“I wasn’t always the unwanted kid. I remember back when my
mom and dad were together. Anyway, yah…um….here’s that book you lent me. It’s
official; I’m um switching schools at the end of the week.”
He gave me the news without shedding a tear and set the copy
of El Capitan Alatriste gently on my desk.
Stoic would be the only way to
describe his posture, the tone, everything about the conversation. He was on
the thin side, but a well groomed, well mannered, clean cut young man. My heart
was breaking, but what could I do? I’m just his 6th grade Spanish
Teacher. My lips opened to say thank you while my heart screamed ‘come home
with me, we will love you, we always wanted a child’. The tears in my eyes must
have been evident. He looked at me and shook his head while he tried to explain
“This aint no big deal anymore. This will be my seventh placement. Hopefully
these people won’t be so old – Ron and Marge just didn’t have a clue … it’s not
their fault really …”
I had heard the stories. Nathan, or Nate as they called him
had trouble getting along with boys his age, and got along with the girls a
little too well. The county had a hard time finding a placement home without
other children. This last placement was with a couple in their early 60’s. They
didn’t know how to handle someone Nate’s age and they often called the school,
agency, or anyone that might listen. They weren’t necessarily complaining; they
were looking for direction. Truth was, no one had time for it. Instead of
finding a solution, they just moved Nate.
“Nate, I know you’ll find a great place. You’re a smart kid.
Just keep the book. Really.”
He took it, lowered his head so all I could see was his thick
brown hair. Then he thanked me in perfect Spanish: “Gracias. Eres una persona
muy especial. “ (Thank you. You are a
very special person).
I was thankful to have prep during the next hour. The
classroom would be empty and I could sort through the thoughts and emotions
currently doing the bachata dance in the pit of my stomach. We had tried everything
before accepting that our four bedroom ranch would never be filled with the
pitter patter of little feet. I turned the nursery into a work-out room and went
from a size 20 woman who wanted to bake cookies with little children who wanted
to lick spoons to the size 6 health nut who spends all her time and money on
the right clothes, the right hair, and perfectly matching accessories (not that
my husband noticed the change or my unhappiness). Lee made it quite clear that adoption was not
an option. He would divorce me if he knew what was on my mind this afternoon.
I really didn’t know much about Nate. I knew he was a fast
learner if the subject interested him. The music teacher down the hall adored
him. His math teacher had problems, but from what I could tell, he just didn’t
see how algebra would help him in the future. He had confided in me early in
the year that it was his dream to travel to New York and star in a Broadway
musical. He loved all things artistic and bright; this likely explained why he
was drawn to the Spanish culture. He was a joy in my class, but who was I
kidding? Our marriage was in ruins, Lee hadn’t been working since his military
discharge and back injury, and we had long ago given up on those dreams of
parenting.
He never told me what it was about the book that intrigued
him. I never told him that it was only the first in a series of books about 13
year old sword for hire Captain Diego Alatriste y Tenorio. I nodded off
picturing Diego’s relationship with the famous actress María de Castro … except
it wasn’t Diego’s face I saw … it was Nate who found love in Madrid. As my head
jerked up with the realization that I was dreaming, I chastised myself for not
being more brave and daring like the characters in my head. I didn’t want to
carry a sword or change history. I just wanted to approach my husband, but like
Captain Diego who was never an official captain, I would never be an official
mother.
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