What Was Left Unsaid: Run (Part 1)
What Was Left Unsaid Chapter Index
Main characters and pairings featured in this chapter: Craig, Joey, Caitlin, Sean, Ellie, Evie, Ashley (with family), Jay. Craig/Evie. Craig/random girl that he doesn't remember so why should I? Sean/Ellie. Joey/Caitlin.
Brief summary of this chapter: After confronted about his substance abuse, Craig hits the streets and a few parties.
28: Run
He felt like a live wire, bouncing and twisting with energy. A bundle of nerve endings ragged and raw from too much stimulus. The emotions came at him in waves, the anger hitting him then pulling back like the ocean current and the sadness drifted in then back out. Craig just kept moving, taking comfort in the dark street. With a heavy sigh, he turned the corner and headed for something familiar.
He’d been here before. Of course he had. He had been to Sean’s more times than he could remember, the route so familiar he didn‘t see his surroundings. But it was the situation that jumped out at him; knowing that he had no where to go. There was that night after his dad hit him and he’d wandered aimlessly, not wanting to return to Joey’s and show him what he suspected each time he went for a visit with his estranged father.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Craig explained to Sean, his voice sounding strange to him. This was the present, he was here.
“Craig. Hey. What’s up,” Sean greeted and gestured inside. He placed a hand on Craig’s shoulder, encouraging him. Then he noticed the bulging backpack on his friend’s back. “Uh, do you want to sit down?”
Craig ignored the offer and continued pacing around the small apartment; into the kitchen, then back into the living room, and around the couch like he was a race horse circling the track. He wasn’t seeing much, certainly not Ellie when she emerged from the back bedroom dressed for bed in Sean’s boxers and a white t-shirt. Sean held out a hand for her to stop, still studying Craig’s frenzied movements, and watched Ellie slink back into the shadows some. He was his friend but at times Sean didn’t fully trust the guy’s actions.
“I couldn’t stay there. Everything it going too fast. Joey…went through my room. And found everything. He’s so pissed off, Sean. And he’s fighting with Caitlin. I couldn’t stay there,” Craig rambled.
“Pissed off how? What are the fights like with Caitlin?” Sean asked, trying to make sense of what Craig was telling him.
“Oh no, it’s not like…that,” Craig confirmed and didn’t have to explain any further. Joey wasn’t the one who hits. It was him. He almost wanted to tell Sean this; it sat there on his tongue, waiting for him to spit it out.
“Come on and sit down.”
Craig ran a hand over his face and it was then that Sean saw his knuckles, the skin broken and an angry red. Craig yanked on the sleeve of the sweat shirt he wore under his leather jacket, not wanting him to see.
“What happened to your hand?”
“You were angry like that once, yeah? But…I didn’t hit him. But I was close. I never wanted to understand what being that pissed off and like…caged in…a person feels when they are that angry. I swear when I punched the wall I was just looking to break it down so I could get out of there.”
Sean looked away. It was weird when people dragged up the past like that. He hadn’t been the scared kid who threw punches in awhile. “Use those tricks your social worker taught you,” the ghost of that moment with Tracker lurched up from the back of his brain. His mind drifted further back to the run in with Tyler back at Wasaga Beach; “Pissed? Go on. Sucker punch me in the other ear and flee town. That’s your move isn’t it? Or do you kill and run these days? Cause the kid died this time. Didn’t he hero? Sixty bucks, sixty minutes. Free for you trailer park boy. Wouldn’t want to take your lunch money…again!” Sean was feeling those walls come up that Craig had to have been talking about. He felt that cage sometimes in Degrassi, remembering Rick and the gun. Yeah that had made him want to kick in teeth or at least tear apart a room. And he didn’t even know why some of the time.
“Oh my God, I’ve never had a fight like that with anyone before. It was like with my dad. But you know…it wasn’t Joey like that. It was me,” Craig admitted after several moments of silence. He watched a Sean’s eyes lost some of their glaze.
“What happened?”
“I was trying to keep it together. I was. A few days ago he went through my room and found everything. And he hasn’t been speaking to me since. Caitlin…well she just speaks to me like I’m some teenage alcoholic. And then tonight we fought. I don’t even want to remember the things we said to each other.”
Craig finally sank down onto the couch, feeling some sort of temporary relief. It was like his brain was finally beginning to cool down after going 150 miles per hour. He was a little stunned by how quiet it suddenly was in his head and then his hands started shaking as he realized he couldn’t stand to feel anything. He just wanted to shut everything off. It was too intense otherwise.
“Hey Craig,” Ellie finally greeted, coming out of the bedroom, feeling guilty for hearing every word of their conversation.
“I’m sorry. Sorry for coming by so late.”
“Don’t worry about it. Can I get you something to drink?” Ellie offered and swore she saw that glint in his eyes. “Tea? A coke? I don‘t even know if we have any of that.”
“Ah no, I’m good. Maybe some water,” Craig decided, realizing his throat was dry from the brisk walk over and that heavy panicky breathing he was doing before.
“Are you planning on going somewhere?” Sean asked after a few minutes, his eyes on Craig’s backpack. “I mean you can stay here, if you need a place to crash.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can’t stay at Joey’s.”
“I’ll get you some blankets,” Ellie said, heading for the bedroom closet. She heard the jangling of the phone from there and almost called out for Sean to answer it. Returning to the living room, she was greeted with the sight of Craig looking agitated again.
Craig twisted his hands around his knee caps, waiting for it to stop. He was greeted with a few minutes of silence where he could breath and then it started again. The methodic jingle of the phone seemed to drive the argument he had with Joey deeper into his brain. “You never wound have pulled a stunt like this if you were at your dad.” And Joey was right. He needed that, he needed someone to hit him. “Hit me,” Craig had encouraged. “Hit me.”
“God damn it,” Craig shouted at the ringing phone. “Can’t he just leave me alone?”
“He’s your dad…step-dad. It’s Joey. Come on, just talk to him,” Sean encouraged. He started to go for the phone and Craig’s movements were quick. He barely said hello over the telephone line. “I wasn’t going to say you were here,” Sean shouted at Craig as he ducked out the door.
Ellie, fully dressed by this point, went for the door. The knocking was frantic. While hoping it was Craig, she expected his stepfather.
“He’s not here,” She greeted Joey. “Sean is out looking around the neighborhood.”
“I…I should be looking too,” Joey reasoned, still fighting to come up with a plan of attack. It had been a punch to the gut when he had discovered Craig’s room empty and quite a few of his clean clothes missing from the closet. He actually had to steady himself against the wall. He had felt that sinking feeling before, it came at the moment when something you dreaded happened. He had felt it when Angela was an infant and ran a dangerously high fever that led to a hospitalization, when Julia announced her cancer, and Craig’s overdoses. That feeling always came when he knew that things could get better or they would never be the same.
“Sit down, I’ll get you some coffee,” Ellie encouraged. “That’s actually the one thing I know that we keep fresh around here. There was a classic moment the other day when Sean took a swig of milk that had gone bad.”
Ellie found herself rambling, mostly out of nervousness. While the coffee was brewing she told Joey about how she loved working with Caitlin at the news station, Ferret Bueller’s latest close call with the electric cords, and even the bad 80’s movie she and Sean caught at some midnight showing at a positively ancient movie theater when they didn’t have the money to see the most current flicks at the theater Paige worked at.
“How did he seem to you?” Joey asked as he took the cup of coffee and watched the red head sit down across from him on the couch.
Ellie sipped her coffee (black, always black) for a moment. “I don’t think he’s well.”
“Why didn’t I see it?”
‘He didn’t want you to? He’s different around us. And I guess we weren’t good enough friends to him because we didn’t really see it either. Or we thought we could take care of it.”
Joey wasn’t sure what to say to that. Didn’t she realize that she, Ashley, and Sean were just kids? It wasn’t up to them to take care of Craig. He tried to sort through the mental list of questions he had when he heard the front door. “Craig?”
“I couldn’t find him,” Sean declared, stomping snow off his boots and rubbing his hands to warm them. “I even checked the roof of the building, thinking he might head up there since we used to hang up there.”
Sean kicked off his boots and then sat down next to his girlfriend. Craig’s stepfather was staring intently into his coffee like it was some oracle and he was searching for answers.
“Do you have any idea where he would go? I know you want to protect him but he‘s not in trouble. Please be honest with me.”
“No clue. He could be at like 20 different places, I don’t know. He really didn’t say. I did the wrong thing.”
“Be honest with me, where do you think he’d head off to?”
Sean took a deep breath. “I’d guess he’s going to couch hop. I don‘t know if he‘d go to a party. I don‘t know what is going through his head right now, to be honest. Something is off, Joey.”
“Do you know any of his friends, the kids that I don’t know?” Joey continued, remembering flicking through Craig’s cell phone contact list and seeing names and phone numbers that were unfamiliar.
“He has friends I don’t even know. I mean we’re all close the four us; Ash, Craig, El, and I…but we’ve got other friends too,” Sean searched his mind. “Did you try Marco or Spinner?”
“He wouldn’t go there,” Ellie sullenly piped up.
“What about Ashley’s? He’d try to get to her,” Joey realized and pulled out his cell phone.
“They broke up,” Ellie interrupted Joey’s punching of numbers. She watched as he flipped the phone closed. “Her parents…not cool with what went down at the party.”
“What?”
“He didn’t tell you? But I mean, it just happened so…” Ellie trailed off.
Joey was quiet, realizing how brutal his silent treatment had to be for the kid just going through his first break up. Of course Craig wouldn’t tell him. He wasn’t exactly being approachable. Joey sighed. Hearing that Ellie added hopefully, “Maybe he’ll come back here. Want to wait around for a little while?”
