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Chapter 21: Lessons On The Ice

Craig managed to force the rest of his food down, though the more he thought about going out of the house, the more difficult it seemed to get. He was still working on his food when Angel and Jack both got up from the table with their plates. They took care of clearing away most of the meal, but as Craig had suspected, it was decided that he could wash dishes while his brothers went up to argue over the shower. Apparently washing in the kitchen sink hadn't helped as much as they had hoped. Jerry cleared his plate next, and then called Camille to let her know where he would be and what he would be doing.

Bobby finished his meal but stayed in his seat and watched as Craig struggled to get the last of his down. He helped clear the rest of the dishes, and helped him out by drying them as Craig washed. He was quiet, and Craig knew that couldn't be a good thing. He was sure he would start asking him questions, wanting to know why he had a problem eating.

Instead, Bobby started talking about getting out on the ice, and showing him some moves. "You need to get the blood pumping. Sitting around all the time can't be good for you." Bobby grinned at him as he put the plates in the cupboard. "It'll be fun, don't you think?" He sounded like he always did when he was talking about skating, and hockey, happier than at any other time.

Craig shrugged his shoulders and muttered a quiet, "I suppose."

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "You wait, it's gonna be fun."

Craig swallowed hard and looked at Bobby. "Are you forgetting the last time you tried to show me anything on the ice?" He asked quietly. He didn't want to be looked at by other people, and he didn't want Bobby getting pissed as him when he fell, or when he missed catching the puck, or didn't hit the puck hard enough.

"We ain't playin' hockey Craig, we'll take the sticks, and we might fool around a little, but this ain't about playing hockey." Bobby grinned. "And yeah, I was pretty hard on you the last time. I'm sorry. That's just how I am. Hockey's a tough game; you gotta be tough to play it. You gotta be aggressive, and you need to learn how to do that. I just can't teach it all to you in one day, I gotta remember that."

"Bobby, I don't like hockey, so why do I have to learn it at all?" Craig asked the question before he could stop himself. He knew that wasn't going to go over well with his brother. It wasn't that he didn't like the game but he didn't play well, and he wasn't like his brothers when he was on the ice. He lost his balance too easy, and he wasn't quick enough.

Bobby nodded his head. "It's about more than hockey Craig. Don't worry; I won't yell at you, I'll save all the yelling for the other three fools, okay?" His grin wasn't spread as far across his face as it had been moments before, and Craig was sure he'd upset him. He was afraid he'd hurt his feelings, but he didn't have a chance to say anything more because Jack and Angel both walked in. They had apparently managed to each grab five minutes in the shower, and they were dressed in several layers of old clothes.

"Bobby, you need some warmer clothes." Angel pointed out as he stepped past them both and opened the refrigerator. "No beer left?" He turned and looked at Jack.

"We can stop and pick some up later." Bobby stared at Craig for a moment before turning to Angel. "Why don't you two finish up the dishes so me and Craig can get ready?"

"Okay, we'll do that." Jack nodded his head. "But you're buyin' the beer."

Craig stood by the door twenty minutes later, layered in clothes so thick he wasn't sure he could move. He felt his stomach trembling inside. He didn't want to go out the door. What if the neighborhood kids were playing outside? What if someone drove by and looked at him. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was a sign hanging on him announcing to the entire world everything that he'd done while he was with his father.

He wanted to tell Bobby, but at the same time he thought that maybe if he ignored the feelings churning around; if he went with his brothers, and faced what seemed so frightening to him, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he'd step out the door and he wouldn't have the weight of strangers' stares crushing down on him. He couldn't go crying to Bobby and hiding from the rest of the world forever, could he? He needed to at least try. That's what Bobby had told him about eating; he had to at least try it. He tried to peak out the window of the front door to see if he could see anyone on the street. Bobby was pulling his coat on and had two pair of skates on the floor at his feet. Jerry had already carried hockey sticks and some skates out to his new car. Jack and Angel had finished up in the kitchen and were gathering the last of their things together so that they could all pile into Jerry's car.

Craig moved out of the way enough for both of the men to move past him out the door. They didn't pull it closed after him, and it gave him a better view of the street out front. No one else was in sight. Of course not, anyone with any sense was inside settling down for the evening. He sighed when he looked back over at Bobby. Yeah, anyone with any sense would be protesting to this little adventure out to the rink at six o'clock in the evening, but he was blessed with four brothers who didn't seem to have managed to keep hold of any sense the good Lord or Evelyn Mercer had tried to instill in them.

Bobby picked up the skates and stepped up to the door. "Let's get going. They won't keep the lights on if no one is on the ice." He grinned and motioned for Craig to step out of the house so he could close and lock the door.

Craig started to take that step, but his legs froze and his stomach turned dizzy. He stepped backwards and let his back fall against the wall.

Bobby looked surprised. "Craig? What's wrong?" His voice was quiet and calm.

