5.9.2012
Alan Hale liked to think he knew Joey Conrad fairly well; he had, after all, been visiting the boy twice monthly for the last year. In that time, he had become the boy's friend and confidante, the only person Joey trusted enough to be honest about what he really thought of the world he lived in. And as jarring and blunt as the boy's honesty might be at times, it was highly refreshing to a man who spent the rest of his time dealing with ideologues and bureaucrats. For his part, Joey appreciated having someone to talk to; for all his enthusiasm and jauntiness, Joey was a lonely misfit, a thinker in a group of drones. His friendship with the so-called British Government made him less alone, and Alan's visits never failed to put a smile on his face.
Until today, that is.
Today, Joey wasn't eagerly talking Alan's ear off about his future exploits pirating ships on the high seas. Today, he wasn't bouncing with his seat with excitement. Today, he was fidgeting nervously. Today, he refused to make eye contact. Today, he had not once smiled. At first, alan had tried to treat it like a normal interview-asking Joey how he was doing, what he had been up to lately, how were his groupmates and his teachers treating him-but after getting nothing more than "yes, sir," "no, sir," "very well, sir," and "thank you, sir," for five minutes straight, Alan decided enough was enough.
"Is everything okay, Joey?" Joey bit his lip. "It's alright; you can tell me."
"It's stupid," the boy muttered.
"I don't think it's stupid." Joey blushed and looked up at Alan.
"It's a book." The admission was unexpected, but in retrospect, not surprising. Alan had encouraged Joey to read whatever books he could find. If he were doing his job properly, the case worker would have encouraged him to do the opposite; Joey already had too much imagination for his superiors' liking, and reading would only strengthen his discontent. Since he wasn't doing his job properly, though, that had, in fact, been Alan's intention. It was to be expected, Alan reflected, that Joey would become disturbed as he realized how wrong his world was.
"I see. And what book was this?"
"The Swiss Family Robinson." Ah, yes, that would bother a boy with no family to speak of. "It was a nice story; I liked how they stayed together. That's what a family does, isn't it?" Alan nodded slowly. "Yes, I liked that, sir. I liked that very much." His lip quivering, Joey's voice cracked and he stopped abruptly. As the tears began to fall, Alan hurried around the table and wrapped the boy up in a hug.
Alan knew he shouldn't have; he knew it was an even clearer breach of his objectivity than the subtle favoritism he had been showing Joey recently; he knew it was only stringing the boy along, letting him think that he might have someone he could count on. But behind the icy facade he put up for the rest of the world, Alan had a soft heart.
"Shhh, shhh. It's alright."
"Why can't I have a family?" Joey gasp. Alan had no answer. There was no good reason for why a boy as bright and wonderful as Joey Conrad should be alone. He could only hug Joey tighter, wondering how the boy had managed to get such a reaction out of a man who usually cringed at the thought of anything more intimate than a firm handshake.
"I don't want to be alone," Joey sobbed.
"You're not alone. I'm here. I'm here, Joey." Even as Alan repeated the words, he knew he had just made the future very, very messy for himself. Eventually he would have to choose whether or not to put Joey into combat training; he would have to evaluate Joey's psychological state; and, eventually, he would have to let him go.
In Alan's line of work, caring was not an advantage. And it crushed him to think that this sweet, sensitive boy would have to learn that one day, too.