"Kasper, the staff will do that. Please sit down, little one. We need to talk," Mr. Hamad said as I stood to clear the dishes after dinner. None of them ever cleared anything. I knew what was coming. He was going to tell me that my parents had finally contacted him and wanted to talk to me. I'd overheard them talking about it when they thought I Was out of the room.
Mr. Hamad was going to make me deal with the reality that I wasn't entirely their boy and I still had a mess back home in California that needed my attention. The Hamads were people who liked to deal with things head on. They would insist.
I'd been avoiding this talk. I knew they'd bring it up when we were all together and they could be there to support me. I wanted to pretend that it hadn't happened, that I could just be here with the Hamads forever. I'd tried to stay out of the way, under the radar hoping they'd forget that I wasn't born into this family.
"I'll help them. I can rinse them off. I'm used to doing chores. I'm pretty good at cleaning the kitchen," I said and tried to walk past him. He reached for me and his hand found the center of my chest. He stopped me, held me there.
"There is no need for that. You will upset the staff if they think we don't need them anymore. Now please sit down," Mr. Hamad said with that fatherly tone of authority. I turned to look at the table. Emerson, Ali, Amir; their eyes were all on me. They all looked sad. I set the plates back down on the table. I wasn't getting out of this.
"What's wrong? It's my parents?" I asked as though I didn't know. I didn't sit down though and instead I let Mr. Hamad draw me into his arms. He was seated on a tall chair, the kind where you put your feet on the bottom bar because they don't reach the floor. He pulled me against his chest and hugged me.
"Yes, my boy. They want to speak with you. You don't have to if you don't want, but I think you should. As much as we love you, if there is hope for reconciliation with your birth family it could help you feel better." Mr. Hamad hugged me against his chest and kissed my forehead.
"Are they still mad at me?" I asked. I didn't feel like getting yelled at by my father.
"I don't think so. They seem to think we are holding you here against your will. I don't know why they think that. We take very good care of you. Maybe they just need to know you are ok. I couldn't tell," he admitted.
"You don't have to talk to them Kasper. We can forget about them. We're your family," Amir chimed in. He looked angry and defensive. I remembered that he objected to this.
"We are you family," Mr. Hamad looked perturbed at Amir's outburst. "And we want what's best for you. If there is a chance for better relations with them, you should try. It could help you. You can't leave things as they are without getting resolution."
"Will you be there with me?" I asked. I didn't want to face him alone.
"I will, of course. I'll be there for you, sweet one," Mr. Hamad assured.
"I will be there too! I'm not letting them hurt him again," Amir said firmly.
"Ok then. He probably feels bad. He isn't bad, he just gets angry. I guess things calmed down," I said. I got a kiss on the head from Mr. Hamad. He almost seemed sad that I was willing to give my dad a chance.
"It will be ok," he said sadly like someone had died. They really thought poorly of my dad. He wasn't that bad a guy.
+++
We set up the laptop at the dining table. Mr. Hamad and Amir sat behind me in the high chairs. Mr. Hamad had been talking to my dad the past few nights to give him updates. He said it was his duty as my caretaker to keep them informed that I was safe and healthy.
He told my dad that I would be there with him when I was ready to talk. Mr. Hamad clicked open a program for video chat that showed the three of us. It looked like I had two Arabian bodyguards for backup.
"Kasper. Where have you been? We've been trying to reach you, but these people are keeping you locked up. Are you ok?" My dad asked with newfound worry when he appeared on the screen. He'd never seemed so concerned about my well being.
"I'm fine, dad. What's up? Where's mom?" I asked. My dad was sitting alone at his desk at work. He looked sleepy in his business uniform. He had his old work shirt with his name sewn on a patch with the Lane Services logo. He was always so proud of having his own company even if it meant a life of hard work.
"She's at home. It's pretty early here. Anyways, Look! We need to talk. Do these men have to be here with you?" he asked gruffly. He didn't like having a watchful eye when he dealt with his own child.
