Joey wasn't quite sure he'd heard that right. But looking at Craig, his ashen face and huge eyes, he didn't want to ask him to repeat it.
"Oh. Oh my God," Joey sat down, set his coffee on the table too hard. Things were adding up fast for Joey now. Craig's recent odd behavior, always wanting to be with Angela. He remembered a conversation he had with Julia shortly after she left Albert.
"So why'd you finally leave him? Couldn't resist the stud muffin?" Joey said, fedora low over his eyes, covers pulled up to mid chest. But Julia was serious, her eyes shiny with tears, but she smiled a little at Joey.
"You don't know what it was like to live with Albert Manning," she said, her eyes getting that glazed, disconnected look, a lesser version of how Craig's eyes looked right now.
"He was so angry all the time, so violent…"
"Violent? How?" Joey said, setting the fedora back on his head, gazing at her steadily. He had loved that woman.
"Punching walls, throwing things…"
"Did he ever hit you?"
She was so still, so calm and resigned about that past. She nodded.
"A couple of times. Nothing like, well, 'The Burning Bed' or anything,"
Joey gritted his teeth. He'd never been so disgusted with someone he hardly knew.
"Julia, do you think it's such a good idea letting him have custody of Craig?" Craig had been nine then, a cheerful, creative, smart, funny little kid.
"I can't fight him in court. He has all the money, all the lawyers. Besides, he'd never hurt Craig,"
Joey kept quiet, knowing that she had to believe that, and maybe it was true. But he didn't think so. All of Albert's rage over being divorced had to go somewhere, and Craig would be the only one around.
"Craig," Joey said, and Craig looked at him, his eyes pleading.
"Craig, I don't really know what to say here. But I have to ask you a hard question and I want you to be honest with me. If I'm going to help you you have to be honest,"
Craig swallowed hard and nodded. Joey closed his eyes for longer than a blink, whispered 'okay' to himself, cleared his throat.
"Did your father hit you? Did he hurt you?"
Craig looked away and Joey didn't think he'd answer, which was answer enough in its way. But he shrugged out of his black leather jacket and lifted the blue plaid shirt he wore underneath. Joey stared at the dark purple bruising all along his stomach and ribs.
"Oh Jesus, Craig,"
He let the shirt go and it covered the results of that final beating again.
"What am I gonna do, Joey?"
Joey took a swig of his coffee, the image of Craig's black and blue ribs flashing in his head and if Albert weren't already dead he'd want to kill him himself.
Things didn't look too good, Joey figured. Craig would either go to some juvenile lock up facility or a mental hospital. Either place would probably be traumatizing for him, on top of the trauma he'd already experienced.
He thought maybe a lawyer could make a half way decent case for him, a sort of post trauma self defense case, maybe.
"I don't really know, Craig. I, uh…" Joey shook his head. He was this kid's last hope and he had little to offer. He wanted to help him, he had to. For Julia.