Unwanted child

The meeting was scheduled for 18-00. On the one hand, it was easier to get everyone together, because in any case parents took their children home from CEC at that time, and on the other hand, it was the most convenient time for most of the parents. The office of the director was overcrowded with people gathered inside and there was obviously not enough space for everyone. The meeting had already started about 20 minutes ago when Lars knocked on the door. He was tired after work and unhappy that he had to close the restaurant early due to a family emergency. Since there was barely enough money to feed himself, most of the staff had to be abandoned by the businessman. So he had to do many things in the establishment himself. He knocked on the door, immediately opened it and peered through the small crack inside. There was a discussion about Derek Wanger, which was nearing its conclusion.

Headmistress: ‘…so I think it would be ideal for Derek to go to a school with a sporting focus. In principle, you can send him to our village school, but I think that if you have the opportunity, you should go to Ounvilshen. It's a bronze status town after all, and the coaches there teach at a higher level. Not to mention that the school regularly fields its students in inter-city competitions, which certainly raises their level of training, giving the kids the extra practice they need. Yes, Mr Davel. You may come in.’

The headmistress gestured for the latecomer to enter her office, noticing the door slit through which Theodore's father was watching the discussion. Lars quietly entered and took the empty seat among the other parents. He wanted to be free as soon as possible so that he could return to his restaurant again. However, given his lateness, he could only count on the last place in the queue. The headmistress did not discuss each child individually for long, but if there was a discussion between her and the parents, or if they asked additional questions, it took some time to answer.

Describing each child's potential, the head of the youth centre explained to fathers and mothers, grandparents and carers exactly what it was and what prospects the children could have if they chose the right direction. After about an hour, it was Lars' turn. The rows were emptying out, because having received the necessary information about their child, the relatives were no longer particularly interested in staying in the office for a long time, listening about other people's children. Towards the end, only one elderly couple and Lars were left in the room when it was his turn.

Headmistress: ‘So, now, let's talk about Theodore. Mr Davel, could you come a little closer so I can get a good look at you. Especially since the available space in this room already allows for it.’

Despite the fact that there were hardly any people left, Lars had been in the same position until this request, leaning against the opposite wall from the headmistress. After her words, he involuntarily moved closer simply to avoid getting into a conflict with the woman who already considered him a careless man incapable of raising a child. This was due to a number of situations that had arisen in the past involving him, as well as the man's remarks to Theodore. Lars had repeatedly managed to clearly demonstrate his neglectful attitude to his son.

– So, Mr Davell. As you know, we're here to discuss your child's future. Do you already know which specialities Theodore has a great predisposition for? – The headmistress started the conversation, staring practically unblinkingly into the eyes of the boy's parent.

– I thought you were going to tell me everything… – Lars spread his hands, averting his gaze from the head of the CEC.

– Why am I not surprised at all? All the parents who have been in this office today, without my help and hints, already understood the strengths of their children.

– Very happy for them. What's next?

– Ah, next… you know, if it were up to me, if I had even the slightest reason, whether it was a complaint from Theodore or your neighbours about the boy's terrible upbringing and maintenance, I would not hesitate to go to the guardianship authorities and take him away from you. You are not a good parent and have no regard for the welfare of your child!

– But you haven't had cause to.

– I'm sorry… but you know I won't take my eyes off you for the rest of Theodore's education. You show up late and drunk, the child is dressed in shabby clothes that are already too small for him. If you spent less money on booze, you'd have enough for normal clothes. You are a clear example of what kind of parent you can't be!

– I'm still waiting for your comments about the school. I didn't come here to hear insults directed at me!

– Alas, the law is not on my side so I can save a boy from such a father!

– Remember that last phrase the next time you choose your words. Otherwise my patience will run out and you'll lose your job as a result.

– I'm not going to argue with you. I just want to make sure you don't screw up the boy's future.

– His future is not your problem. Let's get down to business.

