The boy squirmed more deeply into the man's embrace. He was sobbing - not the childlike crying one would expect from a ten-year old boy but primal wails coming from the very core of his being. For several minutes sob-spasms racked his body and he clung in panic to the man. Eventually his fear and anguish subsided just enough so that he could be understood. "I'm so scared, Uncle Henry. Why did she do it? Why did she take Freddy and Stevie? They ain't even got poverty yet. She's gonna take me next. I know she is. Miss Bitch is gonna to take me next."
Any other time, Henry Schmidt would not have accepted that kind of language from his Little Bird. Actually, he saw humor and cleverness and even insight in the fact that the children in the group home called their case worker, Kate Burtch, "Miss Bitch". One does not, however, allow a ten-year-old to know that.
But today was not the day to admonish the boy. In fact, Henry could not admonish him. Henry too was in tears - caught up in the boy's fear and his own anger and the absolute preposterousness of what was happening. His Little Bird had had enough pain in his life. Whenever his Little Bird hurt, Henry hurt.
The boy's life should not have been what it was. His parents had both come from upper middle class homes, had met at the University of Wisconsin; had done all the usual 60s college things including the sex, the alcohol, and the drugs. For most college kids in that era, it was just a passing phase. For Martin Toliver and Kiki Groves, however, it became a decimating way of life.
They never married but remained lucid enough to live a somewhat normal life. Together they bred three children, two boys and a girl. Martin was able to kick the drug habit but remained alcoholic. Kiki, however sank more and more deeply into drug addiction so that by the time the little girl was born, the doctor and hospital social worker fought hard to see that parental rights on the little girl were immediately terminated. Mildred Medsker, the case worker in Dane County, was furious. She should have made that decision. She was able to keep the boys, Marty and Autarky, with Martin. No one had the will or the clout to get them out. Kiki, however, was ordered to leave the home and have no contact with the children.
Kiki had insisted on the name, Autarky. Mart had given the first boy that goddam establishment name so she was going to name this one something that meant something. This boy wasn't going to grow up harnessed by any bull-shit society rules. He was going to be a free spirit, goddamit. He wasn't going to owe anything to anybody. He was going to do anything he goddam pleased.
Somewhere along the line, however, even she began to call the boy, Auty.
The boys were left with Mart in spite of his drunkenness. The hospital, the police, even some of the neighbors in their very run-down, squalid part of town where the usual kind of concern for a child's welfare was a rare commodity, complained. What was happening to those boys was too much even for them. But Mildred Medsker insisted that Mart loved the boys and was doing his best. Anyway, she insisted, the "family" must be kept intact.
Mart found that he could not keep Kiki away from the boys and was afraid they would be taken from him. He needed those boys. The Aide to Dependent Children money bought his booze. He complained to Mildred and in typical caseworker magnanimity, she arranged for Mart and the boys to move to Jefferson County, into the loving arms of Kate Burtch.
Steve Brainard, the principal of Thomas Jefferson Elementary School, began to complain to Kate as soon as Marty entered Kindergarten. Marty was obviously neglected. He was filthy, underfed and showed occasional signs of minor physical abuse. Kate was disdainful toward school people. She refused to look further into Marty's condition because no school person was going to tell her what to do. She rather enjoyed the fact that they had never been able to force her to do anything. She had the clout. Anyway, it was almost a job requirement for a social worker to feel superior to everyone. Most thought they knew more than school people, doctors, lawyers, police, and even judges. Judges, of course, could make them do things other than what they wanted but seldom did. Most jurisdictions gave lip service to "the best interest of the child" but almost none did anything to see to it.
Steve continued to complain to anyone who would listen. The police were also frustrated. Jerry Dissler, Juvenile officer for Jefferson County, was just plain angry. He had frequently picked Marty up but as soon as Kate became involved, the boy was right back at his home. Complaints to Mervin Gross, Area Director for Child Protection, were equally futile. Nothing could be done for Marty.
Auty was more fortunate. His kindergarten teacher was married to a very influential State Legislator. Auty, like Marty, was a handsome, bright child and the Burwicks were in their late thirties and barren. With Harold Burwick's political connections, Auty was removed from Mart's custody and had been adopted by the Burwicks in less than a year. Nothing was done about Marty because Harold was afraid that if he pushed too hard it would hinder their adoption process. He was a too typical parent. He cared about his own child. Other people's children, particularly poor people, were someone else's problem. Certainly not his.
Mart was drunk when he signed the papers surrendering his parental rights. He didn't remember doing it. For a year after Auty was gone Mart would occasionally ask Marty why Auty didn't come home from school with him. By the end of a year and a half, Mart had forgotten there ever was an Auty.