Joey silently debated this. “I think I’m going to do another sweep of the area. Maybe check out a few of his hang outs. If you hear anything, please give me a call.”
Sean nodded, taking the scrap of paper from Joey with his cell and work number on it.
“If you see him around…will you just tell him that we’ll work things out?” Joey encouraged, the guilt weighing him down. There was the sadness too, so heavy it made it hard for him to walk out the front door. Joey stared around the black night, wondering where his son was and when he would come home.
It wasn’t until Monday morning that Craig fully realized what he had done. It was easy to tell himself on Friday or Saturday night that he had just lied to Joey about where he was staying. It had been working. That subtle deception his brain allowed him to do until he had enough to drink where he didn’t care what house, city, or province he was in. His stomach ached at the thought of alcohol but in the next thought he craved a beer even though he had barely been awake for an hour and it was no where near night time, happy hour, or hell even noon.
Craig hadn’t planned on drinking. He was sure no one would believe him if he told them that. He had held out for awhile, occupying himself with a painful debate on if he wanted that vodka shot or not. His hands began to sweat some once he saw the liquor bottle. Fighting to keep his hands from shaking, he took the shot glass. The liquor went down, he remembered being painfully ill in the hospital, and struggled to keep from gagging. He felt it come up in his throat some and he swallowed hard. His hands began to sweat and he glanced around at the expressions on his friends face, some amused and others more observant, maybe a little concerned. Then he was going up, his brain like an elevator clicking off each of the floors. Up, up, up.
The weekend had been foggy, him shuffling along beside Luke as they hit a few parties before returning to his place to crash. There was this weirdness nipping at his heels whenever they were at his home. He couldn’t quite place it; it moved around too much. Maybe it was seeing his friend interact with his parents and little sister the morning after. He was sure he was the same way around Joey and Angie. They had that performance down to a perfection. He remember Joey’s face as he realized how often he had been partying and found all the liquor bottles in his room. And the pills. Craig rubbed his forehead like he could erase the guilt. Everything was fine.
It’s fine, he told himself into the bathroom mirror. The shower had sobered him up quite a bit and the details of the room were coming more into focus. He noticed what brand of toothpaste Luke’s family used, where the hand soap was, even the flowers on counter. He was careful not to leave the towels on the floor and made sure everything was in place. He wasn’t at home. With Joey.
Maybe it was the family thing that was getting to him. The argument was forming in his brain again as he tried to define what one was. He had to give Sauvé credit; he heard her voice first. It was sounding a bit textbook and a lot like his social worker’s as the voice encouraged him to accept Joey as family. Well that was gone. He left that like he left his dad’s. Maybe his father was right about him leaving like his mother. “Well, everyone leaves,” he reasoned quietly to himself and went for the door, hair wet from a shower.
He could smell the breakfast being cooked downstairs. Luke’s mother had awakened them early, telling them to get up for school. “Where are you going to go?” Luke asked as he watched Craig gather some clothes off the floor and stuff them into his backpack.
“I, uh, haven’t figured that all out yet. Do you think I can crash here again tonight?”
“Give me a call. My parents are bound to find out I’m flunking history one of these days.”
“Yeah. Okay,” Craig rapidly agreed. Things were getting real. He wasn’t going to school. He had no idea where he was going to spend the day, let alone the night. Craig lifted his gaze up from the floor and saw that his friend was watching him. Even Luke, the guy who had to be stoned to do his math homework, was getting concerned about him.
“You were talking in your sleep last night. I almost woke you up.”
“What? What was I saying?” Craig questioned, fingers on his lips. Things were starting to move faster in his brain. Calm down, he told himself. “Well uh, we were high and watching horror movies. I think my dreams were kind of messed up.”
He occasionally had out there dreams; violent and dark. He certainly still dreamt about his dad, sometimes his mom. But the strange story his sleeping brain produced was a wild one. The police officer didn’t believe him when he said that his mother kept coming back. But instead of replying that she had passed away, he just accused him of being behind her death. The last time he saw her, emerging from a dark room and twisting like the ghosts in horror movies do. He was starting to think that she believed what they were saying. Maybe he was involved with her death. Then he was in the room with him and witnessing his father’s final night. There was the gun and the blood, on the walls and on his hands. He was guilty.
“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming about that chick you did Saturday night?” Luke said with a smirk.
“What?” Craig asked, snapping out of his trance. “I still don’t believe you about that. I mean, come on, I’d remember.” Craig watched as his friend just laughed.
“You don’t remember anything? I mean I even saw you two making out on the couch. She’s that girl. She’s in media immersion. Did that one presentation on independent record labels. What the hell is her name again? Anyway more than one person said that you two went upstairs together.”
The night was in fragments. A song here, a darkened room there. He could almost remember how pale her skin was in the moonlight while she was on top of him. “I think we had an awesome time.”
“Well, she’s had practice. Maybe you should learn her name for when she says hi to you in class. Or you know, after the STD test and the doc tells you that you should call your partners.”
“You’re hilarious!” Craig replied as they headed downstairs for breakfast.
Craig was quiet while he ate, becoming tense whenever the word ‘school’ was dropped. He almost dropped his fork when Luke’s mother offered them a ride to school.
“Uh, no. We’re taking the bus,” Luke was quick to explain and soon after they hurried out the door.
“So I’ll call you after school and check to see if I stay the night?” Craig asked at the bus stop.
“Uh yeah. But you might want to call around and find another place to crash. I mean, my mom didn’t think anything of the weekend. But she’s going to find it weird if it’s another night, Craig.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense,” Craig replied and reflected on how he tensed up whenever the phone rang. He was always expecting that knock at the door. While thankful that his cell phone contacts existed of first names and random nicknames, he wondered why Joey hadn’t figured it out yet. Was he even trying? Craig almost shook his head at that thought, trying to empty the worry from his head.
“Not your bus?” Luke said, almost sounding like he was offering as he boarded the one headed towards Degrassi Community School.
It all felt real in that moment when he realized he had no place to go. He didn’t have a place lined up to crash at tonight and that made him inhale sharply, feeling a little panicked. He wasn’t sure why it didn’t feel real or have a label until now. He realized it now; he ran away from home. It didn’t seem that way at the time but 48 hours later he realized what he had done. What was Joey doing? He probably called the cops. There was going to be consequences to this, major ones, he feared. Especially with his most recent hospital stay. Craig shook his head at that. Joey wasn’t putting him in a place like that. He’d stay out here before that happened.
“Uh no. That’s my bus,” Craig replied and gestured to the bus approaching in the other lane and would take him in the opposite direction of school.
The long term solution didn’t hit him until a few days later. He needed to stop off for cash. The driver, cousin to Evie or friend of Evie’s cousin (Craig didn’t pay much attention to the ride he was bumming), seemed annoyed by the request but stopped off anyway. Craig pulled out his debit card from his wallet, glancing back at the car. Three out of four were smoking a cigarette although he couldn’t be sure if a joint wasn’t being passed around. Craig’s foot started to bop, anxious for the cash to be in his hands. Finally he had someplace to go, a plan. It came to him during a get together last night.
“Hello?” Evie cautiously answered after glancing at the name on the cell phone screen. She giggled and hung up. “That was not Craig Manning.”
“Don’t answer your phone!” Craig scolded. “Joey has mine. He’s probably like calling every contact. Shit. Shit.”
“Relax. I don’t get involved in domestic disputes,” she replied, passing the joint.
Craig inhaled deeply, held the smoke in, and exhaled slowly. He opened his eyes and said, “You guys can’t tell him where I’m at. Just until I can figure out where I should go,” Craig replied and it came to him. B.C. For a moment he felt like he was that same scared little boy back in grade 9 with nowhere to go. He had wanted to go to Joey’s. Now he was at Joey’s…not his father. His mind circled and all the names seemed to take a beating on his brain. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
At least he had an idea now of where he wanted to go. That gave him some comfort. Now he just had to get away from where he was presently. The restraint was as quick and strong as his breath. One moment it came in and the next it was gone. Just let go, he told himself and tilted his head back for the shot.
His hands almost weren’t steady enough to punch in his PIN number. Then there was the machine screen with it’s generic type asking him how much he wanted to withdrawal. Craig chewed his finger nail some, not having any recollection on his debit card’s limit. He decided to go for the jackpot and try for $500. “Account not able to be accessed at this time.” Swipe of the card, punch of the numbers, and then he tried to withdrawal $400. Access denied. $300, $200, $100 - denied.
Craig nearly let out a sob. Something was wrong. He began to work his way down in $10 increments. At first he feared he was stupid enough not to keep track of his balance and blew nearly all his cash on party supplies for his blow out.
“It’s not right. Something’s not right,” He mumbled to himself and started to fish through his wallet. Receipt from the bank after his last withdrawal. He still had five hundred some bucks.
“Manning, what the hell?” he heard someone call out.
“Just a minute,” Craig yelled back. One more try. He angrily swiped his card, punched in his pin with force, and requested $200. He could come back tomorrow and get the rest. He could make this work. Access denied. Craig slapped the brick wall of the building, not sharing that the impact and cold stung his hand. He started breathing so heavily that his surroundings started to warp. Shakily he approached his friend’s car.
“Can I use your cell?” Craig asked, leaning up against the cracked window.
“I thought you were just getting cash? Let’s go. Party awaits.”
“Just a minute, okay? I just need to make a call.” His friend hesitated, sighed, then passed over the phone.
Craig headed back towards the ATM but settled into the space of some sandwich joint and an electronics store. He faced the wall, not the car with Evie and her friends in it. Tears were threatening now. His plan, his safety net, had dropped as soon as he thought he had one.
