My Name Is Leon (13 page)

24

Because the journey to the Family Center takes so long, Leon has to listen to the news twice. When the Zebra came he thought he was getting another present like the bike because she said she had a surprise for him. But it was much better than a bike. His mom has come back. He runs and gets his backpack and sits in the back of the car right away but then the Zebra stands at the door talking to Sylvia for ages. Leon rolls down the window so he can hear.

The Zebra talks about Maureen first.

“She's going to need to take it steady when she comes out.”

“It's her weight as much as anything else.”

“One of our best carers but I'm not sure she would be up to caring for another energetic boy like this one.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“But she's so committed. Wish we had more like her.”

“I'll be having words with her when she gets out, I can tell you.”

“Leon misses her, doesn't he?”

“So do I.”

“We're looking at a permanent plan for Leon. Long-term fostering is the best option obviously but those placements are not easy to find. Matching considerations come into play and various other factors . . .”

Sylvia starts talking about the Royal Wedding.

“Wonder what her dress will be like?”

“I'm not a royalist by any stretch of the imagination but I thought at least we'd get the day off.”

“Disgraceful,” says Sylvia and takes a little step back inside.

The Zebra leans in.

“Think about how much they've spent on it. All the pomp and excess. It's a showcase for the monarchy, a festivity, with all the heads of Europe being flown in. Who do you think is paying for that?”

“They've probably got their own planes.”

“Then there's the hotels, the cars, the wedding breakfast.”

“We're having a street party,” says Sylvia with her hand on the door.

The Zebra gets her keys out of her pocket and jangles them up and down.

“Pretty girl, but I wouldn't want to be in her shoes.”

“No?”

Sylvia waves at Leon, “Be good,” then she twitches her face into a smile. “See you later.”

On the Zebra's car radio, it's the same. The wedding and then the riots and the Irishman who starved himself to death, then the pope who got shot and then so much stuff that Leon just looks out of the window and imagines a plane flying in from Europe filled with all the heads of Europe. All the heads are bobbing around or falling off the seats like heavy balloons. Some of them are French and some of them are Spanish but no one can tell until they start talking in their own language. Leon starts to laugh and the Zebra sees.

“Looking forward to seeing your mom, Leon?”

“Yes.”

“I'm pleased for you, love. It's an important day. You've waited a long time. It's quite a few months since you last saw her, isn't it?”

She pulls into the Family Center lot and turns off the engine. She shuffles round in her seat until she's facing him.

“Now, last time when your mom went to see you at Maureen's it wasn't a great success, so that's why we're here.”

Leon nods.

“And things have got a bit out of hand recently, haven't they, Leon?”

Leon says nothing.

“Lying? Answering back at school? Taking things belonging to Sylvia?”

Leon looks at her.

“She notices, Leon.”

He looks out of the window and the Zebra waits until he looks back.

“We need to take this one step at a time, all right? We want you to be happy, Leon. Honestly, we do, but it means you have to try to behave. Remember when I took you to see Maureen, you made me a promise? You remember your promise, don't you?”

“Yes.”

“Which is what?”

“If I behave you'll take me to see Maureen again in your car.”

“And?”

“And I have to stop stealing.”

“And?”

“And Jake is with his new mom and dad.”

“Yes, but that wasn't part of the promise, Leon, that was—”

“And I can't see my mom every time I ask.”

The Zebra closes her eyes and scratches her forehead.

“I know it's hard, Leon.”

Then she turns to the window and says, “Fucking hard.”

She coughs.

“So, your mom's inside, in the Family Center, over there. She's still not well but she says she can manage a visit. She's had a long journey as well, so she might be tired.”

“Did she come with the man?”

“No, we had to go and fetch her. Two hours to get there and two hours back. Lovely journey it was for me on the highway at eight o'clock in the morning. Come on and bring your bag.”

The Family Center smells of strong coffee and cleaning solution, like a hospital without the doctors. Social workers sit at their desks and there are people everywhere sitting on chairs, waiting for something. A woman with a broken arm is shouting and a social worker is writing everything down in a file because social workers need to know the date people shout and the date people visit and the date they take children away. Leon knows what's written on the paper: June 8. She's shouting. She has a broken arm. Her two children are screaming and running along the corridors.

Leon can't see his mom anywhere but he follows the Zebra, who seems to know every single person in the whole place.

“All right, Pat. All right, Leslie. Glynis! Glynis! Hello! ­Haven't seen you for ages. I'll be back in a minute, just got to get this access visit started. All right, Bob. You supervising this access? No? Who is then?”