– Theodore, just so you know, has the potential to be a good martial arts athlete. There are several schools that match his abilities. One, the closest one, is here in Gai. Another is in Ounvilshen, which is a priority because it's higher class. The third is of the same standard as our village school and is in another locality. That's about as far as the options closest to Gai go. Here's a list of all the schools that match the needed direction. They are arranged in order of distance from our village. The asterisks indicate their overall level. Please read this list in detail. Better yet, visit at least five of them to see for yourself their facilities and teaching staff.

– I'll figure it out. Is that it?

– That's all, Mr Davel.

Lars snatched the piece of paper the headmistress held in her hand and turned his back on her and walked silently out of the office. The headmistress looked regretfully at him and turned her gaze to the elderly couple sitting on the sofa.

Man: ‘What an unpleasant type. I remember when he fell in drunk at the CEC and could barely stand on his feet. Good thing we made him leave his car near the centre then. Otherwise, I think there would have been an accident.

Woman: ‘Why haven't the guardianship authorities taken an interest in his behaviour? Is there nothing that can be done?’

Headmistress: ‘Unfortunately, our hands are tied, because the current laws take the unambiguous position that no matter what the birth mother and father are, if there are no complaints against them from the child himself, it is impossible to deprive them of their parental rights. Moreover, Davel formally fulfils the main care of the child, feeding and clothing him. But you and I realise that formal parental care is never enough…’.

Lars grabbed Theodore's arm quickly and roughly, and they walked together in silence towards the car. Although Gai was a small village, the man was accustomed to doing all his business exclusively by means of a vehicle, neglecting walking. Ted, out of habit, wanted to sit in the back seat as he approached the car. He jerked the door handle, but was immediately stopped by his father, ‘No, no. Today you're going to walk and weave around catching up with me. You are an athlete, a future world boxing star! So develop your sporting skills’.

There was nothing to do. The boy stepped away from the car and obediently walked towards the house. It was evening, and it was almost dark outside. The poorly lit dirt road was illuminated only by the headlights of cars passing in opposite directions. Theodore stepped confidently along the narrow pavement, on the right side of which, at a distance of 200-300 metres, there were low lanterns emitting a dim light. They were of little use. They only served to delimit the space around them from total darkness. Lars's car had long since disappeared from Theodore's line of sight and disappeared into the distance. The boy walked in thought, not realising what he had done to make his father so angry that he had been deprived of the opportunity to get home by car. By the time he was six years old, he was already well versed in the neighbourhood, so after 10-15 minutes, the boy was already at home.

The ground floor of Lars's small restaurant was closed, but there was light from the windows of the first floor, and a car was parked in the car park. When Ted climbed the outside stairs to the first floor and entered through the ajar door, he saw his father on the old sofa, staring at the wall. Apparently there was an unpleasant conversation to be had. The boy cautiously approached his father and tried to take his hand, as if trying to apologise for something he hadn't done, drawing his attention to himself. Lars pulled his hand aside and turned to the child.

Lars: ‘What did you tell the headmistress? Why did she come at me again?’

Theodore: ‘Dad, I didn't even talk to her today. I haven't seen her in days.’

Lars: ‘Tell me… you think I don't understand anything? How everyone's talking behind my back about how I'm not as good a dad as everyone else. I don't take care of you. Sons of bitches! Get me a beer from the fridge! Quick!’

The boy ran headlong into the kitchen to get a cool drink for his father from the fridge. He still didn't understand what he had to do with the whole situation. Lars opened a can of foggy beer and drank it in one gulp, tossing it towards the boy, almost hitting him.

Lars: ‘Bring another one!’

Theodore brought the second can of beer and hid behind the sofa, avoiding the tin can flying in his direction. His father started pacing back and forth across the room, clearly nervous. And with each drop of beer he drank, his emotions seemed to intensify. For a moment it seemed to Theodore that if his father gave in to the emotions raging inside him, he might lose control of himself. However, this was not the first time Lars had lost his temper after drinking too much alcohol. Each time it happened, the boy tried to be quieter than water, lower than grass, so as not to cause aggression. Lucky only with the fact that even drunk and inadequate, Davel Sr. never once raised a hand on his son. But the stress the child was under all this time, wondering whether he would fall under his father's hot hand or not, was great.

