homeliest kid, yet the father would be proud of him. Friendly Daddy Love would ask how old his son Gideon had to be, to try out for the Little League, though he knew the answer already, so he and the other guy get to talking, and maybe—(this happened more than once)—he and Gideon would be invited to a barbecue that weekend.
July Fourth, they’d been invited to two barbecues. In Kittatinny Falls and Lambertville, New Jersey.
A frank-faced friendly attractive man looking no older than thirty-two or -three, with a child gripping his hand—other fathers naturally liked you, and females were all over you.
I’n’t he
cute
.
He’s takin after his daddy, for sure.
What’s your name? “Gid-eon”?
How old’s he?
Where y’all livin?
This went well. This was exciting! Daddy Love loved seeing himself and his son through others’ eyes.
There was the thrill deep in Daddy Love’s gut—how audacious he was. How daring.
Law enforcement officers would be astonished.
He’d brought the abducted boy with him, in public places. In plain sight.
Once, Daddy Love braked his van to a stop at the side of the River Road, to hike back to where a Lenape County sheriff ’s deputy had parked his cruiser behind a stand of trees, lying in wait for speeders. Daddy Love had his son with him in the van, buckled into a child’s seat in the rear.
Excuse me, officer? Can you tell me—where is the Water Gap post office?
The cop told Daddy Love to keep driving. A few miles ahead, he couldn’t miss it.
Thanks, officer! I appreciate it.
He’d confronted law enforcement officers, with the abducted boy in his van!
In public, in the presence of strangers, Gideon was very shy and quiet; other children his age babbled and jabbered happily, but not Daddy Love’s son.
His eyes darted quickly about, however. You could sense—(Daddy Love could sense)—that the five-year-old was excited and stimulated and calculating, though he rarely spoke, and rarely smiled even when strangers smiled at him.
(Daddy Love had warned the boy countless times: call attention to himself or in any way embarrassing or upsetting DaddyLove, he’d be
waterboarded
in the sink, locked in the Wooden Maiden and left to suffocate in his own shit. And that was if Daddy Love was feeling merciful.)
(They’d played the Game of Strangle a few times, earlier in the summer. Daddy Love had said, This game is not to punish you, son. You have done nothing wrong and merit no punishment. This game is just to warn you what an appropriate punishment might be if you did do wrong.)
Many times the child had been instructed: his old life was
dead and gone.
His parents had given him up for adoption because he was costing them too much money so, might as well think of them as
dead and gone too.
There’s many thousands of orphans, son. Like shelter animals. They’re kicked out by their parents, and their lifetime in the shelter is limited. D’you know what
euthanasia
is, son?
Meekly Gideon shook his head,
no
.
Euthanasia
is when a living thing is killed because nobody gives a damn for it. Nobody loves it.
Meekly Gideon stared at Daddy Love’s feet.
For often, Daddy Love did not want Gideon to look into his face but only at his feet in a posture of abject submission.
Euthanasia
is what happens to approximately forty percent of orphans, whose parents have gotten rid of them and who nobody else wants to adopt. You’re God-damned lucky—Daddy Love chose
you
.
Meekly Gideon stared at Daddy Love’s feet. His eyes swam with tears.
Say it: “I am a very lucky boy.”
Gideon’s lips moved:
I am a very lucky boy.
Louder, son. And like you mean it: “I am a very lucky boy.”
Again, in a near-inaudible voice:
I am a very lucky boy.
Like your life depends upon it, son: “I am a very lucky boy.”
Daddy Love’s voice had grown louder. A vein throbbed in Daddy Love’s forehead.
At last Gideon spoke audibly:
I am a very lucky boy.
It was how you trained any animal, Daddy
July Fourth, they’d been invited to two barbecues. In Kittatinny Falls and Lambertville, New Jersey.
A frank-faced friendly attractive man looking no older than thirty-two or -three, with a child gripping his hand—other fathers naturally liked you, and females were all over you.
I’n’t he
cute
.
He’s takin after his daddy, for sure.
What’s your name? “Gid-eon”?
How old’s he?
Where y’all livin?
This went well. This was exciting! Daddy Love loved seeing himself and his son through others’ eyes.
There was the thrill deep in Daddy Love’s gut—how audacious he was. How daring.
Law enforcement officers would be astonished.
He’d brought the abducted boy with him, in public places. In plain sight.
Once, Daddy Love braked his van to a stop at the side of the River Road, to hike back to where a Lenape County sheriff ’s deputy had parked his cruiser behind a stand of trees, lying in wait for speeders. Daddy Love had his son with him in the van, buckled into a child’s seat in the rear.
Excuse me, officer? Can you tell me—where is the Water Gap post office?
The cop told Daddy Love to keep driving. A few miles ahead, he couldn’t miss it.
Thanks, officer! I appreciate it.
He’d confronted law enforcement officers, with the abducted boy in his van!
In public, in the presence of strangers, Gideon was very shy and quiet; other children his age babbled and jabbered happily, but not Daddy Love’s son.
His eyes darted quickly about, however. You could sense—(Daddy Love could sense)—that the five-year-old was excited and stimulated and calculating, though he rarely spoke, and rarely smiled even when strangers smiled at him.
(Daddy Love had warned the boy countless times: call attention to himself or in any way embarrassing or upsetting DaddyLove, he’d be
waterboarded
in the sink, locked in the Wooden Maiden and left to suffocate in his own shit. And that was if Daddy Love was feeling merciful.)
(They’d played the Game of Strangle a few times, earlier in the summer. Daddy Love had said, This game is not to punish you, son. You have done nothing wrong and merit no punishment. This game is just to warn you what an appropriate punishment might be if you did do wrong.)
Many times the child had been instructed: his old life was
dead and gone.
His parents had given him up for adoption because he was costing them too much money so, might as well think of them as
dead and gone too.
There’s many thousands of orphans, son. Like shelter animals. They’re kicked out by their parents, and their lifetime in the shelter is limited. D’you know what
euthanasia
is, son?
Meekly Gideon shook his head,
no
.
Euthanasia
is when a living thing is killed because nobody gives a damn for it. Nobody loves it.
Meekly Gideon stared at Daddy Love’s feet.
For often, Daddy Love did not want Gideon to look into his face but only at his feet in a posture of abject submission.
Euthanasia
is what happens to approximately forty percent of orphans, whose parents have gotten rid of them and who nobody else wants to adopt. You’re God-damned lucky—Daddy Love chose
you
.
Meekly Gideon stared at Daddy Love’s feet. His eyes swam with tears.
Say it: “I am a very lucky boy.”
Gideon’s lips moved:
I am a very lucky boy.
Louder, son. And like you mean it: “I am a very lucky boy.”
Again, in a near-inaudible voice:
I am a very lucky boy.
Like your life depends upon it, son: “I am a very lucky boy.”
Daddy Love’s voice had grown louder. A vein throbbed in Daddy Love’s forehead.
At last Gideon spoke audibly:
I am a very lucky boy.
It was how you trained any animal, Daddy
Similar Books