The Zebra is talking to a man in a checked shirt. He's on the phone but talking to her at the same time.

“Bob? I said who's doing this access visit?”

“Bernie's just finishing. She can take over.”

The Zebra stares at him.

“I don't think so, Bob.”

She tells Leon to sit down while she goes into the office but he can still hear.

“How is she? Where is she, Bob?”

The Zebra sounds annoyed and Leon realizes that she's in charge of Bob and Bob doesn't like her.

“Family Room. She hasn't bolted. She's had a sandwich and a coffee. She's smoking like a chimney.”

“Well, she hasn't disappeared, so we're making progress.”

“She went for a walk down the corridor a few minutes back, muttering to herself. I think she was looking for the toilet or the way out or something but then she just went back to the room. She's been asking for you anyway.”

“Me?”

“Well, like when are you coming and what's the delay.”

“No good deed . . .” says the Zebra.

She sees Leon at the door.

“Come on, love.”

They walk further along the corridor to a small room with two sofas and a coffee table with toys on it. The toys are for babies but Carol is playing with them. She's holding a little doll and turning it around and around, up close to her face like she's trying to read something. She doesn't even notice when Leon comes in and the Zebra has to tell her.

“Carol? Carol? We're here. Leon's here.”

She turns slowly and smiles but she's not really looking at him. She has her hair parted on the wrong side and she's skinny, even skinnier than before, and her jeans are too baggy. But most of all, she looks like she's been crying for days and days, like her eyes are made of liquid, like she's been asleep and had a nightmare, like she's never been happy in her whole life.

She puts her arms out to him, just like she used to, and hugs him tight. Leon feels a fresh worry for his mom because no one is looking after her. She holds him by both shoulders.

“Can't believe how grown up you are. Can't believe it's you.”

Leon sits down and takes off his pack.

“How are you, Leon?” she says, lighting a cigarette.

There's so much smoke in the room that the Zebra opens the windows and begins wafting the clean air inside.

“Carol, could I ask you to stand by the window if you want to smoke? It's not good for children. Other people will need to come into this room after you. Women with babies. Families. Thanks.”

Carol doesn't move. Leon opens his bag and looks inside at all the things he's collected. Sylvia said he also had to bring some papers.

“This is my school report,” he says.

Carol puts it on her lap.

“Are you smart?”

Leon looks at the Zebra standing by the window with her arms folded.

“Yep,” she says. “He is.”

“You being good?”

Leon nods. “And I got a B in Math.”

Carol begins reading the report on her lap. Turning the pages slowly and looking up from time to time and smiling at him. Then she looks at the Zebra.

“Is this a supervised visit?”

The Zebra walks to the door.

“Would you like a drink and snack, Leon? All right for a drink, Carol, or would you like another coffee?”

Carol doesn't answer. She's taking ages reading the report and Leon is getting angry. Even he reads quicker than Carol and he's only nearly ten.

“I'll bring you a coffee, shall I?” shouts the Zebra as she lets the door slam. Carol looks up.

“She's not nice, is she?”

Leon shakes his head.

“And she looks like a fucking badger.”

Leon grins and Carol sniggers and they begin to laugh and
once they start, they can't stop. Leon feels the laughter come rushing out like a river, hurting his belly and his throat, pouring out of his mouth. And Carol's the same. She's rocking to and fro on her seat and holding her chest. Tears are in her eyes but they're good tears. Leon doesn't have to worry. She's pointing to her hair and trying to talk but it's no good, she's laughing too much. Then she starts making little animal movements with her hands and Leon has to hold his neck because it's aching and his jaw hurts and the pain makes a clean white space in his mind. He wants to laugh forever.

Then Carol gets down on her hands and knees and starts snuffling around Leon's legs like a dog and it's still funny. Then she starts yapping like a dog and pawing at Leon's trousers. She isn't laughing anymore and neither is Leon. She's trying to tickle him, scrabbling her fingers on his chest, but she's doing it too soft. He can hardly feel it through his T-shirt and he can smell her tobacco breath, strong and sour. She has her head to one side and her eyes wide open.

“Remember, Leon? Remember?”

“Yes.”

“Remember?”

“Yes, Mom.”

He holds her hand still and she rests her head on his knees.

When the Zebra comes back with the coffee, Carol gets up and sits back on her chair.

“Everything all right in here?” asks the Zebra. She raises an eyebrow at Leon like they have a secret. Carol lights a cigarette and walks to the window. She blows the smoke out at the trees. There is fresh daylight outside but Family Centers always have bluish lights that make everything look worse, the toys, the files, the people. When the Zebra leaves, Leon goes and stands next to Carol.

