What Was Left Unsaid: The Walking Wounded
What Was Left Unsaid Chapter Index
Main characters and pairings featured in this chapter: Craig, Joey, Angie, Snake aka Mr. Simpson.
Brief summary of this chapter: Craig's depression worsens after his father's death. The adult males around Craig try to offer him some guidance and Angie is there to give some sisterly affection.
21. The Walking Wounded
He could feel memories, feelings that were scattered around, and everything that was who he used to be poking at the surface. He felt vast like a huge body of water and these things were struggling to get to the surface. Everything that made Craig who he was was struggling to stay afloat. He’d get a glimpse of the memory and just about be ready to place where he was and then it would fade away. What was happening to him?
They told him it was stress. In between the moments of bringing him food that he would barely touch and him faking being asleep, they reassured him that his reactions were normal. Craig wasn’t sure they were all convinced. But he wasn’t all that concerned with his stepfather or whoever else wandered into his room “to show their support.” He had other things on his mind.
Craig had to figure out why this had to happen. He was sure that it was his fault and he went over the details in his mind over and over. He started at his father’s suicide. It was obvious what he did wrong that night. He was convinced there had to be more. So he let his mind take him back. It was like he was stepping backwards in time, hitting the rewind button and watching things skip backwards. He knew that his father was unsatisfied with him. He figured his dad hated him but needed him around all the same. Maybe he should have just sucked it up and stayed there last year. But he hated it there. Things continued to circle in his mind, taking him out of his bedroom and further into his head. He didn’t see the bedroom quietly click open.
Angie cautiously peeked in. She could see him burrowed under the bed covers and she decided to take a chance, slowly creeping into Craig’s room. She stopped at the foot of his bed, unsure if she was allowed to be in her big brother‘s room. They thought that she didn’t pick up on things but she did. She could tell from the hushed conversations that her dad had with people that something serious was going on with her brother.
“Craig?” she asked cautiously when she saw that his eyes were open, but he wasn‘t looking at her. Craig scared her lately. She wasn’t sure if he was angry or sad or which mood would be more dangerous. She’d never heard him yell at her before and the mere thought of it happening brought tears to her eyes. Despite that, she continued to slowly approach the head of the bed.
“Hi Ang,” Craig mumbled after a moment, his voice sleepy and sad. He thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes but she was quick to smile anyway. He wasn’t sure how much Angie knew. He was certain she didn’t know the details. A six year old would never be able to understand how a person was so lost that they took their own life.
“Hi,” Angie barely peeped back at him. The she whispered, “I miss you Craig.”
“What?”
“You aren’t ever around.”
“What do you mean? I’m right here.”
“But you don’t come downstairs. You don’t play anymore.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he apologized and realized that maybe he was a burden to them.
“It’s okay. I know you are sad. I hope you get better soon,” Angie said softly. “If you come downstairs…I have something for you. It might make you feel better.”
He knew what would make him feel better. “Hey kid, you think you could do me a favor?” Craig asked as Angie settled down beside the bed and gazed at him with her big brown eyes. “You know the bookcase next to the TV? The last shelf with the doors? Could you go down and get me a bottle from it?”
Craig watched as Angie fidgeted nervously. This was going to take more negotiating. “Dad’s at work and Caitlin is on her laptop in the bedroom, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So just grab a bottle, wrap it up in a blanket, and bring it to me please. Grab anything that’s brown.”
“Caitlin made chocolate chip cookies. They are brown.” Angie tried. “Come downstairs and you can have some and I can show you what I made you.”
Craig couldn’t help but softly smile. This kid knew how to play dumb. It was obvious she knew the liquor cabinet was off limits and now she was just trying to distract him. “Okay. For you, kid.”
Craig was slow to rise out of bed and somewhere in the descent down the hall, Angie had skipped ahead of him. He thought for a moment that he felt warmth coming from whatever surprise his sister had in store for him and that reminded him that maybe he was still alive. He had been stuck in nothing but numbness lately. It surrounded him, keeping him separated from everyone and everything Craig realized as he slowly climbed down the stairs. His stomach rumbled with hunger. This was the first time he had felt hunger pangs in days. Once again something was proving that he was still half alive and it stunned him a little.
He stopped at the bottom and looked around the living room. Half of the room was hidden under a tent made by mismatched bed sheets and blankets. Craig smiled a little. He watched as Angie poked her head out and grinned at him. She climbed out and took his hand.
“I thought this might make you happy. Come in,” she encouraged and studied her big brother for a moment. “So you do remember.”
“I remember,” Craig answered. He recalled the night of babysitting where they had created a labyrinth of tunnels out of blankets and declared the game ‘tunnels.’
