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Chapter 43: Visiting Jack
Bobby pushed the wheel chair through the halls of the hospital and onto the elevator. Craig felt a rock form in the pit of his stomach, but wasn't sure if it was the fact that they were going to see Jack, or if it was being in the hospital that was causing it. He closed his eyes as they rode the elevator up, trying to imagine he were someplace else at that moment. Anywhere but the hospital, where he had been….no, he couldn't let himself think about it. He had to push it back, but that was getting harder to do. It hadn't been so difficult to pretend the past week of his life hadn't happened when he was in Jerry's house, surrounded by walls that could reinforce his mental walls. He was out in the real world, and the pressure was starting to build. He could feel all of the crap he was holding in pressing against every nerve in his body, causing his head to ache. His subconscious was trying to focus on the fears he was struggling so hard to keep trapped. He opened his eyes, unable to stand the darkness that lay behind them any longer. The elevator door opened and Bobby pushed the chair out into the hall.
It seemed they walked forever, making twists and turns that confused Craig, and got him lost. Bobby and Jerry said hello to a few of the nurses they passed, and one in particular spoke to Bobby first, before he had a chance greet her. Bobby pulled the chair to a stop. "Craig, this is Sarah. She's one of Jack's nurses."
Sarah looked down at Craig, "Oh, the infamous Craig." She smiled and her blue eyes seemed to dance. "I've heard a lot about you." She held her hand out towards Craig.
Craig reached back and let the young woman shake his hand. "Hi."
"Are you managing to keep your brothers in line when they aren't hanging around here?" Sarah asked as she looked up at Bobby.
Craig smiled, but really didn't care to try to answer.
"Let me guess, you are here to see Jack." Sarah kept her gaze on Bobby.
"Yeah, how did you know?" Bobby sounded like a completely different person at that moment, he actually sounded cheerful. Craig didn't look up at him, but he could feel a pang of jealousy bite at his chest. He could tell Bobby liked this girl and the ease of their words to each other told the boy they had talked quite a bit. He wasn't sure why that bothered him. He'd been missing having his older brother around, but he'd been talking himself into believing that it was easier that way. He couldn't take the risk of any of his brothers getting as close as they had been getting just after his mother's funeral, and that included Bobby. Actually, that was more about Bobby than any of them.
He'd wanted his oldest brother to accept him so badly for so long, and now he knew that had been the worst thing that could happen, and not just for him, for his brothers too. His four brothers had always been close. Closer maybe than if they'd been blood brothers, Craig knew that. They thought alike, they could read each other's minds. They talked the same, they walked the same. One could start an action, or a sentence, and any of the others could finish it for him, without even thinking about it, they were that close. What if Jack had died? They would have been torn apart by that. If Craig hadn't let himself become as attached to them as he had in such a short period of time, he couldn't help but feel Jack never would have been shot to start with. Maybe he never would have gone to the door on Tuesday morning, and maybe…
He had to stop his brain from pondering on it. Each thought that he had about what had happened led him to the next sequence of events, and if he kept going, he would be remembering every detail.
He was brought out of his thoughts by Bobby telling Sarah he would see her later. He pushed the jealousy he was feeling back and told himself that it was best if Bobby was distracted by a pretty girl. If he was busy with her, he wouldn't have much time to be around his youngest brother, and therefore, Craig could strengthen his walls of defense against his emotions and his thoughts.
When they reached the room Jerry helped Craig stand from the chair, and then followed Bobby through the door. Craig stepped slowly into the room and felt a cold chill hit him hard. He swallowed back the anxiety that grabbed at him. Jack was lying with his eyes closed, looking as if he were sleeping well. Craig prayed Bobby wouldn't wake him, but he knew that he would. The boy leaned back against the wall and watched as Bobby stood there looking at Jack for a moment. The expression on his face told the boy what he already knew. If Jack had died, Bobby would have died on the inside.
"Hey you pussy, what are you doing sleeping at this time of the day?" Bobby sat down on the edge of the bed, grabbed Jack's left hand, which was free of any I.V. tubes and shook it."Come on fairy, wake up."
"I'm not asleep," Jack mumbled, his voice sounding quite similar to how Craig's had sounded the day he'd been released from the hospital. "What do you want?" He looked up at Bobby.
