"This." Joey replied, sweeping his hand around to indicate their current situation.
Craig gulped subconsciously, dreading the numerous potential directions the conversation could be heading in. "What?"
"I'm so sorry this happened, Craig." The man told him seriously, deciding the time was as good as any other to attempt a serious conversation with the boy. The sooner he made his feelings clear to the teen, the sooner he could get started at setting things right.
Craig, for his part, was completely thrown by his stepfather's implication. "It's not like this is your fault."
"Of course it is." The man told him seriously.
Earning him a very puzzled look from his stepson. That and a short round of coughs. Composing himself briefly, the teen glanced up at the man. "You didn't make me sick."
"No, I didn't." The man admitted freely. "But I did let it go way too far."
"It's not." Craig didn't have the slightest clue how to respond to the man.
Joey wasn't looking for a response, though. Not yet, at least. "You getting this sick without me realizing it is inexcusable. I swear to you, nothing like this is ever going to happen again."
Craig attempted to reason with the man. "It's not like I'm your"
"Kid?" Joey cut him off mid-sentence. "Responsibility? What, Craig? What of mine aren't you?"
"Either." The teen replied. "You don't have to worry about me, Joey. I know it doesn't always seem like it, but I can actually take care of myself."
"Stop it." The salesman replied shortly. Upon his stepson's startled look, the man quickly continued. "You're being ridiculous. You're fourteen years old. You don't take care of yourself."
"Joey." The teen once again cut in; the only protestation he could think of being the man's name. He was too focused on controlling his most recent need to clear the congestion in his lungs. God, it hurt.
His stepfather wasn't in the mood to hear the teen's winded protestation. Especially as he was watching the teen's futile attempts to control his pain. Craig had been in control of too much lately. The mere fact that they were having this conversation in a hospital room made it painfully clear that he had been far too reliant upon the teen's independence and self-sufficiency.
"No, Craig. I'm sorry that you've gotten so use to feeling like you're self-sufficient but it's not okay. Look at you. You're lying in a hospital bed with tubes running through you because you don't want to bug me? Because you think you can take care of yourself? It's ridiculous. And I let it happen. How long have you been feeling sick? Three days? Four?"
Shrugging slightly, the teen met his stepfather's gaze as he supplied his answer. "I don't know. A week. Maybe a little longer."
"A week?" The man repeated, the guilt he had been somewhat successfully suppressing surfacing immediately. "You've been sick for more than a week?"
"Not this sick." The teen attempted to ease his stepfather's obvious anger; a short bout of coughs adding little credence to his protestation.
Joey looked over at him sadly. Slammed his hands down on his thighs in frustration, he stood abruptly and did a quick pace across the room. "That's not the point."
Watching his stepfather's heated movements, the tired, pained teen could hardly take it for a second longer.
Realistically, he knew that Joey had a right to be upset. He wasn't exactly making life easier for the man. He'd been no help with Angie: putting out her grandmother by making her come get the girl and forcing Joey to pay Emma for watching her when he was supposed to be doing it. And he knew having to come out and sit in the hospital after a long day was not what the man had wanted to do that night. And he could only imagine what this little trip was costing.
Still, it wasn't like he'd meant to cause so much trouble. He'd tried to keep it together. He'd kept his mouth shut. Went to school. And he didn't complain even once. That was a major feat for him. It didn't seem fair that everything was getting ruined because of something that he had no control over.
Despite every effort to keep his self-pity under control, he just couldn't do it. He was sick. And tired. And he really, really hated hospitals. It just wasn't fair.
"Joey, I'm really sorry. Please, just don't." As the man haulted his pacing to stare at the teen, Craig immediately stopped begging.
Watching him intensely, Joey questioned the teen. "Don't what? What is it, Craig? What don't you want me to do?"
"I just." Looking up at his stepfather, he desperately attempted to stop himself from blurting it out. It wouldn't be fair. Joey had done so much for him. The man shouldn't have to listen to him beg. Even as the words slipped out of his mouth, he regretted them. "Please don't make me leave."
"Make you leave?" The stunned man repeated. "You think I'm going to throw you out because you're sick?"
Glancing down at his hands, the boy listened to his stepfather verbalize his greatest fear with as much composure as he could muster. He was concentating too intensely on not breaking down to respond.
Joey's continued questioning wasn't helping the cause. "Is that really what you think is going to happen? Craig?"