What Was Left Unsaid: Home Again
What Was Left Unsaid Chapter Index
Main characters and pairings featured in this chapter: Craig, Joey, social worker Robert.
Brief summary of this chapter: Craig is released into his stepfather's custody and is starting the adjustment period.
Authors Note: Fairly graphic description of self injury (cutting) is included.
6. Home Again
Awkward. That’s what all this was. Awkward. Joey and the social worker interrupted The Price is Right with their usual concern and a careful delivery of the fact that today was the day he’d be going home. Craig was confused for a moment and even started to speak. “Not…”
“You’re coming to stay with me, remember, buddy?” Joey reminded.
“Oh. Yeah. Right,” Craig agreed. It was going to be tough adjusting to thinking of that as home. He’d actually barely remember what Joey’s house looked like. The last he’d seen it was after his mother’s funeral. Oh wait, that wasn’t it. He was just there. He took the pills and went to Joey’s. Not like he remembered much from that night. All this was a mess.
“It’s normal to have mixed feelings about this, Craig,” Robert, the social worker reassured.
“I’m fine with this,” Craig said quickly.
Joey smiled at him, “It’s going to be great having you around again. Angie’s so excited.”
Craig’s smile was sincere this time. “Man…I get to see her everyday. That’s so awesome.”
Robert rubbed Craig’s shoulder. “Okay, so you’ll be out of here by noon.”
“We’ll get you your favorite take out food on the way home,” Joey added.
“I just need Joey to sign a few more forms and then he’ll be right back,” Robert said as the two men headed for the door. Craig nodded in return and watched them exit, the door closing behind them.
Craig laid down on the bed and forced his eyes to close. It’d be nice if he could sleep. Sleep was a great escape and made things move a lot faster. Last night was the first night he hadn’t woken himself up from nightmares. It was just the blissful black of unconsciousness. Craig opened his eyes, suddenly curious about what forms Joey was signing out in the hall. He had a feeling that was code for “let me give you the rundown on that freak you are taking home with you” and there was no forms.
Craig jumped out of bed and began to creep for the door. The linoleum was cold on his feet; they still hadn’t given him his damn shoes back. “…you are less likely to run away if you don’t have your shoes,” he remembered the doctor saying. He felt the anger flare up inside of him. He hated all this. He opened the door only slightly, hoping to pick up on whatever conversation was happening out in the hall by the nurses station. He couldn’t find Joey’s voice in the medley of hospital sounds. Every once in awhile he’d pick up on the social worker’s voice and then recognized his doctors. “Run risk.” “Evaluated by a professional.” That was some of the terms he’d heard being thrown around. Craig wasn’t sure he could handle all these labels and forced himself to not even consider what Joey might be thinking about him right now. He’d listened hard for the sound of Joey’s voice but his tone just didn’t carry like the social worker’s. Maybe Joey wasn’t saying anything, just nodding. He wasn’t sure if Joey even wanted to put up with all this, with him. What a huge inconvenience it had to be.
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Out of fear that Joey was getting sick of this whole fiasco, sick of him, Craig stayed polite and quiet. He’d nodded as Joey had led him through the house, opening cupboard doors to point at cups and towels.
It seemed so strange when Joey had gestured to a closed door. “Your room is in here. Want to take a look?” Joey offered.
Craig shook his head, just wanting this to be over. It might sound strange, but he’d never really thought about living in another house with another person. He remembered being worried during his parents divorce but always could remain composed because he knew he’d always have one of his parents there. But living here with Joey? His step dad, Julia’s husband…maybe his dad was right; what was Joey to him. Joey didn’t have to do all this. In an effort to seem like more of a help and not a bother, Craig helped Joey around the house. Craig made sure to include himself in preparing dinner, even if his major role seemed to be keeping Angie entertained and out of the way.
“Welcome to the Jeremiah house of pandemonium,” Joey had joked while he prepared the tacos.
Craig had smiled nervously. He was worried Joey was trying too hard. And it was odd, but he wasn’t used to the mood of Joey’s. It kind of made him nervous to be honest. His father’s house was so quiet and had so much order to it. Joey’s seemed much more casual, if not a little chaotic. He wasn’t used to the television blaring in the next room, radio playing in the kitchen while cooking, and Angela’s toys littered around every room. Dinner being delayed twenty minutes from when he thought it would be? That would never happen at his dad’s. Not to mention the mood during dinner. Angela was her normal bubbly chatterbox self and Joey didn’t even flinch at the spilled taco sauce.
“These beans…they taste funny,” she’d whined while he tossed paper towels on the mess.
“I made them the same way I always do. Eat ‘em up,” Joey encouraged.
Craig was surprised that there wasn’t harshness in Joey’s tone. His father would have taken it as a huge insult if he’d said something like that.
“No, they are too hard,” Angie objected.
“Craig likes the beans don’t you, Craig?” Joey said with a smile.
Craig smiled a bit nervously, “Yeah. They are good.”
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He’d sought refuge in front of the TV after dinner. “Craig’s choice,” Joey had said with a smile, presenting him the remote and shooting down Angie’s persistent suggestion of The Lion King. So he’d channel surfed and watched shows he’d never even heard of, long after Angie was put to bed.
“Aren’t you tired?” Joey finally asked, folding up the newspaper and looking over at him.
“Um…I don’t know,” Craig answered. He wasn’t sure he could sleep. He wanted to sleep but wasn’t sure it would happen. He’d probably just end up lying there, staring at the ceiling, and god forbid, thinking. He didn’t want to think.
“The doctor prescribed some meds for anxiety…if you are having trouble sleeping.”
And he most certainly didn’t want to talk about that. “Oh. Um, okay,” Craig mumbled and got up off the couch. This will be fine, he told himself. He’d been waiting for bed all day. Sleep would put an end to all this weirdness. I just want to sleep, he thought. He’d been thinking that same thought all day.
Craig followed Joey up the stairs, feeling like a guest. He noticed he was still studying the house, taking in where everything was and the tacky decorations on the walls. His stomach ached again. This wasn’t his home.
“This is going to be your room,” Joey said, trying to break the awkward silence that never really seemed to leave. Craig noticed the plastic bag sitting on the bed. Craig had carried that bag out of the hospital, feeling strange because it was all that was really his in this moment. A few changes of clothes, the cash that was meant for his great escape, and of course his photos.
“How are you doing?” Joey asked, noticing how Craig stood frozen by the doorway.
“I’m fine,” Craig answered quickly. “This is just weird, you know?”
“I know. Doesn’t feel like your room, I bet. We’ll go get your things tomorrow.”