Craig stared through the front porch windows and he felt a shiver run down his back. "Bobby I can't." He muttered.

Bobby looked confused. "You can't what?" He asked. "You can't go outside?" He looked as if he were about to laugh, that his comment hadn't been serious, but as soon as the words were out he seemed to figure out just how close to the truth he was.

Craig looked at him, and he must have looked as terrified as he felt inside. "I'm sorry. I don't want to go out there." He barely managed to squeeze the words past his throat. "Please don't make me."

Bobby drew in a deep breath. "Oh shit." He closed his eyes for a long moment and then looked at the boy as if he were thinking hard. "What exactly are you afraid of Craig? We're going to be right there with you. No one is gonna lay a hand on you. You got my word on that." He spoke slowly.

Craig shook his head. "I don't want them looking at me." He swallowed hard and tried to pull in a deep breath. "They're going to look at me, and I don't…" He lost the rest of his thought at the sound of a car driving up the street just outside. He turned his eyes to the car and watched it drive past to the corner.

"Craig, no one is going to look at you; no one is going to pay any attention to us at all out there, okay? There won't be too many people there, and your brothers are going to be with you the whole time. You can do this." Bobby remained calm.

Craig had expected something different from his brother, though he wasn't sure exactly what. He figured that at some point Bobby had to turn back into the old Bobby, always yelling at him, and never happy with anything he did. "I can't do this yet." He felt tears trying to seep out, and held them in. He didn't want to cry, he didn't want to fall back into that pit that he'd existed in since Christmas. He could feel his insides trying to tie themselves back up into knots, and he didn't want that.

"Craig, you can't hide in this house. You can't do that. You wouldn't be happy doing that. I wouldn't be happy with you doing that. Now you can at least try, can't you? What do you think is going to happen?" Bobby reached out with his hand and let it rest on Craig's left shoulder.

"I don't know. What if they can look at me and see what I did." He looked down at the floor, away from his brother's eyes. He couldn't stand to look at them at that very moment. He felt ashamed, and he couldn't explain why.

"What you did?" Bobby sounded irritated now. "Craig, you didn't do anything. You had something done to you. You did nothing wrong, you know that. What is it; you think there's a big tattoo on your forehead that says victim?" He gave the boy's shoulder a slight squeeze. "No one can look at you and see what's happened to you, it's not written on you anywhere. You were a victim. You're not one now; you're just a fourteen year old kid who is going to the skating rink to have a little fun. You're allowed to have fun, you know."

Craig slowly raised his gaze to meet Bobby's. He was allowed to have fun. He thought about the words. He wasn't a piece of meat for his father to bite into and claw at. He wasn't a life sized toy for his father's sick games. He mentally corrected himself. Adam Macks, not his father. He remembered the feeling that had filled him when Bobby had answered his question earlier that day. Bobby Mercer was his father, not Adam Macks. Bobby was going to teach him how to deal with what had happened. Maybe this had to be part of that.

"Take your time. Take a deep breath and calm down, and when you're ready, we'll go out to the car." Bobby seemed to sense the thoughts that were going through his mind, and it gave him an odd sense of stability.

He nodded his head and drew in a deep breath. "You'll stay with me?" He asked, not sure why he felt he needed that confirmation.

"You damn well better believe it." Bobby kept his voice even and calm.

Craig drew in another deep breath and nodded his head. "Okay." He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment and let Bobby pull him out the door. He felt the cooler air of the front porch, and he grabbed hold of Bobby's arm as his muscles tensed up and tried to resist the movement.

Bobby pulled the front door closed and made sure it was locked before pulling his arm across Craig's shoulders. As they reached the porch door Angel came into view at the bottom of the steps.

"What the hell's taking you? This was your idea." He looked at Bobby as the man let Craig walk down the steps ahead of him.

"We had one last thing to take care of, that's all. We're coming." He pulled his arm back around Craig as they worked their way up the sidewalk to Jerry's car. "You sit up front Angel." He called to Angel who was now walking behind them.

Craig slid into the back seat quickly, thankful to be inside and not feeling so exposed. He felt his hand latch onto Bobby's arm when the man got in and closed the door. He could see Jack looking at him as if he could tell something was up, but he didn't care.

"Is everything okay?" Jack asked quietly, shifting his stare from Craig to Bobby.

Bobby looked over. "Everything is fine. He just felt a little worried about going out, that's all." Bobby pulled his arm from Craig's hold and put it around his shoulders. "Isn't that right?" He asked.

Craig nodded his head. "Yeah, "He agreed, though he wasn't so sure that it was fine now. He hoped Bobby wouldn't want to stay at the rink long.

When they got there, Bobby did just as he promised, and stayed with Craig the whole time. He helped him get his skates on, and let him sit on the bench with him while he put on his own. Jerry was the first one out on the ice, and Jack was close behind him. Angel seemed to be lagging behind to wait for Craig and Bobby.

