For the next half hour we are asked questions about Guy's activities, his whereabouts, known friends and any problems he's been having. I'm in a bit of a predicament as neither I nor my wife can answer these questions in any real capacity. It's when she begins to fill in blanks that I find myself questioning my status as a 'good' parent.
"Do either of you know where Guy got some of the long term bruises on his body," Escalante asks and I'm confused," You didn't notice your son has been beaten up on a regular basis."
"Nobody beats my children, and I don't believe in violence as a punishment," I counter but she doesn't believe me.
"And the missing molar just happens to be something not related to his family life? Can either of you tell about the improperly healed right wrist the doctors found pre op," Escalante asks again and the only person more horrified by the realization of what we're hearing than me is my wife," Okay again no. Do either of you have any idea why he would be half way across town from his school or his home after having drawn almost two hundred dollars out of his account earlier in the week?"
"I monitor Guy's transactions and he doesn't touch his money that often," I counter but she smiles.
"I'm not talking about his debit card account with Texas National, I'm talking about the private savings account with First Convenience," Detective Escalante says, destroying everything I thought I knew," I'm going to guess no councilor. We're going to get blood work done and we're searching his personal bag and clothes as they are part of a potential murder investigation."
"Why would someone want to murder my son," Loretta asks, hurt and almost destroyed.
"By my estimation he was involved in some sort of a drug buy and they decided to take the money and run. I'll be back with more questions when I have all the evidence," Detective Escalante ends our conversation on that note and leaves us to our parental misery.
While Loretta prays for Guy I sit back and think about what I've seen in the past four to five years. Guy was always quiet, he socialized with my children early on, and then he stopped. He inexplicably stopped, Loretta and I spoke about birthdays at one point and I remember her saying that she wanted him to have a car so he could be more independent but why didn't we get him one? And I remember when he told me he wanted to move in with his father, I didn't like seeing him hurt but the only thing I could think of was to put money and praise in front of him. I don't remember him visiting friends, he has always been the quiet one of all my children and I do think of him as my child too. What does he think of me? What does he think of his mother? Loretta is beside herself with grief but I need answers. Guy is shy and when I met him, he's not an addict and he's certainly not a whipping boy. My children wouldn't allow that to happen.
Our wait goes till the late evening when the doctor returns from surgery and gives us some good news for a change, Guy will live. The wound was serious but they were able to ensure that no major organs were damaged irreparably, just a lot of blood loss with a beating to precede it. We are shown to Guy's room by a nurse and that is where I watch my wife's heart break. He has bandages wrapped around his head, a pad taped over his eye, multiple smaller bandages on his face, neck and arms, his right wrist is in a brace waiting for a cast and he's pale. The boy never had a great deal of color but he's so much paler now. I hold Loretta as she cries into my shoulder and can't imagine how this happened. I'm told that visiting hours are long over and that we'll need to leave so that the patient can be allowed to rest. They have him heavily sedated and they want us to leave. I tell Loretta to have a seat while I step out and make a personal call.
A half hour later I am informed that my wife will not be forced to leave since she's his only available blood relative and that the hospital is sorry for the misunderstanding. Loretta knows nothing as watch her sit and stare at her baby boy. I can hear her singing softly to him as she holds his good hand and I make a couple of startling conclusions that leave me with questions I know I won't like the answers to. Loretta isn't going anywhere and I tell her I need to return home to check on the children. She nods, which is the most responsive she's been since we got the call and I leave to return to my children.
It's a quiet drive and I am, as always, in control of my emotions and the vehicle as losing my temper now does me no good. I pull in front of my home and barely get in the door when Bethany comes running from the TV room.
"Dad, where is mom," my social twin daughter asks.
"She's still at the hospital, I'll be returning there for her in a little while," I inform her heading to my office.
"Is Mom okay," Beth asks concerned.
"No, your mother is not okay. She's very hurt right now. Go get your brother and sister and all of you come to my office," I tell her but she freezes.
"Dad I think they're both asleep," my daughter is afraid, fear accentuates guilt maybe.
"Get your brother and sister…. Now," I use my cold office voice and watch my daughter shiver at my words.
She leaves to do what I told her as I unlock my office and remove the two guest chairs for people who need to discuss business privately. Physical labor doesn't help me any as I'm struggling to keep from losing my composure as I remember a scared boy who is now a broken young man. My children return with more awareness than a recently woken person should have, Beth warned them about my mood. Good, it will help.
"Mark, Bethany, Abigail. Your mother is at the hospital right now. I'm going to try to convince her to come back tonight but I don't think she will," I begin and Bethany is quick to speak.
"Dad, Mom and I have plans tomorrow," she says and my look says my response for me but I will make this redundant.
"You had plans tomorrow; those have been canceled by me because I love my family. I love every member of my family and I have been a very poor parent," I say the words, it hurts but it is the truth.
"Dad you are not a bad father," Abigail, my jewel of a daughter, informs me sadly.
"I was asked questions tonight that I have no answer to, so let me see if I can garner some knowledge from my children," I look up to them and they look eager to help," Who are Guy's friends?"
"What," my namesake decides to answer in his confused tone.
"It's a simple question, who are Guy's friends," I asked again and now I see fear, not nervousness, fear.
"We don't know," Mark answers and the girls keep quiet.
"Abigail, Bethany, you're all in the same grade. Who does your brother hang around with," I ask, holding onto my patience like a life raft on the ocean.
"He doesn't hang out with anyone really, he's kind of a los… loner," Bethany answers quietly.
"So you don't know if he has any friends or he doesn't have friends," I ask and the second option has Abigail staring at her feet," Okay, so here's another question. Who has been physically beating Guy the past few years?"
"Beating, Dad we don't do anything to him," Bethany says in her defense but it says more about her intent.
"So nobody has done anything to Guy in the past four years or so? Nobody touched him, nobody hurt him, nobody saw him with friends, and nobody knows what he was doing this afternoon? Nobody knows anything," I ask and see shame, fear and confusion.
"Dad where's Guy," Mark asks, showing his use of cranial gray matter.
"It's good that you asked that but I need to know who has been abusing your brother, my stepson and your Mother's baby boy but you can't seem to answer those questions. Let me ask an easier question, children," I start but Abigail stops me.