exception to the rule, my beautiful boys

Does it count if everyone thinks mistakes him for my beautiful baby girl? I struggle doing right by him, this ten pound ball that I call my offspring. Imagine, what feels lifetimes ago I held a mewling infant; a beautiful black baby boy with the oddest green eyes I ever did see. L was suppose to raise him, she was his mother -she knew what she was doing.

Except for when she didn't know how to handle it, he would cry plaintively for his biological mother all through the night. The world was new and scary and turbulent and so very loud. L had been diagnosed with stage four cancer, well, the two docs called it that. She liked to remind me that one doctor called it stage three, but hell I'm no medical practitioner so I left it at: "It ain't pretty." So there I am, I am cradling this infant -crying myself while he is crying because it's midnight and L said she couldn't handle the responsibility.

At this time of my life, I lived at home with my parents. Dad was supportive of me taking in the little tyke. We made the basement into his living area. Never saw that old bastard like that -he would smile while whispering sounds to the my baby boy, my old man and I don't really get along, but it was magnificent to watch him enthralled with this young life. He laid on the floor, his shirt riding up to reveal his belly -a grown man of forty odd years- dangling this small thing that made noise to amuse the little cry baby. Ma wasn't so supportive so we didn't tell her, she was off in a once in a lifetime opportunity touring Brazil with a family friend. She didn't know half of what went down in the basement years later, but alas. I had two weeks and my dad was getting too attached.

I went to the internet, to those yuppie parent websites looking for answers on how to not kill this thing I was suddenly responsible over. Everyone told me I was a fool, no twenty year old could handle this especially an unemployed hapless idiot that couldn't hold down a job much less get their own place.

I ran to those speciality shops to get him food, all organic no preservatives. I did my best, but I wondered ... maybe it was best for me to give him up. So I did a week later. I went to one of those sanctuaries, gave away my guardianship to them. I remember the CEO's voice over the phone the day before, "Don't you worry, we'll take care of him for you. You focus on getting yourself situated." She bought me a year, but after that no promises that they would watch over him for me. I drove six hours with my crying bundle in a special seat thing that Dad had to install. I cried that day too. Gorgeous outside, I pulled into a compound.

This woman straight out of the 90s with her buzzed mullet, raging flannel shirt, practical outside pants, and hardcore boots -no lying, she wasn't the CEO/savior I expected. Laura, that's her name, informed me I was two hours away from his final location. "Take care of yourself," she waved me off and bid me luck. Cue more crying on both our ends, my boy and I, I kept on apologizing to him the ride over.

Fast forward two years later, I look at my son. His eyes changed into these hazel yellow things and he's huge. Not that he cares, Lo likes to bounce while making noise for me to pick him up. I am a terrible enabler, I let him rule with those terrible two's and hum little nothings into his ear; "You're my beautiful baby boy," I nuzzle his face and he thinks it's funny to head butt me in return, "I love you, you brat." I cluck my tongue at him. Those yellow eyes look at me expectantly, I sort of conditioned him to come for supper with clucks -force of habit. 

See, ma use to yell for me to come to dinner. The house was always loud where I came from, no peace since talking is very loud yelling in our native tongue. So in my city apartment, we do things a little differently. Three clucks mean come on around for dinner, it's usually home made. I started cooking once my partner was admitted to the hospital. I don't believe in recipes. My life is messy so why should my food preparations be any different?

One cluck of my tongue means I'd like you to come here please. And then there's the growl I emit, the one where I want to curse him out for trying to climb onto things haphazardly and I'm not sure if I'm concerned he'll hurt himself or damage one of my gaming consoles. Ma says I was the same growing up. Ya wouldn't know how I did it, but I would always manage to get things that were out of reach for the adults. Lo makes himself smaller and comes on down, but nothing keeps him away from trouble from long. The moment I turn around to check on the traumatized young adult I adopted, he's up to something again.

I don't sleep well at night. The world is a scary place, but then I stumble out of my bedroom to catch the two boys cuddling. Lo is in the arms of "Patrick", but I've renamed him Salem and he seems to respond well enough. His parents abandoned him at the sanctuary, no idea why. He's skittish and quiet and a klutz, but if you give him time -he's a gentle giant that wants somewhere peaceful to call home. Lo's eyes crack open, he wriggles out of the embrace and reaches out to my leg wanting up. So I take him up and we sit on the couch while Salem yawns, stretching before returning to his slumber.

I'm not in a much better position than I was two years ago, but in those twilight hours of day break. I wonder -maybe, the world will be all right. Maybe, I can make this place a little bit better for us all.

Meow

Then again, maybe I didn't do right by my cats by keeping them. I'm selfish, but in this moment they seem content. Salem put on healthy weight so he isn't skin and bones. Lo smiles in between my legs as he lays down for another cat nap. They give my life meaning.

"I love you," a wry smile appears on my face. I can feel it, "Loki." He opens an eye, an ear twitches as he raises his head for a moment contemplating my gaze before nuzzling back -using my knee as a pillow. I glance at the other one, "Salem." His ear moves, but he recognizes my whisper as safe and keeps on snoozing. Leaning back, I close my eyes and savor the moment of stillness.