant the information was.

  Actually, Joe was surprised at Audra Lowe’s continual interest in his son. Solomon was far from being an unattractive boy, but Joe thought his personality would be a turnoff when it came to girls, and Audra Lowe, a rather mature and apparently outgoing young girl, looked as though she could have her choice of male companions.

  The truth was Joe found her attractive himself and was somewhat envious. Of course, he told himself it was ridiculous for a man his age to have any interest in a fifteen-year-old girl, but Audra Lowe did not look fifteen or act fifteen, and besides, just seeing her sent him rushing back through his memories, clamoring for that carefree age when his biggest problem was what he and his friends were going to do on the weekend.

  He found it hard to believe that Solomon would know what to do with a girl like this—how to keep her interest, how to make her happy. He imagined Solomon bored her with his model airplanes and cars or his talk about his computer. Yet, if he did bore her, why did she keep coming around? Obviously, Solomon had more to offer. The mystery surrounding his son deepened with every passing day for Joe, and the harder he tried to understand him, the more frustrated he became. It was easier to simply retreat.

  “Hi, Audra,” he finally said. She had said, “Good evening, Mr. Stern,” and waited patiently for some response. He heard a horn beep and saw Harry Lowe waving from his car as he backed out of the driveway. He waved back and then stepped away from the door to let Audra enter.

  “Jonathan’s expecting me,” Audra said. He was still standing and holding the doorknob and staring at her. She was dressed in a tightly knit, light blue sweater over an off-white blouse with the frilly collar out. She wore a straight dark blue skirt, ankle length, which had the effect of making her look even taller and older.

  Most of the time whenever she came to visit Solomon and Joe was home, Joe would be the one to greet her at the door. That annoyed Joe because he felt if Solomon was anticipating her arrival, why couldn’t he come out of his room and greet her at the door? He sat up there and waited like some monarch, Joe thought. But the girl didn’t seem bothered by it. He would say, “Solomon’s up in his room,” and she would smile, nod, and go up to him. He heard her knock on his door and then enter. If he went upstairs and paused by Solomon’s door, he heard little more than the classical music Solomon played on his tape deck, music he said was more conducive to studying.

  Joe didn’t want to admit it, but he was intimidated by his son’s taste in music and art and literature. Here at the age of fifteen, he was already far more knowledgeable about these subjects than Joe had ever been. Solomon was also up on popular music; he knew what Joe considered to be the things typical teenagers should know, but he also knew more. Solomon’s variety of taste amazed Joe. He couldn’t help comparing himself at his son’s age to his son. He had never had such range.

  Sometimes he heard Audra and Solomon laughing, but most of the time, if the music wasn’t playing, their voices were far too low and indistinct for him to make out enough words to understand what they were saying. He didn’t want to linger by the door long, either. Martha might come up behind him, or Solomon or Audra might come walking out and find him listening in. But he couldn’t help being very curious about them.

  From what he could see when they were together in his presence, there wasn’t any overt affection demonstrated. They didn’t touch or look at each other in a way that suggested sexual involvement, but Joe felt he couldn’t be sure about it. They both also had that air of superiority, the look of grownups who knew they had to restrain themselves in the presence of children. That was it, he thought, they made him feel like the child. He resented all this, but he had no way to express or explain it to Martha, who, he was sure, even if he could explain it, would think it all ridiculous. All of it just added to his frustration.

  “So you met Jonathan,” he said. It was a stupid comment. Why would she be here, if she hadn’t met him? he thought. Why was it he never knew the right thing to say when it came to young women?

  “Yes. We have all the same classes.”

  “Who is it, Joe?” Martha called from the living room. He closed the door.

  “It’s Audra.”

  “Jonathan’s up in his room, Audra,” Martha called back. She had done it the same way so many times before that hearing her do it and seeing Audra’s reaction once again put Joe into that reverie. Audra had a familiar expression on her face. He sensed that she didn’t like being spoken to through walls and doors. She turned to him to say thank-you and then started up the stairs. He watched her as he had done before, thinking about the way her legs and hips moved under that long skirt. He heard her knock on the door, and he heard Jonathan welcome her. In a moment, she was gone, and he was left wondering.

  “I’m surprised she was able to come over here,” Joe said when he reentered the living room. Martha looked up from the novel she was reading. If she felt what he felt, she wasn’t willing to show it.

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because … it’s obvious why … the memories.”

  “Kids are more resilient, and besides, I told you, Joe. Jonathan’s a very special boy, as was Solomon. He’s already impressed the other kids at school.”

  “But Audra Lowe …” He shook his head. It was incomprehensible to him.

  “She’s just another teenager, Joe. I don’t know why you make a big deal out of it.”

  “She was so close to Solomon.”

  He saw something flash in her eyes. It looked like anger, but he had no reason to believe she could be angry. He hadn’t said anything that would make her angry.

  “She wasn’t so close,” she said softly, with an obvious good deal of self-restraint.

  “She wasn’t? For a time there, they were inseparable. I remember you commenting about that.”