She holds his hand and squeezes it.

“Are you coming back? Are you coming back for my birthday?”

Carol closes her eyes and takes a very long, shaky breath. Leon thinks she's going to cry.

“Do you see Jake, Leon?”

“No, they won't let me.”

“Nor me,” she says. “Nor me. Do you remember him, Leon? Remember when he used to get his temper up?”

Leon says nothing.

“He had so much life in him, that kid. Like his dad.”

“He used to sneeze five times,” says Leon, “or six. He used to get bubbles in his nose at bath time.”

“Did he? He had that cough that time and I had to take him to the doctor's in that pouring rain. Remember?”

Leon opens his backpack and takes out Big Red Bear.

“Look,” he says.

“That's lovely,” she says.

“It's Jake's. Maureen gave it to me.”

“Did she buy it?”

“I don't know. Have you still got the photograph of Jake?”

Carol looks out of the window, left and right, like she's looking for the man in the sports car.

“Hate these places,” she says. When she sighs, her whole body shakes and the squeezes of Leon's hand get quick and sharp. She leans against the windowsill and starts knocking her head on the glass.

Leon doesn't know if he can remember how to do Jake but he has to try and find Jake's voice in his throat. He makes the wrong noise a couple of times but then it comes.

“Yeeeyyii, yeeeyyii, tatta, tatta.”

Carol looks at him.

“Yeeeyyii, yeeeyyii, tatta, tatta.”

Leon moves his hands like Jake moves his hands when he's banging a toy in his high chair.

“Leon! Leon! Ta-ta, ta-ta.”

“Is that him?”

“That's how he said it, Mom. Just like that.”

They hold each other and he can feel her chest heaving and her jolting sobs. Leon has to tell her.

“I could be him, Mom,” he says. “You could come back for me and, sometimes, I could be him.”

25

In Leon's dream he's standing in a cooking pot with white flames licking up the sides. He is slippery with oil and can't get out. He's an ogre's dinner. Then he's running in bare feet on scorched sand, acres and acres of it in every direction, but there are no hiding places and if he doesn't keep running, a giant's foot will come out of the sky to squish him flat. If only there was some water. He's calling out but his throat is cracked and sore and every time he opens his mouth someone says no. So he says no back and they say no louder, so he says no and no and no and then Sylvia wakes him up.

It's dark outside and all the lights are on.

“Come on, come on,” Sylvia says, making him sit up. “Drink this. That's it. All down.”

She puts her hand on his forehead and his cheek.

“Burning up,” she says. “No wonder you're making such a racket.”

He gulps the water down and throws the quilt off.

“I don't feel well.”

“No, love,” she says. “Don't look it neither. I'm going to get you some more water. You stay there.”

Leon's back is sticking to the sheets. He tries to open the window but Sylvia catches him and tells him to get back into bed.

“I'll do that,” she says and when she opens the window a beautiful, cold breeze comes into the room and makes him feel better.

“Now, drink this and take these two pills. Says you've got to be twelve on the packet but you're about the size of a twelve-year-old. Can't hurt.”

But the pills are lumps of chalk and it takes him forever to swallow them. His throat is raw and his head is hot.

“All right, love. Don't cry,” Sylvia says and takes his hand. “I think you've got the flu, that's all. Won't kill you. I expect you've got a touch of the miserables as well. No wonder. Come on. Snuggle in now and I'll help you cool off.”

She slides Leon's comics off the bedside table and begins to fan him, little puffs of cold air all over his face and back. Sylvia isn't as nice as Maureen but she is smarter.

“Can you tell me a story?” he asks.

She says nothing for a little while then she sighs.

“I could really do with a cigarette but that won't help you sleep. All right then. Now let me think.”

She takes so long thinking that Leon thinks that maybe she can't be a fan and tell stories at the same time and he would rather have the fan, so he says nothing.

Sylvia stops suddenly.

“Here's one I remember,” she says and starts the fan again.

“Once upon a time there was a man who was peacefully driving down a windy road. Suddenly, a little bunny skipped across the road and the man couldn't stop. He wasn't going very fast but he hit the bunny head-on. Smack. The man stopped the car right
away and he quickly jumped out of his car to check the scene. There, lying lifeless in the middle of the road, was the Easter bunny. The man cried out, ‘Oh no! I have committed a terrible crime! I have run over the Easter bunny!' The man started sobbing quite hard. What was he going to do? How could he put it right? And then he heard another car coming. It was a woman in a red convertible.”