Craig looked down at the floor, “Ummm…is he going to be there?” He couldn’t even bring himself to say the word ‘father’ or even call him by his first name.
“No, he won’t be. That’s all been worked out.”
Craig smiled nervously. “What’s been worked out?”
“When we are going over to pick up your stuff. We had to make sure he wouldn’t be there.”
“So…he’s not in jail or anything?”
“No, he’s not in jail,” Joey said and carefully watched Craig’s face. He found it kind of strange that Craig seemed relieved.
Craig sat down on the bed and looked around the room.
“I put the TV from my room in here. I don’t ever watch TV in there anyway. At the end of the day, I’m out,” Joey said and gestured to a TV sitting on the dresser. “I picked up some magazines for you. I know you’re into photography and music. I’ll go get them.”
Joey returned a few minutes later with the magazines. After he handed them over to Craig, he took a pill bottle out of his pocket. Craig tried not to think of his suicide attempt.
Craig was hesitant. He took the pills from his stepfather but kept them in the palm of his hand. “I’m really not in a hurry to be taking more pills,” he said with a nervous smile.
“These are just going to relax you. It’s not to going to knock you out or anything. Just lie in bed and watch TV for awhile. It will be like falling asleep when you are really tired,” Joey assured as he handed his stepson a glass of water.
Craig sighed. He was over this so called attempt at making him more comfortable. He knew they were all just waiting for him to flip out. A part of him wanted to freak out just because he knew that’s what they were thinking he’d do. They were waiting. Give them what they wanted. Poor Craig can’t handle this. And maybe he couldn’t. He knew he was craving some kind of release. All this was too strange.
He raised the tablets up his lips and then paused. “How long will it take to work?”
“In about 15 minutes, maybe a half hour. It happens slowly.”
Craig shrugged and took the pills. He tried to ignore the slight gag reflex the sensation of the pills sliding down his throat produced. Something is in my throat, he thought frantically. Just breathe, he tried to tell himself and ignored the physical memory of that tube down his throat in the E.R.
“You doing okay?” Joey asked cautiously.
“Sure,” Craig said, a hint of frustration in his voice.
“You’re getting tired of that, huh?” Joey said with a smile. “Okay. I’ll try to stop. I just want to make sure you are comfortable.”
“Yeah…I’m fine,” Craig said as he pulled the blankets down and got under them. He propped the pillow up against the headboard. He picked up one of the magazines, and then looked up at Joey, “I’m okay.”
“I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep in as long as you want. I have to take Angie to school, but then I’ll be back.”
“Oh. I’m not going to school?”
“I thought we’d put it off for a day. I have to come in with you and talk to the principal since I’m your guardian now.” Joey then added, “I thought we’d stop by the school psychologist’s office too.”
Craig didn’t say anything, just flipped through the photography magazine. Just another screwed up event in his screwed up life.
“I know you’re not happy with that,” Joey tried. He watched Craig for a moment, waiting for a response. “Right now we have to do what child protective services tell us to do. I’m sure later you will be able to decide if you want to continue to see her or not.”
Craig didn’t want to respond. He wanted Joey to leave and he didn’t care if he left hurt. But when he looked up and only saw concern on Joey’s face, his anger and resistance melted away. “I know. Maybe it’ll be okay,” he said with a shrug.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Joey said and backed out the door.
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Something was wrong, Joey frantically thought as he sat up in bed. As he swung his feet over the side of the bed he glanced at the clock. 3:03 AM. He listened closely; the house was quiet. As he yanked on his robe, he wondered about this intuitive response. He checked on Angela first. She was sound asleep under a mound of her favorite stuffed animals. He used to wake up like this when Julia was in the hospital. There was times when he’d have to walk around the house for a good half hour before he could return to bed. If only he had…
Joey’s thoughts were interrupted when he noticed the soft light spilling out from Craig’s room. The door was slightly ajar and he could hear the soft sound of an infomercial playing on the TV. Craig. Was he okay? Joey stared intently at Craig. The TV cast an obscure light around the room and helped him to get a good look over the boy without turning on the light and waking him. Joey’s breathe caught in his throat; it looked like Craig’s face was pale blue. He’d done it again, Joey thought in a panic. He realized the boy was breathing deep and regular. It was just the glow of the TV, he realized. Craig was fine. Joey pulled the blankets up around his stepson’s shoulders and went for the door. He looked back on his stepson once more before clicking off the TV and heading out of Craig’s room.
He contemplated gathering all the medication in the house right now. He kept them out of Angela’s reach but they were easily accessible for a teenager. He could collect them all in the morning, he figured as he climbed back into bed. He knew it was going to be an insult to Craig; he’d feel like a little kid. But damn it, that teenager had nearly scared him to death. The social worker had tried to prepare him and ease away some of his fears but Joey couldn’t help it, he was scared for that kid. Joey knew that he could protect Craig from his father but he wasn’t sure he could protect Craig from himself. Another suicide attempt wasn’t the only thing on his mind; there was also the self injury. The cutting truly scared the hell out of him. He reflected on the discussion he’d had with the social worker:
“He’ll be fine once he’s away from his dad, right?” Joey asked. “The cutting…he’ll stop that once he moves in with me, I hope.”
“I hope so to,” Robert stated optimistically. He paused then added, “But don’t be shocked if he does it again. It’s become a way that he’s coped with stress or possibly punished himself for the abuse. When he thinks of the abuse, it may be his first reaction. It’s going to take some time for him to unlearn that behavior.”
“So…” Joey struggled with this information. “Do I have to hide all the knives in the house? How much of a danger is he to himself?”
Robert shook his head, “Taking away what he uses to cut won’t solve the problem. He’ll find a way, cutters usually do. It’s better if he doesn’t feel ashamed of the problem. If you hide all the sharp objects, he’s probably doing to feel ashamed and then will avoid talking about it. It’s better if you remain objective. Show concern but don’t condemn the cutting. If it gets serious, he’s going to need to feel like he can approach you about it.”
Joey suddenly had visions of Craig slicing his arms with a razor blade and needing repeated trips to the E.R. “This is really frightening. I don’t think I can watch him hurt himself. Seriously hurt himself…”
“You saw the cuts. He’s not cutting deep. He is barely breaking the skin, actually. There is a possibility that he will make a mistake of course, but let’s hope that doesn’t happen. That’s why he has to feel like he can tell you about it.”
“Is he suicidal?”
“I believe this was all a cry for help. Craig knew that he was hurt and needed someone to intervene but couldn’t get himself to ask for help. I think he knew he needed it. Overdosing guaranteed him a trip to the hospital.”
Joey nodded, “That makes sense.”
