Roasting Marshmallows - Part Two

Timmy's journey continues. If you missed the beginning, here is Part One for you.

Roasting Marshmallows - Part One

Part Two

          Timmy huddled down behind the table inside Ghotti’s. He finally was inside the pizzeria instead of looking longingly from the outside. However, he was too scared to enjoy the smells and the slice of fresh pepperoni pizza sitting in front of him. The guy in the apron, or Anthony as he had introduced himself, surprised him by not running off Timmy after finding him scavenging food from the dumpster. Instead, he brought him to his wife Sylvia who took a long look at Timmy’s clothes, oily hair, and dirt caked nails before ushering him into the restroom where she scrubbed a couple of layers of grime from his hands. Once she was satisfied that he would not be carrying too many germs, she sat him down at the table with a glass of soda and the pizza.

          They attempted to ask Timmy questions about his family and where he lived, but his mom had taught him to never tell anyone about their life. She said they would use it against them and take Timmy away from her. He didn’t want that, so he sat quietly refusing to talk or eat no matter how much his stomach growled. Sylvia and Anthony whispered behind the counter while casting questioning glances in his direction. Timmy considered making a run for it, but they had placed him at the table farthest from the door and closest to the counter. Anthony would reach him before he got halfway across the room. Plus, he was tired from camping out all day at the underpass waiting for his mom to return, and the pizzeria was warm. Once he stepped out that door, he would have a cold night ahead warmed only by the cardboard he hoped was still around the pillar he and his mom slept under last night. He drew his knees to his chin and thought, I’ll rest here for a little while. Then, when they aren’t looking, I’ll sneak out.

          At some point, he must have drifted off to sleep because he woke to a hand gently shaking his shoulder and a soft voice saying, “It’s time to wake up little guy.”

          Timmy, in his groggy state, said, “Mom, nooo, just a little longer.”

          The gentle shaking continued as he slowly came to his senses and remembered where he was. He jerked away from Sylvia, who he had mistaken for his mom, and jumped to his feet. “How long have I been here?” His frantic eyes scanned the room searching for a way to escape. Seeing only darkness beyond the windows, he said, “I’ve got to get back so my mom knows where I am.”

          He made a move to step around Sylvia, but Anthony blocked his path. “Whoa, kiddo. Sit back down. It’s too late for a little guy like you to be out on your own.”

          “I’m not little!” Timmy yelled as he scampered around Anthony, avoiding his outreached arms. Running to the glass door, he stopped suddenly when a police officer walked in with his partner close behind. Timmy took cautious steps backward while keeping his eyes on the officers. This is bad, he thought to himself. Remembering the back door Anthony brought him through from the alley, he twisted around to run that direction, but Anthony stood in his path with his legs braced apart and arms down by his sides ready to spring into action if Timmy attempted to run past him again.

          Defeated, Timmy slumped his shoulders and dropped his head as tears puddled in his eyes. “I’ve gotta find my mom.”

          “Oh, honey,” Sylvia knelt in front of him, “we just want to help you find your mom too. Will you let us do that?”

          Timmy raised his head to look at Sylvia’s warm eyes and comforting smile. Something about her eased the growing fear in his gut. Without knowing why, he nodded his head and let her lead him back to the table where his uneaten pizza sat.

          For the next hour, Sylvia prodded him to eat and share some details about himself, but Timmy was smart. He skirted around questions of where they lived, claiming he couldn’t remember his exact address and describing a generic white house with a fence. When they pushed for why he was alone and eating from the dumpster, he insisted he and his mom got separated while out shopping and he was hungry, so he didn’t see anything wrong with eating perfectly good pizza that no one else wanted. In his young mind, his explanations made perfect sense; however, his young mind missed the concerned, skeptical looks exchanged among the four adults.

          One of the police officers asked, “Timmy, can you tell us your mom’s name and describe what she looks like?”

          Timmy couldn’t think of a reason to not share this information, so between bites of pizza, he replied, “Julie Stephens and she looks like my mom.”

          That earned him a few chuckles, but he didn’t know what they were laughing at.

          Sylvia patted his shoulder and said, “I think the police officers need a little more detail. Like,” she stood to her full height in front of him, “is she taller or shorter than me?”

          He cocked his head to the side before getting up to stand next to her. He put his hand on the top of his head against her arm where it landed at her elbow. “I only come up to my mom’s hand when I stand next to her.”

          “That’s good, Timmy. So, she is probably a few inches taller than me, and I’m 5’3”.” Sylvia directed her comment to the officers who scribbled notes in their black pads. Timmy shrugged his shoulder before sitting back down to take another bite of the now cold pizza.  

          “Okay, what about her hair and eye color?”

          “She always says that I’ve got her eyes, but her hair is darker than mine.”

          “Good, good,” one of the officers said. “The last thing, Timmy. Would your mom be skinnier or bigger than Ms. Sylvia?”

          “Oh waaay skinnier!” The room went silent, and Timmy looked around at the faces, realizing how that sounded. “Not that you’re fat Ms. Sylvia. You’re just rounder than my mom.”

          A smirk appeared on Sylvia’s face, and she gave him a quick wink. “I do like my pizza, so I’m not surprised your mom is skinnier.”

          Anthony rubbed his own belly while saying, “I’m guilty of liking your pizza a little too much too.”

          “Well, it’s good pizza,” Timmy said as he shoved the last bite of his pizza into his mouth, earning him another round of laughs.

          The police officers stepped outside leaving Timmy with Anthony and Sylvia. Now that his stomach was fuller than it had ever been, he was ready to go back to the underpass to wait for his mom. “Can I leave now? I’m sure my mom is waiting for me.”

          Anthony and Sylvia shared a look. “Waiting for you where?” Anthony asked.

          Without thinking, Timmy responded, “At the underpass.”

          “Underpass?”

          Timmy’s eyes expanded, and his face paled. “I mean our house. She’s waiting for me at our house.”

          “Tim –,” Sylvia started to say but was interrupted by the officers returning.

          The officers gestured for the couple to join them by the door. Timmy strained to hear what they were saying, but he couldn’t make out any words. He was worried that he might have gotten his mom in trouble by mentioning the underpass. He hoped they didn’t mention it to the police. Nervous energy rippled through his little body. To hide the shakes, he pushed his hands under each thigh and began swinging his legs back and forth. After what felt like an eternity of whispered animated conversation, the four adults broke apart with Sylvia taking the lead on sharing what they discussed. She pulled out the chair across from Timmy and let out the breath she had been holding as she sat down.

          “Timmy, we all want to help find your mom, but it’s really too late to do much looking tonight since you’re not able to tell us your address or how to get to your home. So,” she turned to look at the officers who remained stationed at the door and at Anthony who resumed his position blocking Timmy from the backdoor, “the officers have agreed to let you stay with me and Anthony tonight.”

          Tears welled up in Timmy’s eyes. “But, I’ve got to find my mom.”

          “Oh, honey, we know. We’ll help you find your mom. I promise. Just not tonight since it’s so late. Is that okay?”

          The three men stood on alert waiting for Timmy to make a run for it, and he considered it. However, exhaustion overcame his body and mind. He was worried about his mom but felt lost remembering the old woman’s words, “Your momma ain’t coming back.” Not wanting them to see the tears he could no longer hold back, Timmy tucked his trembling chin to his chest and mumbled, “Yes.”