Craig followed her in, crawling on the floor to the center of the tent. She had placed a make-shift bed of blankets and pillows on the floor and at his sister’s request, Craig laid down on top of them. Angie was quick to curl up next to him.
“You kind of stink,” Angie had to say as she snuggled next to her brother.
“Yeah. Sorry,” Craig apologized. For the first week or so he had the motivation to at least shower and rotate his flannel pajama bottoms and the grungy t-shirts he‘d always worn to bed. Lately he hadn’t had the energy for that and was surprised by how little he cared if Ashley popped by and saw him like that. He felt much worse on the inside anyway. Maybe if they saw how run down he was, they’d realize they should just leave him alone. They wouldn’t bother someone who looked like they were on their sickbed.
“Can I show you some stuff?” Angie asked, reaching for the art projects she’d made today in school.
“Sure.”
Angie was careful to hand each drawing individually over to Craig and explained in detail what each was about when her brother asked. Craig tried to be interested. In a way, he was. But when he became too involved with Angie, it made him more sad. He didn’t think he’d ever be human and alive the way she was.
“This one is our family portrait,” Angie explained as she proudly gestured to a drawing on construction paper that was made out of brightly colored tissue paper, pipe cleaners, and cotton balls.
Craig felt tears spring to his eyes at the sight of that one. He willed them not to fall. Not now, he told himself. The depression came on so strong, nearly taking all the strength out of him.
Angie rolled over so she was face to face with her brother. She gently ran her hand over his hair. “You are still sad, Craig. You miss your dad.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
“Of course you do, he’s your daddy.”
It was nice talking to Angie, Craig realized. He appreciated her honesty. She didn’t hesitate and her words were real. She simplified things and said how it really was. She told him what he was afraid to admit to himself. Deep down, yes he did miss him. So he continued to confide in her.
“He was angry so much though. He… could be so mean. I used to wish him gone.”
Angie was quiet for a moment. She bit her lip and continued to stroke Craig’s hair with her small hand. “But he did nice things too, right? Did you ever have fun?”
“Yeah. He was fun when I was little.”
“So that’s why you miss him. You remember that. And you love him because he’s your dad.”
“Now things can never be better because he’s gone,” Craig said with a voice that was barely above a whisper.
“But my dad loves you. He could be like your new daddy,” Angie said after some thought.
Craig let out a sob once she said that. He wasn’t ready for any of that.
“Joey says that’s how I should think of Caitlin. That she’s like a new mommy. She’s not my real mom but she loves me like a mom would. Joey will be that for you. He will love you like a daddy would. He‘ll be your new dad.”
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Joey set a stack of textbooks down on Craig’s desk. He watched his stepson for a moment. Craig was rolled away from him, breathing slow and steadily. Sleeping? Maybe. He was always sleeping when he entered the room. Sometimes the only way he could communicate with the teen was by leaving post-it notes tacked onto the wall informing him of who called or stopped by or to inquire if he needed anything. He rarely got a response; not even when he’d written that they were ordering from Craig’s favorite pizza place and he could pick the toppings.
“Ashley brought by some school assignments,” Joey finally said, still leaning up against Craig’s desk. How much time was he supposed to give him to grieve? Was he supposed to force him to talk about it? How could he encourage him to see Ms. Sauvé? Joey wished that there was some manual as to how to handle this situation.
Craig could feel his stepfather’s eyes burning into his back. Usually, Joey was quick to pop in and out. What was this about? Just leave, Craig silently pleaded. Go back to your normal life. You have that luxury, Craig thought. He coiled his fist as he felt the bed shift under Joey’s weight.
“Did I wake you?” Joey greeted warmly.
Craig’s muscles tightened and he was slow to roll over onto his back. It was obvious that Joey wanted to talk and it didn’t matter much to him that he wasn’t in the mood. It was better for the both of him that they avoided what was in his head. All that was a mess.
“Ashley brought over some school assignments,” Joey repeated. “It’s been almost two weeks. Look, I know this is a very difficult time but I don’t want you to fall behind.”
“School is the last thing on my mind.”
Joey was silent for a moment. That seemed fair. He wasn’t sure how much to push the boy. He couldn’t even imagine what it was like. But the sensation that Craig was pushing him away was almost palpable. His gaze and his energy was almost strong enough to give him a good shove across the room. “Okay…school isn’t on your mind. What is?”
Craig sighed and shrugged.
Joey felt awkward and used the silence to survey Craig’s room. It hadn’t changed much over the past week. The suit his stepson had worn to the funeral was still hanging on the closet door and his dress shoes had been kicked off near the bed. Clean laundry was stacked on the dresser, waiting to be put away, and the stack of school textbooks and papers had been growing by the day. Joey glanced at the dusty film that was forming on the TV screen.
