The Castaway Hotel
Book 1

By: B W
(© 2012 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 2
The Adjustment Period.

It was sometime later when Ricky interrupted my reading.  “Mr. Currie?”

 

“Yes, Ricky.”

 

“What am I suppose to call you now?” he wondered.  I had to admit I hadn’t even considered this question, but now he was forcing me to come up with an answer. 

 

“Well, what would you like to call me?” I asked him, hoping he would give me an idea or two.  However, he wasn’t that brave yet.

 

“You tell me,” he countered, putting the onus back on me.  I thought I could tell by his expression he had something in mind, while secretly hoping I would offer him that particular choice.  Seeing I had no idea what that might be, I tried to put the ball back into his court.

 

“You must have some idea what you’d like to call me,” I informed him, before adding, “as long as it isn’t anything bad.”  The comment caused a concerned look to spread over his face, as if he thought I worried that he would come up with something nasty. 

 

“I wouldn’t do that,” he assured me, trying to make me feel better. 

 

“I didn’t expect you would,” I told him.  “I was just teasing you.”  He seemed to breathe a little easier after hearing my response, but I could tell that I would need to get him started.  “So, it’s your choice.  Would you like to use my first name or did you have something else in mind?” 

 

He studied me carefully before saying anything.  After summoning his courage, he finally began to speak. 

 

“Can I call you ‘Dad’?” he asked tentatively.  When I did not immediately respond to him, a worried look came over his face, as if he were sure he had gone too far by making that suggestion.  “It’s just that I’ve never had a dad,” he stammered out, hoping to soothe my anger, “and I always wondered what it would be like to have one.  Besides, you’ve kind of been like a dad to me at school.” 

 

After finishing his explanation, he looked up at me with those big, soulful eyes, which just melted my heart.  Fortunately, he had read the situation wrong, because I was never upset by his suggestion.  I was just so overcome that he would even think of referring to me in that manner, that it took me a few seconds to find my tongue again.

 

“If that’s what you wish to call me, then you may,” I advised him, which seemed to allow him to relax and start breathing again.  I think he had unconsciously held his breath, while he waited to see how I was going to respond to his suggestion. 

 

“In fact, I’d be very pleased to have you call me Dad,” I continued, “but only when we are not at school.  When we’re there, you will still refer to me as Mr. Currie.  That’s something I even made my children do when they attended my school.”  Ricky nodded his understanding, letting me know he understood I wasn’t making this rule just for him. 

 

“Yes, sir... I mean… yes, Dad,” he answered, as that huge grin reappeared on his face.  He then leaned against me and finished watching his program, while I went back to catching up on the news.  Once I finished reading the paper, I decided to watch a little TV with him. 

 

Instinctively, I lifted my arm and wrapped it around his shoulders, and before I knew it, he was snuggled up tightly against me.  Soon, he was resting his head on my chest, and the next thing I knew, he was sound asleep in that position.  Carefully, I lifted my arm and stood up, so I could pick him up and carry him to his room.  After pulling the bedding back and laying him on his bed, I removed all of his clothing, except for his underwear.  Gently, I pulled the covers up and over his body, kissed him tenderly on the forehead and then turned off the lights, before I went back downstairs.

 

I quickly finished up a few things I needed to do in my office, such as checking my email messages and taking care of a small stack of paperwork I had left for that evening.  Once I had completed everything, I went up to my room and prepared for bed.  It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep and I slept contentedly until around 2:00 a.m., when I felt movement on the bed beside me.  Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked about, and that’s when I became aware of Ricky’s presence.  I guess he must have also noticed me open my eyes.

 

“Dad, can I sleep in here with you for the rest of the night?” he asked, his eyes wide and his body trembling slightly. 

 

“Did you have a bad dream, sport?” I asked him.  “Or are you just having trouble sleeping in your new room?”  

 

“Both, I guess,” he told me, while looking hopefully in my direction. 

 

“Okay, I suppose we can allow it for tonight,” I told him, causing him to rapidly peel back the bedding, so he could crawl under the covers, beside me.  “Just remember,” I added, “that I don’t want you making a habit of this.”

 

“No, sir, I won’t,” he agreed.  “I just woke up and had to pee, but I couldn’t get back to sleep in my new room.  It’s kinda scary, because everything is so different.”

