The layover by Katie C

When she and Stan returned from Bradley back home to Hatfield, Becca’s parents told her that her sister Sylvia had called the night before, and insisted that she come out to L.A. to spend some time with her when she got back from Poland.

“And she specifically said, ‘tell her that I still think that going to some concentration camp is no way to spend a vacation, so I want her to enjoy a real vacation with me and Shana out here.’ I tried telling her that you were very persistent about this whole trip, but she just asked that you call her back when you got in,” her mother finished, looking somewhat tired from having to deal with Syl’s rants and demands. Becca sighed, and then muttered, “Well, I guess I had better call her back then, or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

The next morning, Becca woke up, made herself a pot of coffee, and began searching online for the next flight out of Bradley to LAX, because both Shana and Sylvia insisted that she come out as soon as possible to “unwind and relax for a change.” The next flight that Becca considered reasonably priced was leaving the next night at 6pm, so she booked it quickly, and then logged onto the Internet to search for any files on Aron Mandlestein, her newly-discovered grandfather. Then, after two hours of finding nothing, she shut down the computer and went upstairs to repack her duffel bag.

Soon she was on a plane again, bound first for Chicago before she would have to switch planes to one going to Los Angeles, and again, this plane was moving at about forty-five minutes behind schedule, which the pilot said was due to an approaching storm. She wasn’t overly excited about this sudden trip, having just been away for three weeks and having to absorb so much information in so little time. But she was also aware that the last time her sisters had truly gone out of their way to make her feel better was well, never, and she was curious to know how this would pan out for the three of them.

After finally landing at O’Hare with only about a half an hour to find the next gate, Becca hustled to buy a stale bagel and some coffee and scarf them down, only to find that once she arrived at the right gate, her flight had been delayed for another two hours at least….. No, make that three hours.

“Oh, just perfect!” she whined sarcastically, before collapsing in a nearby chair and dropping her carry-on bag next to her on the floor. “I guess I’d better call Syl and tell her that I’ll be running late,” she sighed while rummaging for her cell phone. She had just located it and was scrolling through to find the number when a man and a boy who appeared to be his son walked up to her.

“Excuse me, miss,” he stated politely, “would you be so kind as to keep an eye on this young man while I go reschedule our plane tickets?” The man seemed nice enough, and the boy looked easy to manage, so Becca replied, “Um, sure?” It came out as more of a question than a response, but then she thought, “It’s not like I have anything better to do. Syl can wait a few more minutes,” and then said, “Yeah, I can do that, I guess.”

“Great, thank you so much,” the man thanked her, and then said to the boy, “Now I want you to keep in mind what we talked about. I just want to see how you do,” and walked off to find the nearest ticket counter. Becca thought that this last exchange between these two was slightly odd, but decided not to think about it too much, as the boy was already sitting down next to her. A minute or two passed before either spoke, before Becca broke the silence with her first question.

“So, um, where are you guys headed?” she asked, but got nothing in response. She wondered if he hadn’t heard her, but then he slowly lifted his head and said, “Well, I guess originally I was going to New Jersey to stay with some…. relatives there, but then Officer Smith got a call from somebody telling him to take me to Boston, but our connection flight from here got cancelled, so here I am. I’m David, by the way.” At that moment, his head turned slightly more towards her, and Becca noticed a blossoming bruise growing near his jaw line. She immediately exclaimed, “Oh, is your bruise-” before he turned his head sharply away and muttered quickly, “That’s just nothing. I’ve had it for a while now. Nothing important,” and he was silent once again, as was Becca for another minute or so.

“I’m Becca, by the way,” she said slowly, but David had gone back to just staying silent. After a few more minutes, the man who was apparently Officer Smith returned, thanked Becca again, and sent David to find a bathroom. It took her a lot of courage to do so, but after a couple of seconds managed to stammer, “Sir… Officer? The, um, bruise? On his face?”

“Yes, I see you noticed,” he said coolly. Then he beckoned for her to lean closer, than whispered, “Did he happen to mention his… current situation?”

Becca, perplexed at how quickly that everything was happening, whispered back, “Um, no. At least I think no.”

The officer breathed out and nodded. “Good,” he said, “But now I suppose I must tell you since you must be bewildered at this whole thing. David is unfortunate in that he is the victim of severe child abuse. I’ve been assigned to escort him to foster parents else where than his home so that his mother doesn’t try to find him. I think that that’s all that is really safe to say. I asked David not to tell you himself and ignore any comments you made that might have been related to it. This was just a test for David, and by the look of how surprised you are I would say that he passed.” The officer thanked her again, the picked up their carry-ons and went off to find David, leaving an absolutely astounded Becca sitting at Gate 17 still trying to take in all that she had just learned.