“Isn’t your favorite TV program on tonight?”
“I don’t really know what day it is Joey, so I couldn‘t tell you.”
“You haven’t been watching TV huh?” Joey pressed on. His stepson didn’t do anything. He just laid there and who knew what was circling around in his mind and weighing on his heart. “Maybe a shower would help.”
Craig sat up in a quick and sharp movement. “Do you want something?”
“I just want to know how I can help you. I feel like you are trying to shut us out. We’re here for you,” Joey tried to explain and watched as Craig rubbed his forehead like he had a headache brought on from hearing this a hundred times before. “Look, I don’t mind if you stay at home. Take as long as you need. But I just don’t think it’s good for you to lie in bed and think.”
Craig shook his head. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“We need to get you out of this room,” Joey said and crossed over to the window. He opened the curtains to let some of the afternoon light in. He watched as Craig cringed as he was used to the dimness. “Let’s go for a drive.”
“And then you’ll leave me alone?”
“And then I’ll leave you alone.”
Craig sighed for the tenth time in the past five minutes and then swung his legs over the bed. After angrily pulling on some sneakers and a sweatshirt, he trudged for the door. Craig knew his hair was a greasy mess, sticking up in odd places and flattened in others but he didn‘t care about that or the fact that he was heading out in his flannel pajama bottoms. Joey simply grabbed his keys on the way out and didn’t complain. They weren’t exactly going out for lunch in a nice restaurant. He probably couldn’t drag Craig into a fast food joint either.
Craig slouched down in the passenger seat and stared out the side window as they drove. He didn’t even bother with the radio, something that the two would often casually fight over. Today he left it off and hoped the silence was making his stepfather uncomfortable. He should be as miserable as he was with this situation. Craig couldn’t help but give into that sensation that he wanted to punish his stepfather. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Joey’s repeated glances and he drove them down random streets.
“Come on and talk to me,” Joey encouraged.
“I really don’t have anything to say,” Craig replied in a curt tone. Sometimes Joey’s concern angered him. He was being ‘fatherly’ and he wasn’t his father.
“What are you feeling right now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sad? Angry? Numb? Betrayed maybe?” Joey suggested.
“Oh, just leave it to Ms. Sauvé and drive Joey,” Craig snapped.
“So you are angry.”
“Yeah. I’m angry at you,” Craig confessed. He’d gone over everything a million times in his head. He could practically recite the final conversation he’d had with his father. And all the others where his dad would take a jab at Joey. Sometimes he swore it was being said in his dreams. And then Angie suggested that Joey be his new daddy and solidified it. His father was right all along; Joey was trying to replace him.
Joey stopped at a red light and stared incredulously at Craig. “Angry? At me?”
“He kept talking about you that night. I don’t know if he was jealous. Probably was because you got my mom and then I moved in. You took everything away from him. So he had to kill himself.”
“Okay. I can understand that. But I didn’t hand him the gun, Craig. You didn’t either. You did everything you could do. I know you are looking for answers. And maybe you are blaming yourself and other people in the process.”
“You don’t understand what it’s like. I need a reason for this,” Craig said and Joey could see from the look on his face that his stepson was straining to process things. Craig continued with, “I know that it‘s not all you. It‘s me too.”
“It’s not your fault!” Joey exclaimed as he pulled into a parking spot.
“I didn’t do enough!” Craig shouted.
“It’s not your fault!”
“You don’t understand. This was supposed to be how I would fix everything. If he just knew that I left because I did care and I was trying to make things better. I was trying to get us help. I was trying to fix things.”
“Craig, how old are you?”
“What?”
“Look at me and tell me how old you are.”
“You know how old I am,“ Craig griped. “Fifteen.”
“Exactly. Your father was the adult. If anyone was supposed to try to fix things, to set a plan into motion to make things better for your family, it was him. It wasn’t on your shoulders,” Joey tried to explain. He could only hope that when Craig was older, out of his teens, he’d realize that it was up to the adults to do the right thing. It wasn’t up to the fifteen year old to know how to handle every situation.
Craig was silent for a moment, taking this in. It made sense and even temporarily relieved the constant circling of thoughts that seemed as strong as a hurricane. But he could feel it starting up again. The memories of being hit and pushed into walls was colliding with the vivid details he remembered from that last night interacting with his father. “It doesn’t help, Joey,” Craig stated, his voice barely above a whisper.
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Craig wondered if he looked as lost as he looked in the Degrassi school hallways. If anyone was around, he was sure that they would assume he was a guest and offer him directions. But the thing was, he wasn’t physically lost.