Marty didn't know what had happened to Auty. He had gone to Auty's room to pick him up and there was a new teacher there. She didn't know what had happened to Auty. That, at least, was what she told Marty. That and the fact that she was sure that Auty was fine and that Marty shouldn't worry about him. Marty didn't worry but he missed Auty. He took it stoically. Marty thought that kind of thing just happened. He had been told there would be a baby but then someone took it. Someone must have just taken Auty. Marty wondered what happened to you when they took you. He didn't worry. He just wondered. You don't worry about things when you live like Marty. You just let things happen.
Marty had a miserable life. Marty, however, didn't know that he was miserable. So far as he knew, everybody lived as he did. Oh, he knew that most of the kids at school had nicer clothes and most of them did not eat their breakfast at school and they had to pay for their lunch. Actually, Marty loved school. It was the only place he got food. The principal took him to the clothing bank and he got "new" clothes. He even had some that were left at school. They let him take a shower - everyday, if he wanted. The gym teacher took his dirty clothes home and his wife washed them. He did pretty good in arithmetic and he was a great reader. Since they started letting him take showers there, kids didn't make fun of him anymore and he even had some friends. Not real good friends like some kids. Nobody ever had him stay overnight or stuff like that but he had friends.
Summer was the worst time for Marty. He couldn't eat regularly. Sometimes Mr. Brainard came to check on him and brought him something to eat and sometimes Julio's mama let him eat with them but she had Julio and Jaime and those five girls and they hardly had enough food for themselves. Sometimes the guy in the supermarket would give him a bologna sandwich but Marty didn't like that too much because the man didn't have any jobs he could do to pay him back. This kid in Marty's class, Greg Hager, told the whole class one-day that his dad said that Marty was stealing from hard working people because he got free lunch. The teacher made Greg be quiet but some of the kids on the playground would circle Marty and chant, "stealer, stealer, stealer." Marty didn't want to be a stealer so he went to the supermarket only if he couldn't find anything to eat for a couple days.
His home, such as it was, wasn't a place Marty wanted to spend much time. Occasionally he would go to some school friend's house to play but he could tell most of their mothers didn't want him around. So, he explored. He knew most of Jefferson pretty well and at about age eight felt brave enough to venture out into the country. He found that he liked it. It was green and there were all those cows. Marty liked cows. He didn't know why. He just liked them and there were so many of them. The farther he walked into the country, the more cows he saw. He saw this one place that must have had a million of them and there was this huge house that Marty could pretend was his. No one ever seemed to be there so Marty found a place in the back yard, in the bushes that became his hideout. After he found it, he went often. It didn't stink. His dad wasn't there. It was quiet and he could be alone and pretend. There he didn't have to be the poor, hungry kid. He could be anything he wanted. He could even own those cows if he wanted.
Kiki had found them. She didn't come often but occasionally tried to talk Mart out of money when she needed a hit. If Marty saw her, he went to Jerry Dressler and Jerry did his best to keep her away from the boy. Kiki mostly stayed away - in Madison or Milwaukee or Chicago but about twice a year, she showed up in Jefferson. If Marty had bruises on him, Kiki had put them there. In her fried mind, she blamed Marty for Auty's disappearance. She had been as abusive to Auty as she had to Marty but in her deluded memory she had been a solicitous, loving mother to the free spirit she was nurturing.
Mart was usually passed-out by 8:00. Marty made a point of getting home after that hour. If it was raining or cold he waited in the doorway or at Julio's apartment. But it was spring now and he could be in his hide-out. There is where he really lived. There he owned all those cows and that big white barn down the road and that big car he could see through the garage window. That old house in Jefferson, the smelly hallway and the creaky stairs - that was just a place to sleep. Marty lived here in the country with all the green grass and the trees and his big white house with no broken windows.
Mart ran out of beer before he was completely drunk. He was alert enough to try to force Kiki to leave and was rewarded for his effort by being rendered unconscious by a blow to the head with an empty beer bottle. Kiki had a guy who would buy her a hit if she could find him a boy ass to fuck. Where was that goddam Marty?
The attic apartment was quiet so Marty assumed it was safe for him to enter. It happened so fast. He was grabbed, his pants pulled off and he was being held down on the kitchen table. He screamed at the pain in his bottom. Mercifully the shock and the fear and the pain put him in a kind of trance.
He did not know how he got there. He just slowly became aware that he was in his hideout. Then he could remember Kiki's crazed, frenzied face as she held him down, that druggy hurting him and Mart lying in a pool of blood. His bottom really hurt and it even hurt in his belly. He could remember what had been done to him. For the first time he fully understood that he could control nothing in his life - not even his own body. He felt utterly hopeless. Even his hideout, his secret place, his sanctuary, his real home felt as hostile as the rest of his world. He pulled himself into a fetal position and softly cried.