Searching Lucas

15

I told Lucas about the call. He looked perplexed, his bushy eyebrows caved in a confused state. He didn't know what to say. Maybe he was grateful that I had asked for him, but in his prepubescent stage, he didn't know how to articulate himself correctly.

I looked at him, each time noticing something new: the way his skinny neck arched his thick skull, more hair growing in patches on his upper neck, like curls of his afro descendency—Terrance's genes. Lucas has grown a chubby face. It wasn't soft. But it wasn't rigid either.

"I never got along with Michael," I said eventually. Lucas looked back at me.

"Me neither," Lucas shrugged. "When you were gone, Sylvia was there for what I needed." Even Lucas's voice sounded different. Not whiny-like or snotty. It was high-pitched, sure. He hasn't reached the age of those deep vocal cords yet, from one octave to another: childlike to adolescent. He was changing.

"It's a good thing, then,"

"Yeah," It wasn't a convincing agreement. "Sylvia is OK,"

I nodded for the sake of it.

After another brief silence, I stared at Lucas—this time with a more serious tone. "Lucas?"

"Yeah?"

"Did Pastor Regal ever touch you?"

"No,"

"You sure?"

"I'm sure,"

"Good,"

We didn't speak until we rounded the corner to a grassier area, past a sign that stated in capital letters the park and its founder.

***

The jungle gym was desolate at this hour: swingsets, a bridge with a safety net that linked one tower to another that led to a spiral slide, and a wall with symbols in four colors. There were very few people—mostly men and women in their mid-twenties taking their large dogs out for a walk, some barking at the squirrels, others strutting with discipline. These were the locals: people who lived near the line of complexes or a nearby neighborhood.

Lucas said he liked to come here on his own. I assumed he did this to get away from Sylvia. I did the same whenever she had one of her episodes. Except back at The Golden Arches Apartments, there was no park nearby, only Alicia's office. Lucas enjoyed swinging on the swing sets. This time he wanted to take advantage of the empty fortress and explore intently. Lucas has always been a typically nervous, timid child. I could tell when our parents were alive how he would stutter whenever he asked for cookies from the jar above the refrigerator. Lucas would loosen up whenever I was around. With me, he felt more confident and secure about himself.

Lucas headed to the monkey bars. His elongated limbs nearly touched the beige dirt ground, wobbling his way onto two bars before falling on his feet. I one-uped him with my still-perfected gymnasium skills, making it with burning palms to the end. I joked and told Lucas to try and get in shape someday so he grows bigger and stronger like his older sister.

Lucas laughed—an honest noise. I haven't heard Lucas laugh like this in years. More specifically, since the day we moved with Michael.

We spent the day laughing and talking—mostly the latter. We talked mostly about him. Lucas was still in middle school, eighth grade. His friends were a couple of boys who hung out with Lucas to avoid becoming easy targets for the bullies. Lucas didn't say if they were true friends or not. We mentioned his years with Sylvia. That, Lucas, didn't say much about it. I assumed things were rocky with her—unsurprisingly so.

We ended up on one of the benches when a little girl, about three years old, was climbing the safety net with what looked like her mother. They were there for a while with a toddler about twice her age, playing with a car model on the padded part of the playground.

Lucas stared at the kid for an extended time. I followed his gaze. Lucas then gasped a bit loudly. "That kid has a Mazda RX-7,"

"Is it a rare car?"

"Yes! It comes with a 13B-REW twin-turbo engine with a 5-speed manual and a sluggish 4-speed automatic. The engine produces 237 bhp and 218 lb-ft of torque. Oh, he is so lucky to have that model."

I chuckled, not having a clue what Lucas said. "Sounds pretty cool! Would you like to have it?" I'd already been wondering if I'd seen any toy shops nearby.

"Wouldn't know where to keep it. Plus, Sylvia doesn't let me bring stuff from the streets. Says it brings germs into the place."

Lucas's face dropped, almost killing the momentum of the conversation. The toddler still revved the toy car back and forth, making noisy engines.

"How's she doing?"

"Good as long as she keeps up with her medication. Rarely goes a day without it."

"Does she becomes scary it happens?"

"Very," A worrisome consumed Lucas. It showed in his change of stance, he began to fidget, and his eyes moved to me with a sadness that made me feel like I could disappear at any moment. And in a way, it felt true. "Jess?"

"Don't worry, Lucas," I shoved him playfully, attempting to brush away the mope on his frown with some wit. "I'm not leaving this time."

And it confirmed my suspicions. Lucas wanted me to see what was going on. The things that have been happening in my absence.

"Stay. Please,"

Knots in my stomach began—tight and unforgiving. I took a composed breath and braced myself for what I knew would happen once I walked Lucas back to the complex.

"Is Sylvia there?"