 

“Yes, I am sure the first night in a new place might be a little unsettling,” I agreed, just to let him know I didn’t think any less of him for doing this. 

 

“Thanks, Dad,” he said, before leaning over and giving me a kiss on the cheek.  That made me wonder if he was awake when I kissed him on the forehead before, but regardless of whether that was true or not, I think this little rascal had already wormed his way into my heart. 

 

We slept side-by-side throughout the night, and in the morning I had Ricky shower and get dressed before he came down for breakfast.  I pointed out where everything was kept and advised him that he could use whatever he needed.  Since I had my own bathroom, just off of the master bedroom, that bathroom would be solely for his personal use, unless we got another boarder.  Once he finished his morning ritual, he came down to the table and eagerly devoured all of the food I set before him.  If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought it had been a while since his last meal, but it made me feel good to see his healthy appetite and know he was feeling comfortable about living here.  While he ate, I tried to address some of the other issues that might need our attention soon.

 

“Ricky, now that you’re living with me, there might be some comments made to you about this situation.  Some of the children might think you will be getting preferential treatment, because you are my foster son now.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

 

“I think so, Dad, but I’m not quite sure.”  I could see the slightly confused look on his face, so I knew I needed to explain this better. 

 

“What I’m trying to say is, the other students may think that I am favoring you, just because you are living here with me.”

 

“That’s what I thought you meant,” he informed me, as the puzzled expression began to disappear from his angelic face.

 

“That means you’ll have to help me, so the others won’t think that,” I advised him.  “I’ll need you to be on your best behavior from now on, when you’re at school.  That means you can’t be getting sent to my office so often, you must keep up with your class work and you’ll have to try to cooperate with your teachers better.  Do you think you can do that?”  This time a scared look replaced his confused expression. 

 

“I’ll try, Mr. Currie, but I may forget sometimes,” he almost whined, and I concluded he was fearful that any miscue on his part would cause me to send him away.  I knew I had to reassure him that wouldn’t happen. 

 

“I’ll understand an occasional slip-up,” I offered, “but I do need you to try your hardest, so it will be less frequent than it’s been in the past.”

 

He hung his head slightly.  “I don’t mean to be bad and get into trouble, it’s just sometimes I can’t help myself.”  He paused briefly, but I didn’t think I needed to say anything just yet.  “I’ll try, Mr. Currie,” he finally added.  “I really will.  Just don’t get mad at me if I goof up once in a while.”

 

“As long as I can tell that you’re trying to do better, we won’t have any problems,” I told him, soothingly.  “I won’t throw you out if you mess up, unless it’s really, really bad.  And why are you calling me Mr. Currie again?  We’re not in school.”  He looked up at me, his eyes as big as saucers, so I stuck my tongue out at him, just to let him know I’d never throw him out and wasn’t angry about his slip up.  After thinking it over for a few seconds, that all too familiar grin reappeared, lighting up his face. 

 

“You can be silly sometimes,” he informed me, before continuing, enthusiastically, “and I guess I was just getting ready for later.”  Now, a serious look spread across his face.  “Thanks, Dad.  I love you.”

 

Whoa.  Where did that come from?  Even though I’ve known him from school for a couple of years, he’s only been here less than a day and he’s telling me he loves me.  Hearing that choked me up big time, but I knew I’d have to respond fairly quickly, so he didn’t begin to draw away from me or misinterpret my inaction.  “I love you, too, Ricky,” I eventually managed to get out, the emotion evident in my voice.  “Now, go and round up your things,” I added, while giving him a gentle smack on his behind, “so we can be off for school.”

 

The pat on his bottom sent him forward briefly, but he only took a couple of steps before he stopped again and wheeled about.  Suddenly, he came flying back toward me and leaped into the air, causing me to catch him.  Enthusiastically, the little imp threw his arms around my neck and kissed my cheek, so I squeezed him back and kissed his forehead. 

 

Yeah, I know.  I guess I’m just a soft touch, but I do believe we really were beginning to love each other.

 

I didn’t see Ricky the entire day at school, with the exception of lunch period, when he came to my office to ask me a question.  “Mr. Currie?”

 

“Yes, Ricky.”  He looked a little nervous.

