This is when Craig is hospitalized for bi-polar…
"I don't know about this anymore, Caitlin,"
Joey and Caitlin were sitting in the cafeteria, stale donuts and cooling coffee in front of them. Everyone looked stark against the pale green walls. Joey stared at the pale green paint and thought it was an ugly color.
"Know about what?" she said, her eyes full of concern. She could tell by the furrow of his brow that he was overwhelmed.
"About Craig. About raising him, I, I'm just not so sure…"
She was silent. It occurred to her to protest this line of thought, but she saw the redness in his eyes and the lines on his face, the healing cuts and bruises from Craig's punches, and thought better of it.
They visited Craig, the manic light slowly leaving his eyes as the medication began to take effect. He looked vulnerable in the hospital clothes or his soft flannel pants and T-shirts, wearing white socks or going barefoot. His hair was a mess of curls around his face, his hazel eyes glassy or over bright.
At home she made Joey tea, put a lemon in it and brought it to him. He thanked her and held the cup with the palms of his hands, getting some comfort from the warmth. The one lamp only partially lit the room, the shadows were deep in the corners, by the stairwell and near the door.
"I love him, I do, it isn't about love, it's…"
Caitlin listened as he tried to explain, her blue eyes never leaving his face.
"He's too much for me, his problems are beyond me…" He looked so sad as he said it, sad enough that Caitlin knew he had come to some sort of a decision.
"He can't stay with us, he's too damaged. Damaging. There are places that can help him,"
"He's at the hospital getting help," Caitlin said quietly, sipping her own tea.
"It's not just this…I don't…I'm not sure it's the best thing for Angela, having him stay here with us,"
Quiet. The worry lines are deep around his mouth and eyes. She never thought she'd see Joey Jeremiah look so old. She wants to ask, 'would you send Angela away, if it was her?' She wants to ask but doesn't dare.
"What will it do to him if you send him away?" she said, before she could stop herself.
"It might be better that way, better for everyone,"
X…….x…………x……..x…….x
There was the matter of telling Craig. Joey had researched it and found group homes for mentally ill teenagers and young adults. Nice places. He could go straight from the hospital to one of these.
"I don't want to tell him," Joey said, and the look in his eyes was tortured. Caitlin said nothing, just gazed at him with her still and silent look. They were in the hospital cafeteria again, the pale green walls closing in on them.
"I really don't want to tell him,"
Into the elevator that would carry them to the third floor, the mental health unit. It was locked, every room that wasn't a patient's room locked on the unit. Supply rooms, the medication room, staff meeting rooms, all had locks. Joey and Caitlin had to press the intercom button to be let onto the floor.
"Should I go with you to tell him?" Caitlin said, and Joey hadn't been able to decide. He wanted her there, wanted her security and support, but it wasn't about him. Craig might feel ganged up on, two against one if Caitlin went with him.
"No. I'd better tell him alone,"
She nodded and hung back, went to the coffee machine near the maternity ward while Joey pressed the intercom buzzer to be admitted to the MHU.
It was the middle of the day and Craig was sleeping. He'd been here awhile and some medication they gave him made him sleepy. He was curled up on top of the covers facing away from the door, Joey noticed the smooth curve of his back, the way his hair curled behind his ears and touched the collar of his shirt.
"Craig," he said, stage whisper. Craig didn't stir. Joey stepped into the room, the sun from the window directly across from him shining in his eyes and he squinted, felt the beginnings of a headache. He shook him gently and Craig stirred.
"Joey," he said thickly, eyes half shut. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"Sleeping at noon?"
"Yeah. I'm so damn tired…"
Joey looked at him, the big hazel eyes, pale skin, dark curls. He'd thought, when he first came to live with him, that he could make things better for him, make things okay. But the nightmares over Albert and the constant flinching away from any physical contact made him doubt his surety. How could he help a kid overwhelmed by years of abuse? By the death of both parents? And now one with a major mental illness? He couldn't. He loved Craig but simply felt unable to help him.
"Listen, Craig, there's something I have to tell you,"
Joey sat on the edge of the bed, kneaded the rough material of the hospital blanket in between his fingers.
"I've been doing some thinking, and, well, I think it might be best if you go to a group home when you leave the hospital, instead of coming back to live with me and Angela,"
Craig looked at him blankly, the words not registering.
"What?" he said softly, and the look he gave him made Joey want to cry.
"Craig, it's…it's for the best…for everyone. For you, for Angela, everyone,"
"What? What do you mean?" His lower lip trembled and he took a shuddery breath.
"Craig, I still love you. We all love you. It's just that coming back to live with us right away, it might not be the best idea,"
Craig licked his lips, slid his eyes to the side and looked out the window.
"Listen, you could come and visit us, and we'd visit you…"
"Where is it? This place?" Craig said, still looking out the window, his voice still soft.
"It's just on the outskirts of Toronto,"
"So I'd have to switch schools?"
Joey swallowed. He hadn't thought about that. Maybe he hadn't thought of a lot of things.
"I suppose,"
"Joey…no….I can't live at some place like that,"
"It's the best thing," he waited for an assault of begging, of pleading with him not to do this, and he thought he might just crack under such an assault. But it didn't come.
"Fine," Craig said, and turned away from him.
