Kit de Waal - My Name Is Leon

“Yes.”

“Which is what?”

“If I behave you’ll take me to see Maureen again in your car.”

“And?”

“And I have to stop stealing.”

“And?”

“And Jake is with his new mom and dad.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t part of the promise, Leon, that was—”

“And I can’t see my mom every time I ask.”

The Zebra closes her eyes and scratches her forehead.

“I know it’s hard, Leon.”

Then she turns to the window and says, “Fucking hard.”

She coughs.

“So, your mom’s inside, in the Family Center, over there. She’s still not well but she says she can manage a visit. She’s had a long journey as well, so she might be tired.”

“Did she come with the man?”

“No, we had to go and fetch her. Two hours to get there and two hours back. Lovely journey it was for me on the highway at eight o’clock in the morning. Come on and bring your bag.”

The Family Center smells of strong coffee and cleaning solution, like a hospital without the doctors. Social workers sit at their desks and there are people everywhere sitting on chairs, waiting for something. A woman with a broken arm is shouting and a social worker is writing everything down in a file because social workers need to know the date people shout and the date people visit and the date they take children away. Leon knows what’s written on the paper: June 8. She’s shouting. She has a broken arm. Her two children are screaming and running along the corridors.

Leon can’t see his mom anywhere but he follows the Zebra, who seems to know every single person in the whole place.

“All right, Pat. All right, Leslie. Glynis! Glynis! Hello! Haven’t seen you for ages. I’ll be back in a minute, just got to get this access visit started. All right, Bob. You supervising this access? No? Who is then?”

The Zebra is talking to a man in a checked shirt. He’s on the phone but talking to her at the same time.

“Bob? I said who’s doing this access visit?”

“Bernie’s just finishing. She can take over.”

The Zebra stares at him.

“I don’t think so, Bob.”

She tells Leon to sit down while she goes into the office but he can still hear.

“How is she? Where is she, Bob?”

The Zebra sounds annoyed and Leon realizes that she’s in charge of Bob and Bob doesn’t like her.

“Family Room. She hasn’t bolted. She’s had a sandwich and a coffee. She’s smoking like a chimney.”

“Well, she hasn’t disappeared, so we’re making progress.”

“She went for a walk down the corridor a few minutes back, muttering to herself. I think she was looking for the toilet or the way out or something but then she just went back to the room. She’s been asking for you anyway.”

“Me?”

“Well, like when are you coming and what’s the delay.”

“No good deed…” says the Zebra.

She sees Leon at the door.

“Come on, love.”

They walk further along the corridor to a small room with two sofas and a coffee table with toys on it. The toys are for babies but Carol is playing with them. She’s holding a little doll and turning it around and around, up close to her face like she’s trying to read something. She doesn’t even notice when Leon comes in and the Zebra has to tell her.

“Carol? Carol? We’re here. Leon’s here.”

She turns slowly and smiles but she’s not really looking at him. She has her hair parted on the wrong side and she’s skinny, even skinnier than before, and her jeans are too baggy. But most of all, she looks like she’s been crying for days and days, like her eyes are made of liquid, like she’s been asleep and had a nightmare, like she’s never been happy in her whole life.

She puts her arms out to him, just like she used to, and hugs him tight. Leon feels a fresh worry for his mom because no one is looking after her. She holds him by both shoulders.

“Can’t believe how grown up you are. Can’t believe it’s you.”

Leon sits down and takes off his pack.

“How are you, Leon?” she says, lighting a cigarette.

There’s so much smoke in the room that the Zebra opens the windows and begins wafting the clean air inside.

“Carol, could I ask you to stand by the window if you want to smoke? It’s not good for children. Other people will need to come into this room after you. Women with babies. Families. Thanks.”

Carol doesn’t move. Leon opens his bag and looks inside at all the things he’s collected. Sylvia said he also had to bring some papers.

“This is my school report,” he says.

Carol puts it on her lap.

“Are you smart?”

Leon looks at the Zebra standing by the window with her arms folded.

“Yep,” she says. “He is.”

“You being good?”

Leon nods. “And I got a B in Math.”

Carol begins reading the report on her lap. Turning the pages slowly and looking up from time to time and smiling at him. Then she looks at the Zebra.

“Is this a supervised visit?”

The Zebra walks to the door.

“Would you like a drink and snack, Leon? All right for a drink, Carol, or would you like another coffee?”

Carol doesn’t answer. She’s taking ages reading the report and Leon is getting angry. Even he reads quicker than Carol and he’s only nearly ten.

“I’ll bring you a coffee, shall I?” shouts the Zebra as she lets the door slam. Carol looks up.

“She’s not nice, is she?”

Leon shakes his head.

“And she looks like a fucking badger.”

Leon grins and Carol sniggers and they begin to laugh and once they start, they can’t stop. Leon feels the laughter come rushing out like a river, hurting his belly and his throat, pouring out of his mouth. And Carol’s the same. She’s rocking to and fro on her seat and holding her chest. Tears are in her eyes but they’re good tears. Leon doesn’t have to worry. She’s pointing to her hair and trying to talk but it’s no good, she’s laughing too much. Then she starts making little animal movements with her hands and Leon has to hold his neck because it’s aching and his jaw hurts and the pain makes a clean white space in his mind. He wants to laugh forever.

Then Carol gets down on her hands and knees and starts snuffling around Leon’s legs like a dog and it’s still funny. Then she starts yapping like a dog and pawing at Leon’s trousers. She isn’t laughing anymore and neither is Leon. She’s trying to tickle him, scrabbling her fingers on his chest, but she’s doing it too soft. He can hardly feel it through his T-shirt and he can smell her tobacco breath, strong and sour. She has her head to one side and her eyes wide open.

“Remember, Leon? Remember?”

“Yes.”

“Remember?”

“Yes, Mom.”

He holds her hand still and she rests her head on his knees.

When the Zebra comes back with the coffee, Carol gets up and sits back on her chair.

“Everything all right in here?” asks the Zebra. She raises an eyebrow at Leon like they have a secret. Carol lights a cigarette and walks to the window. She blows the smoke out at the trees. There is fresh daylight outside but Family Centers always have bluish lights that make everything look worse, the toys, the files, the people. When the Zebra leaves, Leon goes and stands next to Carol.

She holds his hand and squeezes it.

“Are you coming back? Are you coming back for my birthday?”

Carol closes her eyes and takes a very long, shaky breath. Leon thinks she’s going to cry.

“Do you see Jake, Leon?”

“No, they won’t let me.”

“Nor me,” she says. “Nor me. Do you remember him, Leon? Remember when he used to get his temper up?”

Leon says nothing.

“He had so much life in him, that kid. Like his dad.”