  “Teenagers. Have you forgotten what that was like? Teenagers don’t really understand their emotions, do they, Joe? What are you going to tell me, that they were in love?” She smiled widely.

  He didn’t like being ridiculed. This was something she rarely did to him, but when she did do it, he could see the resemblances between her and Solomon. Kids can tap on the most dormant and latent characteristics of their parents, he thought. What qualities of himself that he did not like had Solomon inherited from him? he wondered.

  “No, not in love exactly, but certainly seriously interested in each other, comfortable with each other.”

  “They had some common interests, that’s all,” she said, and looked back at her book to signal she was through with the subject. He stared at her a moment and then looked up at the ceiling as if he could see through the walls into Solomon’s room.

  He shook his head, sat back in his heavy-cushioned easy chair, and picked up his magazine again. He was halfway down the page when he heard the music, a piano piece he recognized as a Rachmaninoff. Solomon had played it often enough. He looked at Martha, but she acted as if she didn’t hear it. He didn’t understand how that could be; she couldn’t be so involved in that book, he thought. He waited. She looked up a few times, but she said nothing about the music.

  “You want something from the kitchen?” she asked him.

  “Huh?”

  “I’m getting something cold to drink.”

  “No, no, thanks.” He waited for her to respond to the music, but she didn’t. If he was able to hear it, she certainly could. Why didn’t she think that remarkable? A fantastic thought brought the blood to his cheeks. Maybe the music wasn’t
playing; maybe he was imagining it because Audra was here. Should he ask Martha if she heard it, too? She would think him mad.

  Finally, he could take it no longer. He got up and put on the television set to drown out the sound of the music even though there wasn’t anything on that he particularly wanted to see. When Martha returned, she went back to reading her novel. He stared at the television set, mesmerized by the light and the sounds, but hearing or seeing nothing.

  Some time later, Audra came down and stopped by the living room to say good-night. Jonathan, as Solomon often had, remained in his room.

  “I saw you didn’t ride your bike this time,” Joe said.

  “No, my mother was worried about me riding in the dark.”

  “Is your father on the way?”

  “I’ve got to call him,” she said. “May I use your phone? I didn’t realize the phone in Solomon’s room wasn’t working.”

  For a moment there was a terrible silence. Joe hadn’t had Solomon’s phone disconnected for months after his death. The symbolism of the act was too severe for Martha to take at the time, and when he did have the phone company do it, it brought a fresh new round of sorrow and pain.

  “Of course,” Martha said. “But, Joe, you can run her home, can’t you?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  “I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “Nonsense. You gave your time to help Jonathan. It’s the least I can do.” He got up.

  “We’ll have to see about reconnecting that phone, Joe,” Martha said. “Jonathan’s going to need it after he makes more friends,” she added, stressing the importance of “more.”

  “Right. First thing tomorrow, I’ll call the phone company.”

  “Good night again, Mrs. Stern,” Audra said. Martha gave her a perfunctory smile, and then Joe led her into the garage and to his car.

  “So, Audra,” he said after he backed out, “how have you been doing?”

  “Good,” she said.

  “Bet you’re still on the honor roll all the time, huh?”

  “Yes,” she said, but without any enthusiasm.

  “Well, I’m sure your parents are proud. And you should be proud.”

  “I am,” she said.

  “Do you think Jonathan’s going to be a good student? From what I can see, he has the potential.”

  “Yes, he will,” she said, her voice coming alive.

  “It’s nice of you to do what you’ve done for him. He’s probably not used to other kids being so kind so quickly.”

  “I don’t mind. It helps me, too, to review things.”

  “None of this is easy,” he said. “But we’ve got to try. For everyone’s sake,” he added. Audra didn’t respond. He felt he was already talking too much and sounding his usual awkward self in her presence, so he sped up and got to her house moments later. “’Night,” he said when she opened the door. “And thanks again.”

  “Good night,” she said. “Oh,” she said, nearly closing and then opening the door, “I nearly forgot. I made a mistake and told Solomon we had lab tomorrow, but there’s an assembly that period. Tell him he doesn’t need to do those pages in the manual until Thursday.”

  “Right,” Joe said. She closed the door. He watched her walk to her house; and then he pulled away.

  He was nearly all the way home before he realized she had called Jonathan, Solomon.

  FIVE

  The next day, Joe contacted the telephone company and requested Solomon’s phone be reactivated. The business representative looked up the records and told him that as unusual as it was, they would be able to give him the same phone number. Did he want that? He hesitated. Normally, he couldn’t see what difference a telephone number would make, although he imagined that the same people who worried so much about their car license plate numbers would probably worry about their phone numbers.

  Even though there was something unnerving about getting Jonathan the same number Solomon had had, he simply couldn’t tell the operator no. He said it would be okay. When he told Martha what the number was going to be, she didn’t seem surprised. She was as nonchalant as she had been when Jonathan had announced Audra Lowe was coming over. What made her so strong suddenly? he wondered.

  And then he thought it was all part of her revival. Why question it? Things had gotten off to a relatively good start, and as long as she was happy about it all, he was. That was the main purpose for his agreeing to taking in the foster child, wasn’t it? How could he complain about her being too casual and content?