“Sean?” Craig questioned and didn’t wait for the confirmation. He knew the sound of his voice. “You can’t tell Joey I’m calling you. He…froze my bank accounts. I can’t get at my money. It’s mine. I don’t know how he can do that.”
“Hey. Hey, slow down,” Sean encouraged.
“I mean that had to be what happened. When I left he called the banks and froze everything. How can that happen? He’s not my dad; he can’t do that.”
“Well he is your guardian.”
“I’m so sick of him trying to be my dad. He’s not,” Craig couldn’t explain the anger. “Mine is dead. He offed himself. I’m…I just want to get away.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wanted to use it to go to BC,” Craig explained and Sean heard his friend’s voice cracking, like he was trying not to cry.
“What’s there?”
“It’s not here?“ Craig tried to reason and then was silent for a moment. “Look, I just have to get away from this mess. I can’t fix it. So fuck it, right? I think I might have enough for a bus ticket in cash. Or I can get that.”
“And then what happens? You blow all your cash and end up on the streets of Vancouver, if you even make it that far.”
“Why aren’t you on my side?”
“I am,” Sean reassured, bewildered by the accusation. Something in Craig has shifted over the past few weeks. He was used to the mood swings and quick decisions. But things had changed, escalated. “Do you want to come over? Spend the night? I won’t call Joey.”
Craig watched as a passenger of the car waved their hand, signaling for him to wrap up the phone call. “He probably stops by all the time huh? I can’t take that chance. Look, I’ll be fine.”
“Where are you staying tonight? Craig.”
“I’m really sorry about all this,” Craig said, his voice distant and then he clicked off the cell.
He stayed quiet for the rest of the ride, glad that the music was so loud that they couldn’t hear his heavy breathing. He stared intently out the window but didn’t see the buildings that flew by. He almost felt tears threaten again but quickly told himself to shut off. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then let go. Just let go.
“I had a plan. I actually had a plan. I wanted to drain my bank account and head to B.C. Vancouver. Maybe head down to Seattle, L.A eventually. Play gigs or something. Maybe actually make it,” Craig mumbled dreamily and started up at the spots of light above his head. He watched as fingers tore through the cloud of smoke and he realized it was glow in the dark stick on stars and strings of Christmas lights.
“I just want to do things on my own. Make things simple again. It’s not working here. I know I don’t’ have a lot of money. I mean not enough to make it last but it could work. I could have hit the ATM and maxed out the deposits. I could have had my cash and split.”
“What?” Evie asked, struggling to sit up and lean over him. Craig batted her hair out of his eyes and gasped a little at the weight of her arm on his chest.
“I said I wanted to go to B.C.”
“Oh. So why don’t you?” She asked and took another hit off the joint. Craig watched as the tip burned bright as she inhaled.
“I can’t get at my cash. Joey froze me out of my own account,” he explained and finished off his beer. “I’m going to try for it anyway, I think.”
“Here. Have a smoke and think it over for tonight,” the girl replied and passed over the joint. Craig noticed how numb his fingers felt and how it was hard to keep his vision focused. He was afraid he would drop it. After taking a hit he passed the joint back and took a sip from his pint of vodka.
“I didn’t even really think about what happened. Just started drinking again. Do you know about what happened?”
“Not from you. I heard you had your stomach pumped. Oded. Again.”
“Again?” Craig questioned. Then he was aware of the stories that probably circulated about him.
Evie waved her hand to dismiss what she just said. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that. Didn’t mean to say that out loud. You are thinking too much, talking too much.”
“Where were you when it was happening? When I passed out and people started freaking,” Craig pressed, strangely self-aware for his intoxicated state. It was that kind of buzz that made it safe to talk.
“Who knows. I think I moved onto another party, another boy, by then.”
“They would think it’s wrong that I’m drinking again so soon. They would talk about choices and responsibility and addiction and statistics and fathers who kill themselves and …and did you know that they actually thought it’d help if I went to some grieving camp. They have horses.”
“What? That sounds really creepy.”
“I know!”
“So you sit around the campfire with all these orphans and talk about your dead parents while these camp counselors with their smiles and bleeding hearts tell you it’s okay to cry?”
“Yeah. With horses. I don’t even like horses.”
Evie started laughing uncontrollably at that. “With horses.”
“I don’t want to do any more thinking tonight,” Craig decided, taking the final hit off the joint. Then after he exhaled he stated, “Nothing more tonight.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Evie replied, sitting up and searching for her pint of Rum. She took a shot and felt Craig reach for it, his fingers on hers.
“I thought you didn’t share your liquor.”
“I don’t,” she said, then took a shot, held it in her mouth, and gestured for him to move in. Craig smiled a little and then pressed his open mouth against hers, letting the liquid and her tongue into his mouth. It was by no means his first shot of the evening so the liquor didn’t burn as it rolled around in his mouth. He closed his mouth to swallow, his lips still on hers. They eased back down on the bed together, mouths still on each other and hands roaming.
“I don’t think you are even real,” Craig murmured into neck. It was strange how he kept having these moments where he felt like he was the only one left in the world since he left home. It was his choice and he felt stupid for feeling so lonely now and needing some kind, any kind, of warmth.
“Of course I’m real,” Evie said with a giggle, toying with the buckle of his belt.
“Oh okay, then I’m not real.”
“You are real,” she reassured with a kiss. He kissed her back, harder, flicking his tongue into her mouth.
“Prove it. Make me feel anything.”
Craig let out a content sigh at the sensation of her hand between his legs. He was quick to return the favor, removing his hand from the inside of her shirt, his fingers trailing down her stomach, under her skirt, and slipping between her legs. Their breathing became heavier; their movements more frenzied, humping, thrusting, and enjoying each other‘s bodies. Then Evie replaced her hand with her mouth. He deserved to feel good, even if it was only a temporary fix.
Craig woke up slowly, the confusion felt thick. It always did when he drank to that point of passing out. Waking up was always a surprise; he wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t remember falling asleep or that he wasn’t sure if he’d wake up. The blackness of a dreamless sleep was nice. It took him a moment to look around, unsure of where he was. He wasn’t even sure of the day. That was the mind fuck when you started drinking before nightfall; the unnatural messing of hours when the sun did set and you passed out somewhere in between. The music from the party downstairs pounded through the closed door. Craig propped himself up on his elbows but the spinning threw him back down onto the bed.
“Okay, okay,” he mumbled to himself and tried to sort through the facts. He ran his hands over his body. Dressed but pants unbuttoned. The puzzle pieces were mentally lining up. “Evie?”
No reply. “Oh okay,” Craig said in response. “Thanks for the time. You better not have taken my vodka with you.”
Craig haphazardly crawled around on the bed, nearly taking a tumble to the floor once. He dug around, tossing a few of the many pillows to the floor. He found his pint of liquor buried under them. The sip of vodka stung this time, signaling that sleep had worn off some of his buzz. He hated that. It was funny how people thought that the point the drank himself to was dangerous when he felt like the point of coming back from there was.
“I’m sorry I let everyone down though,” Craig mumbled aloud to himself or maybe as an apology to the people who weren’t there. Or maybe to God, although he had stopped praying somewhere in between the beatings his father would dish out and his death by self inflicted gun shot wound to the head.
“I don’t want to think about you right now. You said that I left, Mom left, but we didn’t do what you did.” Craig paused, his breathing heavy as he laid there still in some stranger’s bed. It actually felt good to say it out loud.
“I’m too much like you. You got all freaking weird about family, wanting to keep me there even though you treated me like you couldn’t stand to look at me. Look at what I did to Joey. And it’s not like I’m doing any of this because I don’t care. It’s the opposite,” Craig murmured to himself, his words soft and slurred.
“I ruined it with Ashley too. And her family. I meant it when I asked her what it would be like if we got married. And we were all a family. Her uptight mom, gay dads, and the stepfather that doesn’t belong to her. Because stepfathers don’t. But her family…it seems normal.”
Through his intoxicated fog he remember having dinner with the Kerwin-Isaacs that first time. How freakishly scared he was of everything and how she wasn’t. It was because he still lived with his dad. Which was why he cringed when Ashley let the front door slam even though Jeff barely had a response. Craig turned down Ashley’s stereo too, certain that someone was going to become upset.
His father hated noise. He never knew why. He only knew that the psycho would sometimes storm into his room in the middle of the night and demand to know what he’d dropped on the floor. Most of the time he hadn’t made any noise at all and sometimes was startled out of sleep. Not that it just applied to the night. He once held onto a painfully hot bowl because the burn would be better than dropping it and being hit for it. He still found himself doing things like that. He recalled how he did it at Joey‘s once, who could only demand out of concern “Why would you do that?”
He hated how it took him weeks to adjust to eating a meal at Joey’s house, simply because he wasn’t used to the candid talking and actually feeling safe. Now his stomach didn’t ache all through dinner. Did he finally have what Ashley had with her family? Ashley felt comfortable at her house. She had the perfect life, the perfect family. What the hell was she doing with him anyway?
“I wreck everything. With her. But it’s not because of Evie,” Craig realized. “Because Ash and I…Ash and I…Ash and I are broken up. Because her parents hate me.”
His drunken revelations, the mashed up recollections of his past and mixed up feelings, brought him to his feet. It took him a moment to get used the gravity and he stumbled a bit, nearly falling into a bookshelf. His vision was slowly starting to piece itself back together.
“I want a family like that. Her family is normal. As normal as one can be. I don’t want Joey and Caitlin. I don’t want substitutions because they think that the orphan needs a place to stay. I want a family,” Craig argued with the empty room. “I can fix this. I have to see Ashley.”
