Chapter 13 - Sleepless
The next day, Jon wasn't sure whether to try to bring up what had happened the night before. Alan had said that if Shawn fell asleep before Jon could get to him, he should let things go, let Shawn come to him. As it was, though, it felt like the elephant in the room, at breakfast time and throughout the day on Sunday.
Over the next few days, Shawn became a textbook example of the five stages of grief. The trouble was, he didn't exhibit them in order. He didn't experience them out of order, either. It was more like he was going through all of them at the same time.
When Jon asked him how he was doing, Shawn would shrug and say, "Great," as if he didn't understand why Jon was asking. Jon tried pressing once, and Shawn snapped at him, "Just leave me alone, Jon," and proceeded to leave garbage around the apartment for the rest of the day, which Jon wasn't sure how or if to address. Jon caught Shawn on the phone talking to Cory one evening, a little later than he thought they really should be, hearing him say, "Well, this time of year is always busy for him. I'll see him at Christmas." And exactly once that week, in the middle of an otherwise silent car ride on the way to school, Shawn quietly said, "I know it's not my fault, you know. It's his problem. I'm OK." Jon didn't trust himself to respond to that one.
But for most of the time, Shawn withdrew into his room and wouldn't come out. Every time Jon went in there, he had his headphones in, and he was laying in bed or sitting at his desk or even on the floor. Most of the time, he didn't even acknowledge that Jon had entered.
He didn't stay out after curfew. He didn't break rules or endanger himself, in general. He did show up late to class sometimes, but he was mostly respectful with Jon, more so than usual. He just wasn't himself at all. Even when Jon gave him his allowance, he responded more or less indifferently.
Meanwhile, his grades suffered worse than ever. Jon had conversations with a few of Shawn's teachers, who said that he wasn't sleeping in class anymore — he just wasn't doing any of the work. There were no complaints that he was disrupting class, just that he stared at the paper in front of him without ever picking up his pencil, no matter how much he was nagged or threatened.
But Jon didn't want to nag, or threaten, or punish. He wanted the kid to heal. He just had no idea how that could happen when the damage was still actively being done.
By the time Friday rolled around, Jon was feeling completely out of his depth. Knowing exactly what kind of response it would illicit if the kid found out, he slipped away during his prep period and called Shawn's social worker.
"Is there anything we can do for Shawn?" Jon asked after they exchanged pleasantries. "He wants his dad. Chet didn't show up for their visit, and it was Shawn's birthday. He's devastated, he's not himself."
"I can set him up with therapy visits," she said.
Jon winced, imagining how that would go over with the kid. "I meant more practically."
"That's the best I can do, Mr. Turner. I can't force his dad to show up for visits."
"Well, is he at least doing what the judge ordered?"
"I don't have that information on hand."
"Can you find out?"
A slight pause, and then, "Mr. Hunter was asked to complete an eight week seminar. He has six months to do it. It's very likely he hasn't started yet, but I don't know if that is the best information to share with Shawn."
Jon hung his head. "Therapy," he said, defeated.
"Should I schedule him an appointment?"
"Yeah." Jon just didn't know what to say to comfort the kid anymore. He knew Shawn wouldn't want to go to a shrink, but maybe a professional would be able to give Jon some advice, some insights. There were worse things. "Thanks."
"You'll receive a call within 24 hours with the day, time, and place."
"Uh huh."
The call came in to Jon's house phone later that afternoon. He jotted down the details of the appointment, not exactly looking forward to telling Shawn. For better or for worse, the kid hadn't come home right after school. Jon chose to see it as a good thing, since Shawn usually spent time with his friends after school and he hadn't been doing so for the past few days. If he had a date, that would put him in a better mood for the short term; if he was with Cory, he would start to return to his usual self.
That worked out well. Jon was in desperate need of time to decompress, too, since he'd been grounded the entire time Shawn was. He had spent the past two weeks making excuses to Debra, the bartender he met when he was out with Eli, about why he couldn't go out with her. He was half certain it was too late—in her place, he'd think she was avoiding him—but he gave her a call and asked her to dinner, and when she reluctantly accepted, he went to get ready.
Dinner led to a nightcap and almost enough kissing to make up for the lost time, even if he had to decline her invitation to go back to her place afterwards. In the end, Jon was still out later than he'd meant to be. Shawn's curfew was 11 if it wasn't a school night; Jon wasn't home until 10:50.
11 came and went. No Shawn. Jon knew better than to panic right at 11, since the kid liked to push boundaries, but by 11:30, he was starting to get concerned. He knew they wouldn't be thrilled about it, but he called the Mathew's to double check that Cory didn't have any information. They hadn't seen Shawn, but they promised to keep a look out.
Beyond that, Jon wasn't exactly sure what to do, who to call. He was half tempted to call the police station, but he knew that they would call him if Shawn had been found. There was always a chance the kid had tried to go back to the trailer park, but if that was the case, Jon had no idea what he could do. He resigned himself to staying up for most of the night, until he could call Shawn's social worker. Except tomorrow was Saturday, so she probably wouldn't pick up.
By midnight was reaching for the phone to call the police against his better judgment, and the phone rang. He picked up. "Hello?"
"Hi, Mr. Turner."
Jon blinked. "Cory?"
