A Full Moon Ch. 08

"Yeah, I guess I did." Pat gave me a kiss on the cheek. He and Travis got up to give us some of our own father-son time. "Honestly, Pop, I know I saved him and not just from the system, but to me it doesn't feel like I did much."

"Do you remember when I brought you home?"

How could I forget? I had been ten years old and a huge burden. Getting into fights, the worst grades in school, spiraling down the path towards juvenile hall. The orphanage was at a loss, knowing I would never get adopted with my attitude. Yet one day I was called to the office for a meeting. Not unheard of and no one even made the scandalized sounds that they had in the past as I was always in the office.

Yet this time there was someone else there. A tall, brawny man with vibrant green eyes who I had never seen before. "Jonathan, have a seat."

"I didn't do it this time." I always owned up to my mistakes even then.

"This is not that kind of meeting. Have a seat." The man in charge of the orphanage gestured to the other chair.

"I'll stand thanks," I said with a bit of a sulky, acid tone. He had a very heavy hand, and I had been in his office the previous day.

"This is Alan Davenport." I shook his hand as I was taught. "He is looking to adopt an older child. Someone who is independent enough to be alone for a few hours while he performs in the Sydney Opera." I looked this Alan Davenport over again. Well, I had seen enough opera on TV and he looked like one of those stuck up people alright. "I have given him liberty to meet with a few children and for some reason he has chosen you."

I looked him dead in the eye. "You're wasting your time. I'm a hopeless delinquent that will amount to no good. Find a nicer kid."

His eyes widened just a bit. "Don't you want to be adopted?" he asked me in that clear Aussie accent.

"Nope. If I get adopted, I'll be shipped back here within a year 'cause I ain't no good." I had heard it often enough that I believed it now.

"Ain't is not in the dictionary."

"Ain't is a common word used in slang vernacular and is acceptable in everyday conversation while being incorrect to use in formal occasions." My attitude was making the head of the house turn a bit red from anger, but this opera singer just laughed.

"True enough. I sit corrected." I know my brow twitched in a bit of confusion. Had he actually just said that? "Would it kill you to go out for an hour and talk?"

"No, not unless you got a knife hidden on you and plan to stick me." Alan just laughed like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard, the head of the house was livid I was being so obviously disrespectful and I just looked at the guy like he was touched in the head. "What the hell, ya only live once and I would rather live in the dirt than here."

We went out to the park and just sat with a kids meal from a local fast food joint. It wasn't fancy fair at all, but it filled the hole. We didn't talk much, but I seemed to get what he was looking for. Someone who honestly didn't need to be coddled every second of the day as he wouldn't be there every second. "So, since you are still alive, what do you of me?"

"Oh, the loaded question with bullets for answers." He laughed again. "Do you honestly think I'm that funny?"

"No, but your mind works so much faster than the other children I have met. It comes out as snark for defensive reasons to hide the fact that you secretly wish someone would come and save you from the house and the place you got dumped and don't want to be dumped back into again." I blinked. "I'm not psychic, I read your file thoroughly. You slack off in school, you're disruptive and you get into fights. Anything to make it so you never have anyone close to you. So no one can leave you."

His gaze bored holes into my head and I just stared back. I didn't want to admit he was right. "Are you sure you're an opera singer and not a psychologist?" I muttered.

"I do have a BS in psychology. Jonathan, why do you not want to get adopted?"

I never answered. Instead we went back to the house and he left me there. Funny thing was, I missed him. Someone had seen right through it all, through all the bullshit, to what was lurking beneath, and he had done it in less than an hour. Next week, same day and time he was back. Again we went back out to the park and again he asked me why I didn't want to get adopted.

On our fifth outing we went to the park again, only this time there was a concert going. People were going up and singing songs like one big karaoke bar without the alcohol. We grabbed some corndogs and lemonade and sat on the grass to listen. It was actually pretty cool. He didn't ask my opinion, didn't ask if I was okay. He just included me in his life and let me enjoy some time away from the house.

The host grinned and pointed right at us. "Ladies and gentlemen, I see a very famous opera star in the audience. He's sung in the Sydney Opera House for the past five seasons as Don Giovanni, Rigoletto, and is right now doing Sarastro in the Magic Flute. Perhaps, Alan, you could give us a song?" All eyes turned to him and me and I wanted to shrink away. The crowd started to chant his name; I guess he really was an opera singer.

"Will you be okay, here?" he asked, the first sign of concern. I nodded. He got up and went up to the stage with the crowd cheering. He went to the piano and shooed the pianist away with a smile. "Now, this is a piano reduction of the orchestra, so you're going to miss some things, but with the piano miced it should be loud enough to be heard over me." The audience laughed. Without using a mic he began to play and sing and I stared. I had heard opera, but I had never HEARD opera. This...this was magnificent. He needed no amplification, he just sang.

And it kept me so entranced that I wasn't aware that some of the kids from school were there too. Ones who bullied me for being a smartmouthed orphan. The crowd was a bit thinner around me and they were able to surround me before I knew what was going on. Then came the name calling and one of them kicked me hard enough to get my attention. Then all was silent. "Excuse me, young men, but do your parents know how rude you are being to my guest? How rude you are being to the kind people who simply want to listen to good music?" Alan had stopped the song and stood up to his full height. "How rude you are being to me, making me stop my aria to ask you these questions?" His voice dropped to a tone that said he was very upset with them and I could see them trying to shrink away from the glares of the audience. "Would the parents of these young men please take them in tow?" Their parents did and I knew they would be getting at least some sort of punishment. "Jonathan, could you come up here please?"

I turned all shades of red, but I got to my feet. I went up on stage and looked at him like I was l going to get punished. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Jonathan, a young man I have recently met that I am hoping will one day soon agree to be my foster son." I looked up at him. His eyes were so kind, so full of understanding. The crowd seemed to find this such a great moment.

"Can I call you Pop?" I asked quietly. No one would be able to hear me. He laughed.

"He asked if he can call me Pop." It got a laugh. "Sure, you can call me Pop." I jumped into his arms.

"You done good, Pop." We finalized the adoption and from then on I was Jonathan Davenport.

I came back to the present with a smile. "I see. Do...did you feel it was a big deal?"

"Not at all. You never made it a hard decision. I did what I could to save a person from a bad life." He leaned over and gave me a hug. "I'm glad to see you learned how to do it too."

"You done good Pop."