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Chapter 38: Emotional
Craig sat in the back seat of Johnny's car, listening to Jack and Jerry discussing the logistics of their morning; who needed to be where and when. He hugged at himself and pulled deep into Angel's coat, curling into the corner just behind the driver's seat. Now that he was warming up he was starting to feel his arms, legs, and the wet toy rabbit he'd tucked under his shirt and secured there by stuffing half of it down his pants. The cold sensation caught him off guard until his confused brain figured out what it was. He reached under the coat and then the shirt to pull the stuffed toy free. He needed something to concentrate on other the visions of Bobby Mercer being shot in front of him and the rabbit was the only thing he had. He subconsciously cradled the wet fur close to him and used Angel's coat to soak up as much of the moister as he could.
He was trying very hard not to let the grey haze of numbness take over his brain, though it was tingling deep inside, spurring up flashes of color whenever there was an unexpected noise. He felt confused, and tired; but strangely anxious at the same time. Every time he managed to focus on the blue rabbit in his hands, his brain found a way to pull him back to the orchard, flashing the picture of Bobby coming towards him and then his head snapping to the side. Angel's voice, yelling at him that Bobby was fine, he was okay. Angle had choked on his words though, he'd sounded as if part of him was dying as he spilled the lies out. Bobby had just been shot in front of them, how could he be just fine? Harris had been determined to kill, he hadn't really cared who he killed in the end, but it was going to be someone, and he'd taken aim on Bobby Mercer. The man had gone from being too weak to hold his own head up to somehow having enough strength to get on his feet, take aim and fire a gun.
The image of Bobby lying face down in the snow wouldn't leave his head. He'd been sure the man was dead, and at that moment, the familiar stabbing of loss had gripped his chest; loss that he wasn't capable of dealing with again so soon after losing Evelyn Mercer. Only minutes later Bobby had been cracking a smart assed remark and everyone had been relieved and seemed to think everything was just fine. Yeah, Bobby was alive, but the damage had been done; the sound of Bobby's voice hadn't brought relief or joy, it had been painful. Craig didn't understand the emotions that were surging inside of him. Why did he feel as if his world had come to an end? Bobby wasn't dead and still it felt as if a vice had tightened around his heart and was squeezing so hard he could barely breathe.
He remembered the fear that had taken hold of him when Evelyn was murdered. It was there now, like a piece of bad food hung up in his throat, and he couldn't swallow it down. He was tired of daring to have hope for anything, only to have it quite literally shot down in front of him.
What if being almost killed was enough to make his brothers, especially Bobby, decide they were tired of him and all of the trouble that came with him? The same fears as always, only magnified a hundred times, seemed to be gripping at him from the inside and he couldn't stop it. After Evelyn had been killed he'd been sure his brothers would get rid of him, they had never liked him. Once he'd realized they weren't going to send him away, he worried about them finding out the truth of what happened the night Evelyn was murdered, certain that would piss them off enough to decide to get rid of him. It hadn't happened; if anything it had been the opposite. It seemed the worse things got the tighter Bobby Mercer held onto him. Maybe this would be what made Bobby hate him.
If this didn't do it, something would. No matter what though, Craig couldn't stand the idea of any of his brothers being hurt any more. He wanted to belong, but it was becoming clear that his brothers would only keep getting hurt. It had to stop. No matter how much he craved it, the closer he got to Bobby and the rest of his brothers the more dangerous it was. They would all end up dead and it would be his fault.
If Bobby had died out there at the farm that very morning it would have been his fault. He was mentally going over everything that had happened and he knew if he had stayed in the house, forced himself to walk around Harris' still form in the kitchen and join his brothers in the other room, Bobby probably never would have been shot. If he hadn't been with them to start with Adam Macks never would have gone after the Mercers and Jack wouldn't be facing prison for shooting the monster. If he had never been adopted by Evelyn Mercer, she could still be alive. Things could have been different for his mother and brothers, they would have been better off without him. He had to be careful, he was going to get his entire family killed, everyone he loved and cared about would be gone and it would be his fault.