It had been reassuring at the time, but really, all the coaching and books couldn’t fully prepare him for what it was going to be like to raise an abused kid. As he struggled to fall back to sleep, Joey also fought negative thoughts about how he wasn’t sure he could ever fully repair Craig. He wondered how long the abuse had gone on. Had Craig dealt with it his whole life? Joey was thankful for the help from the school and the social worker. Hopefully Craig would realize that that they were all trying to help him and that’s why they were keeping such a close eye on him now. He was surprised if he’d ever fall back to sleep, what with this worrying about Craig. To add to his worry, the doctor had mentioned having Craig evaluated by a psychiatrist in a month or so, just to rule out any larger issues that might be at hand. Craig’s moodiness and desperation might just be a symptom of the abuse. Depression and anxiety are probably issues, the doctor had suggested. Joey felt a burst of anger. How could a parent ever abuse their own child? Did Albert even realize everything he took from that kid? Could Joey ever help Craig get it all back?
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Joey noticed that Craig hesitated before climbing out of the car. He stayed a few paces behind him as they walked up the driveway as well. “It’s just us here,” Joey reminded as he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the front door to Albert Manning’s house.
“Yep,” Craig agreed with a nod. He tried to ignore that he was shaking some. He wasn’t sure why this bothered him. It’s just a house. Craig stiffly followed Joey in and hesitated by the door.
“You okay?” Joey asked as he set some cardboard boxes down on the floor.
“Yeah. I think so. Weird being back though,” Craig answered softly.
“Want to go up to your room?”
Craig nodded, picked up some of the boxes, and led Joey up the stairs and into his bedroom. It appeared like nothing had changed since he was here last. A part of him expected the whole room to be packed up. He didn’t know how his father felt about all this. A part of him expected everything to be sitting on the curb. His father felt like his mother betrayed him and did his best to remove every memory of her from his life; wouldn’t he do the same with him?
“Alright,” Craig said with a sigh. He opened the closet and removed two suitcases. He and Joey worked silently for awhile, with Craig half heartedly folding some clothes while Joey began to put Craig’s CD collection into a box. Then he had to ask. He just had to know.
“So where is my dad right now?”
“Um, I’m not really sure.”
“But you said he wasn’t in jail!” Craig was quick to say.
“I know he’s not in jail, Craig. But he…”
“Were the cops involved?”
“Uh, I’m sure that a police officer accompanied Robert when they were doing all the questioning.”
“What are you talking about? Why is there all this going on and I don’t know about any of it!”
“It’s just what they do in situations like this. They had to talk to your dad just like they had to talk to me…to you.”
“Did they take him to the police station? Did he ever spend time in jail for it? Just cause I…” Craig didn’t finish. He angrily tossed a sweatshirt into the suitcase.
“This isn’t your fault!”
Craig ignored that statement and continued with, “Why would they do all that? I mean, have a cop question him? It sounds like there was this huge deal. Did they look around my house? Investigate like someone was murdered here?”
Craig still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. This was all out of control. It was in control before. Well, he was never really in control but hey, at least that was normal. His dad wasn’t in control now either. Someone else was deciding what to do with his family. Who was calling the shots around here? How could all this happen? All this talking about what happened. How dare they? He wanted all this to remain quiet.
Joey wasn’t sure how to respond. Craig looked confused and bewildered. It was heartbreaking. “I know this is very hard to hear. But I’m sure that your dad doesn’t hold it against you.”
“What would you know?!” Craig snapped, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. What did he do? He quickly headed for the bathroom and promptly began to throw up in the toilet. Joey paused in the doorway then stepped out and waited outside in the hall. He waited until he heard the heaves stop. Joey stepped into the bathroom and found Craig sitting beside the toilet, wiping his mouth with a piece of toilet paper.
“I’m sorry you have to go through this,” Joey said softly. He began to approach Craig.
“Please…can I just be alone?” Craig said.
“Sure,” Joey said and began to back out the door.
“Can you close the door? I just need to be alone for awhile.”
Joey hesitated but followed Craig’s request. “I’ll be right outside,” he said as he closed the door.
Craig stood up and went to the sink. He turned the water on and rinsed out his mouth. He lifted his head up and was greeted by his reflection. He stared into his own eyes for several moments, as if he couldn’t recognize what he was seeing. He clenched his fist. It bothered him to see his reflection. He didn't like to know who he was, what he had gone through. He was the screwed up loser who was beaten like a dog. The bruises were fading but he still knew what he was. He angrily opened the medicine cabinet. Now that’s a flashback, he thought, remembering how he used to sneak the pills. The valium and hydrocodone bottles were gone. That sucks, he thought. He took out an aspirin bottle and opened it. He looked in, being careful so the pills wouldn’t rattle. Joey would be in here in a second if he heard that.
There’s my hydrocodone, Craig thought. He shrugged and took out the last 3 pills and put them in his pocket. In memory of that night, he thought bitterly, maybe he could have fun with these later. Thanks dad, he thought and wanted to laugh.
His eyes rested on a pack of razorblades. Craig took them out. He slipped one out and quickly brought it to his wrist. He brought it across slowly, careful not to cut too deep. He cringed at the pain, but he kind of enjoyed it. It reminded him he was human. He moved the blade down farther on his wrist and made another cut. He couldn’t help but let out a sob.
Craig heard a knock on the door and it was followed by Joey's voice. "Craig? Are you okay?"
“Yeah…I just need to be alone. Please.”
Joey put his hand on the doorknob then pulled away. He knew Craig was crying in there and he decided it was best to give him his privacy.
Okay, Craig thought, just one more. His mind was racing and the tears flowing. He was always hesitant to cut, but then he couldn’t stop. Now he was building up courage. He brought the blade down harder now. He stopped before he reached the main vein in his wrist. He was pleased to see how quickly the blood began to flow. It excited him that it was flowing more than the last, maybe even more than it ever had.
“Alright Craig, we should get started packing up your stuff,” he heard Joey say from behind the door.
“Okay, just a minute,” Craig said, a bit frantically. He began to look for bandages.
“Fuck,” he whispered, looking around. A drop of blood dripped into the sink. He found a box of large bandages in the back of the cabinet. He quickly pulled one out and put it on his wrist. He grabbed a few more out of the box and pocketed them. He looked down at the sink and saw the blood.
“Craig,” Joey said, “I’m a little bit worried about you. Kiddo, can I come in?”
“Just hold on,” Craig pleaded, as he turned on the water. He shut the cabinet and pocketed the razorblades. He turned off the water and grabbed a tissue. He quickly wiped his face and gave a good yank on his long sleeve shirt to ensure that the bandage was covered. Then he went for the door and opened it.