He was certain to have Joey drop him off at a moment when he knew that class would be in session and Mr. Simpson would have a period free. He’d told his stepfather that he could do that. He’d try to be normal and do something for at least today. He didn’t feel normal though. He was sure that was obvious. He couldn’t keep his eyes from darting around the halls. He knew it was still the same school; there was the lockers, the banners in Degrassi’s school colors, and the displays of athletic and academic awards. It was the same school. Then he realized what was different was him. That shift inside him had changed everything.
The world had just been carrying on without him and now he was forced to try and keep up. He wasn’t sure if he could, Craig thought as he pushed open the door to the Media Immersion classroom.
“Hi,” Craig greeted shyly. “I thought maybe I work on some stuff for class.”
“Oh, sure. Joey told me you might be stopping by,” Simpson responded casually.
Craig’s foot nervously twitched after he sat down at one of the computers. He wasn’t sure why this situation felt so awkward. Maybe it was that he was certain that Joey had been keeping his buddy up to date on his daily activities. He could practically hear him now. “I finally took a shower,” Craig said, wanting to test him.
“Well, I’m thankful for that,” Simpson joked in response.
Craig watched his teacher shuffle through a stack of papers on the desk and then he averted his gaze. “It’s really strange being back. I think I forgot that anything existed. I bet that sounds strange.”
“That doesn’t sound strange. You are just going to need time to grieve.”
“How were you after that one guy’s suicide?” Craig asked, fidgeting with a pen. He felt a little awkward letting his teacher of all people into his thoughts on the last few weeks but at the same time, this was maybe the one person he thought would get it and wasn’t just giving him the typical sympathetic responses.
He took a moment to gather himself as he flipped through another folder. “I was a lot of things. Confused, angry, and sad. Everyone tries to make the grieving cycle seem like a process, but things cycle and you feel things out of turn. I could go from remembering how awful it was to find him to feeling pissed off in a heartbeat. It took some time to deal with. Therapy helped.”
Craig took the assignment sheets from his teacher and out of the corner of his eye, he saw him sit down in the computer chair next to him. He glanced over the sheets of paper but couldn’t focus; it was as if the assignment description was written in another language. “It’s so weird being back,” Craig repeated.
“You can come in for only half days for awhile. Just to get back into the swing of things.”
“I had to come in when everyone would be in class. The idea of everyone in the hallways scares me. That’s so strange,” Craig said and smiled nervously. Everything felt so foreign to him, like he was relearning how to live his life. “I feel, like, weak. On the inside. Like I’m wounded so much on the inside that if someone just bumps into me in the hallway, I’ll fall down.”
“I think you are stronger than you realize.”
Craig sighed in response. He didn’t think so. “And I’m afraid of what people are saying about me.”
Simpson smiled reassuringly at the typical teenage insecurity he was used to seeing in his students. “I’m sure people are feeling nothing but compassion for what you’ve been through. And a lot of them have their own lives going on. They aren’t judging you for this.”
He wondered if he’d ever change the label that hung over his head. Fucked up is what his peers would call him whereas teacher would use the term troubled. To some he was poor Craig. Craig swallowed hard and then spoke, “How did people treat you afterwards? I don’t want like all this sympathy. I just want things to go back to normal.”
“I remember that feeling after Claude’s suicide. I was concerned about all the looks I got in the hall. But you know what? That passed fairly quickly. Things are going to return to something halfway normal quicker than you think. And I think therapy would help you get almost all the way there over time.”
Craig absentmindly started up a computer program and then continued discussing his worries. “I don’t like how it seems like Ashley feels sorry for me. It’s like she wants to take care of me. I don’t want that.”
“Hey, I think her feelings towards you are genuine. When I returned back to high school the year end dance was approaching. There was two girls who were interested in me and I’ll admit, I thought it was out of sympathy because of the suicide. But I think it was genuine. One of those girls was Spike,” he said with a smile.
Craig actually looked over at his teacher for a moment before shifting his eyes away again. There was something comforting about the fact that someone could remain involved in your life for that long. He was certain that everyone would split after awhile. That was how things had worked so far. People continued to drift slowly and surely, almost like it was some pattern in nature. They just didn’t stay in one place.
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Author’s Note: Up next, more on Craig struggling to come to terms with his father’s passing a few months later. I bet Craig isn’t going to be thrilled when Sean announces that Tracker got a job in Alberta and he’s being forced to move. No one sticks around do they? Also, a little bit of a Halloween treat. Who dreams of Craig wandering around in an abandoned hospital? Well, me of course. I wrote something up a few years ago and it’s just perfect timing.
