Winter in Philadelphia had set in with much intensity, probably this year. A volley of cold wind had been blowing right from the afternoon the day before. However, that did not deter shopping lovers from thronging their favorite store during the choicest Christmas discount.
The winter was a bit harsh on me, having moved from Atlanta only a couple of days ago on my job transfer. The cold had never been this bitter in Atlanta. My mother and my wife Carol had moved with me into our new apartment, an accommodation the company had provided.
Atlanta has been my mother’s home since she was married. As the family’s senior-most member, my mother had many relatives visiting her often. Uncles, aunts, cousins, we had plenty of them in Atlanta. My mother had earned a special reverence in the family, and many looked upon her for even the slightest advice. She had brought me up single-handed after dad suddenly passed away, succumbing to lung cancer when I was thirteen. They were difficult days, though. However, my mom, who worked as a teacher in the high school, did her best to give me all that a boy needed to face the world. Proper attention, good nourishment, and excellent education. I need to ask for nothing more.
We did feel a void when the transfer order came. It implied that we would be deracinated soon, but the remuneration and perks were too tempting to let go of the offer. Carol was excited since we were moving to a new place, but I knew it would be heartbreaking for Mom.
“Why can’t we leave your mom behind in Atlanta if that will keep her happy.” Carol made a sincere appeal, tactfully camouflaging her intention of moving alone with her spouse, as advised by some of her smart friends who never got along with their in-laws.
“I don’t want to leave her alone.” I firmly asserted. Carol’s friends had probably tutored her to face any situation based on this suggestion. She spoke highly of senior citizens’ homes, but I cut her short with a stern look. I am sure Mom had overheard our conversation. She, too, came up with a similar suggestion. However, neither her countenance nor words betrayed her feelings when I rejected her proposal and almost warned her to close the subject. She remained strong as ever, the tranquility in her face never waning.
We came to Philadelphia when winter was not in the mood to play the perfect host. It was chilling to the core and snowing heavily. We had yet to brace ourselves for the winter. All the winter wear we had did not seem sufficient to combat the biting cold of Philadelphia. We decided to go shopping for those exclusive clothes over the weekend.
Some other items needed to set up the kitchen and the house have taken priority. I ventured out, covering myself with my best winter clothes. Soon, I entered the huge store with everything under the roof on display. It was swarming with passionate people. The prospective buyers were keen on getting the best-discounted items. It had generally been Carol’s department to go around the Malls picking up whatever she needed. I was required only to pay the bill. I liked it that way. Wading your way through those lanes flanked by shelves stuffed with things was something I usually shunned.
Today, I was left with no other alternative. Carol and my mother arranged the new house, so I was gaping at the surging crowd at the shopping store. I picked up a rather huge trolley. There were as many as forty-three items on the list my wife had given me. Apart from that, I needed to purchase some items for myself, then pedigree and other stuff for my pet dog, Champ. Chalking out a mental map of my tour in the mall, I got busy picking things one after the other.
After loading my cart with almost twenty items, I stood halfway through the section, ticking my list, when I felt someone patting me on the shoulder. It was intriguing. I had just moved to this place forty-eight hours before and knew nobody there. I had yet to make friends, and someone was tapping on my shoulders with serious verve. The warmth of that touch, however, seemed completely devoid of comradeship. It felt rather rude and unrefined. I looked across my shoulder to be confronted by a tall, hefty man whose countenance made it evident that he had approached me with no intention of building a new acquaintance. The identity card hanging around his neck testified that he was an employee in the mall.
“You need some help, I suppose,” he said, firmly holding my trolley. His tone sounded coarser than his countenance, and his gestures were far from exhibiting sincere help.
“I am fine,” I exclaimed, but he had already taken custody of my trolley. This predilection towards me was rather vexing. I was not the only one in the mall having a trolley filled with stuff; there were others, too, and I was in no way physically challenged not to be able to roll a trolley on my own. Then why was this ‘favoritism’ shown towards me? The whole experience left me disoriented in this new city, where I had yet to find my footing.
