We stayed in the terminal until we were collected by the man who we’d refer to as ‘Father’. I remember when my name was called.
“Bergman.”
I felt instantly nauseous.
One of the attendants, a stout man whose belly hung over the top of his sarong, pointed at me, and beckoned me over.
I stood up and said good bye to the two remaining boys.
“I hope we see each other again,” I said, but I wasn’t certain we would.
“Hurry up, boy,” barked the stout attendant.
I had no other possessions aside from a necklace of shells my mother had given me. I still have it somewhere. I touched it, my hand lingering there as I started to walk towards the attendant.
“That’s the boy.”
I couldn’t look at the attendant or the man standing beside him.
“This is Spencer, your new father.”
A large hand came into my field of vision. I put my hand out and the man, my father, shook it
“Pleased to meet you,” he said.
I could hear the smile in his voice.