My Borrowed Son

Decisions

Amanda hated this. She hated this whole this. Curses, she really hated this.

Amanda had managed to shove her current troubles aside just long enough to focus on the thumb sized boy hiding under the park bench. After everything that happened, Amanda determined a few things.

One, the boy was real. No hallucinations could move real blades of grass and whimper and cry like a real human child.

Two, the child was alone at the moment. He kept looking around expectantly but refused to leave the pole more than a few inches before scurrying back to its perceived safety.

Three, he needed to be taken care of. He had obviously been there for a few days, but Amanda couldn't be sure.

Finally, she needed to leave him alone. If he was more animalistic, Amanda didn't want her scent or whatever to taint him. She thought some kind of parent might be back to collect him any minute. She knew some animals would leave their young for days on end while they hunted or lured off a predator, but she didn't want to even consider the later. She also knew the law and abducting children was not something she wanted on her record - no matter how small or how in need the child was.

At the same time, she couldn't just leave him.

So, she compromised with herself.

She sat at a neighboring park bench, the whole time keeping eyes on the chipped base of the bench and the little tuft of sandy brown hair she could see. For hours, she sat and kept an eye on the small boy while also researching "tiny humans" on her phone.

Sadly, she only found communities of authors and artists fascinated with small people with tails called "Littles," which was part of a larger series written by John Peterson. There were other references to small, human-like beings who possessed sentience, but who knew what the little boy actually was.

In all honesty, Amanda was focused so intently on the boy not only because of the whole situation, but because the distraction was a welcome one. It was far from relief, but it was a good way for her to keep her mind preoccupied at the very least. The tension of what to do next with her life and what to do with the boy loomed over her like the impending night.

What made the evening even more tense was that the neighborhood kids came and began to play on the playground, kicking their soccer ball dangerously close to the thumb-sized boy's hiding place. It was on the second time that Amanda moved back and sat on the bench just over the boy's hiding spot that her anxiety began to calm.

By the time it was sunset, the children had gone home with their parents and friends, leaving Amanda alone with the little boy. Amanda checked again and again and, sure enough, there was the little boy slumped over, barely awake.

He had to be so tired.

He looked so small and helpless right there, barely sitting upright against the cold metal pole. She looked into his dreary eyes and could see the spark of life draining away with each passing second.

Amanda had been won over by her irrational, caring side. Whether the child was abandoned or not, he needed help. Amanda would return the next day with the boy if need be, but he needed help now.

Nerves made her hand shake more than she thought as she knelt down and caught the eye of the small boy again. Dark circles were under his eyes, and he barely moved when she pulled the grass blades to the side. He was obviously exhausted to the point where he couldn't even run away anymore.

Amanda didn't want to just grab him. He was probably very fragile.

At the same time, she didn't want him to run away either. A rough plan was in the forefront of her mind, and she was risking everything on it working.

Based on all the fictional pieces she read about "The Littles," all a "human bean" had to do was reassure the small person (because they really were just little people with mouse tails) and then the small person would trust the human.

It seemed ridiculous, but it was the best laid plan that Amanda could come up with in her emotionally exhausted state.

So, straining a forced smile, Amanda laid her hand onto the grass in front of the boy a few inches away. He whimpered and curled in on himself, hiding his fear filled eyes from Amanda. The way he shied away made Amanda think that the boy was bracing himself to be grabbed or pinched. The sight made her heart ache.

So, she withdrew her hand ever so slightly and smiled again, making sure to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Hey, sweetheart. You're okay. You're safe now, okay? I'm not going to hurt you," said Amanda gently. Was she losing her mind? Was this some sort of acceptance her mind needed to go through to begin recovering from her divorce? The boy's eyes blinked away tears as he looked back up at Amanda.

"Come on sweetheart. I won't hurt you. Let's go home," she said. The child looked around but didn't seem to find what he was looking for and, to Amanda's shock, yielded to her request.

He stood shakily, picked up something, and toddled forward until he stood at the tips of Amanda's fingers. She held her breath as she marveled at the child as he glanced from Amanda's hand to her eyes. Amanda felt her features soften involuntarily as she gazed at the boy.

"I'll protect you. You don't have to be scared of me," she said tenderly. "Come on. Just step on up, okay?"

The sandy haired boy seemed to glance around once more, looking warily back toward the bench. Was he looking at something? What was keeping him there?

"It's okay sweetheart," Amanda coaxed again.

Then, turning away from the bench and his little hiding place by the bench, he lifted his foot and crawled up onto her hand.

A shiver ran through her body as she felt his weight in her hand. Amanda thought he might vanish or that she might wake up at any moment, the whole thing being a dream. Instead, this impossibly small life crawled into a ball in the center of her hand, shivering and casting uncertain glances at her every few seconds.

She couldn't believe it. His weight was like a stack of just a few quarters in her palm. He wiped his eyes with the back of his dirt smudged hand. He looked up and met Amanda's gaze once again, making her heart skip the next few beats. All at once, the fear and anxiety of being around this little boy in her hands melted away and was replaced by a protective surge she wasn't expecting.

"Hey there," she said softly, curling her fingers so he wouldn't accidentally fall. "You're safe now. I've got you."

The boy locked eyes with her and blinked. Was it just her imagination? Or was there some recognition in his eyes at her words? Then, amazingly, he offered the first little smile she had seen since discovering him. That look on his face alone created a wordless connection between them. Amanda could see the boy's insightfulness, even at his young age, and it only strengthened her resolve to protect him.

Without severing their eye-contact, she stood and began the trek back home.

Amanda never had such a nervewracking walk back to her apartment. Keeping the boy steady in her hands stepafter step was a terrifying venture all on its own. Still, the most terrifyingevents were yet to come.