"Well to start off with, where in the fuck is Angel? He was supposed to be here." Bobby kept his stare on Jack.
"He went to get something to eat. That's why I thought I'd be able to get some rest. He was wearing me out." Jack sighed. "You guys don't have to be here so much you know." He spoke quickly.
Jerry laughed. "What was he doing this time?" He asked.
"He was calling people in from the hall and telling them that I was some big time rock star and I'd give them my autograph for five bucks." Jack sounded irritated.
Bobby and Jerry both burst out laughing. "Hell I thought he was supposed to be good at those games." Bobby joked. "That was the best he could come up with?"
"He made twenty bucks." Jack looked at Jerry, then back at Bobby, "And then he took the money to go get something to eat." At that point he couldn't help but laugh, which caused him to hold his side. "Oh god, stop laughing. That hurts." He raised his hospital gown enough to expose the drainage tubes that had been surgically inserted under his skin. Craig could remember someone mentioning that there was fluid that had to drain from his brothers' lung, but he couldn't remember who had said it, or when. He preferred not to push himself to remember the details.
"How are you feeling this morning, really?" Jerry forced his laughing to die down as he asked the question.
"About the same I guess. I'd give anything for a smoke." He looked at Jerry.
"Don't you think it's about time for you to quit that nasty habit little brother? I mean this would be the perfect opportunity, with you not having a cigarette for what, six days now?" Jerry pulled the only chair in the room over to the bed and sat down.
"That doesn't make the desire go away man." Jack shook his head.
"Have you eaten yet today?" Bobby asked.
"Yeah, I ate breakfast. The doctor was in and checked out the drains." Jack motioned to the tubes before pulling the gown over them to cover them. "He said the same as he said before, maybe I can go home next week. There's a slight infection, but my lungs are clear and I'm getting stronger. I'm feeling better, I'm just tired."
"That sounds like someone else we know." Bobby turned and looked at Craig who was still leaning back against the wall. "Get your ass over here and say hello to your brother." He held his hand out and made a motion for him come over.
Craig walked carefully to the edge of the bed, not wanting to look at the tubes running into Jack, or the flush of his face. He didn't have dark circles under his eyes, but they looked tired. "Hey." He muttered.
"Well, it's about time. I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me, living the high life at Jerry's, getting waited on hand and foot." Jack reached out, grabbed Craig's hand and pulled him down to him to hug him. "It's good to see you." He spoke quietly into the boy's ear. "I was worried about you." He let Craig pull back after a second. "Gotta watch all these," He let out a shaky breath as he motioned to the tubes again. "What have you been doing at Jerry's? Are you driving Camille crazy yet?" He looked at the boy closely. "You feel okay?"
"I'm fine." Craig answered. "You look good." He felt awkward and nervous and couldn't fight it down. He was trying to think of something to say that would sound normal, and that was the closest thing he could come up with.
"Like I said, I'm tired, but they said that's from the infection. It's not a major one, but my body is putting all it has into fighting it." Jack held onto Craig's hand. "You know what I'd like from you?" He sounded as tired as he looked. "I'd like a picture. Can you draw a picture and bring it to me?"
Craig was at a loss. He hadn't picked up his sketch pad since the first night he was at Jerry's. "Sure." He nodded his head. He couldn't very well say no to Jack at that moment, but he didn't know how he was going to be able to draw anything, it was as if there was nothin inside of him to draw. "What do you want?"
"Whatever you feel like drawing." Jack kept his hold on the boy's hand. "I'll bet you've been drawing non stop the past couple of days, haven't you?" He smiled.
Craig didn't try to answer.
"I was so scared for you." Jack gave Craig's hand a slight squeeze. "I tried to protect you, and I'm sorry I failed. I just wanted you to know that."
Tears slipped down Jack's cheeks and that caused Craig's own eyes to sting. He felt his throat constrict and bit down hard on his tongue to try to divert his attention away from the emotions that were starting to stir deep inside of him. He had to keep his control. It was the only way to keep his defenses up. He couldn't let Jack's tears draw out his own feelings.
"Guys, can I talk to Craig alone for a few minutes?" Jack looked at Bobby, then over to Jerry.
Bobby looked surprised, and hesitated before standing. "Sure." He looked at Jack. "Are you okay little brother?" He asked.
