It had been an exhausting night. I looked at Craig, finally sleeping. He was curled up under the afghan on the couch. I thought he could eventually have the spare bedroom. I didn't think he should go back to Albert.
I wanted to brush his hair from his forehead but I didn't. I'd seen his mother do that a million times. Julia. She was close tonight. I could feel her worry, her urging me on to do the right thing. And of course I would. At the start of this day, when I was yelling for Craig and Angela in the park, only Angela was mine. I was trying to protect her, knowing she was in some kind of danger. The danger was murky, but I knew, I felt it. Now they were both mine.
It was funny, I had barely thought of Craig in three years. He had retreated to the dim background of my mind shortly after Julia had died. He hadn't lived that close, and once Julia was gone the visits stopped. The last time I'd even seen him before this school year had been the funeral. God, what was he then? 11? Maybe 12? Still a kid, his white face tear streaked, his father's shadow hanging over him. I'd been surprised to see Albert at the funeral and wondered if he was there for Craig or for himself. Albert didn't cry, not that I saw. His expression was grim, stony. That was all.
In the cemetery I knew. I knew almost exactly what was going on. It was all adding up. Angela saying she'd seen the bruises, all purple. And the look on Craig's face, this trapped animal fearful look. The way he jerked away from me, the quick anger at everything. Screaming that Sean was a liar and I'd looked back at Sean, his head hung down. And Craig telling me he didn't need my help, and the look in his eyes, that hollow, end of the rope look. Julia was practically whispering in my ear, 'help him, Joey,' My poor Julia.
Then we get back here after dropping Sean off, Emma looking at Craig with wide eyes and Craig not looking at her at all. He stood in my living room like he didn't know what to do with himself, and I saw the jitteriness, the exhaustion. I saw the "saving the world" almost smug look on Emma's face, and I knew she liked to save things, people. But it almost seemed like it was a game for her, like she could add up the points. But that was okay. She was young. She'd learn what the stakes really were someday, and how it's hard to have the answers.
Spike came and got her because I didn't want to leave Craig or even drag him out to drop Emma off. He'd had enough but there would be more. I had to see for myself. Not because I didn't believe him or Angela, it wasn't that. In the few dealings I'd had with Albert I could more than believe he was beating his son. But I had to see for…I don't know. Future proof, if it was needed. If Albert fought me in court.
He had still been standing in the middle of the room, lost. Not looking at me but looking everywhere else. I could feel the fear coming off of him in waves.
"Craig," I said softly, and he jerked his head toward the sound of my voice.
"What?" he said, his voice kind of broken and scratched.
"What did your father do to you? Show me," Put so badly, but how do you put it?
He closed his eyes for much longer than a blink, then he opened them slowly and turned his head away from me and lifted up his shirt. I stared. I stared at his fingers holding the edge of the shirt almost up to his neck. I stared at the pale skin marked with bruises. All purple, like Angie said. But I saw the fading yellow of older bruises and the dark black around his ribs and the cuts from being kicked and I saw the tears in his eyes again. He let the shirt fall back into place but he still didn't look at me.
And now he was sleeping. He'd taken his sneakers off and they were at the edge of the couch. Other than that he was fully dressed. I contemplated leaving him alone while I went to see Albert, but I didn't like that. I didn't quite trust him to stay here, to not hurt himself. I thought of what Sean said in his oddly adult way, 'If he doesn't kill himself first,' he'd said. Craig was suicidal. If I left him alone he might, well, God knew what.