Main characters and pairings featured in this chapter: Craig, Joey, Angie, Snake aka Mr. Simpson.
Brief summary of this chapter: Craig's depression worsens after his father's death. The adult males around Craig try to offer him some guidance and Angie is there to give some sisterly affection.
21. The Walking Wounded
He could feel memories, feelings that were scattered around, and everything that was who he used to be poking at the surface. He felt vast like a huge body of water and these things were struggling to get to the surface. Everything that made Craig who he was was struggling to stay afloat. He’d get a glimpse of the memory and just about be ready to place where he was and then it would fade away. What was happening to him?
They told him it was stress. In between the moments of bringing him food that he would barely touch and him faking being asleep, they reassured him that his reactions were normal. Craig wasn’t sure they were all convinced. But he wasn’t all that concerned with his stepfather or whoever else wandered into his room “to show their support.” He had other things on his mind.
Craig had to figure out why this had to happen. He was sure that it was his fault and he went over the details in his mind over and over. He started at his father’s suicide. It was obvious what he did wrong that night. He was convinced there had to be more. So he let his mind take him back. It was like he was stepping backwards in time, hitting the rewind button and watching things skip backwards. He knew that his father was unsatisfied with him. He figured his dad hated him but needed him around all the same. Maybe he should have just sucked it up and stayed there last year. But he hated it there. Things continued to circle in his mind, taking him out of his bedroom and further into his head. He didn’t see the bedroom quietly click open.
Angie cautiously peeked in. She could see him burrowed under the bed covers and she decided to take a chance, slowly creeping into Craig’s room. She stopped at the foot of his bed, unsure if she was allowed to be in her big brother‘s room. They thought that she didn’t pick up on things but she did. She could tell from the hushed conversations that her dad had with people that something serious was going on with her brother.
“Craig?” she asked cautiously when she saw that his eyes were open, but he wasn‘t looking at her. Craig scared her lately. She wasn’t sure if he was angry or sad or which mood would be more dangerous. She’d never heard him yell at her before and the mere thought of it happening brought tears to her eyes. Despite that, she continued to slowly approach the head of the bed.
“Hi Ang,” Craig mumbled after a moment, his voice sleepy and sad. He thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes but she was quick to smile anyway. He wasn’t sure how much Angie knew. He was certain she didn’t know the details. A six year old would never be able to understand how a person was so lost that they took their own life.
“Hi,” Angie barely peeped back at him. The she whispered, “I miss you Craig.”
“What?”
“You aren’t ever around.”
“What do you mean? I’m right here.”
“But you don’t come downstairs. You don’t play anymore.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” he apologized and realized that maybe he was a burden to them.
“It’s okay. I know you are sad. I hope you get better soon,” Angie said softly. “If you come downstairs…I have something for you. It might make you feel better.”
He knew what would make him feel better. “Hey kid, you think you could do me a favor?” Craig asked as Angie settled down beside the bed and gazed at him with her big brown eyes. “You know the bookcase next to the TV? The last shelf with the doors? Could you go down and get me a bottle from it?”
Craig watched as Angie fidgeted nervously. This was going to take more negotiating. “Dad’s at work and Caitlin is on her laptop in the bedroom, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So just grab a bottle, wrap it up in a blanket, and bring it to me please. Grab anything that’s brown.”
“Caitlin made chocolate chip cookies. They are brown.” Angie tried. “Come downstairs and you can have some and I can show you what I made you.”
Craig couldn’t help but softly smile. This kid knew how to play dumb. It was obvious she knew the liquor cabinet was off limits and now she was just trying to distract him. “Okay. For you, kid.”
Craig was slow to rise out of bed and somewhere in the descent down the hall, Angie had skipped ahead of him. He thought for a moment that he felt warmth coming from whatever surprise his sister had in store for him and that reminded him that maybe he was still alive. He had been stuck in nothing but numbness lately. It surrounded him, keeping him separated from everyone and everything Craig realized as he slowly climbed down the stairs. His stomach rumbled with hunger. This was the first time he had felt hunger pangs in days. Once again something was proving that he was still half alive and it stunned him a little.
He stopped at the bottom and looked around the living room. Half of the room was hidden under a tent made by mismatched bed sheets and blankets. Craig smiled a little. He watched as Angie poked her head out and grinned at him. She climbed out and took his hand.
“I thought this might make you happy. Come in,” she encouraged and studied her big brother for a moment. “So you do remember.”
“I remember,” Craig answered. He recalled the night of babysitting where they had created a labyrinth of tunnels out of blankets and declared the game ‘tunnels.’