He wasn’t sure how long it took him to walk to her house, weaving some as he walked. He paused once to vomit in the street, kneeling down on some stranger’s yard. He glanced up when the heaves were over and was relieved there wasn’t faces peering out of the windows, watching him as he lost what dignity he had left. His only consolation was that he didn’t make that big of a mess because he hadn’t eaten all day, was still too drunk to really taste the vodka the second time around, and wasn’t even humbled by the experience too much. You’re drunk, he told himself as he dug around in his backpack for some gum. He was sure he reeked like a puked out alcoholic.
She deserves so much better, he thought as he rang the doorbell. It felt like a scene out of movie; this wasn’t happening to him.
“Hi,” Craig mumbled to Toby and barely acknowledged his shocked expression.
“Craig. What are you doing here?” Toby questioned, glancing around for his parents and Ashley.
“Ashley.”
“She’s not here right now,” Toby lied and hoped Craig would take the bait and leave before his Dad and Kate would see him like this. He steadied Craig as he stumbled a few feet into the house.
“I just…I need to see Ashley. I could wait for her. I was just thinking about you guys anyway. You really are lucky.”
“Okay,” Toby responded after a moment.
“I mean…I just was thinking about how you guys really are the perfect family,” Craig slurred after Jeff and Kate cautiously approached. Jeff warily encouraged his son away and placed a firm hand under the drunken teen‘s elbow to support him. “I thought Joey’s was but…well I ruined that. I don’t want to ruin this too.”
“Who’s at the…” Ashley stopped dead half-way down the stairs. Besides for having smelled the alcohol from across the room, his appearance gave it away. He looked horrible with dark circles under his eyes, face pale except for his flushed cheeks. He could barely stand on his own, she realized when she saw how Craig was slumped against Jeff.
“Ashley, I need you,” Craig called out.
Ashley didn’t move any closer. She stood on the stairs, clutching the banister.
“Please?” Craig tried again.
“Craig, you need to rest right now. You can talk to Ashley later,” Kate said, slowly, unsure of what to do. She should want to keep the teenage runaway here but at the same time, the alcohol had made him impulsive. Wild. Out of control.
“I know you don’t like me. I know you don’t want me around. But it’s not up to you. Ashley?”
“Craig, I’m going to call Joey and we’ll have him come over and pick you up okay. You aren’t feeling well,” Jeff tried to say as calmly as possible. He still kept a grip on the boy as he was beginning to wonder if he could be dangerous.
“I know you don’t want me around her. I know you don’t want me as part of your family.”
“No one has said anything like that,” Kate said.
“You don’t want me around her. Because I’m a mess. Because of what my dad did. Because I don’t have a family.”
“Craig, we all like you and care about you. That’s why I’m going to call Joey. Because we care about you,” Kate reassured, the telephone in her hands.
“No. You don’t have to call Joey,” Craig said, jerking out of Jeff’s grasp and then slapped the doorframe with his hand.
“You need to calm down,” Jeff said firmly and took Craig by the shoulder, not trusting this kid at all.
“Hello Joey. This is Kate Kerwin. Craig is here right now,” Kate spoke into the receiver. “He’s…”
“No. No, I’m supposed to be a part of this,” Craig interrupted with tears in his eyes. The rejection cut him deep. They didn’t want him here. “I just want to have a family. I want to have what your family has. I want your family.”
Craig didn’t see their bewildered stares. Toby had to look away, embarrassed for Craig. He was making such a scene. Ashley was still and quiet. She found that her mind was completely blank besides for the occasional panicked thought that this guy was like a stranger. Craig had done some crazy things, things that confused her but she struggled to understand and meet him on some common ground. There was no way she should justify tonight to her mother.
“Why are you calling Joey? No. I don’t want to leave you, Ashley. You are everything. We could have everything,” Craig desperately reasoned.
“You can talk to Ashley tomorrow, when you are sober and when you are calm,” Jeff said.
Craig jerked away from him. He stared at Ashley for a moment, pleading with his eyes. Why wouldn‘t she say anything? Why wasn‘t she telling her mother that he wasn‘t as bad as she thought? Craig opened the front door and took a few steps out. “Ash?” He prompted, expecting her to want to follow. Together they make it. Take off for Vancouver where they would play gigs in smoky bars and spend nights together in their own place.
Why wasn’t she saying anything? “Fine. I don’t care about anyone anyway,” he declared.
Craig turned around and delivered a final message, “I don’t need your family anyway. I don’t need a family.”
Caitlin stood up at the sound of the front door opening. While Joey was at the Kerwin/Isaacs, she had tried to prepare herself for Craig’s return home. She hated to admit it but the teenager scared her. He wasn‘t a little boy throwing temper tantrums; he was a sixteen year old who towered at nearly 6 feet tall and couldn‘t control himself. It was like she returned home to a stranger.
“Where’s Craig?” she questioned at the sight of only Joey. She watched as her boyfriend began to pace the floor. He hadn’t even removed his coat, like he was contemplating going out again.
“I don’t know. He was gone by the time I got there. I swear I just missed him by a few minutes. I swear. We drove around the neighborhood and looked for him but I couldn’t find him.”
“I’m sorry, Joey,” Caitlin replied. She didn’t mean for just tonight however. They were both feeling that guilt. At the moment she wished he hadn’t encouraged hospitalization. She should have encouraged it when she knew Craig couldn’t hear. Or not at all; the idea of being placed in a psychiatric ward would be scary to anyone.
“He had been drinking,” Joey stated and still tried to wrap his mind around that one. “I don’t know how someone can drink after they nearly kill themselves with it. You’d think it would make him sick. Does a person get intoxicated more quickly after something like that? And what if he doesn’t realize that he can’t drink like he used to?”
“Let’s call around to local hospitals,” Caitlin encouraged and went for the list of phone numbers on the fridge.
“You’re right. You’re right,” Joey agreed and picked up the phone. It took him a moment to punch in the first number. He wasn’t ready for this. The call from the hospital a few nights before had stunned him. Now there was just dread. “Please don’t let this happen again,” he whispered to himself.
“Do you have a patient at your facility named Craig Manning? This is his father. He ran away from home and there was a sighting of him tonight. He was intoxicated. I’m concerned about how much he might have had to drink.”
Joey listened to the sound of keyboard typing, paper shuffling, and the sounds of the hospital in the distance.
“I’m sorry we haven’t had anyone admitted here under that name. Can you describe him? Age? Physical description?”
“He’s 16, short brown hair, brown eyes. He’s tall, 5’11,” maybe six feet tall. Average build, on the slender side. He was last seen wearing blue jeans and a black leather jacket with a black hoodie underneath. Converse sneakers.”
Joey was getting used to giving that description; to the police when he’d filed the missing persons report and then during the first round of phone calls he made to hospitals when Craig had gone missing. It was all routine to them and there he was with his heart beating out of his chest. The police officer had sent him home with brochures on runaways and at-risk youth. “They usually return home on their own,” the cop had reassured. “Inform the school that Craig ran away from home and get in contact with his friends. Try to pass a message onto him that he can call home and you’ll try to work things out. Let him know he’s not in trouble. A lot of the youth are intimidated by that first confrontation when they arrive home.”
His nerves were fried by the final hospital call. “We do have an adolescent male currently being treated for intoxication,” a nurse confirmed.
“You do? Craig? Is it him?” Joey wasn’t sure if he was feeling relief because there was a chance they found him or fear for his wellbeing. Which would bet the better outcome?
“We haven’t gotten a name out of him yet. No identification. Does Craig has any noticeable traits? Scars, piercings, or tattoos?”
“No…none.”
“This young man has a eyebrow piercing.”
“It’s not Craig,” Joey confirmed, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. There was a part of him that wanted it to be him, just so he knew where he was. “Thank you for your time.”
Joey clicked off the phone, tossed it on the coffee table, and sank down onto the couch. He was exhausted but knew that sleep wasn’t an option. He hadn’t been able to sleep more than 2 hours each night. He’d lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling, and running down a mental list of things that could have happened to his son. With friends; kids he didn’t know, kids that ran with a faster crowd and would see no harm in supplying Craig with alcohol or the pills he had found in Craig’s room (the ones he barely knew anything about) . Kids who would be afraid to call for an ambulance and leave him to choke on his vomit. Then he would silently pray that Craig was at Sean’s and his buddy was just protecting him. He knew from the many times he’d drive by Cameron’s that this likely wasn’t the case. Then there was the streets. The idea of Craig sleeping in an alley would bring him to his feet and then he started pacing, from the kitchen window to the living room, glancing out the window to check for the teen each time, half expecting him to be standing across the street and hesitant to approach the front door. Craig didn’t have the street smarts to survive. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the runaways his son would meet up with; kids who grew up fast with the crime and violence on the streets. And the situations Craig could find himself in (Joey fought with this thought)…situations that would break him. He tried to block out the horror stories he’d seen on the internet or on a news special.
“I just want him home,” Joey whispered as Caitlin sat down next to him and nuzzled her face into his shoulder.
“We all do.”
“If I could just talk to him. One conversation.”
Caitlin nodded and ran her fingertips over Joey‘s arm and then squeezed her boyfriend‘s hand. “What went down at the Kerwins, aside for him being drunk?”
“He got a little bit physical again, although there was no more punching at walls, thank God. He scared them quite a bit I think. I had to reassure Kate that he’s not a danger to them or stalking them. He was talking about how he wants a family with them or Ashley…not me, apparently,” Joey said and felt the tears build up in eyes. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever hurt him this badly before. When he found out Craig had ran away, he swore a part of him died inside.
“He doesn’t mean it like that. He was drunk, he probably doesn’t even know what he was saying.”
Joey nodded, but didn’t give a response. He bowed his head down and began to silently pray that Craig was somewhere safe, someplace warm, and away from people who would be quick to give him more drugs and alcohol.
Part 2
Main characters and pairings featured in this chapter: Craig, Joey, Caitlin, Sean, Ellie, Evie, Ashley (with family), Jay. Craig/Evie. Craig/random girl that he doesn't remember so why should I? Sean/Ellie. Joey/Caitlin.
Brief summary of this chapter: After confronted about his substance abuse, Craig hits the streets and a few parties.
28: Run
He felt like a live wire, bouncing and twisting with energy. A bundle of nerve endings ragged and raw from too much stimulus. The emotions came at him in waves, the anger hitting him then pulling back like the ocean current and the sadness drifted in then back out. Craig just kept moving, taking comfort in the dark street. With a heavy sigh, he turned the corner and headed for something familiar.
He’d been here before. Of course he had. He had been to Sean’s more times than he could remember, the route so familiar he didn‘t see his surroundings. But it was the situation that jumped out at him; knowing that he had no where to go. There was that night after his dad hit him and he’d wandered aimlessly, not wanting to return to Joey’s and show him what he suspected each time he went for a visit with his estranged father.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Craig explained to Sean, his voice sounding strange to him. This was the present, he was here.
“Craig. Hey. What’s up,” Sean greeted and gestured inside. He placed a hand on Craig’s shoulder, encouraging him. Then he noticed the bulging backpack on his friend’s back. “Uh, do you want to sit down?”
Craig ignored the offer and continued pacing around the small apartment; into the kitchen, then back into the living room, and around the couch like he was a race horse circling the track. He wasn’t seeing much, certainly not Ellie when she emerged from the back bedroom dressed for bed in Sean’s boxers and a white t-shirt. Sean held out a hand for her to stop, still studying Craig’s frenzied movements, and watched Ellie slink back into the shadows some. He was his friend but at times Sean didn’t fully trust the guy’s actions.
“I couldn’t stay there. Everything it going too fast. Joey…went through my room. And found everything. He’s so pissed off, Sean. And he’s fighting with Caitlin. I couldn’t stay there,” Craig rambled.
“Pissed off how? What are the fights like with Caitlin?” Sean asked, trying to make sense of what Craig was telling him.
“Oh no, it’s not like…that,” Craig confirmed and didn’t have to explain any further. Joey wasn’t the one who hits. It was him. He almost wanted to tell Sean this; it sat there on his tongue, waiting for him to spit it out.
“Come on and sit down.”
Craig ran a hand over his face and it was then that Sean saw his knuckles, the skin broken and an angry red. Craig yanked on the sleeve of the sweat shirt he wore under his leather jacket, not wanting him to see.
“What happened to your hand?”
“You were angry like that once, yeah? But…I didn’t hit him. But I was close. I never wanted to understand what being that pissed off and like…caged in…a person feels when they are that angry. I swear when I punched the wall I was just looking to break it down so I could get out of there.”
Sean looked away. It was weird when people dragged up the past like that. He hadn’t been the scared kid who threw punches in awhile. “Use those tricks your social worker taught you,” the ghost of that moment with Tracker lurched up from the back of his brain. His mind drifted further back to the run in with Tyler back at Wasaga Beach; “Pissed? Go on. Sucker punch me in the other ear and flee town. That’s your move isn’t it? Or do you kill and run these days? Cause the kid died this time. Didn’t he hero? Sixty bucks, sixty minutes. Free for you trailer park boy. Wouldn’t want to take your lunch money…again!” Sean was feeling those walls come up that Craig had to have been talking about. He felt that cage sometimes in Degrassi, remembering Rick and the gun. Yeah that had made him want to kick in teeth or at least tear apart a room. And he didn’t even know why some of the time.
“Oh my God, I’ve never had a fight like that with anyone before. It was like with my dad. But you know…it wasn’t Joey like that. It was me,” Craig admitted after several moments of silence. He watched a Sean’s eyes lost some of their glaze.
“What happened?”
“I was trying to keep it together. I was. A few days ago he went through my room and found everything. And he hasn’t been speaking to me since. Caitlin…well she just speaks to me like I’m some teenage alcoholic. And then tonight we fought. I don’t even want to remember the things we said to each other.”
Craig finally sank down onto the couch, feeling some sort of temporary relief. It was like his brain was finally beginning to cool down after going 150 miles per hour. He was a little stunned by how quiet it suddenly was in his head and then his hands started shaking as he realized he couldn’t stand to feel anything. He just wanted to shut everything off. It was too intense otherwise.
“Hey Craig,” Ellie finally greeted, coming out of the bedroom, feeling guilty for hearing every word of their conversation.
“I’m sorry. Sorry for coming by so late.”
“Don’t worry about it. Can I get you something to drink?” Ellie offered and swore she saw that glint in his eyes. “Tea? A coke? I don‘t even know if we have any of that.”
“Ah no, I’m good. Maybe some water,” Craig decided, realizing his throat was dry from the brisk walk over and that heavy panicky breathing he was doing before.
“Are you planning on going somewhere?” Sean asked after a few minutes, his eyes on Craig’s backpack. “I mean you can stay here, if you need a place to crash.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can’t stay at Joey’s.”
“I’ll get you some blankets,” Ellie said, heading for the bedroom closet. She heard the jangling of the phone from there and almost called out for Sean to answer it. Returning to the living room, she was greeted with the sight of Craig looking agitated again.
Craig twisted his hands around his knee caps, waiting for it to stop. He was greeted with a few minutes of silence where he could breath and then it started again. The methodic jingle of the phone seemed to drive the argument he had with Joey deeper into his brain. “You never wound have pulled a stunt like this if you were at your dad.” And Joey was right. He needed that, he needed someone to hit him. “Hit me,” Craig had encouraged. “Hit me.”
“God damn it,” Craig shouted at the ringing phone. “Can’t he just leave me alone?”
“He’s your dad…step-dad. It’s Joey. Come on, just talk to him,” Sean encouraged. He started to go for the phone and Craig’s movements were quick. He barely said hello over the telephone line. “I wasn’t going to say you were here,” Sean shouted at Craig as he ducked out the door.
Ellie, fully dressed by this point, went for the door. The knocking was frantic. While hoping it was Craig, she expected his stepfather.
“He’s not here,” She greeted Joey. “Sean is out looking around the neighborhood.”
“I…I should be looking too,” Joey reasoned, still fighting to come up with a plan of attack. It had been a punch to the gut when he had discovered Craig’s room empty and quite a few of his clean clothes missing from the closet. He actually had to steady himself against the wall. He had felt that sinking feeling before, it came at the moment when something you dreaded happened. He had felt it when Angela was an infant and ran a dangerously high fever that led to a hospitalization, when Julia announced her cancer, and Craig’s overdoses. That feeling always came when he knew that things could get better or they would never be the same.
“Sit down, I’ll get you some coffee,” Ellie encouraged. “That’s actually the one thing I know that we keep fresh around here. There was a classic moment the other day when Sean took a swig of milk that had gone bad.”
Ellie found herself rambling, mostly out of nervousness. While the coffee was brewing she told Joey about how she loved working with Caitlin at the news station, Ferret Bueller’s latest close call with the electric cords, and even the bad 80’s movie she and Sean caught at some midnight showing at a positively ancient movie theater when they didn’t have the money to see the most current flicks at the theater Paige worked at.
“How did he seem to you?” Joey asked as he took the cup of coffee and watched the red head sit down across from him on the couch.
Ellie sipped her coffee (black, always black) for a moment. “I don’t think he’s well.”
“Why didn’t I see it?”
‘He didn’t want you to? He’s different around us. And I guess we weren’t good enough friends to him because we didn’t really see it either. Or we thought we could take care of it.”
Joey wasn’t sure what to say to that. Didn’t she realize that she, Ashley, and Sean were just kids? It wasn’t up to them to take care of Craig. He tried to sort through the mental list of questions he had when he heard the front door. “Craig?”
“I couldn’t find him,” Sean declared, stomping snow off his boots and rubbing his hands to warm them. “I even checked the roof of the building, thinking he might head up there since we used to hang up there.”
Sean kicked off his boots and then sat down next to his girlfriend. Craig’s stepfather was staring intently into his coffee like it was some oracle and he was searching for answers.
“Do you have any idea where he would go? I know you want to protect him but he‘s not in trouble. Please be honest with me.”
“No clue. He could be at like 20 different places, I don’t know. He really didn’t say. I did the wrong thing.”
“Be honest with me, where do you think he’d head off to?”
Sean took a deep breath. “I’d guess he’s going to couch hop. I don‘t know if he‘d go to a party. I don‘t know what is going through his head right now, to be honest. Something is off, Joey.”
“Do you know any of his friends, the kids that I don’t know?” Joey continued, remembering flicking through Craig’s cell phone contact list and seeing names and phone numbers that were unfamiliar.
“He has friends I don’t even know. I mean we’re all close the four us; Ash, Craig, El, and I…but we’ve got other friends too,” Sean searched his mind. “Did you try Marco or Spinner?”
“He wouldn’t go there,” Ellie sullenly piped up.
“What about Ashley’s? He’d try to get to her,” Joey realized and pulled out his cell phone.
“They broke up,” Ellie interrupted Joey’s punching of numbers. She watched as he flipped the phone closed. “Her parents…not cool with what went down at the party.”
“What?”
“He didn’t tell you? But I mean, it just happened so…” Ellie trailed off.
Joey was quiet, realizing how brutal his silent treatment had to be for the kid just going through his first break up. Of course Craig wouldn’t tell him. He wasn’t exactly being approachable. Joey sighed. Hearing that Ellie added hopefully, “Maybe he’ll come back here. Want to wait around for a little while?”
