Craig came into the office, sullen and scared. He wouldn't show the fear. He thought it was his father, and maybe he had found out that he hadn't spoken to a single teacher and hadn't done a single assignment since his suspension. He could picture him standing in the office in his dress suit, black framed glasses that hid his eyes behind the glare.
He saw Joey but his mind didn't register that fact at first. It was like some illusion, his father dressed up like his step-father. But he blinked and realized it wasn't his father at all but Joey Jeremiah, his dead mother's husband. He took in the tight smile and the nervous aura and wondered what on earth he was doing there.
"Hi, Craig," Joey said, and in that instant between seeing the strained smile and hearing him say hello, he got it. Ashley or Sean had gone to him and told him…what? What they suspected? Sean suspected. He'd spelled it out for Ashley. What did he think she was going to do with that knowledge? Let him get the beating that was surely coming?
He thought of her, her clear blue eyes filled with compassion, her quietness as he told her about his fucked up life. She did this. Of course she did.
"Uh, hi," he said, noticing that he was taller. The last time he'd been to his house, the get together after the funeral he hadn't been taller.
"Can I talk to you for a second? Well, I mean, if you don't mind getting out of school early…we could talk," Joey licked his lips and looked around, glancing into the corners of the room.
"Mind? I fucking hate school," Craig said, and Joey sucked in his breath. This was not the polite, conscientious kid he remembered. He'd never heard Craig swear, although his mother could swear a blue streak when the mood struck her.
"Uh, okay. Do you want to go get your stuff?"
"This is it. All I need is my jacket," Craig wore his faded jean jacket with patches sewn onto the sleeves. No books. Joey nodded, and he kept comparing this version of Craig with the pre-teen kid he remembered, the one who spent hours on homework, the one who was…different. Heartbreakingly different.
"Okay then. Let's go," Joey said.
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Joey's car was a red convertible but Craig didn't care about cars. He noticed the diamond patterns on the white leather seats, noticed the rich shine of the paint. Joey must wash and wax it or whatever people did to make cars look all shiny and new. Sean would know.
He got in the front passenger seat and closed the door. He could feel his father's disapproval. It lay over everything like a film of dust.
"Uh, what do you want to do? We could get a bite to eat somewhere, maybe, or, uh-"
"I don't care," Craig said, glancing at him as he settled himself behind the steering wheel.
"Alright," Joey said, adjusting the mirrors and the seat. He drove away from the school, very aware of Craig's presence in the seat next to him. Like Julia he had a presence that could be felt. Joey swallowed, feeling all the moisture somehow sucked from his mouth. He felt the dull headache that began at the top of his skull and spread down to the base of his neck.
He drove to McDonald's and headed into the drive through lane. Craig was looking disinterestedly out the window.
"Want a hamburger or something?" Joey said, leaning over the window to order into the box.
"Yeah, I guess,"
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Joey drove to his office at the car lot. He wanted to go someplace where they could have privacy, but someplace kind of public. He hadn't wanted to bring Craig to his house, thinking that might overwhelm him. He planned to lay it all out to him, what he knew, what Ashley told him, what he already suspected from living with Julia. He'd be overwhelmed enough.
"Come in," he said, heading up the wooden steps that led to the small office. It had the smell of all car lot offices, grease and car simonizer and air fresheners. Craig wrinkled his nose, remembered coming here when his mother was still alive, and for a second the memory shimmered so real that he almost cried. Then he blinked it back and away. She was dead.
"Have a seat," Joey said, gesturing to one of the thick wood chairs. Craig slumped into one. Joey shut the door, set the bag of McDonald's food on the desk, and pulled his chair around from behind the desk.
"Here you go," he said, grabbing a hamburger and tossing it to Craig. He watched him slowly unwrap it and take a bite. He unwrapped his own. He loved McDonald's hamburgers. So flat and tasty. Along with coffee and wine they were his only vice.
He looked at the sullen, resigned expression on Craig's face. He was smart, he probably knew what was up. It all shimmered there between them, and Joey chewed his hamburger. How to start this? He licked his lips and glanced out the window, the tatters of clouds floating by in the baby blue sky.
"Last night Ashley and Sean came by," he said, looking at Craig. He'd taken a few bites of the hamburger and set it aside.
"Yeah, so?" he said quick, and Joey took a shaky breath. He wished that Julia had been right, that Craig was fine.
"So, they told me your father hits you. Has Albert been hurting you?"
He didn't deny it but he didn't answer. He looked away, his eyes getting glazed. Blank. Just like that look he'd seen all those years before.
"Craig? Does he hit you?" Softly questioning, the clouds moving fast now. The cars glittered in the car lot, chrome reflecting off of chrome.
"No," He looked at him almost defiantly, but Joey heard the audible swallow and saw the lie in his eyes.
"No? He doesn't hit you with his belt? Kick you? Throw you to the floor? What about that time last year with the golf club-"
Craig's eyes were getting wide and his breathing shallow. Joey doubted the wisdom of this method. He didn't want to force the truth from him but he didn't know what else to do.
"They told me you're flunking out of 10th grade. What do you think your father will do to you when he finds that out? Huh, Craig? What will happen?"
Tears glistened in his eyes, and Joey watched him. He was as far back in that chair as he could be, shrinking away from him.