Craig followed her in, crawling on the floor to the center of the tent. She had placed a make-shift bed of blankets and pillows on the floor and at his sister’s request, Craig laid down on top of them. Angie was quick to curl up next to him.
“You kind of stink,” Angie had to say as she snuggled next to her brother.
“Yeah. Sorry,” Craig apologized. For the first week or so he had the motivation to at least shower and rotate his flannel pajama bottoms and the grungy t-shirts he‘d always worn to bed. Lately he hadn’t had the energy for that and was surprised by how little he cared if Ashley popped by and saw him like that. He felt much worse on the inside anyway. Maybe if they saw how run down he was, they’d realize they should just leave him alone. They wouldn’t bother someone who looked like they were on their sickbed.
“Can I show you some stuff?” Angie asked, reaching for the art projects she’d made today in school.
“Sure.”
Angie was careful to hand each drawing individually over to Craig and explained in detail what each was about when her brother asked. Craig tried to be interested. In a way, he was. But when he became too involved with Angie, it made him more sad. He didn’t think he’d ever be human and alive the way she was.
“This one is our family portrait,” Angie explained as she proudly gestured to a drawing on construction paper that was made out of brightly colored tissue paper, pipe cleaners, and cotton balls.
Craig felt tears spring to his eyes at the sight of that one. He willed them not to fall. Not now, he told himself. The depression came on so strong, nearly taking all the strength out of him.
Angie rolled over so she was face to face with her brother. She gently ran her hand over his hair. “You are still sad, Craig. You miss your dad.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
“Of course you do, he’s your daddy.”
It was nice talking to Angie, Craig realized. He appreciated her honesty. She didn’t hesitate and her words were real. She simplified things and said how it really was. She told him what he was afraid to admit to himself. Deep down, yes he did miss him. So he continued to confide in her.
“He was angry so much though. He… could be so mean. I used to wish him gone.”
Angie was quiet for a moment. She bit her lip and continued to stroke Craig’s hair with her small hand. “But he did nice things too, right? Did you ever have fun?”
“Yeah. He was fun when I was little.”
“So that’s why you miss him. You remember that. And you love him because he’s your dad.”
“Now things can never be better because he’s gone,” Craig said with a voice that was barely above a whisper.
“But my dad loves you. He could be like your new daddy,” Angie said after some thought.
Craig let out a sob once she said that. He wasn’t ready for any of that.
“Joey says that’s how I should think of Caitlin. That she’s like a new mommy. She’s not my real mom but she loves me like a mom would. Joey will be that for you. He will love you like a daddy would. He‘ll be your new dad.”
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Joey set a stack of textbooks down on Craig’s desk. He watched his stepson for a moment. Craig was rolled away from him, breathing slow and steadily. Sleeping? Maybe. He was always sleeping when he entered the room. Sometimes the only way he could communicate with the teen was by leaving post-it notes tacked onto the wall informing him of who called or stopped by or to inquire if he needed anything. He rarely got a response; not even when he’d written that they were ordering from Craig’s favorite pizza place and he could pick the toppings.
“Ashley brought by some school assignments,” Joey finally said, still leaning up against Craig’s desk. How much time was he supposed to give him to grieve? Was he supposed to force him to talk about it? How could he encourage him to see Ms. Sauvé? Joey wished that there was some manual as to how to handle this situation.
Craig could feel his stepfather’s eyes burning into his back. Usually, Joey was quick to pop in and out. What was this about? Just leave, Craig silently pleaded. Go back to your normal life. You have that luxury, Craig thought. He coiled his fist as he felt the bed shift under Joey’s weight.
“Did I wake you?” Joey greeted warmly.
Craig’s muscles tightened and he was slow to roll over onto his back. It was obvious that Joey wanted to talk and it didn’t matter much to him that he wasn’t in the mood. It was better for the both of him that they avoided what was in his head. All that was a mess.
“Ashley brought over some school assignments,” Joey repeated. “It’s been almost two weeks. Look, I know this is a very difficult time but I don’t want you to fall behind.”
“School is the last thing on my mind.”
Joey was silent for a moment. That seemed fair. He wasn’t sure how much to push the boy. He couldn’t even imagine what it was like. But the sensation that Craig was pushing him away was almost palpable. His gaze and his energy was almost strong enough to give him a good shove across the room. “Okay…school isn’t on your mind. What is?”
Craig sighed and shrugged.
Joey felt awkward and used the silence to survey Craig’s room. It hadn’t changed much over the past week. The suit his stepson had worn to the funeral was still hanging on the closet door and his dress shoes had been kicked off near the bed. Clean laundry was stacked on the dresser, waiting to be put away, and the stack of school textbooks and papers had been growing by the day. Joey glanced at the dusty film that was forming on the TV screen.
