Two months and two days later, June 20th, 2001…
“Good morning, may I speak to Mister Daniel Logan please?”
Daniel placed the handle of the pitchfork into his other hand, so he could hold the cell phone in his right hand.
“This is Daniel,” he announced into the talk piece of the NEXTEL phone.
“I am speaking to Mister Daniel Tristan M. Logan, am I correct?” the person asked.
Daniel rolled his eyes in annoyance. He began to pace around the pile of dead leaves that he recently gathered. “Yes, you are correct. You are speaking to the Daniel Tristan Micah Logan. How can I help you?”
He listened to the woman chuckle from the other line. He knew that she heard the smart-alecky attitude from him.
“I apologize for being a nuisance, Mr. Logan. I need to make sure that I am speaking to the right person. The information that I have is confidential and important. Once again, I wish a ‘good morning’ to you. My name is Roberta Thoms. I am a social worker for the Better Tomorrow Family Placement Center. It is an adoption agency. I am calling in regards to your son, Sean Alexander. We—
“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”
Daniel was jolted from his sleep by the abrupt sound of a cry. He was awoken from his dream, or rather, from his brain’s involuntary task of recollecting. The noise was loud and sharp. It sliced through the tranquil setting of his bedroom. It caused his heart to beat harsh and rapid. Adrenaline raced through his veins as the sense of fright settled down.
He opened his eyes and found himself being greeted by the ceiling. He saw the ceiling tiles, which meant that the night was about to turn into the day. He calculated that the time had to be around 5 AM. He figured that he had to be asleep for a few hours since the last feeding.
‘Oh goodness,’ his fatigue mind groaned. ‘I need some fucking sleep.’
“Oh, I need some extra time to sleep,” he groaned.
With his large right hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Daniel rolled onto his left side. His large body was a few millimeters away from the edge of the king-sized mattress. His round, dark brown eyes stared at the source that caused his disrupted sleep.
“Sean, dude, why are you not asleep?” he groaned as he stared at the wooden crib that was four feet away from his bed.
Due to the minimal lighting and the Winnie the Pooh-themed crib bumper, he didn’t see his son in the crib. But, he damn sure heard him, thanks to his consistent cries.
“Sean, if you love your daddy, you would go back to sleep and stay asleep for at least six more hours,” stated Daniel.
Little Sean continued to fuss and cry for someone to help him.
