Sara B. 08/06
his hands. His fingers were long and sinewy but there was a delicate look to
them; Mom called them piano player hands. The idea made him smile. He may have the hands but four years of lessons proved he didn’t have the talent. Still he wondered, whose hands did he have?
His eyes looked
into the mirror and he appraised his features. Deep red hair, nearly brown but
not quite, it earned him the nickname Red. Largish nose, but it was straight
and he’d heard it described as Romanesque. Deep blue eyes that never failed
to impress the girls; those eyes had gotten him out of all kinds of mischief. His
chin seemed too rounded and not strong enough but it worked with his other parts. The
lips were the envy of all his male friends, since one of those stupid quizzes the girls are always sending around ‘accidentally’
came into their possession. The girls all gave him their votes for most kissable
The boy moved
back so he could see most of his body. He was long and lean, athletic but not
bulky. And he wasn’t too embarrassed to note, at least in the privacy of
his room, he had a better than average package; way better. But maybe that was
his ego talking – oh no – it was damned good. He couldn’t help
the smug smile from breaking out.
he gotten his looks and his body? Did his genius intelligence come from his Mom
or Dad? Whose genes made him the fastest distance runner on his Junior High track
team and one of the best young basketball players his coach had ever seen? Why
did he devour science books and journals like other kids read graphic novels?
He first learned
that he was adopted just before his fifth birthday when he overheard his parents planning his party with his grandparents. Papa Jack was, what his Dad called, crotchety.
He didn’t know what that meant but the old man could be mean and he never really seemed to like Will much. That day, Papa Jack said something about them not knowing anything about ‘the
kid’. Somehow he knew HE was the kid.
At first he didn’t understand why his family wouldn’t know anything about him because, well, they were
his family. Then he heard his Mom mention adoption and all they needed to know
was in the adoption papers and that they loved Will.
At that time
he didn’t know what adoption meant but he looked it up in the dictionary. Yes,
at that young age he had already learned to read which he later learned actually scared his parents.
never really bothered him all that much. His parents never mentioned it beyond
answering him the one time he asked about it.
once why he'd been given up. All they said was that his birth mother had been left alone to raise him and, as much as she
tried, she'd felt she couldn't provide what he needed. So she gave him up, in hopes that another family, this family, would
give him that better life. They claimed they didn’t know anything about
his biological Dad.
Every so often
he wondered who his birth parents were. The thoughts were usually brought on
by vague dreams of a tall dark haired man and a small redheaded woman. He could
never make out the details of their features. In his dreams they were always
together and seemed to live in a world of their own making. The dream couple
were always embroiled in the most improbable escapades that he didn’t even try to tell anyone about because he was afraid
they’d put him away. A man squeezing through a vent, another changing from
a man to a giant bug and some creature that lived with his head buried into another man’s side but could disengage himself
and roam free at times.
not the kinds of dreams you talked about.
that these figures were just phantoms of his mind but when he woke from the dreams the images seemed real. The night before, his dream couple was talking and they called each other by name, Mulder and Scully.
of the boy in the mirror began to separate and morphed into a tall dark haired man and a small redheaded woman. Unlike the figures of his dreams, their features became clear. In
his mind he heard a smooth alto say, “We love you, William;” followed by a deeper voice, “we’ll see
A knock on
his door startled him out of his reverie, it was his Dad. “Get a move-on,
Champ, bus won’t wait you know.”
Dad.” Will looked back to the mirror but the image was gone. He smiled at his image. He no longer wondered who he looked
like; he knew.