"Kasper asked us to be here," Amir interjected. The screen showed my dad but also a live shot of the three of us in the corner of the screen. Mr. Hamad and Amir didn't look happy. I saw Mr. Hamad put his hand on Amir's arm to quiet him. My dad responded with a grimace.
"Fine. Well look here son. That show you did. Apparently it was a big hit. We're getting calls every day and mail! Tons of mail! Why is it coming here? Some of the letters were pretty graphic! I threw those away! Someone even set up a fund for you online! God knows why but people are donating saying they felt badly you were kicked off so early,!" dad huffed and held a stack of envelopes.
"Sorry. I guess they looked us up. That's the address on my driver's license." I said like I didn't like there anymore. I wondered what had become of my room.
"Well look, most are junk fan letters, but a few caught our eye. There's a modeling scout that called and wrote us. He wants you for some clothing company. Then your mother got a call from that cosmetics and jewelry company she sells for. Remember that? Lucy Beautiful, wants to do a photo spread with you in their fall catalog. They want you to model for their men's line. Your mother is ecstatic! She can't wait to rub it in people's faces," Dad rambled excitedly.
"Then there's a few talent agencies that want to put you on contract. This is big money, Kasper! This could mean a whole new life for you! You don't have much going on so we thought this could be your big break. You have to talk to them!" Dad looked happier than I'd ever seen him. I felt a thump of pride in my chest. He was proud of me. He'd never been proud of me.
"Wow... I don't know what to say!" I felt my pulse racing. Then I felt Amir's hand on my side. He slid it down to my bottom and squeezed it. I couldn't leave him.
"You'll say yes! We aren't like these Arab sheikhs. We don't turn down work! Lanes don't say no to paychecks! Then well... this is more of a private matter. Can we talk alone?" Dad asked.
I turned to look at Mr. Hamad. He nodded and stood. He pulled Amir away from me, but Amir resisted. He put his hand on my arm like an anchor.
"No. I won't leave him to these... people! They're already trying to use him for money!" Amir objected. He said "people" like he meant garbage.
"That's between me and my son. It is none of your concern. He's my boy!" dad bellowed as though he hadn't written me an email cutting me off.
"Please," I said to Amir with pleading eyes. "It's my dad."
Amir took a deep breath and stood. He glared down my father. He was upset with me for not demanding he stay. I'd try to make it up to him later. They walked away, just over to the kitchen though so they would still be in earshot if things went badly.
"Look son. That family you're with. They are loaded! We looked them up. They own a ton of businesses and real estate... Towers, Kasper! Towers and ships and planes! I'd never heard of them, but your mom... She likes to google these things. We were stunned. They're sitting on an empire!" Dad valued people based on their wealth and business skills. The Hamads were suddenly good enough, they were now useful.
"They're really nice people. They're taking care of me." I looked down, embarrassed by what I knew his brain was thinking. I was more embarrassed that the Hamads were hearing all this. I couldn't look over to see their reaction. I was too humiliated.
"Well you be on your best behavior there. Don't cause any trouble for them and maybe they'll take care of you for a long time. I'll try to be nicer to them too. They just push my buttons not letting me speak to my own child. But I don't want to mess this up for you. It could mean a better future. You need all the help you can get," dad said. His voice sounded greedy. I didn't like where he was going.
"Ok dad... I will. They're really nice people. They took me in and helped me when I needed it." I kept my eyes down.
"Yeah they like little white boys from what I gather... Pretty weird... One more thing... That show you were on sent you a check. It's... more money than I make in a year. They sent an apology letter too. Apparently those Arabs negotiated some crazy settlement for what the show did to you. They must have a horde of lawyers." Dad held up a check paperclipped to a formal letter.
"Woah! That's crazy!" I said when I read the number on the check. I'd never seen that much money. I had no idea it would be that much.
"Yeah... They are good for something. Anyways, what are you thinking of doing with it?"
"I don't know. I didn't think it would be much. It was only supposed to be a few thousand. I guess I could save it," I offered, trying to sound responsible.