  As Jonathan’s first week with them continued, Joe noticed Martha and the boy growing closer quickly. Despite the half-serious arguments he and Charley Lewis, another IBM serviceman, had about woman’s liberation and the roles of the sexes, Joe had to admit that there was something unique about a woman’s relationship to her child. Perhaps it was a result of the child being part of her body for nine months, but whatever the reason, he used to marvel at how accurately Martha could anticipate Solomon’s needs and wants. Joe thought she was far more in tune with Solomon’s moods and attitudes than he was.

  When the boy got up in the morning, she knew whether he’d want a big breakfast or not. She could look at his face, a face Joe found inscrutable most of the time, and ask him why he was upset. She sensed when something good happened at school and when he had to go somewhere, a party or class event; she knew what clothes he would want to wear and had them ready for him.

  In short, Joe thought a man could cook and clean and cart his children around, but could he be as receptive and simpatico as a woman could? He thought this simply because he was so unsuccessful when it came to that sort of thing with Solomon. According to Martha at least, Joe never seemed to ask his son to do things with him when he was willing or eager to do them. He always asked him at the wrong time. Of course, he was defensive about it.

  “The kid shouldn’t be so moody, and we shouldn’t have to tiptoe around him. He’s a kid.”

  “He’s a human being. Just because he’s young, it doesn’t mean he lacks feelings, Joe.”

  She had such patience. He thought that was particular to a woman, too.

  “Women spoil their children faster than men do,” he told her, but she didn’t see the point.

  Why should she? How was Solomon spoiled? Did he waste things they gave him? Was he in continual trouble at school? Was he into drugs? Didn’t he do well in school, and wasn’t he well behaved in front of other people?

  “Tell me, Joe. How have I spoiled him?” she asked.

  He thought for a moment. What would he say? That Solomon didn’t respect him as much as he wanted him to. The truth was he was rarely, if ever, insubordinate. He didn’t have to chastise him for leaving his room a mess or being nasty to his mother. What could he say?

  “It’s . . . it’s nothing specific,” he told her, and she grimaced. He knew this was not a battle he would win, and after a while, he lost his taste for the war. He sat back and let events take their course, hoping that something would change as Solomon grew older. But Solomon never grew older. Solomon broke his neck at the end of a rope.

  And now here was Martha hitting everything just right with the new boy.

  “You didn’t sleep too well last night, did you, Jonathan? Here’s a good breakfast. It will help you get through the day.

  “It’s so bright today, Jonathan. Wear the blue shirt with those pants. Today’s a day for rich colors.

  “Something funny happened in school today, didn’t it, Jonathan? I can see it in your face. Tell us.”

  Joe simply sat back at the breakfast or dinner table and watched like some invited guest, an observer brought in to see how successful the Sterns were with the foster child. But what was his contribution to this success so far?

  He could say he was a good listener. He was attentive and interested when Martha told him things about the boy. She was always waiting after he came home from work. Jonathan would usually be up in Solomon’s room doing his homework, and they would have an
hour or so to unwind from the day. Sometimes, they had a cocktail, although Martha was a little leery of doing that after Jonathan had arrived. She didn’t want him to get any wrong impressions about them.

  “I don’t want to stir up any bad memories for him,” she said.

  “That’s ridiculous,” he told her. “We’re no alcoholics. He’s got to see the difference between us and his real parents.”

  “And some of those foster parents, too, Joe. You don’t know half of it. He’s been telling me more and more. Little by little I’m getting him to trust me, and what he’s been describing makes it seem like it’s a miracle he’s as good as he is.”

  “Maybe most of it is in his imagination,” he said. It was as if he had called the boy a deceitful and disgusting criminal. Her face collapsed in shock. For a moment she was unable to respond.

  “What are you saying? He’s making it up? Why would he do such a thing?”

  “To win your sympathy. Why else?”

  “That’s cruel, Joe. You don’t know how cruel that is. If you only spoke to him more.”

  “I talk to him.”

  “Not as much as you should.”

  “Martha, we talk at dinner. Right after dinner he’s on the computer or listening to Solomon’s music, or he’s on that damn phone with Audra Lowe.”

  “How do you know who he speaks to? Are you listening at his door?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I don’t want him to feel he’s being watched. That happened to him at the second home,” she said, and went on to describe a paranoid foster father who insisted Jonathan leave his bedroom door wide open and who was not unaccustomed to walking in on him at odd hours. “Why, he’d bust in on him in the bathroom, suspecting he was doing drugs. Can you imagine what the boy went through there?”

  “No,” he said. He was in retreat. Her face was bright red from anger and excitement. The furthest thing from his intentions was to get her upset. Why did he make such comments anyway? he wondered. Maybe he was jealous of her quick-building and obviously successful relationship with Jonathan. But then he thought, he had really no one to blame but himself for not getting just as close to him. He simply hadn’t had the time to invest yet. It was a particularly busy week, and he had been doing some unusual traveling. It all made him very tired. He was looking forward to his week’s vacation next month.