“Isn’t your favorite TV program on tonight?”
“I don’t really know what day it is Joey, so I couldn‘t tell you.”
“You haven’t been watching TV huh?” Joey pressed on. His stepson didn’t do anything. He just laid there and who knew what was circling around in his mind and weighing on his heart. “Maybe a shower would help.”
Craig sat up in a quick and sharp movement. “Do you want something?”
“I just want to know how I can help you. I feel like you are trying to shut us out. We’re here for you,” Joey tried to explain and watched as Craig rubbed his forehead like he had a headache brought on from hearing this a hundred times before. “Look, I don’t mind if you stay at home. Take as long as you need. But I just don’t think it’s good for you to lie in bed and think.”
Craig shook his head. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“We need to get you out of this room,” Joey said and crossed over to the window. He opened the curtains to let some of the afternoon light in. He watched as Craig cringed as he was used to the dimness. “Let’s go for a drive.”
“And then you’ll leave me alone?”
“And then I’ll leave you alone.”
Craig sighed for the tenth time in the past five minutes and then swung his legs over the bed. After angrily pulling on some sneakers and a sweatshirt, he trudged for the door. Craig knew his hair was a greasy mess, sticking up in odd places and flattened in others but he didn‘t care about that or the fact that he was heading out in his flannel pajama bottoms. Joey simply grabbed his keys on the way out and didn’t complain. They weren’t exactly going out for lunch in a nice restaurant. He probably couldn’t drag Craig into a fast food joint either.
Craig slouched down in the passenger seat and stared out the side window as they drove. He didn’t even bother with the radio, something that the two would often casually fight over. Today he left it off and hoped the silence was making his stepfather uncomfortable. He should be as miserable as he was with this situation. Craig couldn’t help but give into that sensation that he wanted to punish his stepfather. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Joey’s repeated glances and he drove them down random streets.
“Come on and talk to me,” Joey encouraged.
“I really don’t have anything to say,” Craig replied in a curt tone. Sometimes Joey’s concern angered him. He was being ‘fatherly’ and he wasn’t his father.
“What are you feeling right now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sad? Angry? Numb? Betrayed maybe?” Joey suggested.
“Oh, just leave it to Ms. Sauvé and drive Joey,” Craig snapped.
“So you are angry.”
“Yeah. I’m angry at you,” Craig confessed. He’d gone over everything a million times in his head. He could practically recite the final conversation he’d had with his father. And all the others where his dad would take a jab at Joey. Sometimes he swore it was being said in his dreams. And then Angie suggested that Joey be his new daddy and solidified it. His father was right all along; Joey was trying to replace him.
Joey stopped at a red light and stared incredulously at Craig. “Angry? At me?”
“He kept talking about you that night. I don’t know if he was jealous. Probably was because you got my mom and then I moved in. You took everything away from him. So he had to kill himself.”
“Okay. I can understand that. But I didn’t hand him the gun, Craig. You didn’t either. You did everything you could do. I know you are looking for answers. And maybe you are blaming yourself and other people in the process.”
“You don’t understand what it’s like. I need a reason for this,” Craig said and Joey could see from the look on his face that his stepson was straining to process things. Craig continued with, “I know that it‘s not all you. It‘s me too.”
“It’s not your fault!” Joey exclaimed as he pulled into a parking spot.
“I didn’t do enough!” Craig shouted.
“It’s not your fault!”
“You don’t understand. This was supposed to be how I would fix everything. If he just knew that I left because I did care and I was trying to make things better. I was trying to get us help. I was trying to fix things.”
“Craig, how old are you?”
“What?”
“Look at me and tell me how old you are.”
“You know how old I am,“ Craig griped. “Fifteen.”
“Exactly. Your father was the adult. If anyone was supposed to try to fix things, to set a plan into motion to make things better for your family, it was him. It wasn’t on your shoulders,” Joey tried to explain. He could only hope that when Craig was older, out of his teens, he’d realize that it was up to the adults to do the right thing. It wasn’t up to the fifteen year old to know how to handle every situation.
Craig was silent for a moment, taking this in. It made sense and even temporarily relieved the constant circling of thoughts that seemed as strong as a hurricane. But he could feel it starting up again. The memories of being hit and pushed into walls was colliding with the vivid details he remembered from that last night interacting with his father. “It doesn’t help, Joey,” Craig stated, his voice barely above a whisper.
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Craig wondered if he looked as lost as he looked in the Degrassi school hallways. If anyone was around, he was sure that they would assume he was a guest and offer him directions. But the thing was, he wasn’t physically lost.