I looked into the man’s eyes, gearing myself for a confrontation, when I realized his gaze was fixed elsewhere. Following his gaze, I was astonished to see that he was intensely looking at the security screen, and it was only me and, of course, him on the screen. The inquisitiveness of a few people around became palpable. They were staring into the screen and then into my face. Though the crowd here was unfamiliar to me, it was still so humiliating to be in the eye of a storm. Hence, I decided to play safe and submit to the whims and fancies of the guy. I meekly allowed him to roll my trolley and walked with stifled steps along with him. Broaching a conversation seemed precarious at that moment.
A few more items had to be picked up from the grocery section, and then I gestured to him to move to the pet section.
“Whatever your Highness says,” he bowed in mock respect while another contemporary joined him in a riot of laughter at the expense of my blood pressure. The second guy seemed more boisterous than the first. I picked up my dog’s favorite pedigree.
Nudging his coworker, the second guy chuckled and said, “Look what an expensive item His Highness has picked up. Anyway, he doesn’t have to pay the bill.” Once again, there was a laughing session as both shrugged their shoulders. So very deplorable, I thought. I was labeled as someone who whisked things away without paying the bill. Some inklings advised me to keep to myself.
Quietly, I turned at the isle that opened into a long passage. As many as thirteen security screens were fitted, and each had me and only me on it, with the two guys in tow. It looked like thirteen clones of mine were staring at me.
“What is happening here?” I demanded to know, raising my decibel level. There was no point being submissive now. Things were getting out of hand. I couldn’t possibly make a clown of myself by allowing myself to be followed by all the security cameras. What the hell had I done to be monitored thus? “Why are all the security cameras focused on me? I don’t get this,” I waved my hands in the air.
“Do not worry; you will get a clear elucidation for all the acts here.” A tough-looking man, accompanied by two more sturdy men, arrived on the scene. The tough-looking man motioned the other two to take me away towards the exit.
“Where are you heading to, and what is all this about?” I screamed. “I am new to this place and have done nothing wrong to be treated like this. Is shopping in a mall a crime in Philadelphia?” I asked, perplexed and looking around.
Then, it was as if things were happening in a trance. One of the men shoved me into a van, and in a few minutes, I found myself seated in front of a cop in a room that smelt of interrogation mania. The officer’s frigidity made my stomach cuddle. This was a clear case of mistaken identity. The matter must be grave if detectives have been summoned to solve the issue. I realized that I was in a mess.
The cops were busy analyzing the thefts I had done in the last few months. The detectives who dragged me from the mall also seemed to be giving some valuable input. A part of me had gone numb, and my central nervous system had stopped working. The brain had suddenly refused to take orders. I fumbled for words to convince them I held a decent job and had been here on a transfer for only forty-eight hours. I have never robbed anyone even of their sleep; forget about laying my hands on someone else’s belongings. I tried to explain my innocence, but the chief detective had already switched on a monitor, and I felt a surge of panic and despair.
“Here,” he said, pointing to it. “Now, do not deny it is you on the screen.” Obeying him like a meek calf, I watched the monitor without as much as a blink of an eye. My bones froze as I saw a man who resembled me, except that he was a bit plump, darker, and had unkempt hair. The man was rolling an overflowing trolley in a shopping complex.
“Sir, this is not me. I hold a respectable job and am here on a transfer from Atlanta.”
“Oh, that is a very nice story,” the tall cop said, his voice reeking of sarcasm. “OK, then show us your company identity card.” He banged his fist on the table.
“Sir, I came for shopping now, and I don’t have it on me,” I said defensively.
“You don’t have it on you, or you don’t have it at all?” the cop laughed, and the others joined him. Their laughter reverberated in the room, and it had a tinge of success. They were celebrating their victory of having captured the culprit.
“Sir, please also see that man has brown hair, while mine is black and receding.” I tried explaining in between the riot of laughter.
“Oh, come on, stop all these bullshit tales. Do we look like a bunch of fools and haven’t heard of hair dyeing and manipulating the hairdo? Now stop ranting and tell us how you always eluded the billing counter. What is your modus operandi, and who are your accomplices?” The cop hurled a plethora of questions at me. He placed a file on the table and said, “These are all your theft history. Apart from busy malls, there are five gold shop robberies, too, in which you are involved. You have been on this spree for quite some time, giving us sleepless nights. We have circulated your picture in all the big malls and shops. Finally, we got you today.” He rubbed his hands in glee.
