Now that it was here, now that all his bags were packed and he was dressed in his jeans and T-shirt and black leather jacket, Joey wanted to take him home. But the place was all booked, the group home had an open slot and all the paperwork was completed and he was set to go there.
"Bye," Craig said shyly to the nurses, and they smiled at him, the same love in their eyes that teachers got. Joey had seen Snake look at his students with the same helpless love.
"Good luck, Craig," they told him, and looked at Joey with veiled eyes, doubting his ability to take as good care of him as they did.
"Ready, Craig?"
"Yeah," Craig was not looking at him, was only responding when spoken to. Joey feared the group home idea had caused irreparable damage.
In the car, Craig calm and looking out the window, Joey tried again.
"It's only temporary, Craig. It's just for awhile, just so you can readjust. Okay?"
"Yeah," Craig said tonelessly.
After the silent two hour drive they were nearing it. Joey kept checking the directions, slowing down to stare at street signs. Craig looked out the window, he wouldn't say anything.
"This is it," Joey said. It was the last house on a dead end street, surrounded by tall pines. It looked nice but a bit industrial. Off-white cement steps led up to the front door instead of wooden or brick stairs. Some of the details of this house looked a little rushed. Craig kept his head down, wouldn't even look at it.
A girl in her early 20's answered the door at Joey's knock. She wore a laminated work badge on a black flat shoelace necklace. Dark permed hair, bright eyes, she looked like a frenetic college student.
"Hi. You must be Craig," she said with this forced outgoingness. Craig looked up at her, not smiling, the hurt in his eyes making Joey feel guilt like tiny knives stabbing him everywhere.
They stepped inside. There was a long hall leading to a stairway, and there was a living room and a kitchen off the hall downstairs. It smelled strange in there, like wood that was too new and stale pasta and too many people living in the same house.
They took the tour. The rooms had sturdy furniture made of thick wood and rough cotton cushions. It was furniture that could take a beating.
"This is your room," she said, showing Craig a room that resembled a wide hallway up at the top of the stairs. He dropped his bag on the floor.
"Well, Craig, I'm gonna get going," Joey said, and Craig didn't respond. The college girl, alert to people's nonverbal cues and subtle shifts in mood, looked at Joey.
"I'll go downstairs and let you say goodbye," she said, and she turned and left, bouncing down the stairs. Joey watched her go. Craig didn't.
"Craig, look at me,"
He did what he was told to do. That much he supposed Albert had accomplished. No matter how pissed off or upset he was, Craig would usually follow a direct command.
His eyes were filled with tears that were about to spill over. Joey closed his eyes for longer than a blink, felt a tension headache beginning at the base of his skull.
"This is only temporary. Just so everyone can adjust. This isn't a punishment, Craig. Okay? It's just for a short time,"
"Yeah," Craig said dully, wiping at the tears with quick motions.
"I love you. Okay? Listen, me and Ang and Caitlin are gonna visit this weekend. Alright?"
"Okay,"
Joey hugged him, but Craig didn't hug back. He allowed himself to be hugged.
Down the stairs, past the utilitarian kitchen and living room, toward the front door, he ran into the college girl.
"Don't worry. He'll be fine," she said, "most of them are scared at first,"
Joey nodded at her, felt his tension headache creep from the base of his skull to the top of his head.
"I hope so,"