George Pelecanos: The Cut

“Dimitrius is not a traditional African American name.”

“Okay, we’ll call him Le Dimitrius.”

“Stop it. I just think we ought to consider what it will mean for him to carry a name like that.”

“It’ll toughen him up. Y’know, the bullies used to call me Chevy Van.” Van balled his fists and held them up. “Until I introduced them to Thunder and Lightning.”

“You were never a fighter.”

“I know it. But that’s the story I’m gonna tell Dimitrius.”

Soon after this conversation, Dimitrius came to them. He was a quiet, pleasant baby, and his sister, Irene, took to him right away. She insisted on pushing his stroller and always sat beside him on the family room couch, where his parents frequently propped him up with pillows. He was her breathing doll. He was loved.

A couple of years passed. They were comfortable as a family and Van was still making significant money. They adopted Shilo, a large dog of indeterminate breed, from the Humane Society at Georgia Avenue and Geranium. The house seemed to grow smaller, louder, and hairier.

When Irene was about to enter kindergarten and Dimitrius was in his last year of preschool, Eleni Lucas got a call from Donna Monroe, now a partner in the O’Toole firm, telling her that another baby had become available. He was a black infant who had been due to be adopted by a white couple who changed their minds at the last minute.

Because they were happy, because they were now convinced that this adoption thing worked, Eleni and Van had already talked about bringing another child into the family. And there was another reason, unspoken to Eleni, which made Van ready to pull the next trigger: Dimitrius was not quite the boy he had imagined he would one day have. He was not particularly coordinated or athletic, and he shied away from any roughhousing or physical contact with his dad. Van loved him, but Van wanted a boy -boy for a son.

And so, a few hours after Donna Monroe’s phone call, Van and Eleni studied the photograph of the boy Van had decided would be called Leonidas.

“He’s beautiful,” said Eleni.

“Yeah, what’s wrong with him?” said Van. “What I mean is, why did the first couple reject him?”

“Too dark,” said Monroe, who now operated without O’Toole in the room and was free to say whatever she pleased. “They initially saw the photos of him when he came into the world, and he was lighter skinned then. They do get darker after the first few weeks. I’m guessing these folks wanted a more Caucasian-looking black baby.”

“Their loss,” said Eleni, something she would say to herself many times over the years as she looked at her boy with deep love and wonder.

“I’m just curious,” said Van. “I know there’s a school of thought with some social workers that says that black babies should go to black parents.”

“I’m a graduate of that school,” said Monroe. “All things equal, I’ll try to place a black baby with a black couple first, every time.”

“So why’d you call us?” said Van.

“You’ve been in here with your kids a few times,” said Monroe. “I see that it’s working, and you’re not trying too hard. You don’t do that over-earnest thing, trying to be all multicultural. I get those types, you know, ‘Look at me, I adopted a black kid.’ You all just act like a family. You’re not dressing your boy in kente cloth or anything ridiculous like that.”

“We don’t celebrate Kwanza, either,” said Van.

“Neither do I,” said Monroe. “That’s a holiday for Hallmark, not for me. Truth is, in this case, I feel like it would be a good fit. Your son Dimitrius should have a black sibling. It would be good for both of them to have a brother to lean on if they get to where they’re having identity issues. What would you name this baby, by the way?”

“Leonidas,” said Van. “It means ‘lion.’ ”

“Hmph,” said Monroe.

“My husband is trying to keep it Greek,” said Eleni.

“So are you ready?” said Monroe.

“Is this the part where Bill O’Toole bursts in with the contracts?”

“He saw y’all pull into the parking lot,” said Monroe with a small smile, “and he saw his next Mercedes.”

“Let’s do it,” said Eleni.

Leonidas Lucas, wrapped in a blue fleece blanket, wearing a tiny wife beater, was put in Van’s arms a few days later in the offices of O’Toole and Monroe. The boy was five weeks old, cooing, looking up into Van’s eyes, and Van’s thought at that moment was as it would always be when he saw Leonidas: This is my son.

“May I?” said Eleni, who had yet to hold the child.

“Looks like you’re gonna have to pry him out of your man’s arms,” said Monroe.

Van handed him to Eleni.

“He’s a keeper,” said Van, rocking back on his heels, his face flushed.

“Y’all better get home,” said Monroe. “The snow is coming down hard.”

They looked out the office window. Indeed, the flurries that had been swirling all morning had turned to heavy flakes.

“He’s going to be cold,” said Eleni.

“I bought a little something for him,” said Monroe, producing a Hecht’s bag holding a new outfit. “Congratulations, you two.”

Van bear-hugged Monroe before leaving with his wife and son.

They drove through the snow in Van’s Silverado, Leonidas secured in a car seat between them, the truck weighted down by sandbags in the bed. Van and Eleni giggled all the way home. Irene and Dimitrius, being watched by a neighbor, were waiting for them at the door.

“Say hello to Leonidas,” said Van, snow in his hair and beard, carrying the infant football-style into the house. “Your new brother.”

Leonidas was an early walker and it seemed that he would be athletic. He laughed huskily and charmed everyone he met, and he did not cry when the doctors stuck him with needles. Van would never admit it, but Leonidas was his favorite. Van nicknamed him Cool Breeze because it felt that way to him whenever Leonidas toddled into a room.

Dimitrius did not seem to notice or mind that his father was overly focused on Leonidas. Irene and Dimitrius by now had become a unit. They played in their bedrooms, separately or together, and did not spend a great amount of time paying attention to their parents or their new baby brother. As for Leonidas, his eyes followed Van and Eleni as they moved about the room. When he could not see them, he smiled at the sound of their voices. Even Shilo was smitten, and he growled when anyone outside the immediate family approached Leonidas.

Despite the pressure of the new addition, Van and Eleni were getting along fine. They made love a couple of times a week, ate in restaurants without debating if they should, and went out on the occasional movie date. Because they wanted little in the way of material possessions, they felt they lacked nothing. In fact, Van was still doing quite well despite his seeming lack of interest in making money. They had the family they wanted. They hadn’t planned any of this and they felt lucky.

Then, when Leonidas was a year old, they got a call from Donna Monroe. Another baby was available. That night, Van and Eleni discussed it over a bottle of red. They didn’t need another child. Was this a bridge too far? Why tempt the gods?

“Why’d she call us?” said Van.

“I think she likes you.”

“Or her partner got a look at my financials.” Van shook his head. “This house is already too small.”

“We can move.”

“I like it here.”

“You’re a builder. We’ll make the house bigger.”

“I dunno,” said Van.

“There’s a reason Donna called us. Someone whispered in her ear and told her to.” She reached for his hand. “Aren’t you curious?”