Joey noticed Craig’s red eyes, “Hey…this has really got to be horrible for you.”
“I think I’m ok now,” Craig replied and went for his room, “Let’s just get this over with.”
Craig threw the remainder of the clothes from the closet on the bed. He then went to the dresser, removed his clothing from there, and threw them on the bed. He began to kick around the clothes on the floor so they were in a pile. He had to keep moving, just keep doing. Anything to not think about this. He didn’t have to think about this.
“Hey, settle down. We have a couple hours.”
Craig sighed, “Okay.”
“Here, I’ll start folding up your clothes and putting them in the suitcases,” Joey offered, “Want to pack up your books and CDs?”
Craig nodded and grabbed a cardboard box. He began to pack up his books and CDs, laying his CD player on top of them. He put a few framed photos and things from his childhood in as well.
“I’m going to run downstairs to my darkroom and grab some stuff,” Craig said, “I’ll be right back up to finish packing.”
“Sure,” Joey answered, “Yell if you need help with anything.”
Craig went downstairs to the darkroom. He was surprised that his dad had cleaned it up since their fight down here. He looked around, grabbed some photo supplies that he thought he could use at the school’s darkroom and threw them in a box. A few rolls of film and his camera followed. He figured that maybe it was just the lens that was broken and maybe he could do something with it. He looked around for his photo portfolios.
Craig flipped through a portfolio of photographs he had taken that summer. He set the portfolio in a box and picked up the next one. He watched as piece of paper fluttered down to the floor. Craig stared down at an envelope on the floor with his name on it. He picked it up and stared at it for a moment, then tore it open. He noticed his hands were shaking. He looked at the date, dated the day after his suicide attempt. Craig’s heart began to pound. He flipped through the pages, about a 4 page letter.
Craig went over to the door and looked out, no sign of Joey. He was still up in his room. Craig sat on the edge of the darkroom sink. He read the first line and stopped. He wasn’t sure he could read this. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. The first paragraph helped ease him into it. His father was heartbroken to hear that he had attempted suicide. So he did care.
Craig was in a hurry to absorb everything the letter said. Any sort of kind of an answer. There were lots of options. His dad was stressed out from work. And he was going to work less, he’d promised, his family was more important. Craig felt angry at that statement, right, his father’s family was more important. That’s why he had so many fond memories of belt beatings and slaps across his face. Not buying that family was important to that man. No nomination for father of the year for that man.
Or there was Albert suggesting that he was trying to curb his anger and stress with the prescription pills and that was no good solution. It was an addiction that made him hurt his son. It was stress, bad coping skills, and it was how he was raised as well. Had he known that Craig was so troubled and fragile, he’d have done things differently than how he was raised. He would have been more patient, more delicate. He’d do it for Craig. Reading this letter put him on an emotional roller coaster. He wanted to embrace the idea that his dad wasn’t himself when he was hurting him because of an addiction. The addiction made him a monster. Or he did it because that’s how his father treated him. That made him feel relieved. Then his blood boiled at the thought that his father was somehow implying that he could handle it and Craig couldn’t. That he was weaker than his father. Then he began to wonder if he really was the crazy one.
Craig tried to look away from the fact that there was no real apology. And he ached over that. Just a simple “I’m sorry” instead of all these explanations that were beginning to sound like rationalizations.
His father reassured him that he would take care of all this. Craig didn’t have to worry about a thing. Craig would be home in no time and no one had to know about this. No one had to know about his suicide attempt; everyone makes mistakes. Every part of that made him feel a little sick to his stomach.
Craig was too engrossed to notice when Joey entered the room.
“Hey,” Joey said, “You almost done?”
Craig didn’t even hear him.
“Craig?” Joey approached him, “What are you reading?”
Joey put his hand on Craig’s knee, “Hey.”
Craig was so startled he nearly jumped off the table. He quickly folded the letter in half, the paper made a crunching noise as he did so. He didn’t want Joey to see any of the writing. He put a hand over his heart and smiled, “You scared me to death.”
Joey looked at Craig with concern, “What’s going on? What are you reading?”
He was still caught up in the shock of reading the letter. He struggled to think of a lie, “It’s nothing. Nothing interesting.”
“Looked like you were very interested,” Joey said and was going to shrug it off, and then he noticed an envelope lying on the table next to Craig. He noticed the envelope was stamped with Albert Manning’s address.
“Your dad wrote to you?” Joey asked as he picked up the envelope.
“Yeah. It’s nothing.”
“When did he write it?”
Craig looked down at the floor.
Joey touched Craig’s arm, “He’s not supposed to have any contact with you. That includes writing letters too. Give me the letter, Craig.”
Craig jerked away, “It’s my letter. It’s to me.”
“I know. That’s why you can’t have it. I’ll have to turn it over to Child Protective Services or the police…he’s not supposed to have any contact with you,” Joey repeated.
Craig thought about ripping it up. But it was way too important to him. If there was any answer to all this, it was in the letter. Even if there wasn’t, the first paragraph meant too much to him.
“Please, Joey,” he pleaded softly.
“I’m sorry,” Joey said sympathetically, but his tone remained firm, “Give me the letter.”
“If you read it and see that it’s okay, can I have it back?”
“I don’t know…I don’t think so. I’ll have to ask Robert. Give me the letter, I’ll hang onto it, and call him when we get home.”
“So just read it and see that it’s okay. You don’t have to talk to Robert about it.”
“I’m sorry Craig.”
Craig was silent for a moment, “It was just nice to get an apology and sort of an explanation you know? I almost have read all of it. Can I just read the last page? Then I’ll give it to you. I just…I need this, please.”
Joey was hesitant. “I guess that would be okay. I’ll just…” He sighed. “Act like I found it after you read it.”
“Thank you so much,” Craig said and quickly opened the letter. He read the last few paragraphs slow. It sounded like the police or whoever was involved in this case were going to help him, not just lock him up. Craig didn’t think his dad needed to be in jail. Maybe he just needs help to deal with what he went through as a child, with the anger problems, and the chemical dependency. He reread the last few sentences several times. They spoke of how much his father did love him. It was unfortunate that the declaration came with the blow that Craig was just like his mother and left him just like she had. That hurt because he knew that being like his mother was probably the biggest insult Albert could dish out. But he’d take it because he still got the “You’re my son and I love you.”
“So maybe he’s just a mess and needs help right?” Craig finally said.
“I think so. That might take awhile though, Craig. You need help for what you went through and he’s going to need a lot more.”
Craig suddenly felt exhausted from all this. He managed to nod in agreement, and declared “Let’s finish up here and go home.”
