The day that his mother gave him away.
Dropped him off at Hillside Orphanage like he was a discarded toothbrush, worn-out, useless, and dirty.
He often thought about what he’d do differently that day, that maybe if he never insisted on buying his toy lion, Lionel, that his mother would have never given him away, or maybe if he had tried harder, he could have escaped. Maybe he could have cried louder, so that his mother would see the pain he was in, how lost he’d be without her.
He prayed for snow so he could relive that day and try again.
But when he woke up before he was supposed to and quietly crept across the worn floorboards, careful not to wake the other boys, he found nothing but a dull, gray landscape outside the window.
Another day of darkness and gloom.
Another day of having no one to love him.
“Lachlan,” his friend Davie whispered. “Get back into bed before Old Chestnut catches you.”
Old Chestnut was the nickname for Mr. Douglas Chester, the ward of the boy’s dorm. He wasn’t an awful man, certainly nothing like the head of the orphanage, Mr. Ratchet, but he was cold and unfeeling toward the boys, and was especially crabby in the morning. If he caught Lachlan out of bed before he’s supposed to rise, he might send him down to Mr. Ratchet. You never knew what would set him off.
Lachlan nodded at Davie and headed back to his bed, just as the door opened, light streaming inside.
“Lachlan Lockhart!” Old Chestnut sneered at him, flicking on the lights. “What are you doing out of bed? Trying to escape?”
Lachlan froze in place and looked at his feet, while the rest of the room stirred. Lachlan never meant to be a troublemaker. He was quiet and kept to himself, and yet trouble kept finding him anyway. There was something about him that was so desperate for love, that it often clawed its way out of him, out of his control.
“Look at me, boy,” Old Chestnut said and Lachlan raised his head, squinting at the lights. “You’re supposed to be sleeping until I wake you up. Now if I catch you out of bed again, you’re going to be sent to Mr. Ratchet.”
“Yes, sir,” Lachlan says, his eyes going back to the floor.
“Oooooh,” all the boys said in unison, the code for someone is in trouble.
But Old Chestnut wasn’t having any of it this morning. “Shut up, the lot of you, or you’ll be sent to Mr. Ratchet too.”
That shut them all up in a hurry.
Lachlan went back over to the cubby in the wall beside his bed and started getting ready for the day, starting with the itchy starched uniform they all had to wear. Mr. Ratchet believed that the boys had to look their best at all times, because you never knew when a couple would show up, looking to adopt one of them.
As such, Lachlan always took extra time with his hair, combing it over, trying to get it just right. Today of all days.
Not only because it was his birthday, which wasn’t even acknowledged at Hillside, but because it was Valentine’s Day.
On this day, a lot of prospective couples stopped by the orphanage looking for a child to adopt. Something about all the love in the air (but of course Lachlan never even knew what love was). They didn’t leave with the kids that day, no it was a long and often-drawn out process, but today at least gave the boys hope.
It gave Lachlan hope, even though he hadn’t been picked yet.
He just knew that someday he would find someone to love him.
He would find his family.
He took one last look at himself in the mirror, wincing at his ears which stuck out, then he picked up Lionel from the bed and kissed the lion on the nose when he was sure none of the boys were looking. He then tucked the lion in and followed everyone else into the hall.
So far the day had gone like it had every other day before.
They had their boring breakfast of oatmeal and orange juice.
They were taught in the classroom by Miss Black.
They had fish sticks for lunch, and the middles were still frozen.
They had more school.
And all throughout the day couples would appear, peeking in through the classroom door.
Lachlan was fascinated by them. They were always wearing their nicest clothes, the men in suit jackets, the women in dresses or nice slacks. Their hair and makeup were always done and even though Lachlan could never get close to them, you could always smell their perfume. On Valentine’s Day the hallways of Hillside filled with the scent of roses and lilacs and fresh linen.
He yearned to be with those people. Sometimes he thought about just running out the door to them and asking. What was wrong with asking? They were there looking for a child, we’re they? Maybe they’d want to take the one who wanted to escape the most?
But he never moved because he knew he’d get in trouble and that there would be some sort of blacklist on him and they’d make sure he was never adopted.
So he just sat straighter in his chair, made sure to look like he was paying extra attention to the teacher, and if he knew he’d get an answer right, he was raising his hand. At least he could try and look smart.
But as the day wore on, getting closer to dinner time, he knew the chances of getting any interest today were waning. The hole in his heart was growing larger and larger, filling with despair that he’d have to carry for another year.
No mother, no potential parents. No birthday wishes, no valentine.
Nothing.
It was enough to make him cry, except when he was back by his bed, he just clutched little Lionel so tight that he managed to keep the tears at bay. He’d cried a few times before and the boys