He could feel familiar walls snapping into place around him, the walls that always went up whenever he needed to their protection. The walls that his brothers had managed to tear away over and over. He wanted them there now. He needed them now more than ever. He couldn't deal with what had happened that morning without closing out the rest of the world. He was tired of trying to deal with one disaster after another. His life was nothing like it had been just a few months earlier.
His fingers ached to hold a pencil and sketch pad. He needed to empty everything out of his head, get rid of it so it couldn't hurt him. He needed to hide behind the paper and force the memories of the past day to disappear onto the page so he didn't have to face any of it.
"Hey, did you hear me?" Jack's voice brought the boy out of his thoughts. Craig looked towards the front seat to find Jack was looking back at him.
"What?" Craig asked; his fingers involuntarily squeezed around the stuffed rabbit.
Jack's forehead wrinkled up. "I said you can go on with Jerry. You need to get a shower and some sleep. Just stay at Jerry's today, until we hear what's going on with Bobby. There's no reason for you to go to this thing." His voice was quiet.
It took a second for the meaning of Jack's words to sink in. He was referring to the hearing. Craig gave a slight nod and turned his head to look out the window.
"Hey, are you okay?" Jack asked.
"He's fine. He's just tired. Trust me, I know how he feels." Jerry spoke quickly. "Here we are." He pulled the car to a stop in front of the Mercer home. Craig didn't bother to look up at the house. If he looked, he wouldn't be able to control his actions; he'd bolt from the car and run for the safety of home.
"Well, I guess I'll see you soon?" Jack was obviously talking to Jerry.
"I'm gonna go home and shower. We've got a couple of hours, you should try to grab a little sleep; I'm going to. It wouldn't look good to walk into that hearing looking like death warmed over." Jerry spoke quietly, but he hesitated for a few seconds before continuing. "It's all good Jackie-poo, it's gonna work out in your favor, ya know that, right?"
"Yeah, right, I know." Jack opened the car door. "I've got Green and Johnson on my side, Robert has everything under control, and Harris is dead so he can't go in there and fuel the fire with his bullshit." His words ran together and his voice trembled slightly.
"You got your brothers too." Jerry added.
"Yeah," Jack's voice seemed to brighten slightly. "I've got my brothers."
Craig didn't turn his head to watch Jack get out of the car. Instead he looked across the street at the rusted out Grand Torino parked there. It looked worse than the Gremlin Jack had attached himself to. He wondered which of the neighbors had been desperate enough for wheels to take possession of it. Allowing his thoughts to focus on the car helped him to block out the unpleasantness that was trying to stir around in his brain.
"Craig, I'll see you later." Jack spoke from the open front passenger's door.
"Yeah," Craig didn't turn towards his brother. He imagined Jack was standing there, leaning in through the door, but he still refused to look in his direction. He realized at that moment, it was more than just the idea of seeing the house; he didn't want to look at his brother. He'd watched Bobby take a shot from Harris that morning, he'd been sure Bobby was dead, and who was to say that he wasn't hurt worse than they thought? He could still die. What if he looked at Jack and someone came out of hiding and shot him while he was looking? It was a stupid fear, but it was there, as real as any fear he'd ever felt. He was losing his brothers, he could feel it.
Even if he didn't die, what if this was the last time he seen Jack? What if Harris' accusations carried weight at this hearing whether the son of a bitch was dead or not? What if the man's lies had the effect that he'd wanted them to from the start? If that happened Jack wouldn't come home after the hearing. He would never come home again. And who was going to believe anyone with the last name of Mercer over an FBI agent? Jack was screwed, just like the rest of his brothers; just like Craig. They were all screwed, and nothing was ever going to be okay. Craig didn't understand what they all kept fighting for.
"Hey, it's gonna be okay, you know that, right?" Jack leaned towards the back seat, Craig couldn't' see him, but oddly enough he could feel his brother's movements, and tell from his voice that he'd gotten closer.