Main characters and pairings featured in this chapter: Craig, Joey, social worker Robert.
Brief summary of this chapter: Craig is released into his stepfather's custody and is starting the adjustment period.
Authors Note: Fairly graphic description of self injury (cutting) is included.
6. Home Again
Awkward. That’s what all this was. Awkward. Joey and the social worker interrupted The Price is Right with their usual concern and a careful delivery of the fact that today was the day he’d be going home. Craig was confused for a moment and even started to speak. “Not…”
“You’re coming to stay with me, remember, buddy?” Joey reminded.
“Oh. Yeah. Right,” Craig agreed. It was going to be tough adjusting to thinking of that as home. He’d actually barely remember what Joey’s house looked like. The last he’d seen it was after his mother’s funeral. Oh wait, that wasn’t it. He was just there. He took the pills and went to Joey’s. Not like he remembered much from that night. All this was a mess.
“It’s normal to have mixed feelings about this, Craig,” Robert, the social worker reassured.
“I’m fine with this,” Craig said quickly.
Joey smiled at him, “It’s going to be great having you around again. Angie’s so excited.”
Craig’s smile was sincere this time. “Man…I get to see her everyday. That’s so awesome.”
Robert rubbed Craig’s shoulder. “Okay, so you’ll be out of here by noon.”
“We’ll get you your favorite take out food on the way home,” Joey added.
“I just need Joey to sign a few more forms and then he’ll be right back,” Robert said as the two men headed for the door. Craig nodded in return and watched them exit, the door closing behind them.
Craig laid down on the bed and forced his eyes to close. It’d be nice if he could sleep. Sleep was a great escape and made things move a lot faster. Last night was the first night he hadn’t woken himself up from nightmares. It was just the blissful black of unconsciousness. Craig opened his eyes, suddenly curious about what forms Joey was signing out in the hall. He had a feeling that was code for “let me give you the rundown on that freak you are taking home with you” and there was no forms.
Craig jumped out of bed and began to creep for the door. The linoleum was cold on his feet; they still hadn’t given him his damn shoes back. “…you are less likely to run away if you don’t have your shoes,” he remembered the doctor saying. He felt the anger flare up inside of him. He hated all this. He opened the door only slightly, hoping to pick up on whatever conversation was happening out in the hall by the nurses station. He couldn’t find Joey’s voice in the medley of hospital sounds. Every once in awhile he’d pick up on the social worker’s voice and then recognized his doctors. “Run risk.” “Evaluated by a professional.” That was some of the terms he’d heard being thrown around. Craig wasn’t sure he could handle all these labels and forced himself to not even consider what Joey might be thinking about him right now. He’d listened hard for the sound of Joey’s voice but his tone just didn’t carry like the social worker’s. Maybe Joey wasn’t saying anything, just nodding. He wasn’t sure if Joey even wanted to put up with all this, with him. What a huge inconvenience it had to be.
---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ----------
Out of fear that Joey was getting sick of this whole fiasco, sick of him, Craig stayed polite and quiet. He’d nodded as Joey had led him through the house, opening cupboard doors to point at cups and towels.
It seemed so strange when Joey had gestured to a closed door. “Your room is in here. Want to take a look?” Joey offered.
Craig shook his head, just wanting this to be over. It might sound strange, but he’d never really thought about living in another house with another person. He remembered being worried during his parents divorce but always could remain composed because he knew he’d always have one of his parents there. But living here with Joey? His step dad, Julia’s husband…maybe his dad was right; what was Joey to him. Joey didn’t have to do all this. In an effort to seem like more of a help and not a bother, Craig helped Joey around the house. Craig made sure to include himself in preparing dinner, even if his major role seemed to be keeping Angie entertained and out of the way.
“Welcome to the Jeremiah house of pandemonium,” Joey had joked while he prepared the tacos.
Craig had smiled nervously. He was worried Joey was trying too hard. And it was odd, but he wasn’t used to the mood of Joey’s. It kind of made him nervous to be honest. His father’s house was so quiet and had so much order to it. Joey’s seemed much more casual, if not a little chaotic. He wasn’t used to the television blaring in the next room, radio playing in the kitchen while cooking, and Angela’s toys littered around every room. Dinner being delayed twenty minutes from when he thought it would be? That would never happen at his dad’s. Not to mention the mood during dinner. Angela was her normal bubbly chatterbox self and Joey didn’t even flinch at the spilled taco sauce.
“These beans…they taste funny,” she’d whined while he tossed paper towels on the mess.
“I made them the same way I always do. Eat ‘em up,” Joey encouraged.
Craig was surprised that there wasn’t harshness in Joey’s tone. His father would have taken it as a huge insult if he’d said something like that.
“No, they are too hard,” Angie objected.
“Craig likes the beans don’t you, Craig?” Joey said with a smile.
Craig smiled a bit nervously, “Yeah. They are good.”
---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ----------
He’d sought refuge in front of the TV after dinner. “Craig’s choice,” Joey had said with a smile, presenting him the remote and shooting down Angie’s persistent suggestion of The Lion King. So he’d channel surfed and watched shows he’d never even heard of, long after Angie was put to bed.
“Aren’t you tired?” Joey finally asked, folding up the newspaper and looking over at him.
“Um…I don’t know,” Craig answered. He wasn’t sure he could sleep. He wanted to sleep but wasn’t sure it would happen. He’d probably just end up lying there, staring at the ceiling, and god forbid, thinking. He didn’t want to think.
“The doctor prescribed some meds for anxiety…if you are having trouble sleeping.”
And he most certainly didn’t want to talk about that. “Oh. Um, okay,” Craig mumbled and got up off the couch. This will be fine, he told himself. He’d been waiting for bed all day. Sleep would put an end to all this weirdness. I just want to sleep, he thought. He’d been thinking that same thought all day.
Craig followed Joey up the stairs, feeling like a guest. He noticed he was still studying the house, taking in where everything was and the tacky decorations on the walls. His stomach ached again. This wasn’t his home.
“This is going to be your room,” Joey said, trying to break the awkward silence that never really seemed to leave. Craig noticed the plastic bag sitting on the bed. Craig had carried that bag out of the hospital, feeling strange because it was all that was really his in this moment. A few changes of clothes, the cash that was meant for his great escape, and of course his photos.
“How are you doing?” Joey asked, noticing how Craig stood frozen by the doorway.
“I’m fine,” Craig answered quickly. “This is just weird, you know?”
“I know. Doesn’t feel like your room, I bet. We’ll go get your things tomorrow.”