"I lied to my dad earlier. I know where Shawn is, but he doesn't want anybody to know."
Jon shifted his weight. "Okay. Care to share with the class?"
"Shawn's gonna kill me."
"Your sacrifice is appreciated. Out with it, Matthews."
"Well, he actually went to the apartment first. But you weren't there. So he came back to my house, then…"
"Then?"
A deep breath. "He went to Cleaváge."
Jon would have to ask Alan later whether loving a kid involved wanting to kill them. He suspected he knew the answer. "I won't tell him I heard it from you."
"Thanks, Mr. Turner, but I was the only one who knew."
"Right. Could you pass the phone to your dad?"
"He's asleep."
Jon should have expected that. "Good night, Matthews."
"G'night."
Jon hung up and grabbed his jacket. Part of him was aware he should be stopping to think, to count to ten and take some deep breaths or something, but it was after midnight and his kid was missing. He figured that would be enough to put anyone on edge.
Despite himself, Jon found himself pausing at the door to Cleaváge. He used to go to places like this in his early twenties, when he was between one life and another and hadn't known what he was doing. Things had changed a lot after he dated a waitress at one of them. Hearing her story made him feel nauseous at the thought of going into these kinds of places. The thought that Shawn was here, the kid he was responsible for...
Jon pushed open the door. Shawn was easy to pick out; he was at a table with a couple of other guys, years older than he was.
Shawn's eyes locked onto Jon's. At least he had the decency to look nervous.
Jon wanted to yell. But he remembered the conversation he'd had with Feeny; publicly embarrassing the kid wasn't the way to go. Instead, he decided to do Cory a favor. He took a twenty out of his wallet, clapped the shoulder of the guy sitting next to Shawn, and said, just loud enough for Shawn to hear, "Thanks for the tip." The guy looked bewildered for a half second before he looked from Jon to Shawn and apparently decided to take the win. Then Jon grabbed Shawn by the arm, dragged him out of his seat, and led him toward the door.
"Jon, please. Just let me explain."
Jon paused right outside his car. "This better be good."
Shawn swallowed hard, breathed in, then shook his head, pushing his hair back. "OK, you got me, I got nothing."
"Get in the car."
Shawn took a step back. "Look, wait." He held his hands out in front of him in surrender. "Maybe it's best if I just... go my own way."
"You're not getting out of this, Hunter."
"Please, can we just... Can we stop pretending?"
"Pretending what?"
"That you're my..." Shawn winced. "That I'm not just a pain in the ass."
"Shawn, I'm not pretending anything. You're a huge pain in the ass, who's grounded for two weeks."
"Seriously?"
"No TV, no dates, no visitors." Jon didn't mention the Walkman. He didn't want to take that away; he wanted Shawn to have some point of stability, some possession he could hold onto. Something that was truly his. "And tomorrow, we're having a talk about how you treat women."
"What? What's that got to do with it?"
"Make that a long talk." He shouldn't blame the kid for that part, if Chet had been his only model, but Jon was going to have to do a lot of catching up.
Shawn threw up his hands. "Look, man, I know you don't wanna be doing this."
"Dragging you out of a seedy restaurant after midnight? No, you're right. But you kinda forced my hand, kid." Jon reached toward Shawn.
Shawn flinched back. "You know what I mean!"
Jon dropped his hand to his side. Shawn had seen through him. Just like Kat Tompkins and most of the other women he'd dated—he'd always quipped to get himself out of the tough conversations, to avoid saying anything that committed himself to another person. In his experience, people weren't worth that, weren't worth the investment. People just hurt each other.
And Shawn... Shawn would definitely hurt him. Already had. But it was different. Jon wasn't doing this to avoid pain.
The kid needed something. Jon knew he couldn't exactly tell him he loved him, but he still needed to be reassured. "I'm not pretending anything, Shawn," Jon said. "I want you to come home with me."
"Why?"
"Because it's late, it's been a long night. You need to sleep."
"That's not your problem."
"It is when you wake up in a worse mood and I gotta deal with that, especially since you're gonna be grounded." Which would mean that Jon was basically grounded with him. Because that was how it worked, being a single parent.
"Why are you doing this?"
"I told your social worker I would. Signed the papers and everything."
"But why? Why should you care, you're not even... you're not my..." His voice broke, and his chin trembled.
Jon felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He knew Shawn's behavior was about his dad. Always had been. But hearing him confirm it so clearly, it still took Jon's breath away. He wanted to throttle Chet Hunter. He wanted to go back in time and change the man's mind.
But he couldn't change Chet's mind in the past. The best he could do was help to keep the cycle from repeating itself.
Shawn tried again. "Why are you doing this, man?"
Jon knew this moment was crucial. Whatever he said right now, that was what the kid was going to remember.
He couldn't say he loved him. Shawn wouldn't take it well. But he couldn't not say it either. So he said it in a different way.
"Cause I don't sleep til I know you're okay," he said.
Shawn scoffed. "Seriously?"
"Wish I was lying."
A long pause, then Shawn muttered, "You must be exhausted."
"Hunter, you have no idea."
Shawn shifted his weight.
Jon took a step back toward the car. "Come home, Shawn."
Shawn swallowed, and he avoided Jon's eyes, but at last, he obeyed.