"Yeah," Craig's voice felt weak, and it gave away the fact that he was lying to Jack, agreeing with his words even though he didn't believe in the meaning behind them.
"Hey, where are his pills?" Jack spoke quickly, "He needs those."
"They're at my place. I took them there from the hotel." Jerry spoke calmly.
A heavy, still quiet fell over them and it was almost deafening. Jack didn't move and Craig was sure he could feel stares boring into him. He wanted to yell at Jerry and Jack both to leave him alone, to stop looking at him, but he knew it would sound stupid if he actually said the words, 'Stop looking at me'.
"Jack, you'd better get goin', we've got a tight schedule to keep to." Jerry's voice was almost a whisper. "And I really need to get home and grab some sleep man. You should try to get a little sleep too."
"I know." Jack muttered. "Craig, please look at me?" His hand came across the seats and rested on Craig's right arm.
Craig didn't acknowledge that he felt Jack's hand, or that he heard his words. He stared hard at the Grand Torino but didn't really see it.
'Okay." Jack pulled back. "See ya soon Jerr'." He shut the car door a little too hard before the sound of his footsteps breaking against the ice and snow crunched the air.
Jerry talked as he drove, but Craig tried to sink further into the car seat and block out the words. He didn't want anyone to talk to him; he didn't want to have to talk back. Maybe he could make himself disappear. He could remember trying to make himself disappear when he was small and though he was old enough now to know it wouldn't work, he still willed himself to be invisible, untouchable.
Jerry parked the car along the curb in front of the house. Craig followed his brother to the house and through the front door. Camille met them at the door, approaching Jerry as if she'd been worried she'd never see him again. Craig didn't wait for his sister-in-law to take notice of him. He made his way quickly up the steps to the guest room he'd become so familiar with lately and kicked the shoes off of his feet. He probably should have taken his shirt off or asked about taking a shower, but he moved for the bed, curled up on top of the covers, held the toy rabbit close to him and closed his eyes.
He could hear Jerry and Camille talking in quiet voices below him for a short time, and then there were footsteps in the hall and at the door of the room. Craig ignored the sounds and the hand that gently brushed against his forehead, reminding him of his mother. He knew it had to be Camille, Jerry could never be that motherly, no matter how paternal he had become since his daughters had been born.
No words were spoken, and Camille retreated without saying a word. Craig strained to listen to any noises in the house, but it didn't take long for the long stretch of quiet to dull his senses. He started to feel as if he was floating, and soon he was drifting off into much needed sleep.
It seemed he'd barely lost touch with reality when he was sucked back to awareness by Jeremiah's hand patting him on the arm. "Craig, come on, I need to talk to ya." His voice was quiet.
Craig felt his eye lids crack open against his will and then slammed back closed when the air seemed to burn into them like acid. "What?" He couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice. Jerry was sitting on the bed next to him, and he didn't understand why.
"I know you're tired, okay? I'm tired too. I'm getting ready to go. Camille is gonna be right downstairs if you need anything." Jerry spoke as if he was irritated. Not that the teen really cared, Jerry could be as pissed as he wanted to be, it didn't mean he had to act any different. He felt pissed to, and he would act it if he felt like it.
"Fine," Craig muttered and rolled away from Jeremiah.
Jerry sighed loudly. "I know it's been hell Craig, but once we get this hearing over with things will be just fine." Jerry didn't move. "I wish we could really talk, but I ain't got much time right now. I just thought you'd want to know that Angel called. He said Bobby's got one hell of a gash on his head, but we knew that. He's got a concussion and the doctor wants to keep him for observation. You know him though, he says he ain't hangin' out at no hospital; he's already bitchin' at the doctors, tryin' to get out of there. Don't know who's gonna win that one, but my money is on Bobby. He wants to be there for Jack's hearing."
Craig ignored the words. When he thought about Bobby his brain brought back the picture of the man being shot, the snapping motion of his head. The pain of watching his brother die, even if it was technically an inaccurate memory, surged deep in his chest; it brought the need to feel his mother's arms around him and to hear her words comforting him.