Jack smiled at Bobby. "I'm tired of telling you every five minutes that I'm okay. Now get the fuck out of my room." He sounded a little less emotional as he let go of Craig's hand and wiped at the tears streaking his face.
Bobby and Jerry both walked out of the room. Jack looked at Craig. "Sit down before you fall down. You look like shit." He pointed to the chair Jerry had been sitting in.
Craig stared at Jack for a long moment before taking the seat.
"You know, I can't get it out of my head. The look on your face when those guys grabbed you," Jack kept his stare on the boy. "I'm sorry I let it happen, I tried to take care of you; I really did."
Craig looked away from Jack. "You were shot Jack, it's not like you could do anything." He spoke quietly. "Just forget it." He stared down at his hands.
"Now you tell me how you're doing. I mean tell me the truth." Jack sounded calm, and his voice seemed steadier than before.
"I'm fine." Craig muttered, still not looking at the man for fear that it would break his resolve to block it all out, to block out his brothers. He had to resist the urge to let the tears fall and blurt out to Jack that he couldn't keep his eyes closed long enough at night to sleep because he was terrified of the dark. The only sleep he had managed was the half naps he'd take during the day when the dark wasn't so intense. He had to fight back the memories that Jack's few words had sparked, they were pounding at his head from the inside trying to push their way out, and it was starting his eyes to throb. He wanted to tell Jack that he hadn't been able to eat, because the food had no taste, and the thought of putting anything in his mouth made him nauseous. He wanted to tell Jack, he wanted to tell someone, anyone, that he hadn't been able to draw anything in his pad, that he felt empty and when he had tried to put the pencil against his paper the only thing his mind could see was endless black, the same black he had been trapped in when that tape had been over his eyes. He wanted to scream it at Jack actually. He wanted to scream it at anyone who would listen, but he couldn't let himself have what he wanted, he had to keep control, it was the only way to stay safe and not get hurt again. He had to drive those memories back into the fog he'd created in his mind.
"Have you been eating all your food?" Jack asked.
"Yes." Craig had repeated the lie so many times that it was getting easier to let it roll off of his tongue without thinking about it.
"Have you been having any of your nightmares?" Jack pushed.
"No." Craig kept his eyes fixed on his hands, picking at his left thumb nail.
Jack was quiet for a long moment. "You know, I was in a lot of foster homes before Mom got a hold of me." Jack muttered. "I was in one of the worst places you could ever imagine, and after that one bad place, I was so messed up that no one wanted me."Craig pulled his stare up to look at Jack. "I got beat up a lot in that place. Had a lot of other things happen to me while I was there, and after that I didn't trust anyone. I wouldn't give any one a chance to be good to me, because that meant I had to chance them being mean. Now I can look back at it, and really, I only had one bad foster home, but that was all it took, you know?"
Craig didn't understand where Jack was going with this. "So?" He asked, trying to keep all emotion out of his voice.
"So, Mom brought me home, and there were these three ass holes that I had to live with." Jack laughed. "And I didn't trust any of them, not even Mom. They were loud, and they fought with each other all of the time. They were always yelling at me, and I was sure that I was in the worst place imaginable. But then I saw that when Mom told them to settle down they would settle down. And when they seen that they were doing something to upset me, they stopped. They took care of me. They taught me to take care of myself. I had to learn how to trust them, but I did learn."
Craig drew in a deep breath, trying not to look confused by Jack's words.
"They took real good care of me once I gave them a chance. That's all." Jack shook his head. "I wanted to take care of you too, the way they took care of me. I'm your big brother too, and it seems I just can't do it the same way they do it."
Craig swallowed hard at a new surge of tears trying to force their way out. "You do fine." He muttered.
Jack laughed. "No, not really, I'm too used to being a little brother myself, maybe. I don't know. I just want to be sure that you know that I love you and I would do it again, even I did screw it up."
"You didn't screw it up." Craig muttered. He tried to tell himself he shouldn't care if Jack felt bad about that day or not. He was supposed to be separating himself from his feelings for his brothers, and he wasn't supposed to let himself care about any of that. If he let Jack go on feeling guilty, it would tear him apart inside as well, and that would make it harder to be in command of the very feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. If he didn't respond at all it would probably look like he did blame Jack, though he didn't. He wanted Jack to stop talking about it, to stop bringing the pictures of that day so close to the surface of his consciousness.
