Lost&Found: Chapter thirteen: Esper

(Quick Summary so far: After months of struggling with Henri, my five-year old cousin who ended up in my care, I came to admit that parenting was not a solo sport. Someone suggested I attend Esper, a single parenting group in a community centre on the more dismal side of town. That's this part.)

I looked up the address on the card that Mr Reiner had given me and tried my best to follow it. I'd had to ask Connor’s mother to take Henri for a few hours. With Connor and Henri being such close friends, and the chatter around the schoolyard, I was sure Connor’s mother knew about our situation, but she was polite enough to never mention it.

The single parents meeting that Mr Reiner had recommended was a group called Esper. It was held in a building down the rougher end of town. The neat, smooth bricks told me that it wasn’t that old, but still it looked like a low-budget building. There were steps going up to the door, half of which were covered by a make-shift ramp. On both sides were railings covered in graffiti. I dared not touch them.

The door itself was painted red with flakes and graffiti all over it. Names and markered pictures were scrawled across the window sills and on the walls. I imagined this place was used for a lot more than a support group for single parents, for example, the foul smell that lingered near the corner, which I could bet was not a dog marking its territory.

Inside had a slightly better smell, though I wouldn't say pleasant. It was more a smell that reminded me of an old persons home - a bad undertone covered by conditioned air and watered down disinfectant. There was a notice board near the front, which I glanced at on my way in. It was littered with everything from aids support groups to childcare adverts. I wouldn’t have felt at ease hiring anyone who’s advert I found pinned to that board.

I continued in to what looked like a reception area with nobody there, and glanced around. There where two corridors I could take, and a set of stairs by the reception that went up onto a second storey. Even the reception was more cluttered and disorganised than my desk at home. I had a sudden glimpse of what I would end up like if I allowed my compulsive cleanliness to boarder into OCD, and shook the clutter and graffiti from my mind.

It took me a few seconds to realise that not too far from me, the first door had a glass window, where some older people where gathering. I knocked on the door and peered in.

'You lost son?' A man with an Irish accent asked. He had a beard and a head of long hair that looked pale brown, greyed by the years. His tone was slightly accusing.

‘Single parents?’ Several disapproving faces looked up at me. One woman stood up and held out her hand to lead me in. She had blonde hair, a small nose, and a smile made of lipstick.

‘That's right. Welcome. Take a seat.’

I did so uneasily. There where several people sitting around me.

Looking at them all, some of them were not hard to imagine as single parents. Some had that loving glint in their eyes that could only come from parenthood. I would never say it to their faces, but some of them looked in such a mess that it wouldn't surprise me their partners left - or that their children where the offspring of one night stands.

I ask that you abide with me. I made a lot of judgements back then. In my perfect life I looked down on people like these, when in fact I should have been looking up. I was ignorant, but this story is the truth, so I won’t try to pretend I was happy to be there.

‘Let's start with names. I'm Olivia.’ Olivia. She had that kind of smile, you know the polite smile, the one that people put on when they go to work, and take off when they get home, along with their problems, and the problems they listen to, and everything else. They're the kind of people you appreciate, but you can't help feeling like you're just a part of their career.

‘Mark,’ a clean cut man, with neat clothes. He looked barely thirty. My first impressions of him countered the second, or rather, the second countered the first. The moment the attention was turned to him he looked straight at me, I guess because I was the only unfamiliar person there. In his name I heard a thousand other words. In his eyes I saw a broken man.

If Olivias smile had made me feel like I was in a business meeting rather than a place of pain and comfort, then this man cured all that. It was his voice and eyes that captivated me the most. He wasn't about to walk into work, or stand in a board room, or even give a polite word to a receptionist. This was a man about to fall apart, held together by strings from broken toys and spinner tops.

'Karin,' a woman said, breaking my attention. She was a pretty woman, in a strange way. She looked like she would have been pretty, had the world not taken its toll on her. Her smile was weak, and sincere. Repressed memories where pulling on that smile, and the world hung in shallow wrinkles beneath her eyes.

'Kula,' said a large woman who wore a lot of make-up, had a foreign accent and a masculine voice. Kula was an interesting person too. They all where. Outwardly she was arrogant, and full of too much self confidence. She was also a very defensive woman. Inside, the love for her sons each day was more than most people felt in a lifetime.

There where others who I won’t mention. Mark, Karin and Kula were to be other influential figures in my life, in ways both positive and negative. Remember when I said that some people would show me parts of myself that I never wanted to see? Well, here they are.

Olivia opened up the discussion. ‘So, anything anybody is yearning to tell us?’ She asked. Nobody answered. ‘Okay, let's go around in a circle, and tell each other something we've achieved this week.’

Achieved? I didn't understand the question.

‘My baby got into another fight in school.’ Kula said. ‘And when he came home and I had gotten a call from his teacher, I didn't go mad. I sat him down and said, "boy you know better." He see'd suprise to be honest.’

I guessed that was supposed to be 'seemed surprised.'

'But he said, "Yeh, I know ma.' You know.' She was getting weepy already. It was a strange feeling too, that I understood, thought I didn't know why. 'He never said that before, he usually just yells and me because I yell at him.' I found myself staring at her, dabbing the tears from her eyes.

I'd seen triumph before. I'd read it in newspapers, and watched it in movies, but not like this. It's different. I found out she had three sons, the oldest was never home, the middle kid was always fighting, and the youngest 'never says nothing to no-one.' Kula had anger problems. She got so mad, and always yelled at her sons. So where's the honour or greatness in such a family?

They where working it out. One step at a time. That’s kind of like Mr Reiner did. That's what Henri and I had to do, I suppose. Listening to these people made the kids at school seem ridiculous. This, this place, these people, this felt real. At the time, I was starting to get that tight feeling in my stomach and a tingle on the back of my neck.

When it came to Marks turn, he kept his eyes to the ground nervously.

'We're getting by.' He said. Silence hovered in the air, until it became evident that he wasn’t going to continue.

'Nothing at all to call an achievement?' Olivia prompted gently.

'I think that is,' I said, without even realising I'd opened my mouth until they looked at me. 'If you're getting by, it means you're not falling.' Mark glanced at me only for a moment, but I think that meant he appreciated it.

'Yeh,' he said. 'We've got food in the cupboard. And a roof.'

Karin was the next to answer.

'We've had a down week today.' The woman next to her put one hand on her shoulder. 'Tommie's been really distant.'

I was to learn that Tommie went to the same school as Henri, and because of that Karin and I became good friends. We all did.

'Leon,' Olivia said. 'Any achievements, or maybe a little about yourself?'

'I'm here.' I said, thinking of how things worked in support group. Acceptance always comes first, right. 'In a room full of single parents. I'm not a parent.' Might as well get that out the cupboard. 'A few months ago my five year old cousin turned up on the doorstep, and since then things have gone downhill. My teacher gave me a card for this place, said it might help. Things aren’t the same anymore, I've got Henri now, I think it's about time I respect that responsibility. So I'm here.' They nodded, that nod that says, yeh, we did just listen to what you said. It was an interesting feeling.

'Right, in that case, welcome to parenthood.' Olivia said.

I still had my judgements, but there was something about the place that brought me back the next week. I think I just liked being listened to - five-year-old's don't give you that feeling very often.