Amber reached back and grabbed Joe’s hand and held it against her face. “Maybe he will. But maybe he won’t. Why not just wait and see?”
“See what sweet cheeks?” Robert said standing under the archway leading from the entryway into the living room. He called up the stairwell. “Sarah! He’s back. Joe’s home.”
“See if you really love us.” Amber said. “Joe doesn’t think you really love us.”
“I don’t’ blame him sweetie. I don’t blame him at all.” Robert reached down and picked Amber up, hugged her and kissed her on the forehead. He then looked at Joe. “Let’s just give it some time, Joe. That’s all I ask.”
Joe studied his dad’s eyes – too green; he always thought those eyes were too green. Eyes that could look so innocent and loving; but early in life, Joe learned that his dad used these eyes to hide an unworthy and deceitful soul. Forgiveness. Is it earned or given? Is it an act of faith and hope? Or declaration of weakness and gullibility? Whatever. I ain’t forgiving him. “Your time ran out about four years ago. Listen Dad, you want to come in here and play the perfect father … well whatever, I can’t stop you. But if you dare hurt mom or Amber again, so help me God … I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Son, you can be angry, you can hate me. But don’t you dare threaten me.” Robert lifted Amber off the floor with a bear hug. “We are going to make this work, with or without you.”
Joe went to the window. The Christmas lights in the neighborhood were just beginning to glimmer. Joe shut his eyes and shook his head. “You do that. When I’m 18, I’m gone.” He swung round and glared at his dad. “Why’d you call the police on Steven? Why would you do that?”
“He needs help Joe. Help we can’t give him. The authorities need to take care of him.”
“He needs some hope in his life right now. He needs someone to care.” Joe turned around and looked out the window. The Christmas lights blurred into fuzzy balls lining the streets. He tried to stop them, but he felt more useless tears welling up. “Please dad, don’t take that from him. He could have killed himself this morning. He could be dead. Let him stay here, at least a while.”
“We’ll see. Go see your mother. You scared her to death again. You owe her an apology.”
“Whatever.” Joe muttered as he darted up the stairs, hoping his father wouldn’t see his red eyes. Control. Control. Suppress these monsters that demand to be free. Dad coming in and giving directions, orders, making decisions. Trying to destroy his friend. Who is that man? What right does he have to come here and act like a parent? Give him time? No more time left. Drive the man away, beat him with a baseball bat, run him off, leave him for dead. Why shouldn’t the monsters have their way? Give him time? No chances left. No time left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I’m sorry I didn’t know what to do. I just … Hell. Everything. It’s like everything’s crashing down. I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry. Sorry to bother you like this.”
“Leave it out Joe-boy. You’re desperate. No need for sorry. I’m glad you called. It’s not a problem. So? What’s up?”
Joe sat in the gray, fraying chair in Braxton’s office, not sure where to put his hands. Braxton smiled. That all-knowing, rather arrogant grin used to irritate him so much. Joe nodded and drew in a slow breath. The smell of Braxton’s office was strangely comforting. He felt reassured, safe – someone to listen, care, understand.
Joe’s tried hard to speak slowly but his words came out rushed, in spurts. “Yeah. Well … thanks. … for seeing me. Day after Christmas and all. It’s like, all of sudden, everything, fell apart. I thought things were okay. It was … it was going pretty good. School was good, stopped being so much on edge. Then Christmas. My God, Christmas. Everything exploded, imploded. I just don’t know what’s going on inside me. Too much. Yesterday. Christmas. First time that … that the thought hit me since … you know. I wanted to grab a razor, a gun, a rope, pills, anything. I can’t handle these emotions anymore. I don’t want to feel this way. That it’s … better to be dead.”
“All right. Slow down. It’s overwhelming. I got it, Joe-boy. But what happened? What triggered this?” Joe took several breaths, trying to muffle the cacophony of sensations clanging everywhere – though his head, his gut, through his whole being. “Take your time.” Braxton said as he leaned back in his chair.
Joe told him about the events of the past few days; Steven’s strange appearance, the images, now etched in his brain, of his friend’s father blowing a hole in his brain; Maddie and his desperate search for their friend. His unnerving fear he’d driven Steven to suicide, because he had treated him like a problem, a nuisance the night before. Then, there were the unsettling emotions for Maddie, feelings he didn’t want to have. And, the horrific and cruel climax of it all; his dad returning home and stirring a rage, a hatred, he feared would destroy him. “Overloaded. I’ve had enough of it all. Everything’s coming, crashing down around me.”
“Sure. Sure it feels that way. Listen, you have to step back. Put things in order.”
“What do you mean?”
“Deal with one thing at a time kiddo. Otherwise, it will kill you. Focus. Where should your focus be, right now?”
“I don’t know what you’re on about.” Joe stood up and went to the loveseat near Braxton’s overcrowded bookshelf. He slouched back on the cushions and stretched his long legs across the floor. He sighed, rolled his eyes and said, “I really don’t know what you’re on about.”
Braxton laughed. He got up and poured a cup of coffee and offered it to Joe. Joe shook his head. His therapist stepped back and sat on the windowsill. He sipped from the mug, then motioned toward Joe and said. “Back burner therapy. It works like this. Pick one problem at a time. Set the others aside for the time being. They’ll be dealt with in good time. First, ask yourself, what’s the biggest problem right now? And you know which one it is.”
“I don’t know. It’s all too much. Geez. I suppose … Oh God, you know. My dad. My sorry ass dad.”
“Bingo. What can you do about it?”
“Stupid questions again. Noth’n. Geez. I can’t do anything about it.”
“Powerless are you?” Braxton said imitating Yoda from Star Wars. He went on, waving his mug at Joe. “Come on. What can you do about your dad coming back into your home, trying to come back into your life? Give me a list.” He sipped his coffee and set his gaze on Joe.
Joe shifted legs and slipped further down the loveseat. He shrugged. “I don’t know. This is stupid. Hell. I can … I can hate him, I can … make his life miserable, drive him away. I can … I don’t know.”
“You’re doing great. Keep going. I can …?”
Joe suddenly pulled himself up in the loveseat. “I can murder him.”
“Yeah right. Next.”
He shook his head again. “I can ignore him. I can … I can pretend. Pretend to be nice, put up with him. I can … can …”
“Yeah. Go on say it.”
“I can give him a chance. I can try to … forgive.” Joe threw his head back and closed his eyes. He hated that word. It is a demanding word. An unforgiving word. Forgiveness always demands the impossible. Forgiveness? Forgiveness lives in a false reality, believes in illusions that sane and strong men reject as foolish. Forgiveness. It would dare to offer mercy when hell and damnation are the only just reward. No. Can never forgive.
“All right. Pretty good list there. Now follow your heart and your soul and decide which one’s the right response. Which one gives you the most hope, gives you and everyone around you the best potential for a favorable outcome?”
“That’s not fair. It’s not so easy.”
Braxton finished his coffee and returned to his chair. “Let me tell you something, kiddo. Not fair is what life is about. How we respond to what is, or what seems so unfair, well that’s what living is about. And easy never got a person anywhere in this life. You know Joe-boy, you can wallow in your hate, your anger. You can live your wh
ole life hell bent on revenge, and all you’ll do is destroy your own life. Hate, anger, revenge – that’s the easy road, but an ever so deadly journey. It’s doing what’s right that’s always the hard way. But doing what’s right … well, that’s what makes life worth living. And doing what’s right takes strength that way too many human beings never find.”
“Forgive? So I’m just supposed to forgive.” