Hope To Escape (2 page)

"Daddy!" Esther cried, "What are you doing?" Esther looked genuinely stunned and confused, and her daddy now wasn't
far
from feeling the same way himself at the boy's reaction.

Something was wrong with this boy.

CHAPTER ONE

Dr. Michael Roden typically came to the restaurant early so that he could avoid the rush. It was a trendy place, owned by the renowned chef Benlevi Martsoff from a popular cooking show on the Food Network; and so the diners came here to be seen. Dr. Roden, on the other hand, came to eat. They had a terrific mango chicken masala on the menu, and he found himself craving it quite regularly after a long day at the office.

As a single man who usually ate by himself, Dr. Roden always dined here before the normal dinner hour. He laughed at himself for feeling awkward about eating alone, he was a psychiatrist after all and understood the consciousness behind it; but nonetheless, he'd rather not be at a table for one in a crowded restaurant.

The restaurant filled rather early this particular Friday evening. The likely reason was that it was the beginning of the Labor Day holiday weekend, and people were in a hurry to begin their weekend drinking binge. Couples and groups of friends mingled and squeezed into tight spaces. It made a comical spectacle to see people seek determinedly for a break in the barricade of drinkers, so that they could work their way into the human wall at the bar. Some of them had the patience required to wait out those who moved away, others slowly thrust their shoulders into the mix until they wrenched their way to the bartender.

The spectacle made Dr. Roden snort with laughter more than once. The commotion reminded him of a blend between kindergarten children racing out to the playground to be the first to fly down the slide; and rats scurrying up a wall, climbing over each other to avoid a predator.

The excitement was enough to draw Roden's attention for nearly fifteen minutes, before he realized his server had removed his signed check and eyed him expectantly, waiting for him to leave the table so the next guests could be seated. He finished his drink and pushed out his chair. As he stood and reached for his jacket, he overheard a few words of the conversation at the table behind him. Some of those words caught his attention, and the familiarity of the anecdote being related held it.

". . .
a
lemonade stand once. My mother was so upset about my brother's cancer, and I thought we just had to pay the doctors enough money and they could make his sickness go away."

"Oh, Ess, sweetie!" One of the others commented, "You were trying to save him by earning money selling lemonade? You must have been so precious."

"Precious?" Another piped in. "Ess is the most naïve girl I know." The group laughed. It must have been a well-known fact amongst the young woman's acquaintances.

Dr. Roden began to put on his jacket, eavesdropping in on the rest of "Ess's" story. "I know, I can't disagree with you," she stated with an embarrassed giggle. "The same day I had my lemonade stand a little boy came along. I didn't think much of it then, but now I remember that he was skinny and pale, and dirty and I think he may have had bruises on his cheek and arms. Anyway, he looked thirsty and didn't have any money, so I let him have a free cup of lemonade –"

"Not much of a business woman, then, either," interrupted the same friend that accused her of naivety, which caused a second round of laughter.

"Ha ha, Manda." Ess laughed sarcastically.

"You didn't notice that he looked like a kid out of the 'Children of the Corn'?" One of the others asked.

"OK, Lisa, he didn't
look
that bad." Ess replied. "I just have
a
knack for being unobservant of my surroundings. I've come a long way since my childhood, but I do admit that I still have a tendency not to notice some details.

"I did notice some things about the boy, though. And I remember him drinking like he was as dry as a desert. Then my dad came out of the house yelling at him to get away. He thought the boy was some gypsy or beggar or something. That poor kid, was so scared he just curled up into a little ball on the grass, like a little turtle hiding in its shell."

"Oh, poor thing," gasped a more empathetic friend, "What happened?"

Ess made a face, appearing as though she had to think on it, "I don't remember exactly. My dad was surprised by the boy's reaction. I remember him sitting the boy down on the porch steps and calling the police. They eventually came and drove away with him. I guess they returned him to his parents."

Manda commented, "Yeah right. They probably put him into foster care where he became a ward of the state. Our tax dollars are spent taking care of the spawn of ignorant people that should never have reproduced in the first place. And the problem with that is . . . "

Three of the other girls jumped in with annoyed expressions on their faces, unenthusiastically helping her finish her obviously overused, and rather distasteful statement, " . . . ignorant people that don't know how to use condoms produce more ignorant people."

Manda defended herself, "Well, it's true. The cycle of stupidity spirals onward until the world will be made up of only genetically dim-witted people. It's Darwin's Theory mixed with Murphy's Law."

"Yeah," the empathetic friend replied, "And that will be Manda's own personal Twilight Zone, won't it?" She added the Twightlight Zone theme song at the end, and the whole table laughed.

The conversation turned, but the initial dialog surprised Roden. What a small world, he thought; and wondered if it would be proper on his part to say anything. No, he quickly decided. He couldn't say anything in front of the woman's acquaintances. Pushing in his chair, he began to button his jacket.

Coincidently, Ess chose that moment to excuse herself from her friends so that she could go to the restroom. How convenient. Then, her opinionated friend, Manda, decided to join her. Not so convenient. Still, it was an opportunity anyway.

Roden, not wanting to cause the wrong impression by appearing to follow her, decided to stop the young woman only a short distance from the table. He stepped in front of her, careful not to block her path. "Excuse me," he said, "but is your name Esther?"

She looked at him with a shy and confused expression, "Yes. Do I know you?" Her friends were right, Roden observed. Her naivety and awkwardness could be seen in her expression. How strange for a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties, but in Roden's line of work, it was not completely uncommon.

"No," he clarified immediately. "I apologize, but I happened to hear a little of your lemonade stand story as I was preparing to leave."

"Oh?" To the shyness and confusion she now added a touch of blushing embarrassment, which, Roden had to admit, was very becoming on her pale skin.

"I do apologize, but I think I know the boy - well the man now - from the story. The one you gave the lemonade to." Ess then lost the confusion and replaced it with surprise and a small amount of delight at the irony of the fact.

Roden continued, "It is true," he glanced at Manda, "He was made a ward of the state. He had a very bad childhood before that day, but I won't go into that. Suffice to say, he showed a great talent for art, and is now a fairly well established artist."

Ess nodded her delight. "I'm so happy to hear that. Good for him."

"Yes," agreed Roden, "Well, it just so happens that some of his works, especially his latest sculptures, were inspired by you." The surprised confusion came back to her face. "Well, you giving him that lemonade was the very first act of kindness he had ever known, and he esteems that as one of the most important moments of his life."

Manda commented at this point, "Most important moment? Are you kidding? Getting a free glass of lemonade is the most important thing that ever happened to him? That boy needs to get out more." Ess shot her a quick disappointed glare. Her friend just shrugged and appeared to be annoyed by the conversation.

"Well," Roden continued, "His works are currently on display at La Donne on 5th. You may want to check them out. The resemblance is fantastic, considering he saw you so long ago, and for such a short time." Looking at Esther, Roden had to admit, he was impressed by the sculptor's memory.

Ess just nodded, taking the information into consideration. Her friend chose this moment to comment once again, "Sounds a bit freaky to me. Sculpting some girl who gave him lemonade when he was, like, what, eight? Seems a bit obsessive, don't you think?" Then she spoke directly to Roden, "You may want to tell him to see a psychiatrist."

Roden smiled, but was not privileged to tell her that the man was seeing
a
psychiatrist, and that Roden happened to be said psychiatrist. So he replied, "I'll pass your advice on to him." Then, looking at both women, "Well, I won't take up any more of your time, ladies. Have
a
wonderful evening." With a polite nod, he stepped away from them, and headed towards the door. Small world, he thought again, and pondered on the coincidence.

* * *

Esther and Manda continued their trip to the restroom, and when they returned to their friends, they found that the conversation happened to be about the encounter they witnessed with the gentleman from the next table.

"Okay," started Jill, the empathetic friend, "which one of you was the good looking older man hitting on?"

Manda rolled her eyes, and Ess just laughed. The thought processes of this group of single friends always entertained her. Everything led to, and most conversations were about, landing a man. Each and every one of them was scared that they would end up spending their life alone, no husband, and no family of their own. Not that Ess saw herself as an exception. At nearly twenty-nine years old, she had had fewer boyfriends than any of her friends. She was just as afraid of spinsterhood as the rest of them – and her few relations already teased her about being an old maid. Apparently, they thought it was unnatural to be unattached at her age.

One thing that Ess noticed, and her friends seemed not to, was that all of the friends in their slowly diminishing group that did marry, never had time to join their friends for the traditional girls-night-outs. Giving up such freedoms scared Ess only slightly less then being the only girl left in the group that could attend the girls-night-outs. So, she told herself that she would just go with the flow. Que sera, sera. Right?

"So?" Lisa prompted.

"So, what?" replied Ess. A few of the girls let out grunts of frustration at this.

Manda decided to answer their question for them, "The guy wasn't hitting on either of us," she answered. "He was telling Essy here about her stalker artist."

The whole table stared at Ess in wonder, and seemed to be waiting for the punch line. Of all the people that could have accompanied Ess to the restroom while the 'good-looking older man' stopped her, it had to be Manda.

The only thing to do was to put
a
stop to this before it became the theme for the night. "I don't have a stalker, thank you, Manda." Then she retold the conversation she had with the man about the sculptor that had apparently dedicated a collection of his work to her for the kindness she had shown him with the lemonade.

"Oh, I'm going to see this!" cried Lisa, and was accompanied in the idea by the rest of the girls at the table. "Where did you say the sculptures are on display?"

"I didn't say," replied Ess, "and I'm not going to say either. Let's just leave it alone." She was ready to be done with this conversation.

Manda, on the other hand, proved to be her disagreeable self once again. "It's at La Donne on 5th." She beamed, with a not-so-rare look of mischief in her eyes. "Apparently, the likeness to our Essy, here, is 'fantastic'."

"Thanks, Manda." Ess was being sarcastic, of course. These women were man-seeking missiles, even on the occasions when the seeking was not for their own benefit. Ess knew she would be dragged to La Donne on 5th before long.