At first they just skated around a little bit. Bobby kept a hold of Craig's arm to help him along until his balance on the skates seemed to come back to him. He didn't let go until Craig agreed that he was okay. He kept his eyes out around him, but there were only a couple of other guys on the ice, passing a hockey puck back and forth. They left ten minutes after the Mercers had taken to the ice, and they had the whole place to themselves.

Once the ice was all theirs, Bobby asked Angel to bring the sticks and the puck. He stood behind Craig and put a hockey stick into his hands. His arms reached around him and adjusted his hold so that it was correct. "You see, that's not so bad, now is it?" He asked, and Craig was sure he could hear a smile in his voice.

"No." Craig had to admit, it wasn't so bad. He felt much more at ease knowing that no one else was out there.

"Now, start moving straight ahead." Bobby nearly ten minutes with him like that, just skating around, talking about keeping his pace smooth and letting the ice feel natural under his feet. "Your feet will start to like the feeling, trust me."

Jerry, Angel and Jack were hitting a puck back and forth between them, and playing around. They were laughing and calling insults out to each other. Once Bobby seemed to think Craig was ready, he guided him closer to the other three. "Okay, hit one to us." He called out.

They spent a good amount of time hitting the puck around. Bobby started talking about the best way to take a hit so that you didn't fall, and then he started talking about how to hit the opponent.

Craig felt his nerves tighten up when Bobby stopped him from skating and started instructing him on hitting. Elbows were always good, and slamming into a person with your whole body was always a way to get them off balance. Soon Angel was next to them, talking about more than hitting. It soon became apparent that this wasn't all about hockey; in fact the fourteen year old was sure it had nothing to do with hockey. His confirmation came when Angel started showing him how to hold his hand in a proper fist, and how to use the palm of his hand to hit as well, and just as efficiently as his fist; and he told Craig that he had to remember the sensitive parts of the human body if he needed to hit someone and hurt them enough to take them out of commission long enough to put some distance between them.

He felt uncomfortable at first, but he listened, and he paid attention to what was being shown to him. He did what his brothers told him, and after a little while he started to draw an understanding of it in his mind. He felt a little less nervous and he started asking questions. He knew if he'd known how to hit the way Angel was showing him, that he might have been able to fight someone off before, and get away from them. Instead he had frozen up, not knowing what to do. Jack told him quite pointedly that the best place to strike was the crotch, and Bobby quickly picked up on that little bit of information, cracking jokes about the first time he'd kicked the shit out of another man's balls. He seemed proud of it, but it only gave Craig a slight aching in his own private area.

Jerry was the one who started telling him not to be afraid to grab something close by to hit someone with. He used the hockey stick as an example, showing Craig different angles that he could bring the stick into, using it as a weapon. Bobby stood behind him and showed him the difference between a jab and hook when it came to punching. He told him where to aim, and how to stand.

The air grew colder, and it seemed the night around the lit rink grew darker, but Craig wasn't paying that much attention. His feet had found their comfort zone on the ice, just as Bobby had said they would, and he was drinking in the instructions that his brothers, all four of them, were giving to him. Somehow it seemed to give him a sense of calm, just to have some idea of what he could do if anyone tried to touch him, ever again. Bobby stayed right with him, just as he'd promised to, and after what felt like a short time, the man looked at his watch and shook his head. "We need to get the fuck out of here." He called out.

Craig turned and looked at him, "Already?" He asked and he could feel the disappointment in his words.

Bobby looked at him and laughed. "Yeah, dip shit, already. It's getting late."

Craig let out a huff. "Can we come back tomorrow?" He asked the question quietly.

"Are you gonna feel like coming back tomorrow?" Bobby asked.

Craig knew what Bobby was getting at, and he shrugged his shoulders. "I feel like it now." He admitted.

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see what happens tomorrow then." Bobby skated the few feet to him and reached out to put his arm around him. "You're a real tough guy at heart, aren't you?" He spoke teasingly.

"No." Craig laughed a little.

"Sure you are. You're a Mercer, and all Mercers are tough, they each just have different ways of showing it." Bobby started pulling him back towards the bench.

Angel, Jack and Jerry were gathering up the puck and the sticks that had been left lying in different areas and it gave Craig and Bobby a moment alone on the bench. Craig looked at Bobby, who was busy getting his skates off. Before he reached down to untie his own skates he drew in a deep breath. "Bobby?"

Bobby looked at him without saying a word, but seeming to expect a question.

"Thanks." Craig spoke quietly.

Bobby grinned. "You did good Craig, you did real good." He nodded his head and went back to removing his skates.

Craig watched him for a moment more before pulling a foot up onto the bench and starting to change out of his own skates. He felt better. A car sped down the street, and Craig glanced at it for moment. It didn't send that feeling of shame and dread through him to think that the people in the car might look at him. In fact, he felt a little proud. He was with his brothers, and Bobby said he'd done good.