A journal entry ch. 2 sec 1

By Asa Montreaux 

I suppose it was in 2005 that I was born into this world. My conception probably happened in January, maybe December. But anyways, I was born at the end of November. November 29. In the middle of then night. Though my mom will always say it was November 30, just make the gestation period a little longer. I guess that was full of love. She does just sidestep my point about not being born right at 12 am, and being something of an evil child. It was definitely not exactly 12, it was almost exactly 11 pm. But we always skip over it.

My parents met on the lawns of Harvard. My dad was in medical school, and my mom was still an undergrad. My dad was almost finished his medical degree, and was going to specialize in psychiatry after, and my mom was studying psychology. They were married, and they’d been together since her second year. She had graduated by the time I was born. 

When I was born, I was a healthy, normal size, maybe a little on the lighter side but still well within the range of being considered healthy. My Mom was very small, and my Dad was just barely six feet. My name, given to me that, second, was Adam. 

I didn’t cry, and she held me until they told her she had to put me down, the nursing and tech staff, I suppose. And they lifted me, and put me down in a crib beside her. You know, nearer the window.

There was a problem. And a man had walked in and tried to grab me. Anyone had noticed him standing out there, and they had more than had time to ask him what he was doing there. I’m no one, he said. Then, I’m a friend. They asked what his name was, he answered different every time. Sometimes it was Bill. One of them was Jamie. Then he said James. So two versions of that one. Sometimes when he spoke, not much came out at all, but grunts, or little noises.

Then when the room was quiet, and empty, and the people the staff that him been the hallways, or the people standing there anyways, whoever they were, went away. And when everyone had thought the man had went away, he came in and went right for the crib. Hey! My mom shouted. I’m just gonna take a look. Someone stop him! She yelled.

No one did anything for a moment, though there were clearly people in the rooms next store. He walked right over to me and was starting to reach for me, and they swear I screamed, ‘someone help!’ Yea, my mom said. And finally, one of the men that had been there before everyone moved off, and another man, came in and led him off. My mom said, is the guy going to go to jail? No, some guy said, he hadn’t got caught. He hadn’t even grabbed your baby. She sat there crying. And she said, fine. What, he said. I said, that’s fine. Yea, he said.

When we got home the next day, we lived in Los Angeles, we were just settling in, celebrating being home. It was a little while my parents had away from school. My mom was in her masters. Sorry, she was in grad school by the time. I was born. Though not when I was conceived. My Dad owned the house. I guess technically it was my grandfather, his Dad. He was a very rich lawyer. But after the first night, it was clear there was a problem. There was guy standing outside the house all night. And it wasn’t just one guy, it was three guys. And they looked oddly similar to the one that was in the hospital.

My Dad my mom to keep quiet. And he said, now Adam, you keep quiet, too. Yes, I thought. I certainly, will. I did stay quiet the whole night. Though there was a woman outside who’d been at the hospital, someone who’d been standing outside, saying where’d things, even after the man had tried to take me. Asking if the man could take me. Though it was a younger woman. We’re a gang, she said. Now she was, saying, Andrew. Hmm, they’d renamed me. No, my Dad, said, he’s a genius. He can speak. No, the woman, replied, very slowly, retardedly, even, no he’s a retard. I have telekinesis, so I made him speak, she said. No, my Dad, said. You do not have that, no one has that on earth. Though my son my have it, later in life. I have to go to jail, she said. For had to tried to kidnap yea. All of yea. Yea, you do that, he said.

My parents didn’t really sleep that night. My mom slept a few hours, and my Dad stayed all night keeping watch. He knew to say very little to them, though by the morning, there were a lot more of them. There was group, or a gang, of about twenty people standing out front. He thought saying something to them, from what he mouthed, it was go away. The same lady was going on, I think we should eat them. Yea, the man from the hospital that tried to snatch me said. Or maybe it was one of the others. Which one of you was it that snatched him, one of the other woman in their gang said. It was me, the guy said. How can you tell, she said? It’s so you can’t tell, another one of them responded.

Meanwhile, my Dad had checked in back, and there was no one out there. He quickly told my mom we had to leave, and then he came over and said the same to me. I said, okay. I he chuckled very quietly. Then he picked up me, and we snuck out back. The car was there, and we drove to the airport. And we took a flight out of the country. To Canada, I suppose. My mom was French-Canadian. Though we were having trouble getting a flight to Montreal. Very late notice. But it was suspicious. something about if we had been killed that night. We hadn’t. We were on the west coast. So something on the West coast of Canada. She said they had Edmonton, or Vancouver. Vancouver, my dad said. It’s boarding, she said. Let’s go, my Dad said. And my Mom wheeled me off and followed his lead. 

No one asked if I was allowed to fly. Though one flight attendant has asked why, and my dad explained we were on the run from somebody. He’d tried explaining to a few people already along the way in our trip to the gate, and onto the plane, though no one was quite understanding easily. I suppose this left the impression with her that we were even bad people. Of course, we weren’t. 

My mom seemed more relaxed throughout the flight, though my Dad was seeming very nervous. He was clearly thinking up a plan, coming up with a way to save our lives. No one else knew, why would they, but we had a place in Vancouver. We had a few. So it was no brainer to choose Vancouver over Edmonton. They were actually just investments, because the real estate market in Vancouver was going spectacularly high. My Dad had never been there, so I guess here was his chance to visit, and see what they were like. We had some very nice ones. Two very nice ones. Though, the third, was not as nice. Still on the nice side of town, but barely. I think he was feeling they would anticipate him at the nicer houses, if they thought he was someone with houses in Vancouver at all. So, he was planning to not go to those ones, but to hide. And so we hid, in a slightly not so nice house. That would become a home for me. Though my parents always like to laze in West Vancouver, or Kitsilano.