"Okay, I'm going. Camille is right downstairs, and she's got your pills. You take them when you get up, okay? I'll call as soon as we know anything." Jeremiah stood and walked to the door. "You get some sleep, maybe when you wake up the rest of us will be back."
Craig listened to Jerry close the door as he walked out. He closed his eyes, but he wasn't sure he could return to the sleep he'd found just a short time before. He could hear the muffled, faint voices of his brother and his wife below. Camille didn't sound happy, but Jerry's voice stayed calm. Craig tried to figure out what they were talking about; it sounded to him as if they were arguing. Jerry was supposed to be leaving, he was supposed to get Jack to the court house in time for the hearing, but it seemed he talked to Camille for a long time before the sound of the front door echoed dully against the floor.
The teen tried to find the blissful nothingness he'd managed to fall into earlier. He didn't want to think about what might happen with Jack. He didn't want to think about Bobby or the speed at which he had fallen away when Harris fired the gun. He didn't want to think about Jessup Winston, also known as Jesse, the nice man who had managed to find a way for him and his mother to escape the reality of Adam Macks for a little while. He didn't want to let his tired brain try to fill in the blanks of his faded and warped recollections of the time he'd spent on that farm with Jesse and the woman who had been his mother when it was convenient for her. He didn't want to think about any of what had happened at that same farm that very night, or morning, whatever the hell it was.
One thought seemed to stick in his head and he couldn't get past it. Everyone he cared about ended up dead. Everyone who cared about him ended up dead or hurt. He had lost Evelyn, his Mom, the only person who had ever really known him, the only person who could ever really understand him. He couldn't stand the idea of losing anyone else. His gut ached, his heart ached. He didn't want to be by himself right then, he wanted his brothers. He wanted to feel Bobby's arm resting around him, making him feel safe. He tried to push the aching down, somewhere deep inside so he didn't have to deal with it. He couldn't need his brothers; he couldn't let himself need Bobby.
If he'd learned anything from being Adam Macks' son, it was that he couldn't have the kind of life that most kids had. And no matter how much he wished it was different, he was still Adam Macks' son; he wasn't Bobby Mercer's son. He wasn't even his brother, not really. He had spent a lot of time blaming his brothers for the gap that had always been between him and them, feeling as if they didn't want him, but the truth was he'd been avoiding letting himself belong since the day Evelyn Mercer had taken him into her home.
He'd known even then that he couldn't let anyone close, it was too dangerous. He wanted it more than anything, so much that he'd dared to think it could happen. Lately he'd let himself think he could belong, he'd let down his defenses too many times to count. It had come back to haunt him over and over, and still he'd given in to the aching inside. He couldn't let that happen again. He couldn't let what he wanted be what destroyed his brothers. He loved them and didn't want to be the reason their lives were ruined. They'd been lucky so far, but everything that had happened to the Mercer family in past couple of months had been his fault. Maybe not directly, maybe it was other people who caused it, but ultimately it was because of him. Bad things happened to the people he loved.
The image of Bobby's head snapping to the side flashed in his brain for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to bring tears to his eyes. He sat up and quickly rubbed the tears clear with his hands. "No, I'm not going to." He muttered to himself. He wondered how long he could keep his emotions in check. There were other things more important going on around him; he didn't need to lose control, not now. He needed to keep himself calm.
His brothers had too much going on for him to cause any problems. Bobby was in the hospital, they had to explain what had happened to the cops. They had to get Jack out of trouble. They had to fix the damage that had been done to Jeremiah's project. They still had the insurance companies to deal with, what with the cars that were totaled when Jeremiah's building blew up. They had never gotten all of that mess taken care of, and now there was more piling up on top of all that. They didn't need his problems on top of all of that.
Craig swung his feet over the side of the bed and stood quickly. He was tired, he felt sluggish and off balance, but he slowly made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen, where Camille was washing dishes.
"It's quiet." Craig muttered while he leaned his right shoulder into the door frame for support.
