Second BF entry for October
It was a glorious spring day, the sort of spring day you only find in New England, when my son was outed. In fact, it was because of the beautiful weather that our secret was spilled; the local-under-fives were busy excavating the sandbox, and we mothers were lolling on the park benches, dozing and soaking up the newly-distilled sun. Anyhow, I wasn't paying attention the way I should have, and it's hard for a little boy to remember to keep his t-shirt tucked into his shorts.
"Hey, Davey, you don't have a belly-button!"
My head snapped around like a whipcrack. Sure enough, Davey was lying on his side, his shirt ruched up under his armpits, the blank white mound of his tummy exposed. I held my breath; Rob and I had been frank with him about his birth, and I wanted to see how he would handle the situation before I jumped in.
"Nope!" He rolled onto his back, pooching up his belly and banging on it. The whole crew gathered around for a look.
"How come?" His buddy reached out and poked him in the gut.
"Mama says I was just borned differently than other kids." he sat up and shrugged, his t-shirt sliding down to cover his tummy.
They all looked at each other, nonplussed; how children were born was clearly a grey area for the local-under-fives.
"Did your mama have an operation to get you?"
"I don't think so," Davey frowned. "Mama didn't say how I was borned, just that it was different, an' that's why I don't have a belly button."
"That's kinda strange." This from the boy who'd poked him. I tensed up, ready to spring into action if it got ugly.
"So's this!" and Davey pulled a really funny face, and snorted.
They all laughed uproariously, rolling around on the ground, and then they went back to "work". It was my turn to be nonplussed; I had expected tasing, maybe even a scuffle, not this genial curiosity. Maybe the teasing would come later. I deflated against the back of the bench, sucking at my Coolatta.
"Excuse me," I looked around; one of the other mothers had sat down next to me on the bench.
"Yes?" I knew what was coming: the follow-up to Davey's little display.
"Um, this is really not any of my business, and, um, God, I appologize if it's offensive, but is your son a, um . . . clone?" She flinched, like I was going to hit her. Maybe I should.
"Yes." I took a deep breath, and continued on. "Davey is one of the Mendocino Children. Our first child, Michael, was killed in that bus accident." And there it was, out in the open. The thing we'd moved across the country to hide, exposed in the bright light of day. I could have lied, I suppose, but she had already figured it out, anyway.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she laid her hand on my arm, and it was my turn to flinch. She sat back, ofolding her hands in her lap. "It must have been terrible, losing a child like that, and then that company coming in, taking advantage of your grief--"
"Actually, we were very grateful to Seracorp. We would never have been able to have another child, and they gave us back our son. They treated us very well, they always had our welfare foremost in their plans." This must be the mother of the Poker. She was so goddamn pushy.
"Still and all, don't you ever wonder if they made more copies--"
"No!" this had reallly gone far enough. "First of all, Davey isn't a copy of Michael. He is genetically the same, that's all. Second, though Seracorp kept the data they recorded, the data from all the children in that accident, and all the experiments that resulted in children like Davey, they did not keep the template, or recipe, or whatever you want to call it, for Davey. It wasn't about making copies of dead children, it was to see if they could clone humans to a certain extent, of course, but they really just wanted to give us our children back."
I stood up. I had not expected the mercilessness to come from other adults. I gathered up my things, and collected Davey. We left the park at a forced march. I didn't look back, but Davey did.
"Mama, whydawe hafta leave? I was havin' fun!" Davey whined, "I wanna play with my friends."
"Sorry, Davey, but we have to go home noe. Mama has to do some chores before Daddy gets home."
"Oh, OK. Can I watch Sesame Street when we get home?"
"Sure you can. One hour of TV." Hooray for television.
"yeay! Can we come back tomorrow?" He looked at me hopefully.
"I don't think so, Little Man. We'll find a new park tomorrow." I would not face that woman again.
"Ooo, can we go to the one with the pool?"
"Yeah, sure we can." That's all it takes to turn a child's loyalty. I made a mental note to find the miniature wetsuit we had gotten him for Christmas. Swim trunks would have to be off the tale for a long time.
"Hey, Davey, you don't have a belly-button!"
My head snapped around like a whipcrack. Sure enough, Davey was lying on his side, his shirt ruched up under his armpits, the blank white mound of his tummy exposed. I held my breath; Rob and I had been frank with him about his birth, and I wanted to see how he would handle the situation before I jumped in.
"Nope!" He rolled onto his back, pooching up his belly and banging on it. The whole crew gathered around for a look.
"How come?" His buddy reached out and poked him in the gut.
"Mama says I was just borned differently than other kids." he sat up and shrugged, his t-shirt sliding down to cover his tummy.
They all looked at each other, nonplussed; how children were born was clearly a grey area for the local-under-fives.
"Did your mama have an operation to get you?"
"I don't think so," Davey frowned. "Mama didn't say how I was borned, just that it was different, an' that's why I don't have a belly button."
"That's kinda strange." This from the boy who'd poked him. I tensed up, ready to spring into action if it got ugly.
"So's this!" and Davey pulled a really funny face, and snorted.
They all laughed uproariously, rolling around on the ground, and then they went back to "work". It was my turn to be nonplussed; I had expected tasing, maybe even a scuffle, not this genial curiosity. Maybe the teasing would come later. I deflated against the back of the bench, sucking at my Coolatta.
"Excuse me," I looked around; one of the other mothers had sat down next to me on the bench.
"Yes?" I knew what was coming: the follow-up to Davey's little display.
"Um, this is really not any of my business, and, um, God, I appologize if it's offensive, but is your son a, um . . . clone?" She flinched, like I was going to hit her. Maybe I should.
"Yes." I took a deep breath, and continued on. "Davey is one of the Mendocino Children. Our first child, Michael, was killed in that bus accident." And there it was, out in the open. The thing we'd moved across the country to hide, exposed in the bright light of day. I could have lied, I suppose, but she had already figured it out, anyway.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she laid her hand on my arm, and it was my turn to flinch. She sat back, ofolding her hands in her lap. "It must have been terrible, losing a child like that, and then that company coming in, taking advantage of your grief--"
"Actually, we were very grateful to Seracorp. We would never have been able to have another child, and they gave us back our son. They treated us very well, they always had our welfare foremost in their plans." This must be the mother of the Poker. She was so goddamn pushy.
"Still and all, don't you ever wonder if they made more copies--"
"No!" this had reallly gone far enough. "First of all, Davey isn't a copy of Michael. He is genetically the same, that's all. Second, though Seracorp kept the data they recorded, the data from all the children in that accident, and all the experiments that resulted in children like Davey, they did not keep the template, or recipe, or whatever you want to call it, for Davey. It wasn't about making copies of dead children, it was to see if they could clone humans to a certain extent, of course, but they really just wanted to give us our children back."
I stood up. I had not expected the mercilessness to come from other adults. I gathered up my things, and collected Davey. We left the park at a forced march. I didn't look back, but Davey did.
"Mama, whydawe hafta leave? I was havin' fun!" Davey whined, "I wanna play with my friends."
"Sorry, Davey, but we have to go home noe. Mama has to do some chores before Daddy gets home."
"Oh, OK. Can I watch Sesame Street when we get home?"
"Sure you can. One hour of TV." Hooray for television.
"yeay! Can we come back tomorrow?" He looked at me hopefully.
"I don't think so, Little Man. We'll find a new park tomorrow." I would not face that woman again.
"Ooo, can we go to the one with the pool?"
"Yeah, sure we can." That's all it takes to turn a child's loyalty. I made a mental note to find the miniature wetsuit we had gotten him for Christmas. Swim trunks would have to be off the tale for a long time.