Lars: ‘They dare to tell me what to do. They think they are exemplary teachers. Stupid rednecks! I come from a big city compared to them. They wouldn't let them anywhere near their kids. And they're telling me what to do! Let's go for a ride!’

After drinking three beers, Lars grabbed his son and dragged him by the hand into the car. They drove to the “place of remembrance”2, where Davel planned to honour his wife. There was only one temple in Gai, and that was where Inessa's farewell ceremony was held. Since the Davel family had only basic “LSCs”3 at the moment, Lars had to pay a fee to use the sacred place. Father and son went down to the minus first floor using the lift. Compared to the city temples, the village temples didn't have many rooms underground. Everything was limited to a couple of Places of Remembrance on the minus first and minus second floors, a crematorium and burial cells, which were provided free of charge by the LSC or given on rent.

The Davels headed down the curved corridor to a room with a sign that read ‘PR’, indicating the Place of Remembrance. Theodore had been here before, both in this temple and in this room. He just didn't remember it, as he was too young. Stepping inside, the first thing that caught his eye was a memorial massive wooden table, seating eight people, made of oak. On the sides of the table were long benches. The walls of the room were so well soundproofed that no sound could leave it. This was done out of respect for the personal space of the visitors. Both those who simply came to visit the urns of their relatives, and those who performed their own rituals, commemorating the dead. And everyone's rituals could be different, starting from quiet and calm veneration in complete silence, to a raucous disco with the use of sound equipment. Therefore, thanks to good soundproofing, no one ever disturbed anyone.

– Stay here and don't touch anything. I'll go get your mother. – Lars slammed the door behind him, leaving the child alone for the time being. Theodore walked over to one of the white nightstands that stood in the corner of the square room. It was low, even for the average height of a six year old boy. So the child could easily reach the top of it. On it stood a thick wax candle tied with a dark brown paper ribbon, and to the left of the candle was a holder for the scented sticks that lay inside the nightstand. Ted pulled on the door handle and looked inside. There were a few shelves, and on them were various ritual paraphernalia: herbs, incense, candles of all sizes, ointments, fans, dolls, and other handicrafts. The boy's attention was attracted by a bronze dagger of unusual curved shape. It lay in a scabbard covered with a strange relief painting of suffering faces on fire. Theodore took the dagger in his hand and began to examine the painting in more detail. In addition to the main images, the scabbard had patterns remotely resembling horns, a beard and a crown. The weapon appears to have been made at least 750-850 years ago, in a time of turmoil and unrest. When peace was achieved by force alone. Ted pulled the dagger from its sheath and grasped the handle firmly and raised it upwards, imagining himself a skilled warrior, Rothrig, saving Gai from the evils of which the CEC often told tales. The front door opened and his father walked in, holding a ceramic urn containing Inessa's ashes. When he saw his son, he carefully placed the urn on the table and ran at him with fury, quickly taking the dagger from him and putting it back in the cabinet, closing the door with a clatter.

– No respect or reverence for the holy place! What did I tell you? Why don't you ever listen to me? – Lars slapped the back of Theodore's head, sitting the boy down on the bench at the memorial table, then sat across from him. Ted stared at the beige ceramic vessel on the table. It was engraved with his mother's surname and first name, and had her image painted on an oval piece of stoneware planted on a gel-like powerful glue. Standard urns were made without engraving and without an image, but Lars hadn't skimped and spent a decent amount of money to have the funeral craftsmen make the finest possible urn for the deceased. Father and son sat at the table with their heads down, thinking about their own thoughts. Lars placed his hands on the table, crossing his fingers in a lock between them. Theodore looked first at the grief-stricken father, then at the urn with the picture of the matter. The photograph that showed Inessa was dated 739. In it, Ted's mum looked like a cheerful woman, with a smile on her face, filled with genuine joy. The picture was taken during the couple's trip to the lake in a neighbouring village where relatives of Theodore's mother lived.

