Joey said I could sleep on the couch. That was fine. He got me a blanket and pillow and I laid there in my clothes, my shoes under the couch.
"Okay, buddy?" Joey said, touching my shoulder. I nodded. He was going to go upstairs soon and I needed him to. I needed to be alone.
Instead of worrying about my dad freaking out and killing me because I didn't come home, I watched T.V. I really concentrated on it. It was the only light in the room. But I could barely keep my eyes open after awhile. I was exhausted. More tired than I think I've ever been in my life.
Waking up the next morning was disorienting. I honestly didn't know why I wasn't in my room when I woke up, and for a second I was just blank. Like, what the fuck? Where was I? And then it all came crashing back.
I sat up, feeling kind of uncomfortable from sleeping in my clothes. I rubbed my eyes. Saw Joey in the kitchen making coffee.
"Craig!" Angie had come down the stairs, her dark hair all sleep corkscrews. She was sleepy looking, and her pajamas looked so soft, so pink. She smiled at me and tilted her head.
"Craig, you're here!" She climbed up on the couch and leaned against me, yawning and reaching for the remote. I smiled at her.
"Yeah," I said, as she clicked the T.V. on and put on cartoons. I stood up and she laid down on the couch, watching T.V., not a care in the world. I envied her suddenly, this sharp envy that I could taste.
I went to the kitchen and watched Joey drink his coffee, his navy blue robe wrapped around him.
"Hey," he said, looking at me over the rim of his cup, "want breakfast? We've got cereal, and oatmeal…"
"No," I said, shaking my head. My stomach felt small and shriveled. I couldn't eat.
"Listen, uh, Joey, my dad-"
"Don't worry. I spoke to him and told him that you're staying here," He took another sip of coffee. He was leaning against the counter and glancing at the newspaper spread open on it.
"You did? It's, he's okay with that?" I couldn't quite believe that my dad was okay with this. I'd thought maybe he'd come down here and drag me back home, and then, well. You know.
"Yeah, it's fine. Don't worry," When Joey said this he said it a little slower than he usually talked, and he looked right into my eyes. I believed him. Maybe it would be okay. I let out my breath, and I hadn't even been aware that I was holding it.
I had one change of clothes. That was all I'd packed when I was on the phone with Sean, trying to shove stuff into my bag while I listened to the pounding on my door. It just wasn't the best packing conditions. But at least I could take a shower and put on my own clothes. I thought of the trip we'd have to take to get all my stuff. I couldn't face my dad. I just couldn't.
But I didn't have to face him right now. I was kind of living in the moment. I had to, in this weird way. I felt almost homeless. Joey was letting me stay here. It wasn't like I lived here. I didn't live anywhere anymore.
So I went upstairs and took a shower, and I barely looked at the bruises that were all over my chest and stomach, and I barely felt them when the hot water hit my body.