"I feel like I did. I was stupid, and I should have seen it coming. I should have stopped you before you walked out of the house that morning." Jack went on, but Craig looked back down at his hands and started picking on another fingernail. He concentrated on blocking out most of Jack's words for a long time. He thought that if he acted as if he were listening, and just nodded his head from time to time that Jack could get his guilt out of his system and then he'd stop wanting to talk about it.
The door opened while Jack was still talking and Angel walked in, with Bobby and Jerry right behind him. Jerry was saying something about interrupting a private conversation, but the words were lost as Angel grinned at Jack. "I brought you a fucking hamburger." He held up a fast food sack.
Jack pulled a face as he looked at the bag. "Man, that don't even sound good right now." He glanced at Craig, as if he knew any chance of talking to the boy was gone now.
Craig sat in the chair for the next hour listening to the talk about the project at their mother's house that had developed quickly once all four of them were there. He tried not to pay much attention to what was being said. He turned his head and looked out the window at the snow and ice that still covered Detroit. He felt cold just looking at the winter landscape through the window.
He let his mind drift to what kind of a picture he could try to draw for Jack. He would have to draw something now, he had said he would. Maybe something would come to him. It had been a few days since he'd tried to sketch, so maybe something would come now. Maybe he hadn't lost that one thing that he'd always had that made his past tolerable. He missed his drawing; he missed the release it had always offered for the nightmare that had been his life.
Even though he tried to block out most of the conversation his brothers were having, he did hear bits and pieces, and he made a few mental notes, so that he would be prepared for what was coming. Jerry, it seemed would be at the house bright and early on Saturday morning, the three older Mercers would start on the major work on the house then. He was planning on being at the house on Friday night to go through the windows, lumber and bricks that were being delivered that day, and making sure that they had enough of everything they would need. The work would start on Saturday, and Jerry was taking his vacation that following week, so that they could work on it all week if needed. They told Jack that their visits wouldn't be nearly as frequent through that week, but that they would stop by at least once a day and they would be sure to call him as often as the work allowed.
Bobby looked over at Craig, who was still staring out the window. "Hey, are you still with us?" He spoke loudly.
Craig looked over at Bobby and nodded his head.
Bobby stared at him for a long moment before holding his hand up to his ear, "What was that?"
"Yes." Craig muttered.
Bobby looked at Jack. "I think we need to get him back to Jerry's. He's looking tired." He looked back at Craig. "Come on 'Hop-A-Long', let's get going." He motioned for the boy to stand.
Craig stood slowly, and looked at Jack when the man spoke. "Don't forget my picture." He reminded the boy.
Craig forced a smile. "I won't." He still kept his voice quiet.
The wheel chair was no longer sitting outside of Jack's door when they walked into the hall. Bobby did a little grumbling then looked down at Craig. "Can you make it all the way to the car?" He asked.
Craig nodded his head, though he honestly wasn't so sure that he could.
Bobby took a hold of his arm and turned him to look at him. "You got a voice; you'd best start remembering to use it."
"I can walk." Craig felt his entire body stiffen up under Bobby's touch. It happened too fast for him to control the reflex. He wasn't sure if Bobby noticed, he prayed he didn't, but couldn't tell by the stare the man was giving him. He fought to regain control and make his muscles relax under the man's grip. It wasn't as if the man was hurting him, he'd just startled him.
Bobby drew in a deep breath. "That's twice. One more time and I'm gonna remind you about some rules. They still apply you know, even if you have been stayin' at Jerry's."
Angel said goodbye to them in the hall and then went back into Jack's room. Jerry and Bobby walked Craig out of the hospital, though it was a slow walk.
The ride back to Jerry's was fairly quiet, and when they got back Craig headed straight to the family room, to the couch that had become his safe haven. He laid himself down and turned on the television, letting his mind sink back into the comfortable numbness that he'd been building and perfecting for the past few days. He listened to Bobby and Jerry talking in the kitchen for a little while before closing his eyes and letting himself fall into a light sleep, though he knew he wouldn't be asleep long before the darkness scared him back to his senses.