Craig looked down at the floor, “Ummm…is he going to be there?” He couldn’t even bring himself to say the word ‘father’ or even call him by his first name.
“No, he won’t be. That’s all been worked out.”
Craig smiled nervously. “What’s been worked out?”
“When we are going over to pick up your stuff. We had to make sure he wouldn’t be there.”
“So…he’s not in jail or anything?”
“No, he’s not in jail,” Joey said and carefully watched Craig’s face. He found it kind of strange that Craig seemed relieved.
Craig sat down on the bed and looked around the room.
“I put the TV from my room in here. I don’t ever watch TV in there anyway. At the end of the day, I’m out,” Joey said and gestured to a TV sitting on the dresser. “I picked up some magazines for you. I know you’re into photography and music. I’ll go get them.”
Joey returned a few minutes later with the magazines. After he handed them over to Craig, he took a pill bottle out of his pocket. Craig tried not to think of his suicide attempt.
Craig was hesitant. He took the pills from his stepfather but kept them in the palm of his hand. “I’m really not in a hurry to be taking more pills,” he said with a nervous smile.
“These are just going to relax you. It’s not to going to knock you out or anything. Just lie in bed and watch TV for awhile. It will be like falling asleep when you are really tired,” Joey assured as he handed his stepson a glass of water.
Craig sighed. He was over this so called attempt at making him more comfortable. He knew they were all just waiting for him to flip out. A part of him wanted to freak out just because he knew that’s what they were thinking he’d do. They were waiting. Give them what they wanted. Poor Craig can’t handle this. And maybe he couldn’t. He knew he was craving some kind of release. All this was too strange.
He raised the tablets up his lips and then paused. “How long will it take to work?”
“In about 15 minutes, maybe a half hour. It happens slowly.”
Craig shrugged and took the pills. He tried to ignore the slight gag reflex the sensation of the pills sliding down his throat produced. Something is in my throat, he thought frantically. Just breathe, he tried to tell himself and ignored the physical memory of that tube down his throat in the E.R.
“You doing okay?” Joey asked cautiously.
“Sure,” Craig said, a hint of frustration in his voice.
“You’re getting tired of that, huh?” Joey said with a smile. “Okay. I’ll try to stop. I just want to make sure you are comfortable.”
“Yeah…I’m fine,” Craig said as he pulled the blankets down and got under them. He propped the pillow up against the headboard. He picked up one of the magazines, and then looked up at Joey, “I’m okay.”
“I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep in as long as you want. I have to take Angie to school, but then I’ll be back.”
“Oh. I’m not going to school?”
“I thought we’d put it off for a day. I have to come in with you and talk to the principal since I’m your guardian now.” Joey then added, “I thought we’d stop by the school psychologist’s office too.”
Craig didn’t say anything, just flipped through the photography magazine. Just another screwed up event in his screwed up life.
“I know you’re not happy with that,” Joey tried. He watched Craig for a moment, waiting for a response. “Right now we have to do what child protective services tell us to do. I’m sure later you will be able to decide if you want to continue to see her or not.”
Craig didn’t want to respond. He wanted Joey to leave and he didn’t care if he left hurt. But when he looked up and only saw concern on Joey’s face, his anger and resistance melted away. “I know. Maybe it’ll be okay,” he said with a shrug.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Joey said and backed out the door.
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Something was wrong, Joey frantically thought as he sat up in bed. As he swung his feet over the side of the bed he glanced at the clock. 3:03 AM. He listened closely; the house was quiet. As he yanked on his robe, he wondered about this intuitive response. He checked on Angela first. She was sound asleep under a mound of her favorite stuffed animals. He used to wake up like this when Julia was in the hospital. There was times when he’d have to walk around the house for a good half hour before he could return to bed. If only he had…
Joey’s thoughts were interrupted when he noticed the soft light spilling out from Craig’s room. The door was slightly ajar and he could hear the soft sound of an infomercial playing on the TV. Craig. Was he okay? Joey stared intently at Craig. The TV cast an obscure light around the room and helped him to get a good look over the boy without turning on the light and waking him. Joey’s breathe caught in his throat; it looked like Craig’s face was pale blue. He’d done it again, Joey thought in a panic. He realized the boy was breathing deep and regular. It was just the glow of the TV, he realized. Craig was fine. Joey pulled the blankets up around his stepson’s shoulders and went for the door. He looked back on his stepson once more before clicking off the TV and heading out of Craig’s room.
He contemplated gathering all the medication in the house right now. He kept them out of Angela’s reach but they were easily accessible for a teenager. He could collect them all in the morning, he figured as he climbed back into bed. He knew it was going to be an insult to Craig; he’d feel like a little kid. But damn it, that teenager had nearly scared him to death. The social worker had tried to prepare him and ease away some of his fears but Joey couldn’t help it, he was scared for that kid. Joey knew that he could protect Craig from his father but he wasn’t sure he could protect Craig from himself. Another suicide attempt wasn’t the only thing on his mind; there was also the self injury. The cutting truly scared the hell out of him. He reflected on the discussion he’d had with the social worker:
“He’ll be fine once he’s away from his dad, right?” Joey asked. “The cutting…he’ll stop that once he moves in with me, I hope.”
“I hope so to,” Robert stated optimistically. He paused then added, “But don’t be shocked if he does it again. It’s become a way that he’s coped with stress or possibly punished himself for the abuse. When he thinks of the abuse, it may be his first reaction. It’s going to take some time for him to unlearn that behavior.”
“So…” Joey struggled with this information. “Do I have to hide all the knives in the house? How much of a danger is he to himself?”
Robert shook his head, “Taking away what he uses to cut won’t solve the problem. He’ll find a way, cutters usually do. It’s better if he doesn’t feel ashamed of the problem. If you hide all the sharp objects, he’s probably doing to feel ashamed and then will avoid talking about it. It’s better if you remain objective. Show concern but don’t condemn the cutting. If it gets serious, he’s going to need to feel like he can approach you about it.”
Joey suddenly had visions of Craig slicing his arms with a razor blade and needing repeated trips to the E.R. “This is really frightening. I don’t think I can watch him hurt himself. Seriously hurt himself…”
“You saw the cuts. He’s not cutting deep. He is barely breaking the skin, actually. There is a possibility that he will make a mistake of course, but let’s hope that doesn’t happen. That’s why he has to feel like he can tell you about it.”
“Is he suicidal?”
“I believe this was all a cry for help. Craig knew that he was hurt and needed someone to intervene but couldn’t get himself to ask for help. I think he knew he needed it. Overdosing guaranteed him a trip to the hospital.”
Joey nodded, “That makes sense.”
