Connor My Dear Boy (FINISHED)

22

Haytham came back later than he expected; there was an enormous line at the grocery store so he had to wait a while before he could buy everything. He felt apologetic not calling Connor, but he first of all had a hard time trying to figure out how to use his cell phone (these new technologies were sometimes so difficult to figure out). Haytham also figured that Connor was over at the Miles' house playing with their little boy.

"Connor? Can you come help me with these bags?" Haytham called out into the house. There was no reply.

"That's fine," thought Haytham. "I'm glad he's off playing with Desmond; it'll help keep his mind off of poor Malik and Kadar."

Haytham quietly began to put all of the food away by himself. He didn't notice the missing cans and other food. He spent the rest of the afternoon doing mindless tasks such as tidying up the living room. Haytham tried to read, for a little while, until he realized that he was reading the same sentence over and over again.

It was around sunset that Haytham decided it was time for Connor to come back. He bookmarked his book (having not made any progress at all) and set it down on the coffee table before heading out the front door, making a beeline for the Miles' house.

Haytham pounded on the front door and it was a moment or so before Achilles answered it. Haytham frowned, less than pleased to see him, remembering the incident with the frisbee and Connor on the roof. Achilles looked up at Haytham, not looking too happy himself.

"I'm here to pick up Connor," said Haytham.

Achilles raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

"Connor told me that he was over here playing with Desmond. You were watching them, correct?" asked Haytham.

"I am afraid that you are sorely mistaken," said Achilles. "I haven't seen Connor all day."

Haytham tried to beat back the panic that had swelled in his chest by reminding himself that Achilles clearly wasn't the best babysitter.

"That can't be right," Haytham insisted. "Connor told me that he was going to come over here."

Haytham noted Desmond peeking out from around Achilles' ankles as the old man spoke. "I do not know where Connor is but he isn't here."

"Are you look-king for Connor?" Desmond asked, peering up at Haytham with wide brown eyes.

"I am, actually," Haytham replied. "Have you seen him? It's time for him to come home."

"Come home?" Desmond repeated thoughtfully before he seemed to remember. "Ah! Earlier! I wanted him to come play but he didn't want to."

Haytham's eyes widened in horror. "What do you mean he didn't want to play?"

"He seemed busy. He had a BIIIIG backpack," Desmond said thoughtfully.

"Did he say where he was going?" Haytham asked, fighting to keep his voice calm.

"Nope!" said Desmond brightly. "He don't talk much."

"Didn't," corrected Haytham automatically. "When did you see him?" he demanded. "Tell me!"

Desmond looked alarmed and started to cry slightly. Achilles glared at Haytham and scooped the boy into his arms, making comforting noises until Desmond had calmed down.