“What's a convertible?” asks Leon.

The fan stops and Sylvia says, “A car with no roof. Do you want me to carry on?”

“Yes,” says Leon, “with the fan as well.”

“Anyway, the woman stopped and asked the man what the problem was. The man explained, ‘I have done something horrible. I have run over the Easter bunny. Now there will be no one to deliver eggs on Easter Sunday. All the children will be sad and it's all my fault.' ‘Don't you worry,' said the woman and she ran back to her car. A moment later, she came back carrying a spray bottle. She ran over to the bunny lying dead in the road and she sprayed it. The bunny immediately sprang up, ran into the woods, stopped, and waved back at the man and woman. Then it ran another ten feet, stopped, and waved. It then ran another ten feet, stopped, and waved again. It did this over and over and over again until the man and the woman could no longer see the bunny and it disappeared into the woods. When it had gone, the man shook his head, ‘Wow! What is the stuff in that bottle?' The woman replied, ‘It's hair restorer. It brings your hair back to life and adds a permanent wave.' ”

It isn't a story, it's a trick.

“Get it?” asks Sylvia. “Hair meaning hare. Hair on your head and hare meaning rabbit. Do you get it?”

She has stopped being a fan now and Leon feels sleepy.

“Is that the end?” he asks.

“Well, no. The rabbit has gone off to have his adventures.
Like you'll have adventures in your life. We all have adventures, some are good and some are not so good. You're in the not-so-good phase.”

“What else happens to him?”

“That's enough for one night.”

Sylvia gets up and opens the window a bit wider. She turns the light off and closes the door.

“I'll come back and check on you in a bit. Sleep time now.”

When Leon wakes up, the sun
is shining outside. He's still too hot but his head has stopped hurting. He gets up and goes to the living room.

Sylvia is watching the TV with a cup of coffee and a cigarette.

“Here he is,” she says, smiling. “How's the soldier?”

Leon goes into the kitchen, gets a drink of water, and sits next to Sylvia.

“I'm hot,” he says. “Do I have to go to school?”

“School? It's one o'clock, boy. You've missed school for today. Here, take another couple of these.”

He swallows another two tablets, nestles down onto the sofa, and closes his eyes. He remembers what Maureen told him about not having bad dreams by thinking of nice things. He tries hard to think about Christmas and his birthday and the presents he might get. He thinks about the Incredible Hulk and he looks down at his chest. One day, if he gets really angry, his chest will grow enormous and he will burst out of his clothes and nobody will be able to stop him doing anything. He thinks about being strong and having powers like Superman or Batman and then he feels Sylvia covering him up with a blanket.

Once, when he was little, he was in the park with his mom and she covered him over with a blanket. He was lying on the grass. He remembers the smell of the earth and the feel of scratchy
leaves on his legs. The sky was far away and everything was still and quiet. His mom was singing to him but it was more like a whisper and his dad was there as well. His dad was reading the newspaper and he was leaning against a tree. Leon had a blue and red ball and an Action Man and they left the Action Man at the park and his dad promised to get him a new one. And he did. But that was later. While they were at the park, under the tree, under the blanket, under the white sky, he fell asleep with his mom's hand on his back, with her song in the air, and when he woke up, he was in his bed and it was nighttime. He wonders if there is another boy in that bed now. He thinks about that boy playing with his toys and using his things and he can feel the anger inside bubbling around and making his chest heave.

He throws the blanket off and sits up.

“Too hot?” asks Sylvia.

“Can I go back to bed, please?”

As soon as he is in his room, he gets his red backpack from his cupboard and puts it on his lap. He looks inside and counts his things. He opens the pockets with the zippers and looks inside at all the things he's collected and then he puts it next to the bed. The full feeling in his chest has gone. He gets back into bed and closes his eyes and sees his mother's back, sees her jeans and her cardigan and her sneakers disappearing down the corridor at the Family Center. And he doesn't see her turn around and wave, because she didn't.

In the morning, he's better and
he's starving. Sylvia puts her hand on his forehead as he eats four Weetabix with sugar sprinkled on top.

“Better stay off school for one more day. All right?”

Leon runs to his room and gets dressed. He takes his backpack and goes back to the kitchen.

“Can I go out on my bike, please?”

Sylvia looks at him with one eyebrow higher than the other.

“How do you feel? It's hot out there, you know? Go on, but half an hour tops. All right? How long did I say, Leon?”

“Can I have two hours, please?”

“No, you get back here for lunchtime. It's ten thirty now. That's an hour and a half. Go on.”