Joey silently debated this. “I think I’m going to do another sweep of the area. Maybe check out a few of his hang outs. If you hear anything, please give me a call.”
Sean nodded, taking the scrap of paper from Joey with his cell and work number on it.
“If you see him around…will you just tell him that we’ll work things out?” Joey encouraged, the guilt weighing him down. There was the sadness too, so heavy it made it hard for him to walk out the front door. Joey stared around the black night, wondering where his son was and when he would come home.
It wasn’t until Monday morning that Craig fully realized what he had done. It was easy to tell himself on Friday or Saturday night that he had just lied to Joey about where he was staying. It had been working. That subtle deception his brain allowed him to do until he had enough to drink where he didn’t care what house, city, or province he was in. His stomach ached at the thought of alcohol but in the next thought he craved a beer even though he had barely been awake for an hour and it was no where near night time, happy hour, or hell even noon.
Craig hadn’t planned on drinking. He was sure no one would believe him if he told them that. He had held out for awhile, occupying himself with a painful debate on if he wanted that vodka shot or not. His hands began to sweat some once he saw the liquor bottle. Fighting to keep his hands from shaking, he took the shot glass. The liquor went down, he remembered being painfully ill in the hospital, and struggled to keep from gagging. He felt it come up in his throat some and he swallowed hard. His hands began to sweat and he glanced around at the expressions on his friends face, some amused and others more observant, maybe a little concerned. Then he was going up, his brain like an elevator clicking off each of the floors. Up, up, up.
The weekend had been foggy, him shuffling along beside Luke as they hit a few parties before returning to his place to crash. There was this weirdness nipping at his heels whenever they were at his home. He couldn’t quite place it; it moved around too much. Maybe it was seeing his friend interact with his parents and little sister the morning after. He was sure he was the same way around Joey and Angie. They had that performance down to a perfection. He remember Joey’s face as he realized how often he had been partying and found all the liquor bottles in his room. And the pills. Craig rubbed his forehead like he could erase the guilt. Everything was fine.
It’s fine, he told himself into the bathroom mirror. The shower had sobered him up quite a bit and the details of the room were coming more into focus. He noticed what brand of toothpaste Luke’s family used, where the hand soap was, even the flowers on counter. He was careful not to leave the towels on the floor and made sure everything was in place. He wasn’t at home. With Joey.
Maybe it was the family thing that was getting to him. The argument was forming in his brain again as he tried to define what one was. He had to give Sauvé credit; he heard her voice first. It was sounding a bit textbook and a lot like his social worker’s as the voice encouraged him to accept Joey as family. Well that was gone. He left that like he left his dad’s. Maybe his father was right about him leaving like his mother. “Well, everyone leaves,” he reasoned quietly to himself and went for the door, hair wet from a shower.
He could smell the breakfast being cooked downstairs. Luke’s mother had awakened them early, telling them to get up for school. “Where are you going to go?” Luke asked as he watched Craig gather some clothes off the floor and stuff them into his backpack.
“I, uh, haven’t figured that all out yet. Do you think I can crash here again tonight?”
“Give me a call. My parents are bound to find out I’m flunking history one of these days.”
“Yeah. Okay,” Craig rapidly agreed. Things were getting real. He wasn’t going to school. He had no idea where he was going to spend the day, let alone the night. Craig lifted his gaze up from the floor and saw that his friend was watching him. Even Luke, the guy who had to be stoned to do his math homework, was getting concerned about him.
“You were talking in your sleep last night. I almost woke you up.”
“What? What was I saying?” Craig questioned, fingers on his lips. Things were starting to move faster in his brain. Calm down, he told himself. “Well uh, we were high and watching horror movies. I think my dreams were kind of messed up.”
He occasionally had out there dreams; violent and dark. He certainly still dreamt about his dad, sometimes his mom. But the strange story his sleeping brain produced was a wild one. The police officer didn’t believe him when he said that his mother kept coming back. But instead of replying that she had passed away, he just accused him of being behind her death. The last time he saw her, emerging from a dark room and twisting like the ghosts in horror movies do. He was starting to think that she believed what they were saying. Maybe he was involved with her death. Then he was in the room with him and witnessing his father’s final night. There was the gun and the blood, on the walls and on his hands. He was guilty.
“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming about that chick you did Saturday night?” Luke said with a smirk.
“What?” Craig asked, snapping out of his trance. “I still don’t believe you about that. I mean, come on, I’d remember.” Craig watched as his friend just laughed.
“You don’t remember anything? I mean I even saw you two making out on the couch. She’s that girl. She’s in media immersion. Did that one presentation on independent record labels. What the hell is her name again? Anyway more than one person said that you two went upstairs together.”
The night was in fragments. A song here, a darkened room there. He could almost remember how pale her skin was in the moonlight while she was on top of him. “I think we had an awesome time.”
“Well, she’s had practice. Maybe you should learn her name for when she says hi to you in class. Or you know, after the STD test and the doc tells you that you should call your partners.”
“You’re hilarious!” Craig replied as they headed downstairs for breakfast.
Craig was quiet while he ate, becoming tense whenever the word ‘school’ was dropped. He almost dropped his fork when Luke’s mother offered them a ride to school.
“Uh, no. We’re taking the bus,” Luke was quick to explain and soon after they hurried out the door.
“So I’ll call you after school and check to see if I stay the night?” Craig asked at the bus stop.
“Uh yeah. But you might want to call around and find another place to crash. I mean, my mom didn’t think anything of the weekend. But she’s going to find it weird if it’s another night, Craig.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense,” Craig replied and reflected on how he tensed up whenever the phone rang. He was always expecting that knock at the door. While thankful that his cell phone contacts existed of first names and random nicknames, he wondered why Joey hadn’t figured it out yet. Was he even trying? Craig almost shook his head at that thought, trying to empty the worry from his head.
“Not your bus?” Luke said, almost sounding like he was offering as he boarded the one headed towards Degrassi Community School.
It all felt real in that moment when he realized he had no place to go. He didn’t have a place lined up to crash at tonight and that made him inhale sharply, feeling a little panicked. He wasn’t sure why it didn’t feel real or have a label until now. He realized it now; he ran away from home. It didn’t seem that way at the time but 48 hours later he realized what he had done. What was Joey doing? He probably called the cops. There was going to be consequences to this, major ones, he feared. Especially with his most recent hospital stay. Craig shook his head at that. Joey wasn’t putting him in a place like that. He’d stay out here before that happened.
“Uh no. That’s my bus,” Craig replied and gestured to the bus approaching in the other lane and would take him in the opposite direction of school.
The long term solution didn’t hit him until a few days later. He needed to stop off for cash. The driver, cousin to Evie or friend of Evie’s cousin (Craig didn’t pay much attention to the ride he was bumming), seemed annoyed by the request but stopped off anyway. Craig pulled out his debit card from his wallet, glancing back at the car. Three out of four were smoking a cigarette although he couldn’t be sure if a joint wasn’t being passed around. Craig’s foot started to bop, anxious for the cash to be in his hands. Finally he had someplace to go, a plan. It came to him during a get together last night.
“Hello?” Evie cautiously answered after glancing at the name on the cell phone screen. She giggled and hung up. “That was not Craig Manning.”
“Don’t answer your phone!” Craig scolded. “Joey has mine. He’s probably like calling every contact. Shit. Shit.”
“Relax. I don’t get involved in domestic disputes,” she replied, passing the joint.
Craig inhaled deeply, held the smoke in, and exhaled slowly. He opened his eyes and said, “You guys can’t tell him where I’m at. Just until I can figure out where I should go,” Craig replied and it came to him. B.C. For a moment he felt like he was that same scared little boy back in grade 9 with nowhere to go. He had wanted to go to Joey’s. Now he was at Joey’s…not his father. His mind circled and all the names seemed to take a beating on his brain. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
At least he had an idea now of where he wanted to go. That gave him some comfort. Now he just had to get away from where he was presently. The restraint was as quick and strong as his breath. One moment it came in and the next it was gone. Just let go, he told himself and tilted his head back for the shot.
His hands almost weren’t steady enough to punch in his PIN number. Then there was the machine screen with it’s generic type asking him how much he wanted to withdrawal. Craig chewed his finger nail some, not having any recollection on his debit card’s limit. He decided to go for the jackpot and try for $500. “Account not able to be accessed at this time.” Swipe of the card, punch of the numbers, and then he tried to withdrawal $400. Access denied. $300, $200, $100 - denied.
Craig nearly let out a sob. Something was wrong. He began to work his way down in $10 increments. At first he feared he was stupid enough not to keep track of his balance and blew nearly all his cash on party supplies for his blow out.
“It’s not right. Something’s not right,” He mumbled to himself and started to fish through his wallet. Receipt from the bank after his last withdrawal. He still had five hundred some bucks.
“Manning, what the hell?” he heard someone call out.
“Just a minute,” Craig yelled back. One more try. He angrily swiped his card, punched in his pin with force, and requested $200. He could come back tomorrow and get the rest. He could make this work. Access denied. Craig slapped the brick wall of the building, not sharing that the impact and cold stung his hand. He started breathing so heavily that his surroundings started to warp. Shakily he approached his friend’s car.
“Can I use your cell?” Craig asked, leaning up against the cracked window.
“I thought you were just getting cash? Let’s go. Party awaits.”
“Just a minute, okay? I just need to make a call.” His friend hesitated, sighed, then passed over the phone.
Craig headed back towards the ATM but settled into the space of some sandwich joint and an electronics store. He faced the wall, not the car with Evie and her friends in it. Tears were threatening now. His plan, his safety net, had dropped as soon as he thought he had one.