Camille turned and looked at the boy. Her eyes were rimmed red and looked a little puffy. She wasn't wearing any make up, but she looked pretty, like she always did. "What are you doing awake? Jeremiah said you'd probably sleep for hours."
Craig gave his shoulders as much of a shrug as he could manage, seeing as how he was using his right one to support him in the doorway. "I guess it's too quiet." He muttered.
"Sit down. Are you hungry?" Camille dropped the dishrag into the sink and quickly dried her hands. Her actions almost seemed empty, as if she really wasn't thinking about what she was doing. Craig could tell she'd been crying, but he had no idea why. She almost seemed irritated at the same time, letting out a sigh as she put the towel on the counter.
Craig didn't move towards the table. "No, I'm not really hungry." His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly.
"Not hungry." Camille gave him a look. One Craig had recognized as being reserved for Bobby when he was being as ass. "Don't lie to me." She snapped the words at him.
"I don't want to be any trouble Camille." Craig suddenly wished he'd stayed upstairs.
Camille closed her eyes and leaned back against the counter. "I'm sorry Craig. It's been a long night."
"Where are the girls?" Craig thought maybe they could talk about something other than him being hungry, because honestly at that moment, he didn't think he could get any food past the stone settling into his throat.
"The girls are with my parents, again. Mom and Dad picked them up early so they wouldn't be here when Jerry came home. I thought he'd be coming home and going to bed and might need some peace and quiet. Instead, he came home, napped on the couch and then got up and left." Camille's words still carried the same tone. "I shouldn't have expected anything else from him; you'd think I'd know better by now." She wasn't looking at Craig, she was staring past him. Craig got the impression she wasn't really talking to him at that moment.
"Maybe I should go upstairs." Craig muttered and started to leave the kitchen.
"No, you need to eat." Camille walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a small dish filled with hardboiled eggs. "Sit. I'll get a couple of eggs for you and make some toast."
Craig hesitated and then stepped over to the table. The frustration was dripping from Camille at that moment and the boy would have preferred to put some space between him and the vibrations she was putting off. He wasn't sure why he'd left the safety of the guest room and come downstairs. Maybe he thought being around someone else might help him feel better, or make it possible for him to ignore the thoughts that had been bombarding him in the quiet of solitude.
"I mean, it's not like he's made this family his priority, not once since everything came to a head with Victor Sweet. We can't pay the bills, and what does he do? He spends his days roamin' 'round with Bobby, or Angel. Says he's gotta take care of business. What business is he takin' care of? Not the electric bill, that's for certain. I've been scrimpin' and managing as best as I can, but there is only so much a wife can do when she'd tryin' to do it alone, with no man by her side. And that's how it feels lately, like I'm in it alone." Camille was keeping her voice quiet, but Craig could hear most of the words. She was mumbling and shaking her head as she got out the bread and started making toast. She finally fell quiet as she picked up one of the eggs and cracked it hard against the counter to break the shell. She hit it just a bit too hard, well maybe more than a bit. Craig held his breath and watched as she picked her hand up, revealing the remains of the hardboiled egg. He opened his mouth and started to say that he really wasn't that hungry, but it wasn't fast enough.
"And you know it's not like I don't understand. I do. I loved Miss Evelyn; I stood behind him when he needed to help go after Sweet. I know Sweet would have come after him and all of you boys. I know his family is important to him and I never want to have to make him choose between one family and another." Camille grabbed the dishtowel off of the counter and used it to wipe up the egg. "I want him to have a good, strong relationship with all of his brothers, even Bobby. I mean, he missed his brothers. He was so close to them when he was a kid." Camille walked over to the trash can and tossed the towel into it.
"Camille, you just…" Craig started to point out to his sister in law that she'd just thrown away a perfectly good towel, but thought twice of it when she turned towards him.
There seemed to be a fire behind her eyes that Craig had never seen before. "You know, I married Jeremiah because I love him. That hasn't changed. I put him first because I love him. He's the reason I work so hard to keep his house nice, and raise his daughters as best as I can. I just always thought it was a two way street. I never put my sister ahead of anything Jeremiah wanted or needed, why does he constantly put his brothers before me and his daughters?"