He was certain to have Joey drop him off at a moment when he knew that class would be in session and Mr. Simpson would have a period free. He’d told his stepfather that he could do that. He’d try to be normal and do something for at least today. He didn’t feel normal though. He was sure that was obvious. He couldn’t keep his eyes from darting around the halls. He knew it was still the same school; there was the lockers, the banners in Degrassi’s school colors, and the displays of athletic and academic awards. It was the same school. Then he realized what was different was him. That shift inside him had changed everything.
The world had just been carrying on without him and now he was forced to try and keep up. He wasn’t sure if he could, Craig thought as he pushed open the door to the Media Immersion classroom.
“Hi,” Craig greeted shyly. “I thought maybe I work on some stuff for class.”
“Oh, sure. Joey told me you might be stopping by,” Simpson responded casually.
Craig’s foot nervously twitched after he sat down at one of the computers. He wasn’t sure why this situation felt so awkward. Maybe it was that he was certain that Joey had been keeping his buddy up to date on his daily activities. He could practically hear him now. “I finally took a shower,” Craig said, wanting to test him.
“Well, I’m thankful for that,” Simpson joked in response.
Craig watched his teacher shuffle through a stack of papers on the desk and then he averted his gaze. “It’s really strange being back. I think I forgot that anything existed. I bet that sounds strange.”
“That doesn’t sound strange. You are just going to need time to grieve.”
“How were you after that one guy’s suicide?” Craig asked, fidgeting with a pen. He felt a little awkward letting his teacher of all people into his thoughts on the last few weeks but at the same time, this was maybe the one person he thought would get it and wasn’t just giving him the typical sympathetic responses.
He took a moment to gather himself as he flipped through another folder. “I was a lot of things. Confused, angry, and sad. Everyone tries to make the grieving cycle seem like a process, but things cycle and you feel things out of turn. I could go from remembering how awful it was to find him to feeling pissed off in a heartbeat. It took some time to deal with. Therapy helped.”
Craig took the assignment sheets from his teacher and out of the corner of his eye, he saw him sit down in the computer chair next to him. He glanced over the sheets of paper but couldn’t focus; it was as if the assignment description was written in another language. “It’s so weird being back,” Craig repeated.
“You can come in for only half days for awhile. Just to get back into the swing of things.”
“I had to come in when everyone would be in class. The idea of everyone in the hallways scares me. That’s so strange,” Craig said and smiled nervously. Everything felt so foreign to him, like he was relearning how to live his life. “I feel, like, weak. On the inside. Like I’m wounded so much on the inside that if someone just bumps into me in the hallway, I’ll fall down.”
“I think you are stronger than you realize.”
Craig sighed in response. He didn’t think so. “And I’m afraid of what people are saying about me.”
Simpson smiled reassuringly at the typical teenage insecurity he was used to seeing in his students. “I’m sure people are feeling nothing but compassion for what you’ve been through. And a lot of them have their own lives going on. They aren’t judging you for this.”
He wondered if he’d ever change the label that hung over his head. Fucked up is what his peers would call him whereas teacher would use the term troubled. To some he was poor Craig. Craig swallowed hard and then spoke, “How did people treat you afterwards? I don’t want like all this sympathy. I just want things to go back to normal.”
“I remember that feeling after Claude’s suicide. I was concerned about all the looks I got in the hall. But you know what? That passed fairly quickly. Things are going to return to something halfway normal quicker than you think. And I think therapy would help you get almost all the way there over time.”
Craig absentmindly started up a computer program and then continued discussing his worries. “I don’t like how it seems like Ashley feels sorry for me. It’s like she wants to take care of me. I don’t want that.”
“Hey, I think her feelings towards you are genuine. When I returned back to high school the year end dance was approaching. There was two girls who were interested in me and I’ll admit, I thought it was out of sympathy because of the suicide. But I think it was genuine. One of those girls was Spike,” he said with a smile.
Craig actually looked over at his teacher for a moment before shifting his eyes away again. There was something comforting about the fact that someone could remain involved in your life for that long. He was certain that everyone would split after awhile. That was how things had worked so far. People continued to drift slowly and surely, almost like it was some pattern in nature. They just didn’t stay in one place.
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Author’s Note: Up next, more on Craig struggling to come to terms with his father’s passing a few months later. I bet Craig isn’t going to be thrilled when Sean announces that Tracker got a job in Alberta and he’s being forced to move. No one sticks around do they? Also, a little bit of a Halloween treat. Who dreams of Craig wandering around in an abandoned hospital? Well, me of course. I wrote something up a few years ago and it’s just perfect timing.