Realizing I would only invite more trouble by speaking anything in self-defense, I kept mum. An eerie silence reigned in the room for a while as the cops kept their eyes fixed on me while I cringed. The buzzing of my phone suddenly broke the silence. I couldn’t have thanked my stars enough. It was my mother’s call. She must have worried herself to death as I was getting delayed.
“Can I answer? It is my mother.” I pleaded with the officer in a cracking voice.
“Don’t allow him to speak to anyone. This may not be his mother, but some accomplice,” thundered the detective. Fortunately, the top cop waved his hand, gesturing to me to go ahead.
“Ma, I am in the police station,” I exclaimed. I explained things to her and asked her to inform Carol, too.
“I know no one here, no lawyer to help me out.” I was afraid I would break down when my mom told me in a persuasive tone. “I will be there in a few minutes and get things right.” She sounded so confident that I began wondering if she had any time dabbled with legal matters, but as far as I knew, she had always been a high school teacher. Saying my prayers fervently, I patiently waited for my mother. She soon arrived with Carol in tow.
While Carol began raving over my situation, Mom remained cool. I noticed that she was diligently carrying a file.
“Sir, can I look at the video clippings my son was talking about?” She asked gracefully. The cops could not deny her request; her appeal could not be ignored as a senior citizen. Moreover, everyone was in a festive mood and was eager to go home to celebrate Christmas with their near and dear ones. The tape was made to run again. I could see Carol’s jaws drop in utter astonishment as she viewed the clip, but Mom looked calm and keenly watched it. I began feeling uneasy as she made them run quite a few tapes. I wondered what was she trying to do.
“PAUSE!” she screamed suddenly, forgetting the basic ethics of prefixing it with a ‘please.’ Hearing her scream, the cops almost fell off their chairs. The officer handling the tape obeyed her sincerely, and then she requested that he get the screen closer. The man on the screen was wearing a sleeveless vest.
Mom asked the cop to focus on his left upper arm closely. The screen now flashed on his left upper arm with the Red Scar. This made me and Carol baffled. We exchanged confused glances. We knew of a similar red scar. My mom gestured to me to roll the right-hand sleeves of my shirt. Half comprehending the situation, I slowly started rolling my right hand sleeves upwards as the officers gaped in awe. As I pushed the last of the turn on my sleeve to reveal my upper arm, the cops were dumbstruck. There was an identical red scar there, too.
“He,” my mom began pointing at the screen, “Was born as a conjoined twin with Harry,” she patted my back. “They were joined at the upper arms and torso. The doctors operated upon them, and they were separated soon after birth. Utter poverty at home forced their parents to give away one of their children for adoption. In the same hospital, around that time, I was diagnosed with a faulty fallopian tube, and chances of my having a biological kid were ruled out.” My mother opened the file she had brought. It had evidence saying I was one of the two conjoined twins given away in adoption.
“My husband and I wished to adopt both boys, but the parents wanted to raise one of them. They asked us to select one.” She heaved a sigh. Though it was a heart-shattering moment for the parents, there was no choice. They could not afford to nurture two kids.” My mother wiped her moist eyes. Both the boys have similar scars on their torsos, too.” She affirmed.
An officer took me inside to corroborate my mother’s statement.
“We never made efforts to trace that family later. Now I realize Harry’s twin brother has become a con man. Adversities might have pushed him towards bilking.” My mother concluded with a sincere feeling of sympathy.
I could feel the hot tears rolling down my cheeks as I fondly gazed at the woman who had never made me feel even once that she was not my biological mother. My heart reached out to my deceased father, who had been so very kind to me.
Throwing a last glance at the man on the frozen screen, I walked out with my mother. A terrible chill ran down my spine, but this time, it was not because of the winter but because of the sudden feeling that, ‘What if my foster parents had selected him instead of me as their adopted son!!!’
My mother again gave me a chance to live a respectful life. I looked at Carol; she stood with her head hung low. What if I had given in to her whims and left Mom behind in Atlanta?