Can Bobby come out to play?

“Can Bobby come out to play?“ — a question she heard a million times, or at least it seemed like it. She always responded in the same polite manner: „I’m sorry dear, he’s not feeling well, maybe tomorrow.“, because after all her Robert was a boy who could easily get sick, and she did not want that to happen. And she could not allow that. He was a boy of 14 now, getting in to those wild years. She was afraid that if Bobby went outside with those little whores (she knew what their mothers were like, so why would the daughters be any different?) he could get some sexually transmitted disease, god forbid. She would stop it any way she could. So Bobby stayed inside day after day of that hot summer of 1982. It was incredibly hot during the break, and while everyone was going swimming to the local pool or finding other ways to refresh themselves, in their air conditioned homes, Bobby was helping his mother clean up the house, because soon they would have guests. Lots of guests. Some distant relatives. They’ll bring their children, they are Bobby’s age. Bobby will have fun, lots of fun. But now he had to be patient. But he’ll be happy.

—

I met Bobby when he and his mom moved into the house next to us. It was enough a thrill that we were getting new neighbors, but to see a kid that was as old as me move in, it was fantastic. The house they were moving into was empty for a long time. No one was interested in buying it, for years the „For Sale“ sign stood there waiting to be taken out. The day came. It was a summer afternoon, really hot, and i was standing in the front yard hosing down the leftover grass trying to save something of it. As soon as I saw Robert I ran to meet him. He was standing there, alone, holding his backpack and staring at his new home. You could not see any feelings, no fear, no anxiety, he was staring at the house but did not show any emotion. I yelled out while I was running. His head slowly moved to face me. And then his eyes lit up. He smiled, showing his white teeth and you could now see anticipation. I stood by him casually and said: „My name is Edward, but everyone here call’s me Eddie“. I continued standing there, looking at the house. He stared at me for a couple of seconds, like he could not believe I was there. Then he replied: „Hi, I am Robert“. A short pause, and then he added: „But you can call me Bobby“. We started talking, about the heat, I told him about the school, we discussed where he was from, and then his mother appeared. She looked at me as if I had some kind of exotic disease which was disgusting as it was interesting. Then she just pulled him away, they got in the house. That was the last time I saw him.

—

We moved from our apartment when my mother died. She left me quite a lot of money, and we were able to buy a house and set it up for the two of us. His dad left us while he was just a baby and my son was everything to me. That’s why I could not let that mean little boy harass him. I took my Bobby into the house. And he stayed with his mom there, until the end of the summer.

—

The next day the moving trucks went away. They were settled in. I asked my mom can I go over to meet them. She allowed it and I ran over to their house. I knocked a couple of times, and when I already thought about leaving the door opened. His mother stood there, her hair was a mess, her clothes dirty, as though she was digging. She scared me, but I stood there and asked: „Is Bobby home?Could he come out, I would like to show him around.“ She looked at me and said: „He’s not feeling well. Maybe tomorrow.“ The thing that left me wondering was that this did not seem like the woman that took him into the house yesterday, but then I realized that it was early evening, so I probably did not see her so good. I got back to the house, watched some TV. Every day for the rest of the week I knocked, asked the same question, and the answer was always the same. And his mother looked worse every day. One day my mother told me that stories are starting to spread, and that I should not go to that house any more. She looked at me funny, her look was fear and confusion mixed together.

And then a couple of days later, the police was here. They brought dogs, they were looking for something. They came, asked me about Bobby, have I seen him lately. I told them what his mother told me. Not long after that, the dogs started barking madly. They found something. A black car came not long after, some men took something in a black bag out of the house. Everyone was silent. My mother took me in. I watched the TV. The evening news said that the body of a boy was found buried in back yard of the house next to us. I looked at my mother in disbelief. She hugged me and said that someone did something to Bobby. She was crying and holding me.
—
Me and my Bobby were settling in quite nicely. It was late in the morning, I was preparing lunch when someone knocked at our door. I opened the door thinking that it was one of the kids trying to bother my Bobby. To my surprise two police officers stood at my front door. They asked me if they can get into the house, showed me a warrant and passed me as they entered the house. A few more passed through, and an inspector followed. He asked me about Bobby. I told him Bobby was in his room resting. They went upstairs and came back. They were looking at me funny. Something was wrong. I ran up. Someone has kidnapped my boy. He was gone. I started to cry. I was sitting on the stairs when the dogs started to bark madly. The next thing I can remember is being dragged out of the house in cuffs.
—
Bobby was killed by his mom. Everyone knew it, everyone heard it. It was horrible. Weeks passed on, and we quietly forgot about it. And then one day an inspector showed up at our door. I had to speak to him. He asked me about Bobby. They took me away. They placed me in a room with no windows.
—
When we got the report of a missing kid filed by the neighbors, we could not believe it, but it was true. We drove up to the house, knocked. The woman that opened the door was dirty, ragged, crazy looking. We came into the house, looked for the kid. He was nowhere to be found. The dogs found him unfortunately. His body was buried between two houses, not very good might I add. We took the mother in, it was obvious she did it. But still, something was not right. During the questioning she claimed the boy’s hiding. She asked to see him all the time. And then we started to wonder. She mentioned some kids, kids who were looking for Bobby every day. We asked around, and found an answer. Edward, the kid next door was seen taking Bobby to the back of the house the day they moved in. We went to his mother and father. We talked to them. They denied. But then the mother broke down. She showed us bloody and dirty clothes. She told us that the kid did not sleep at all for a month. That he walked around talking with someone who was not there. The father sat there, said nothing, just stared. We took the clothes for analysis. The blood was Bobby’s. Bobby’s mother obviously went insane when she found out that her only child was missing. She continued living as if everything was normal, except she did not change her clothes which got dirtier by the day. That’s why we found her like that. Edward came by every day wanting to see Bobby.

But Bobby could not play any more.