The boy felt no emotion associated with the photograph and the place where he and his father were. It wasn't that he didn't understand where they were now, or whose urn was in front of him. It's just that the kid lost his mum too soon, with little or no memory of her. In a way, given the unfortunate nature of the situation around him, it helped him avoid another childhood trauma associated with his mother's death. He knew and understood that at a certain period of his life she was not around. Therefore, the little boy did not have time to become attached to her in order to mourn the premature loss of his mother every day. The boy only remembered that his father often brought him to the hospital and that he was sometimes held in his arms by a woman whose face was not preserved in his memory. She was always coughing, she felt sick, the baby would start crying loudly and his father would take him in his arms again.

– Inna, I miss you every day. We were just starting to live with you. Why was I so powerless to do anything for you? To save your life… – Lars spoke sadly, turning to his deceased spouse. Theodore looked at his father again. He took a small flask filled with strong liquor out of his jacket and took a few big gulps.

– What are you looking at me for? Sitting there like nothing happened… You'll never understand my grief! Do you want to know how she died? – Lars glared at his son with anger in his eyes, taking a few more sips from his flask.

– YOU killed her! She had dreamed for years that we would have a child. And then you came along and finished her off! You shameless little demon who drank all the life out of his mother and drove her to her grave! – Lars shrieked at Theodore, rising from the table and tilting his head upwards, gulping greedily down the liquor container, literally sucking every last drop out of it. Theodore turned away and shrank back, as if trying to blend in with the table so as to be invisible to his father. Lars scrambled back and forth, clutching his head as if trying to quiet the voices inside him.

– And now, ha ha…how ironic…now you've taken on me too. You want me to go to my grave! But you know what? I won't let you do to me what you did to my wife! No, you don't have to try… – Lars, thinking hysterically and gesticulating impulsively, looked like an uncontrollable lunatic, ready to snap at any moment, which couldn't help but frighten Theodore. The boy got off the bench and climbed under the table, trying to hide from his father. He noticed this and went after him, cursing at his son and trying to drag him out of hiding. The clumsy, tipsy man bumped his head on the table, which the child took advantage of, quickly crawling out and heading for the door.

While Lars was on his feet, the boy had already managed to open the door, which was difficult to open, and run out of the room. At that moment Ted did not realise that he would have to return to his parents' house. He just wanted to get away from his angry father. When he saw the corridor in front of him, he forgot where the lift was and headed in the opposite direction. Trying to run as fast as possible, Ted tried to find an open door where he could get in and hide from his father for a while, hoping that after a while he would sober up and behave more appropriately. When Theodore saw the metal door ajar, he pushed it open and stepped inside. What he saw there was not a pleasant sight. So he froze, in one position, without moving from his seat.

In the elongated small room there were several metal gurneys on which several corpses lay. Against the back wall was an oven with a giant screen, and near it, a crematorium employee was bent over one of the corpses, preparing the body for incineration. He was wearing a black hooded cape and medical latex disposable gloves. The man was using a brush to treat the face and hands of the deceased with an odourous solution. Having finished the preparatory procedure, he put on the heat-protective gloves and opened the flap of the furnace. A huge flame emerged, ready to devour its next soulless victim. Lars appeared in the doorway. He spotted his frightened son standing there in bewilderment and shouted to him in a rough voice: ‘Theodore, come here at once.’

The labourer flinched in surprise, and noticing the boy standing in front of him with his mouth hanging open, shrieked: ‘Hey, what the hell is he doing here? Get him out of here quick!’.

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Примечания

1

Outcasts – people prosecuted under criminal law for particularly serious offences. They are forced to survive in the wild without the right to live in towns and villages. More about them is told in the book ‘Mercenary at heart’

2

Places of Remembrance – premises located at municipal churches, intended to honour the dead.

3

LSC – Life Support Cards, more in the book “Mercenary at Heart”.