Just Hit 'Send' By Grasshopper

Just Hit 'Send' - The Happy Years by Grasshopper Ch. 4

Easy typed the last line of his report, sighed and rolled his chair back, standing and stretching his arms above his head. So many boys, so much trouble, so little help. If he had just had a place like this when he was small......but he knew he probably wouldn't have come. He would have been too ashamed, too terrified. Easy was worried about all the old memories; they were resurfacing after all these years. He knew it was probably because of Val. She had appeared in his life quickly and her innocent questions about his family and his past kept his mind churning.

All the family he'd ever known and loved, except for one person, was right here in Wilmington. He had come to the conclusion, over the years, that he'd gone through the hell of his life, street hustling and doing things he would forever be ashamed of, to get to the place where he was now. He had told Griff everything all those years ago and would never mention them again. Griff would sometimes just grab him and hug him tight, no reason, just to let him know he was loved.

Easy sometimes went back in his mind to that night he had watched a young boy fly off that seawall and crash into the cement. He could have just stolen his backpack and run.........but he hadn't. Easy had given his body away but never his pride, never his soul. He remembered the moment his life changed:

"Hey man. You okay? I was watchin' ya. That was way kewl. No one ever boards the wall. Ya lost your board, man. It deep sixed. Wanna get up?"

"I'm Jordan Lawrence."
"Easy."
"I'm okay. You got a name?"
"I just told ya. Easy."
"Your name is Easy?"
"Yeah, that's what they call me."

And, it seems, he'd never looked back toward that flickering light at the end of the seawall.

Now, he had a new job, helping boys like he had been. Giving them shelter and the information they needed to make a new start. He owed it to them. He owed it to Jordan.....to Griff......to Danny.

Back when he thought that everything he had was the dirty ripped Lakers t-shirt on his skinny shoulders, he'd never imagined that he'd have a college degree, friends who would never let him down and the world an open book for him to fill in the pages.

The noise from the outer office jarred his thoughts. He walked quickly to his door to see one of the neighborhood policemen half dragging, half carrying a wiggling thrashing dirty kid in a torn blue and gold letter jacket through the outer doorway. Officer Harold rolled his eyes and held on tighter. "Easy, give me a hand here?"

Maybe it was the memories, maybe it was the pain he saw in the boy's eyes. Easy took hold, lifted him up off his feet and held him in the air. "Hey now, no more of this." Easy looked in his eyes, saw what he knew he'd see, glazed and bloodshot, unfocused and dull. Sighing, he carried the struggling boy into his office, Officer Harold trailing behind.

"If you can sit, I'll put you down."

The boy, close to tears, nodded and Easy plunked him into one of the wooden chairs in front of his desk. Turning to the policeman, he looked for answers.

"He's one of the regulars down on Barstow. Tonight, he was going for a record or something. Higher than a kite and jumping out in traffic. He solicited a plainclothes car. Fred has 2 sons of his own. We just thought maybe you.............," his voice trailed off.

Easy sighed. "Sure. Leave him with me. I'll see what I can do." He waited for the policemen to leave and reached for the phone.

"Val? I'm gonna be late."
"Yeah, another one."
"Thanks, love you too."

He sat quietly and watched the boy as he settled in the hard wooden chair. "You got a name?"

The boy shook his head. Easy took in the crudely carved tattoos on his hands and the holes in his trainers. "Been on the road a long time, huh?"