An American Summer - Alex Kotlowitz Page 0,29

apartment, Mike had decorated Victor’s new room. Posters of Victor’s favorite Power Ranger, the green Ranger, and one of Michael Jordan. X-Men toys everywhere. A couple of stuffed animals. A new Schwinn. A comforter with an image of the Wolverine from X-Men. This is my room? Victor asked, his eyes wide with excitement. I don’t have to share this with anybody? Mike turned to the side to wipe away tears. All Victor wanted to know was whether this was permanent, whether they’d be able to stay together.

Immediately Mike started getting pushback from family and friends. Victor would come to his office after school to do homework, and one day one of Mike’s coworkers, a woman, came by his desk, and offered advice: Puppies belong with puppies and kittens belong with kittens. And then there was his family. Mike’s mother, whom he was close to, chastised him: You’re not ready. What do you know about being a parent? You can’t even cook. What about the drinking? “It scared the heck out of me,” she told me. Others in his family couldn’t stand the idea of Mike adopting a black boy. One family member asked Mike to stop referring to him as “my son” and instead to call him “my foster son.” The hardest blow came from Mike’s uncle, whom Mike idolized. His Uncle Mike told others, He better not bring that nigger around. If he does, I’ll kill both of ’em. He’s not family anymore. One day Mike’s mother asked Mike to pick up two cousins who were visiting from Ireland. When Mike pulled up at his uncle’s, the two cousins ran to his car, yelling, He’s getting his gun. He’s getting his gun. Mike drove off, and cut off contact with his uncle. Fuck him, he thought.

And then in adoption court the judge wondered aloud whether Victor wouldn’t be better off with a black family. That would be great, but that’s not an option for him, Mike told the judge at one point. Nobody wants this kid, and I do, and I don’t know what else to say. Jerry, his caseworker, was so concerned that Mike would unravel in court that he carried cash should he be held in contempt and need to get bailed out.

For four years the case dragged on. And then one day the judge was out ill and his substitute told Mike he had two minutes to plead his case. No, that’s okay. This is a waste of time, Mike sneered. She looked at her watch. You now have a minute and a half.

Mike ranted. This is a joke. It’s been four years. The kid was on medication when he first moved in. He’s off medication now. He was flunking all his classes. Now he’s an A student. The kid is phenomenal. What else are we supposed to do? And he wants it. As he ramped up, the judge smacked her gavel down. This is ridiculous, the judge told Mike who interpreted her remarks as meaning the case would continue to drag on. Come back in two weeks, she continued. The adoption will be finalized.

At the ceremony, Mike beamed with pride when Victor stood before the judge, his thin chest pushed out, and announced his new name to the court: I’m Victor Lee Kelly.

And so Mike and Victor Kelly began to carve out a life together. Mike bought a home in a northwest suburb, Schaumburg, mainly for the schools and for its distance from the city’s street gangs. A stickler for cleanliness, Mike badgered Victor about the mess in his room, his fingerprints on the windows and mirrors. He set a curfew. Victor pushed back, but no more or less than any teen. When Victor got in trouble with a teacher for clowning in class, Mike took off from work and sat in the back of the classroom for the day. Mike didn’t cook, so they went out—a lot, so much that at TGI Friday’s, their go-to restaurant, they eventually amassed 50,000 points, having spent $5,000 there. Every night before bed, they each told the other, I love you. Even when Victor left the house to go to school or to visit friends, Mike insisted. Mike’s mother, who immediately took a liking to Victor, still didn’t think her son was up to being a father, but when she complimented one of Mike’s coworkers for volunteering in the Big Brother program, Mike interrupted. Mom, what do you think I’m doing? I get nothing from you but

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