It had been reassuring at the time, but really, all the coaching and books couldn’t fully prepare him for what it was going to be like to raise an abused kid. As he struggled to fall back to sleep, Joey also fought negative thoughts about how he wasn’t sure he could ever fully repair Craig. He wondered how long the abuse had gone on. Had Craig dealt with it his whole life? Joey was thankful for the help from the school and the social worker. Hopefully Craig would realize that that they were all trying to help him and that’s why they were keeping such a close eye on him now. He was surprised if he’d ever fall back to sleep, what with this worrying about Craig. To add to his worry, the doctor had mentioned having Craig evaluated by a psychiatrist in a month or so, just to rule out any larger issues that might be at hand. Craig’s moodiness and desperation might just be a symptom of the abuse. Depression and anxiety are probably issues, the doctor had suggested. Joey felt a burst of anger. How could a parent ever abuse their own child? Did Albert even realize everything he took from that kid? Could Joey ever help Craig get it all back?
---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ----------
Joey noticed that Craig hesitated before climbing out of the car. He stayed a few paces behind him as they walked up the driveway as well. “It’s just us here,” Joey reminded as he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the front door to Albert Manning’s house.
“Yep,” Craig agreed with a nod. He tried to ignore that he was shaking some. He wasn’t sure why this bothered him. It’s just a house. Craig stiffly followed Joey in and hesitated by the door.
“You okay?” Joey asked as he set some cardboard boxes down on the floor.
“Yeah. I think so. Weird being back though,” Craig answered softly.
“Want to go up to your room?”
Craig nodded, picked up some of the boxes, and led Joey up the stairs and into his bedroom. It appeared like nothing had changed since he was here last. A part of him expected the whole room to be packed up. He didn’t know how his father felt about all this. A part of him expected everything to be sitting on the curb. His father felt like his mother betrayed him and did his best to remove every memory of her from his life; wouldn’t he do the same with him?
“Alright,” Craig said with a sigh. He opened the closet and removed two suitcases. He and Joey worked silently for awhile, with Craig half heartedly folding some clothes while Joey began to put Craig’s CD collection into a box. Then he had to ask. He just had to know.
“So where is my dad right now?”
“Um, I’m not really sure.”
“But you said he wasn’t in jail!” Craig was quick to say.
“I know he’s not in jail, Craig. But he…”
“Were the cops involved?”
“Uh, I’m sure that a police officer accompanied Robert when they were doing all the questioning.”
“What are you talking about? Why is there all this going on and I don’t know about any of it!”
“It’s just what they do in situations like this. They had to talk to your dad just like they had to talk to me…to you.”
“Did they take him to the police station? Did he ever spend time in jail for it? Just cause I…” Craig didn’t finish. He angrily tossed a sweatshirt into the suitcase.
“This isn’t your fault!”
Craig ignored that statement and continued with, “Why would they do all that? I mean, have a cop question him? It sounds like there was this huge deal. Did they look around my house? Investigate like someone was murdered here?”
Craig still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. This was all out of control. It was in control before. Well, he was never really in control but hey, at least that was normal. His dad wasn’t in control now either. Someone else was deciding what to do with his family. Who was calling the shots around here? How could all this happen? All this talking about what happened. How dare they? He wanted all this to remain quiet.
Joey wasn’t sure how to respond. Craig looked confused and bewildered. It was heartbreaking. “I know this is very hard to hear. But I’m sure that your dad doesn’t hold it against you.”
“What would you know?!” Craig snapped, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. What did he do? He quickly headed for the bathroom and promptly began to throw up in the toilet. Joey paused in the doorway then stepped out and waited outside in the hall. He waited until he heard the heaves stop. Joey stepped into the bathroom and found Craig sitting beside the toilet, wiping his mouth with a piece of toilet paper.
“I’m sorry you have to go through this,” Joey said softly. He began to approach Craig.
“Please…can I just be alone?” Craig said.
“Sure,” Joey said and began to back out the door.
“Can you close the door? I just need to be alone for awhile.”
Joey hesitated but followed Craig’s request. “I’ll be right outside,” he said as he closed the door.
Craig stood up and went to the sink. He turned the water on and rinsed out his mouth. He lifted his head up and was greeted by his reflection. He stared into his own eyes for several moments, as if he couldn’t recognize what he was seeing. He clenched his fist. It bothered him to see his reflection. He didn't like to know who he was, what he had gone through. He was the screwed up loser who was beaten like a dog. The bruises were fading but he still knew what he was. He angrily opened the medicine cabinet. Now that’s a flashback, he thought, remembering how he used to sneak the pills. The valium and hydrocodone bottles were gone. That sucks, he thought. He took out an aspirin bottle and opened it. He looked in, being careful so the pills wouldn’t rattle. Joey would be in here in a second if he heard that.
There’s my hydrocodone, Craig thought. He shrugged and took out the last 3 pills and put them in his pocket. In memory of that night, he thought bitterly, maybe he could have fun with these later. Thanks dad, he thought and wanted to laugh.
His eyes rested on a pack of razorblades. Craig took them out. He slipped one out and quickly brought it to his wrist. He brought it across slowly, careful not to cut too deep. He cringed at the pain, but he kind of enjoyed it. It reminded him he was human. He moved the blade down farther on his wrist and made another cut. He couldn’t help but let out a sob.
Craig heard a knock on the door and it was followed by Joey's voice. "Craig? Are you okay?"
“Yeah…I just need to be alone. Please.”
Joey put his hand on the doorknob then pulled away. He knew Craig was crying in there and he decided it was best to give him his privacy.
Okay, Craig thought, just one more. His mind was racing and the tears flowing. He was always hesitant to cut, but then he couldn’t stop. Now he was building up courage. He brought the blade down harder now. He stopped before he reached the main vein in his wrist. He was pleased to see how quickly the blood began to flow. It excited him that it was flowing more than the last, maybe even more than it ever had.
“Alright Craig, we should get started packing up your stuff,” he heard Joey say from behind the door.
“Okay, just a minute,” Craig said, a bit frantically. He began to look for bandages.
“Fuck,” he whispered, looking around. A drop of blood dripped into the sink. He found a box of large bandages in the back of the cabinet. He quickly pulled one out and put it on his wrist. He grabbed a few more out of the box and pocketed them. He looked down at the sink and saw the blood.
“Craig,” Joey said, “I’m a little bit worried about you. Kiddo, can I come in?”
“Just hold on,” Craig pleaded, as he turned on the water. He shut the cabinet and pocketed the razorblades. He turned off the water and grabbed a tissue. He quickly wiped his face and gave a good yank on his long sleeve shirt to ensure that the bandage was covered. Then he went for the door and opened it.