“Sean?” Craig questioned and didn’t wait for the confirmation. He knew the sound of his voice. “You can’t tell Joey I’m calling you. He…froze my bank accounts. I can’t get at my money. It’s mine. I don’t know how he can do that.”
“Hey. Hey, slow down,” Sean encouraged.
“I mean that had to be what happened. When I left he called the banks and froze everything. How can that happen? He’s not my dad; he can’t do that.”
“Well he is your guardian.”
“I’m so sick of him trying to be my dad. He’s not,” Craig couldn’t explain the anger. “Mine is dead. He offed himself. I’m…I just want to get away.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wanted to use it to go to BC,” Craig explained and Sean heard his friend’s voice cracking, like he was trying not to cry.
“What’s there?”
“It’s not here?“ Craig tried to reason and then was silent for a moment. “Look, I just have to get away from this mess. I can’t fix it. So fuck it, right? I think I might have enough for a bus ticket in cash. Or I can get that.”
“And then what happens? You blow all your cash and end up on the streets of Vancouver, if you even make it that far.”
“Why aren’t you on my side?”
“I am,” Sean reassured, bewildered by the accusation. Something in Craig has shifted over the past few weeks. He was used to the mood swings and quick decisions. But things had changed, escalated. “Do you want to come over? Spend the night? I won’t call Joey.”
Craig watched as a passenger of the car waved their hand, signaling for him to wrap up the phone call. “He probably stops by all the time huh? I can’t take that chance. Look, I’ll be fine.”
“Where are you staying tonight? Craig.”
“I’m really sorry about all this,” Craig said, his voice distant and then he clicked off the cell.
He stayed quiet for the rest of the ride, glad that the music was so loud that they couldn’t hear his heavy breathing. He stared intently out the window but didn’t see the buildings that flew by. He almost felt tears threaten again but quickly told himself to shut off. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then let go. Just let go.
“I had a plan. I actually had a plan. I wanted to drain my bank account and head to B.C. Vancouver. Maybe head down to Seattle, L.A eventually. Play gigs or something. Maybe actually make it,” Craig mumbled dreamily and started up at the spots of light above his head. He watched as fingers tore through the cloud of smoke and he realized it was glow in the dark stick on stars and strings of Christmas lights.
“I just want to do things on my own. Make things simple again. It’s not working here. I know I don’t’ have a lot of money. I mean not enough to make it last but it could work. I could have hit the ATM and maxed out the deposits. I could have had my cash and split.”
“What?” Evie asked, struggling to sit up and lean over him. Craig batted her hair out of his eyes and gasped a little at the weight of her arm on his chest.
“I said I wanted to go to B.C.”
“Oh. So why don’t you?” She asked and took another hit off the joint. Craig watched as the tip burned bright as she inhaled.
“I can’t get at my cash. Joey froze me out of my own account,” he explained and finished off his beer. “I’m going to try for it anyway, I think.”
“Here. Have a smoke and think it over for tonight,” the girl replied and passed over the joint. Craig noticed how numb his fingers felt and how it was hard to keep his vision focused. He was afraid he would drop it. After taking a hit he passed the joint back and took a sip from his pint of vodka.
“I didn’t even really think about what happened. Just started drinking again. Do you know about what happened?”
“Not from you. I heard you had your stomach pumped. Oded. Again.”
“Again?” Craig questioned. Then he was aware of the stories that probably circulated about him.
Evie waved her hand to dismiss what she just said. “Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that. Didn’t mean to say that out loud. You are thinking too much, talking too much.”
“Where were you when it was happening? When I passed out and people started freaking,” Craig pressed, strangely self-aware for his intoxicated state. It was that kind of buzz that made it safe to talk.
“Who knows. I think I moved onto another party, another boy, by then.”
“They would think it’s wrong that I’m drinking again so soon. They would talk about choices and responsibility and addiction and statistics and fathers who kill themselves and …and did you know that they actually thought it’d help if I went to some grieving camp. They have horses.”
“What? That sounds really creepy.”
“I know!”
“So you sit around the campfire with all these orphans and talk about your dead parents while these camp counselors with their smiles and bleeding hearts tell you it’s okay to cry?”
“Yeah. With horses. I don’t even like horses.”
Evie started laughing uncontrollably at that. “With horses.”
“I don’t want to do any more thinking tonight,” Craig decided, taking the final hit off the joint. Then after he exhaled he stated, “Nothing more tonight.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Evie replied, sitting up and searching for her pint of Rum. She took a shot and felt Craig reach for it, his fingers on hers.
“I thought you didn’t share your liquor.”
“I don’t,” she said, then took a shot, held it in her mouth, and gestured for him to move in. Craig smiled a little and then pressed his open mouth against hers, letting the liquid and her tongue into his mouth. It was by no means his first shot of the evening so the liquor didn’t burn as it rolled around in his mouth. He closed his mouth to swallow, his lips still on hers. They eased back down on the bed together, mouths still on each other and hands roaming.
“I don’t think you are even real,” Craig murmured into neck. It was strange how he kept having these moments where he felt like he was the only one left in the world since he left home. It was his choice and he felt stupid for feeling so lonely now and needing some kind, any kind, of warmth.
“Of course I’m real,” Evie said with a giggle, toying with the buckle of his belt.
“Oh okay, then I’m not real.”
“You are real,” she reassured with a kiss. He kissed her back, harder, flicking his tongue into her mouth.
“Prove it. Make me feel anything.”
Craig let out a content sigh at the sensation of her hand between his legs. He was quick to return the favor, removing his hand from the inside of her shirt, his fingers trailing down her stomach, under her skirt, and slipping between her legs. Their breathing became heavier; their movements more frenzied, humping, thrusting, and enjoying each other‘s bodies. Then Evie replaced her hand with her mouth. He deserved to feel good, even if it was only a temporary fix.
Craig woke up slowly, the confusion felt thick. It always did when he drank to that point of passing out. Waking up was always a surprise; he wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t remember falling asleep or that he wasn’t sure if he’d wake up. The blackness of a dreamless sleep was nice. It took him a moment to look around, unsure of where he was. He wasn’t even sure of the day. That was the mind fuck when you started drinking before nightfall; the unnatural messing of hours when the sun did set and you passed out somewhere in between. The music from the party downstairs pounded through the closed door. Craig propped himself up on his elbows but the spinning threw him back down onto the bed.
“Okay, okay,” he mumbled to himself and tried to sort through the facts. He ran his hands over his body. Dressed but pants unbuttoned. The puzzle pieces were mentally lining up. “Evie?”
No reply. “Oh okay,” Craig said in response. “Thanks for the time. You better not have taken my vodka with you.”
Craig haphazardly crawled around on the bed, nearly taking a tumble to the floor once. He dug around, tossing a few of the many pillows to the floor. He found his pint of liquor buried under them. The sip of vodka stung this time, signaling that sleep had worn off some of his buzz. He hated that. It was funny how people thought that the point the drank himself to was dangerous when he felt like the point of coming back from there was.
“I’m sorry I let everyone down though,” Craig mumbled aloud to himself or maybe as an apology to the people who weren’t there. Or maybe to God, although he had stopped praying somewhere in between the beatings his father would dish out and his death by self inflicted gun shot wound to the head.
“I don’t want to think about you right now. You said that I left, Mom left, but we didn’t do what you did.” Craig paused, his breathing heavy as he laid there still in some stranger’s bed. It actually felt good to say it out loud.
“I’m too much like you. You got all freaking weird about family, wanting to keep me there even though you treated me like you couldn’t stand to look at me. Look at what I did to Joey. And it’s not like I’m doing any of this because I don’t care. It’s the opposite,” Craig murmured to himself, his words soft and slurred.
“I ruined it with Ashley too. And her family. I meant it when I asked her what it would be like if we got married. And we were all a family. Her uptight mom, gay dads, and the stepfather that doesn’t belong to her. Because stepfathers don’t. But her family…it seems normal.”
Through his intoxicated fog he remember having dinner with the Kerwin-Isaacs that first time. How freakishly scared he was of everything and how she wasn’t. It was because he still lived with his dad. Which was why he cringed when Ashley let the front door slam even though Jeff barely had a response. Craig turned down Ashley’s stereo too, certain that someone was going to become upset.
His father hated noise. He never knew why. He only knew that the psycho would sometimes storm into his room in the middle of the night and demand to know what he’d dropped on the floor. Most of the time he hadn’t made any noise at all and sometimes was startled out of sleep. Not that it just applied to the night. He once held onto a painfully hot bowl because the burn would be better than dropping it and being hit for it. He still found himself doing things like that. He recalled how he did it at Joey‘s once, who could only demand out of concern “Why would you do that?”
He hated how it took him weeks to adjust to eating a meal at Joey’s house, simply because he wasn’t used to the candid talking and actually feeling safe. Now his stomach didn’t ache all through dinner. Did he finally have what Ashley had with her family? Ashley felt comfortable at her house. She had the perfect life, the perfect family. What the hell was she doing with him anyway?
“I wreck everything. With her. But it’s not because of Evie,” Craig realized. “Because Ash and I…Ash and I…Ash and I are broken up. Because her parents hate me.”
His drunken revelations, the mashed up recollections of his past and mixed up feelings, brought him to his feet. It took him a moment to get used the gravity and he stumbled a bit, nearly falling into a bookshelf. His vision was slowly starting to piece itself back together.
“I want a family like that. Her family is normal. As normal as one can be. I don’t want Joey and Caitlin. I don’t want substitutions because they think that the orphan needs a place to stay. I want a family,” Craig argued with the empty room. “I can fix this. I have to see Ashley.”
