He was rescued by Erik and Charlie, and as he got better, he joined the crew taking out the traffickers. He has hope that maybe he and Erik can direct their little boy to do the same.
A large presence at his back reminds him he is not alone. Long arms circle his shoulders, and Ant rests the back of his head against Erik’s firm chest.
“Edison’s out of town, but I called my aunt and uncle. They’ll be here shortly.”
Ant nods in surrender. “Did we fuck up? Should we have even tried with him? Is he too far gone?”
“We can’t know that right now. All we know is that what we’ve been trying isn’t working,” Erik says, kissing his husband’s head. “He seems to like Edison. He’s been trustworthy around our animals. I think that’s a start.”
Ant sniffs. Georg and Anja—known as Mama and Papa Bash to all their friends—pull into the drive. Relief fills Ant’s chest. Erik’s aunt and uncle have been the one bright spot in all this darkness.
The little boy goes to the front door, flinging it open. “They keep trying to call me Jeremy! Make them stop!”
“Oh my goodness. Such big emotions! This must be very important to you,” Mama Bash says. “Come here. Give me a hug.”
The little boy wrinkles his nose.
Papa Bash elbows his wife. “Nice try.” He holds up a familiar bag. “I brought the salt lakris. Maybe you and I share a bag, and you tell me what’s going on.”
Not many American kids enjoy the Norwegian delicacy of salty licorice, but the little boy loves it. The burning salt flavor seems to agree with him.
Ant, Erik, and Mama watch from the living room as Papa and their little boy—Silas—sit on the front porch, eating licorice. They don’t seem to be saying much to one another, butafter some time, their little boy rests his head against Papa’s shoulder.
They whisper a few things back and forth, then Papa pats the little boy’s back. He leaves the bag of licorice with Silas and stands before entering the house. Ant takes Erik’s hand, anxious for what Georg has to say.
“I understand why you do not want to call him by his name,” he says in his gentle Norwegian accent. “It creates problems with Thane and Ronan, and by extension, the others. They are good men. Their friendship is valuable. But when you adopted Silas, you adopted all of him. I know you’re trying to make him fit in, but that is not his journey. I think we all see that spark of goodness inside this little boy. But it is a tiny flame, easily put out if we do not acknowledge who he is. That includes his name.”
Erik and Ant look to each other, then close their eyes. Georg is right. Choosing this path is the more difficult option. It etches their many losses in stone. But Silas is worth this. If they can help this boy, if they can let him know that he is loved, then that will have to be their measure of success.
Erik kisses Ant’s forehead, and Ant turns to Georg. “Thank you.”
Ant squeezes his husband’s hand. “This one’s on me. I’m the one who suggested the name change. Let me try to make it better.”
Ant joins Silas on the front porch. The little boy turns away, shoving another harsh candy into his mouth.
“It was wrong of me to try to change your name. I thought it might help you start over. I thought it might help us with our friends. But I should’ve known better.”
The little boy chews carefully, listening to every word.
Ant continues, “You get to keep your name. You get to own everything about you. And the only thing we ask,the only thing, is that you try. That you try so hard to learn how to manage the rage in your little body so that, as you grow, you can direct it in the right way.”
“You’re not gonna call me Jeremy anymore?”
“Silas, I will never call you that name ever again.”
“What does it mean to direct my rage?”
“It means you get to feel everything, but instead of using the hard feelings to hurt other people, you use them to protect them.”
Silas takes another bite of the salty candy, considering Ant’s words.
“Okay.”
2
SILAS
TWENTY YEARS LATER
