Tatawaw

©2009 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.

As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.

.oOo.
Chapter 2 - Getting naked in public

Sven takes our dinner orders. I look at my watch and remember I have to move it back an hour. What a flight this is. In less than five hours, we're not only crossing one time zone but 30 latitudes as well; one third the distance from the equator to the north pole.

I run my hand through Hermie's black hair, and he giggles. I'm glad he's happy. This is a big day for him, a great milestone in his young life. It's good to see him so happy after all he's been through. Fr. Ricardo told me Hermie's parents were two teenagers in his parish, children themselves. Of course, they didn't use protection so little Maria was soon pregnant. Father had to give Raul credit. Unlike a lot of seeders, he didn't just abandon his girl friend but stuck around trying to help. But without a steady job, there wasn't much he could do. They found a wooden shack a few blocks from the church and set up house. They relied on Father for food for the baby. But their problems were overwhelming and the parents turned to drink as an escape. Maria was pregnant a couple more times but didn't carry either baby to term. When Hermie was five, he woke up one morning and realized the house was on fire. He ran outside naked, but his parents were in too deep a stupor to move. Maria's mother tried caring for Hermie, but she still had six kids of her own. After a year and a half, she begged Fr. Ricardo to take the orphan and find a good home for him. That's when he contacted Tatawaw and asked if there was room.

While our lawyer worked with a Mexican lawyer to iron out the details of international adoption, Father tried to prepare Hermie for his new life. He painted a glowing picture of this wonderful place in the mountains of Canada. He told him how he'd be able to go to school, how there would be lots of other boys for friends, and how nice men came from all over the world to play with the boys. Since I speak fairly fluent Spanish, Comley dispatched me to get Hermie now that the time has come.

Around nine, ten Mexican time, I realize Hermie is finally starting to get tired. I decide I better get him dressed for landing. This morning, when Fr. Ricardo drove us to the airport in Mexico City, it was already 60 degrees. By the time we land it will be 7 degrees. I tell the sleepy boy to stand in the aisle and Sven hands me my carryon bag which I open up on the seat Hermie vacated. I take out the extra warm outfit I brought for Hermie. I tell him to take off his shirt and then his pants. I see his brand new tighty whities are stained so I have him them off as well. Hermie doesn't seem to mind getting naked in public. Sven and the other passengers don't seem to mind either, judging from the way they stop what they're doing to look. I notice a couple guys begin to rub their crotches, and the third, a middle eastern looking businessman in his forties, has to dart into the lavatory he just came out of five minutes ago.

Reluctantly, I take out a fresh pair of undies and slip them over the boy's ass, then a warm pair of trousers, then an undershirt and flannel shirt. I give him his new parka which matches mine. I show him the snow pants, mittens and boots he'll don when we land. I also get my own parka and gloves ready. Sven takes the bag back and Hermie settles into his seat. Bundled up nice and warm, he does begin to nod off and I buckle his seat belt.

The Captain announces, "We will be landing in Edmonton in about forty minutes." I remember the first time I flew into this airport. I was a fresh young teacher who had spent three years teaching language arts in a middle school in Rocklin, California, an upper-middle class suburb of Sacramento. I should have gotten tenure there, but in my third year there were reports I had inappropriately fondled one of the boys in my class. No proof. But accusations were enough to dismiss a non-tenure teacher. Furthermore, there would always be this question mark on my record. Other school districts would wonder why I had lost this position. So I figured my teaching career was over, and began to look for other employment. But in the middle of July, out of the blue, I got a letter from Tatawaw with a job offer. I immediately packed my bag and flew up here. I later learned one of Tatawaw's regular guests was from Rocklin, knew I was a great teacher, but also knew about my problem, and understood. I'll always be grateful to him.

I've got a long drive ahead of me so I ask Sven for a good strong cup of coffee. Before we leave the plane, I bundle Hermie into his snow pants, mittens and boots. He can hardly walk, and I end up carrying him in one arm and our luggage in the other. It is going on ten, but the snow on the ground is reflecting so much light it seems like noon. Hermie is wide awake again. The mountains around Mexico City get a little snow, but the last snowfall in the city itself was over forty years ago.

As we head for the parking lot where I left the Tatawaw SUV five days ago, I decide it's time to give Hermie his first lesson in Canadian culture. I set him down and show him how to pack a snowball. Soon we are pelting each other and laughing our asses off.

When we get in the car, Hermie falls into a deep sleep. His little mind has had enough excitement for one day. I call Comley on my cell.

"Hey Boss. I'm just about to leave the airport."

"Hi, Larry. How's the little package?"

"He finally fell asleep. He's been excited all day. He can't wait to get there."

"Oh, I'm so glad he's happy. I'd love to meet him when he gets here, but let's see, it'll probably be three before you arrive. I think I'll wait until breakfast."

"Who did you decide to bunk him with? Juan or Travis?" Juan is a handsome nine-year old orphan from Spain. His Spanish and Hermie's are as different as Brooklynese and Australian, but at least they could talk. Travis is ten and black. He was found living under an overpass in East LA with a woman he called his aunt. He knows a smattering of Spanish.

"No. I think that would delay his language skills. It's important he start speaking English as soon as possible. I decided he'll start out rooming with Paul. They're nearly the same age. I told Paul already and he's thrilled to take our new little brother under his wing."

"You know best, Sir. See you tomorrow."

I thought about that word, "brother." For the first time in his life, Hermano will be able to live up to his Spanish name. He'll have fourteen brothers, age seven to fifteen. They came from all over the world, but are now one healthy family.

.oOo.

As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.