Craig felt very awkward, seeing as how he was one of those brothers Camille was talking about. To top it all off he was the reason there had been so much trouble for his family lately. He swallowed hard and gave his shoulders a slight shrug. "I'm sorry Camille." He muttered.
"He keeps telling me I can't make him choose. He's right, I can't. I don't want to make him choose. I should be able to expect his priorities to lie right here, on his own front door step." Camille didn't seem to hear Craig's quiet words. She sounded so dejected and lonely.
"But he…" Craig tried to sound reassuring, but he was at a loss as to what to say to make Camille feel any better. He wanted to help her, he really did, but he had the impression she wasn't talking to him, she was just talking. She seemed to be pretty emotional at the moment, just letting all of her thoughts spill out of her mouth.
"I mean, I know everything that has been happening, none of it is his fault. I know that, but he just doesn't know when to step back and let someone else take care of it. He thinks that without him, no one else can do anything. He thinks he has to be there to keep his brothers from getting killed. I always thought he was exaggerating facts when he used to tell me about Bobby and all the trouble he used to get them all into. But he wasn't exaggerating. He wasn't telling me all of it, that's what it was." Camille walked back over to the counter and picked up another egg. Her emotions seemed to have swung hard in the direction of pure anger.
"Are you on your period?" Craig didn't realize he'd actually spoken the words until Camille slammed the next egg onto the counter top, sending fragments of egg white, yolk and shell splattering against the side of the refrigerator.
"Am I what?" Her voice rose as she spun around to face the teen.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to say that." Craig stood and backed towards the door. "I'm going back upstairs." He swallowed hard.
"Stop," Camille's voice was loud but smooth. The anger seemed to have faded.
"I'm really sorry Camille, I didn't mean…" Craig felt tears stinging hard and couldn't stop them from slipping from out when he tried to blink them back. He was going to lose control, he could feel it, and he didn't know how to stop it.
Camille let out a loud sigh, "No, I'm sorry." She spoke quickly. "It's been a long night, I'm tired and I guess I just had to let it out." She walked quickly across the kitchen tile and wrapped her arms around the boy. "What right do I have to have taking it out on you? It's not your fault." Her voice choked and Craig could tell she was starting to cry too. He tried to pull back from her hug, but she held on tight.
"You had a long night too, didn't you? I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I know you have to be a mess right now. Jerry told me some of what happened. Come on, get back over here and sit." She pulled him back over to the table and pushed him back into the chair. "I'll get you some food and we can talk."
"I'm really not hungry." Craig muttered.
"I know, but you can eat a little something." Camille walked back to the counter just as the toast popped up in the toaster. Now tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I'm sorry." She said again. "I know all of this has been hard on you, more so than anyone else."
It was only a minute later that she was setting a dish in front of the boy with two eggs and two slices of toast. Another moment passed and she set a glass of milk next to the plate.
"Okay, I'm going to tell you something, but you have to keep it a secret." Camille sat down in the chair next to Craig. "You can't tell Jerry, you have to promise me."
Craig nodded his head slowly. He felt terrible inside, and couldn't get rid of feeling dread that was building in his gut. Camille looked like she was about to tell him the worst possible news there was. Had she finally had it with the Mercers? Was she going to leave Jeremiah and divorce him? It would kill his brother if she did. The boy cringed when Camille drew in a deep breath and started to speak. He didn't want to hear more bad news. Camille was going to leave Jeremiah and it was going to be just one more thing for him to add to the long list of what was his fault. Why did she think she needed to tell him? He didn't want to hear it, he wanted to get up from the table and run. This was Jeremiah's wife; it was Jeremiah's business, not his.
Camille's words floated across the air in blue wisps, spinning around his head for a second before seeping in. It took another moment for them to actually form in his brain. "I'm pregnant." The short statement hung in his head before it took hold of his brain and snapped him out of his own thoughts.
"You're what?" Craig felt a heavy weight lift from his chest. He wasn't sure why, but he felt better.