 

“I was wondering… well, ah, I… I wondered what you wanted me… you know… to do about lunch?”  He looked as if he were almost afraid to ask me this question.  Then it struck me - some father I’m going to be.  I hadn’t even thought about packing him a lunch or giving him lunch money.

 

“I’m sorry, Ricky,” I apologized.  “I’m just not used to having children to think about any longer, except as students.  Would you mind buying your lunch in the cafeteria today?”

 

“No, sir.  That would be fine,” he offered, seemingly satisfied with that idea.  I reached into my back pocket and took out my wallet and opened it up.

 

“OK.  Here’s a few dollars,” I told him, handing him the money.  “Let me know if you need any more.”  He looked shocked.

 

“No, Mr. Currie.  This will be plenty,” he told me quite quickly, before flashing one of his special grins at me.  Satisfied, he turned and began to trot off, toward the cafeteria.

 

“No running in the halls, please,” I reminded him gently, from behind.

 

He turned back toward me, giving me a chance to notice the sheepish expression plastered on his face.  “Sorry.  I forgot,” he apologized, before turning away from me again and heading down the hall, this time at a slower pace.

 

I didn’t see him again until he came by my office after school and asked what he should do until I finished working.  I told him he could either go outside and play or he could go to the library and do his school work.  He nodded his understanding and told me he’d let me know which he was planning on doing, and then left my office.  After a few minutes he returned, so he could tell me he decided to go to the library, as there was no one outside with whom he was friendly.  I told him that would be fine and I would come to get him when I was ready to leave.  I jotted down a quick note and placed it on my briefcase.  “DON’T FORGET RICKY” was all it said.

 

About an hour later, I finished up for the day and grabbed my briefcase.  It was a good thing I’d put the post-it note there or I might have forgotten all about him.  Wouldn’t that have gone over big?  I walked down the hall to the library and went inside.  I was amazed to see Ricky actually busy doing his homework.  He didn’t see or hear me enter, so I walked up behind him and peered over his shoulder.  I could see he was working on some math problems.  “When you get to a point where you can stop, we can go home,” I told him, which caused him to jump slightly in his seat and whirl around.

 

“Jeez, Mr. Currie, you scared the shit out of me,” he said, panting slightly, showing the physical signs of that fright.  “Oops, sorry about the shit part,” he added, after thinking about what he’d said.

 

“I’m sorry I scared you, Ricky.  I didn’t mean to do that and I’m partially responsible for your response, so don’t worry about it,” I assured him, before going back to my original question.  “So, how soon before you’ll be ready to leave.”

 

“Now!” he told me, leaping out of his chair.  “I’m starved.”

 

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment, as I began to remember how much pre-teen and teen boys could eat.  “Okay, I’ll take my baby home and feed him,” I joked.

 

“Hey, I ain’t no baby!” he stated, defiantly.

 

“I didn’t mean you were a baby, just that you’re my youngest child,” I explained, hoping that would soothe his ruffled feathers.  “You see, all my children are much older than you, so you are now the baby of my family.”  He just stared at me for a few seconds, unsure as to how he should respond, but finally his ever-present grin reappeared.

 

“Okay, I guess that’s all right then,” he told me, before giving me a cocky little head flip.  I think my comment had made him feel he was special and officially a part of my life.

 

“Okay, what does my hungry little fellow want to eat tonight?” I asked him.

 

“Anything, as long as it’s food and it doesn’t take long to fix,” he replied, without hesitation. 

 

“Well, I could order a pizza and we could swing over and pick it up on the way home. I could even fix us both a salad, to go with it.  But, if you can wait a little longer than that, I can throw a couple of steaks on the grill, bake a couple of potatoes and fix a salad with that.  Which would you prefer?”  He thought deeply about this before answering.

 

“The steak sure sounds good,” he told me.  “I’ve only had one steak before, but it was great.  Will it take very long?”

 

“The potatoes will take the longest, but we should have it ready in twenty to thirty minutes,” I assured him.  “So will that be fast enough?”

 

“Yeah,” he told me, while thinking about this unusual treat for himself, “as long as I can have a snack when we get home.”

 

“Oh, I think that can be arranged,” I agreed.  “Then steak, baked potato and salad it is,” I added.  Ricky hurriedly gathered up all his things and then I put my arm over his shoulder and walked him out to the car. 

To be continued...

Posted: 06/15/12