Joey noticed Craig’s red eyes, “Hey…this has really got to be horrible for you.”
“I think I’m ok now,” Craig replied and went for his room, “Let’s just get this over with.”
Craig threw the remainder of the clothes from the closet on the bed. He then went to the dresser, removed his clothing from there, and threw them on the bed. He began to kick around the clothes on the floor so they were in a pile. He had to keep moving, just keep doing. Anything to not think about this. He didn’t have to think about this.
“Hey, settle down. We have a couple hours.”
Craig sighed, “Okay.”
“Here, I’ll start folding up your clothes and putting them in the suitcases,” Joey offered, “Want to pack up your books and CDs?”
Craig nodded and grabbed a cardboard box. He began to pack up his books and CDs, laying his CD player on top of them. He put a few framed photos and things from his childhood in as well.
“I’m going to run downstairs to my darkroom and grab some stuff,” Craig said, “I’ll be right back up to finish packing.”
“Sure,” Joey answered, “Yell if you need help with anything.”
Craig went downstairs to the darkroom. He was surprised that his dad had cleaned it up since their fight down here. He looked around, grabbed some photo supplies that he thought he could use at the school’s darkroom and threw them in a box. A few rolls of film and his camera followed. He figured that maybe it was just the lens that was broken and maybe he could do something with it. He looked around for his photo portfolios.
Craig flipped through a portfolio of photographs he had taken that summer. He set the portfolio in a box and picked up the next one. He watched as piece of paper fluttered down to the floor. Craig stared down at an envelope on the floor with his name on it. He picked it up and stared at it for a moment, then tore it open. He noticed his hands were shaking. He looked at the date, dated the day after his suicide attempt. Craig’s heart began to pound. He flipped through the pages, about a 4 page letter.
Craig went over to the door and looked out, no sign of Joey. He was still up in his room. Craig sat on the edge of the darkroom sink. He read the first line and stopped. He wasn’t sure he could read this. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. The first paragraph helped ease him into it. His father was heartbroken to hear that he had attempted suicide. So he did care.
Craig was in a hurry to absorb everything the letter said. Any sort of kind of an answer. There were lots of options. His dad was stressed out from work. And he was going to work less, he’d promised, his family was more important. Craig felt angry at that statement, right, his father’s family was more important. That’s why he had so many fond memories of belt beatings and slaps across his face. Not buying that family was important to that man. No nomination for father of the year for that man.
Or there was Albert suggesting that he was trying to curb his anger and stress with the prescription pills and that was no good solution. It was an addiction that made him hurt his son. It was stress, bad coping skills, and it was how he was raised as well. Had he known that Craig was so troubled and fragile, he’d have done things differently than how he was raised. He would have been more patient, more delicate. He’d do it for Craig. Reading this letter put him on an emotional roller coaster. He wanted to embrace the idea that his dad wasn’t himself when he was hurting him because of an addiction. The addiction made him a monster. Or he did it because that’s how his father treated him. That made him feel relieved. Then his blood boiled at the thought that his father was somehow implying that he could handle it and Craig couldn’t. That he was weaker than his father. Then he began to wonder if he really was the crazy one.
Craig tried to look away from the fact that there was no real apology. And he ached over that. Just a simple “I’m sorry” instead of all these explanations that were beginning to sound like rationalizations.
His father reassured him that he would take care of all this. Craig didn’t have to worry about a thing. Craig would be home in no time and no one had to know about this. No one had to know about his suicide attempt; everyone makes mistakes. Every part of that made him feel a little sick to his stomach.
Craig was too engrossed to notice when Joey entered the room.
“Hey,” Joey said, “You almost done?”
Craig didn’t even hear him.
“Craig?” Joey approached him, “What are you reading?”
Joey put his hand on Craig’s knee, “Hey.”
Craig was so startled he nearly jumped off the table. He quickly folded the letter in half, the paper made a crunching noise as he did so. He didn’t want Joey to see any of the writing. He put a hand over his heart and smiled, “You scared me to death.”
Joey looked at Craig with concern, “What’s going on? What are you reading?”
He was still caught up in the shock of reading the letter. He struggled to think of a lie, “It’s nothing. Nothing interesting.”
“Looked like you were very interested,” Joey said and was going to shrug it off, and then he noticed an envelope lying on the table next to Craig. He noticed the envelope was stamped with Albert Manning’s address.
“Your dad wrote to you?” Joey asked as he picked up the envelope.
“Yeah. It’s nothing.”
“When did he write it?”
Craig looked down at the floor.
Joey touched Craig’s arm, “He’s not supposed to have any contact with you. That includes writing letters too. Give me the letter, Craig.”
Craig jerked away, “It’s my letter. It’s to me.”
“I know. That’s why you can’t have it. I’ll have to turn it over to Child Protective Services or the police…he’s not supposed to have any contact with you,” Joey repeated.
Craig thought about ripping it up. But it was way too important to him. If there was any answer to all this, it was in the letter. Even if there wasn’t, the first paragraph meant too much to him.
“Please, Joey,” he pleaded softly.
“I’m sorry,” Joey said sympathetically, but his tone remained firm, “Give me the letter.”
“If you read it and see that it’s okay, can I have it back?”
“I don’t know…I don’t think so. I’ll have to ask Robert. Give me the letter, I’ll hang onto it, and call him when we get home.”
“So just read it and see that it’s okay. You don’t have to talk to Robert about it.”
“I’m sorry Craig.”
Craig was silent for a moment, “It was just nice to get an apology and sort of an explanation you know? I almost have read all of it. Can I just read the last page? Then I’ll give it to you. I just…I need this, please.”
Joey was hesitant. “I guess that would be okay. I’ll just…” He sighed. “Act like I found it after you read it.”
“Thank you so much,” Craig said and quickly opened the letter. He read the last few paragraphs slow. It sounded like the police or whoever was involved in this case were going to help him, not just lock him up. Craig didn’t think his dad needed to be in jail. Maybe he just needs help to deal with what he went through as a child, with the anger problems, and the chemical dependency. He reread the last few sentences several times. They spoke of how much his father did love him. It was unfortunate that the declaration came with the blow that Craig was just like his mother and left him just like she had. That hurt because he knew that being like his mother was probably the biggest insult Albert could dish out. But he’d take it because he still got the “You’re my son and I love you.”
“So maybe he’s just a mess and needs help right?” Craig finally said.
“I think so. That might take awhile though, Craig. You need help for what you went through and he’s going to need a lot more.”
Craig suddenly felt exhausted from all this. He managed to nod in agreement, and declared “Let’s finish up here and go home.”