He wasn’t sure how long it took him to walk to her house, weaving some as he walked. He paused once to vomit in the street, kneeling down on some stranger’s yard. He glanced up when the heaves were over and was relieved there wasn’t faces peering out of the windows, watching him as he lost what dignity he had left. His only consolation was that he didn’t make that big of a mess because he hadn’t eaten all day, was still too drunk to really taste the vodka the second time around, and wasn’t even humbled by the experience too much. You’re drunk, he told himself as he dug around in his backpack for some gum. He was sure he reeked like a puked out alcoholic.
She deserves so much better, he thought as he rang the doorbell. It felt like a scene out of movie; this wasn’t happening to him.
“Hi,” Craig mumbled to Toby and barely acknowledged his shocked expression.
“Craig. What are you doing here?” Toby questioned, glancing around for his parents and Ashley.
“Ashley.”
“She’s not here right now,” Toby lied and hoped Craig would take the bait and leave before his Dad and Kate would see him like this. He steadied Craig as he stumbled a few feet into the house.
“I just…I need to see Ashley. I could wait for her. I was just thinking about you guys anyway. You really are lucky.”
“Okay,” Toby responded after a moment.
“I mean…I just was thinking about how you guys really are the perfect family,” Craig slurred after Jeff and Kate cautiously approached. Jeff warily encouraged his son away and placed a firm hand under the drunken teen‘s elbow to support him. “I thought Joey’s was but…well I ruined that. I don’t want to ruin this too.”
“Who’s at the…” Ashley stopped dead half-way down the stairs. Besides for having smelled the alcohol from across the room, his appearance gave it away. He looked horrible with dark circles under his eyes, face pale except for his flushed cheeks. He could barely stand on his own, she realized when she saw how Craig was slumped against Jeff.
“Ashley, I need you,” Craig called out.
Ashley didn’t move any closer. She stood on the stairs, clutching the banister.
“Please?” Craig tried again.
“Craig, you need to rest right now. You can talk to Ashley later,” Kate said, slowly, unsure of what to do. She should want to keep the teenage runaway here but at the same time, the alcohol had made him impulsive. Wild. Out of control.
“I know you don’t like me. I know you don’t want me around. But it’s not up to you. Ashley?”
“Craig, I’m going to call Joey and we’ll have him come over and pick you up okay. You aren’t feeling well,” Jeff tried to say as calmly as possible. He still kept a grip on the boy as he was beginning to wonder if he could be dangerous.
“I know you don’t want me around her. I know you don’t want me as part of your family.”
“No one has said anything like that,” Kate said.
“You don’t want me around her. Because I’m a mess. Because of what my dad did. Because I don’t have a family.”
“Craig, we all like you and care about you. That’s why I’m going to call Joey. Because we care about you,” Kate reassured, the telephone in her hands.
“No. You don’t have to call Joey,” Craig said, jerking out of Jeff’s grasp and then slapped the doorframe with his hand.
“You need to calm down,” Jeff said firmly and took Craig by the shoulder, not trusting this kid at all.
“Hello Joey. This is Kate Kerwin. Craig is here right now,” Kate spoke into the receiver. “He’s…”
“No. No, I’m supposed to be a part of this,” Craig interrupted with tears in his eyes. The rejection cut him deep. They didn’t want him here. “I just want to have a family. I want to have what your family has. I want your family.”
Craig didn’t see their bewildered stares. Toby had to look away, embarrassed for Craig. He was making such a scene. Ashley was still and quiet. She found that her mind was completely blank besides for the occasional panicked thought that this guy was like a stranger. Craig had done some crazy things, things that confused her but she struggled to understand and meet him on some common ground. There was no way she should justify tonight to her mother.
“Why are you calling Joey? No. I don’t want to leave you, Ashley. You are everything. We could have everything,” Craig desperately reasoned.
“You can talk to Ashley tomorrow, when you are sober and when you are calm,” Jeff said.
Craig jerked away from him. He stared at Ashley for a moment, pleading with his eyes. Why wouldn‘t she say anything? Why wasn‘t she telling her mother that he wasn‘t as bad as she thought? Craig opened the front door and took a few steps out. “Ash?” He prompted, expecting her to want to follow. Together they make it. Take off for Vancouver where they would play gigs in smoky bars and spend nights together in their own place.
Why wasn’t she saying anything? “Fine. I don’t care about anyone anyway,” he declared.
Craig turned around and delivered a final message, “I don’t need your family anyway. I don’t need a family.”
Caitlin stood up at the sound of the front door opening. While Joey was at the Kerwin/Isaacs, she had tried to prepare herself for Craig’s return home. She hated to admit it but the teenager scared her. He wasn‘t a little boy throwing temper tantrums; he was a sixteen year old who towered at nearly 6 feet tall and couldn‘t control himself. It was like she returned home to a stranger.
“Where’s Craig?” she questioned at the sight of only Joey. She watched as her boyfriend began to pace the floor. He hadn’t even removed his coat, like he was contemplating going out again.
“I don’t know. He was gone by the time I got there. I swear I just missed him by a few minutes. I swear. We drove around the neighborhood and looked for him but I couldn’t find him.”
“I’m sorry, Joey,” Caitlin replied. She didn’t mean for just tonight however. They were both feeling that guilt. At the moment she wished he hadn’t encouraged hospitalization. She should have encouraged it when she knew Craig couldn’t hear. Or not at all; the idea of being placed in a psychiatric ward would be scary to anyone.
“He had been drinking,” Joey stated and still tried to wrap his mind around that one. “I don’t know how someone can drink after they nearly kill themselves with it. You’d think it would make him sick. Does a person get intoxicated more quickly after something like that? And what if he doesn’t realize that he can’t drink like he used to?”
“Let’s call around to local hospitals,” Caitlin encouraged and went for the list of phone numbers on the fridge.
“You’re right. You’re right,” Joey agreed and picked up the phone. It took him a moment to punch in the first number. He wasn’t ready for this. The call from the hospital a few nights before had stunned him. Now there was just dread. “Please don’t let this happen again,” he whispered to himself.
“Do you have a patient at your facility named Craig Manning? This is his father. He ran away from home and there was a sighting of him tonight. He was intoxicated. I’m concerned about how much he might have had to drink.”
Joey listened to the sound of keyboard typing, paper shuffling, and the sounds of the hospital in the distance.
“I’m sorry we haven’t had anyone admitted here under that name. Can you describe him? Age? Physical description?”
“He’s 16, short brown hair, brown eyes. He’s tall, 5’11,” maybe six feet tall. Average build, on the slender side. He was last seen wearing blue jeans and a black leather jacket with a black hoodie underneath. Converse sneakers.”
Joey was getting used to giving that description; to the police when he’d filed the missing persons report and then during the first round of phone calls he made to hospitals when Craig had gone missing. It was all routine to them and there he was with his heart beating out of his chest. The police officer had sent him home with brochures on runaways and at-risk youth. “They usually return home on their own,” the cop had reassured. “Inform the school that Craig ran away from home and get in contact with his friends. Try to pass a message onto him that he can call home and you’ll try to work things out. Let him know he’s not in trouble. A lot of the youth are intimidated by that first confrontation when they arrive home.”
His nerves were fried by the final hospital call. “We do have an adolescent male currently being treated for intoxication,” a nurse confirmed.
“You do? Craig? Is it him?” Joey wasn’t sure if he was feeling relief because there was a chance they found him or fear for his wellbeing. Which would bet the better outcome?
“We haven’t gotten a name out of him yet. No identification. Does Craig has any noticeable traits? Scars, piercings, or tattoos?”
“No…none.”
“This young man has a eyebrow piercing.”
“It’s not Craig,” Joey confirmed, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. There was a part of him that wanted it to be him, just so he knew where he was. “Thank you for your time.”
Joey clicked off the phone, tossed it on the coffee table, and sank down onto the couch. He was exhausted but knew that sleep wasn’t an option. He hadn’t been able to sleep more than 2 hours each night. He’d lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling, and running down a mental list of things that could have happened to his son. With friends; kids he didn’t know, kids that ran with a faster crowd and would see no harm in supplying Craig with alcohol or the pills he had found in Craig’s room (the ones he barely knew anything about) . Kids who would be afraid to call for an ambulance and leave him to choke on his vomit. Then he would silently pray that Craig was at Sean’s and his buddy was just protecting him. He knew from the many times he’d drive by Cameron’s that this likely wasn’t the case. Then there was the streets. The idea of Craig sleeping in an alley would bring him to his feet and then he started pacing, from the kitchen window to the living room, glancing out the window to check for the teen each time, half expecting him to be standing across the street and hesitant to approach the front door. Craig didn’t have the street smarts to survive. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the runaways his son would meet up with; kids who grew up fast with the crime and violence on the streets. And the situations Craig could find himself in (Joey fought with this thought)…situations that would break him. He tried to block out the horror stories he’d seen on the internet or on a news special.
“I just want him home,” Joey whispered as Caitlin sat down next to him and nuzzled her face into his shoulder.
“We all do.”
“If I could just talk to him. One conversation.”
Caitlin nodded and ran her fingertips over Joey‘s arm and then squeezed her boyfriend‘s hand. “What went down at the Kerwins, aside for him being drunk?”
“He got a little bit physical again, although there was no more punching at walls, thank God. He scared them quite a bit I think. I had to reassure Kate that he’s not a danger to them or stalking them. He was talking about how he wants a family with them or Ashley…not me, apparently,” Joey said and felt the tears build up in eyes. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever hurt him this badly before. When he found out Craig had ran away, he swore a part of him died inside.
“He doesn’t mean it like that. He was drunk, he probably doesn’t even know what he was saying.”
Joey nodded, but didn’t give a response. He bowed his head down and began to silently pray that Craig was somewhere safe, someplace warm, and away from people who would be quick to give him more drugs and alcohol.
Part 2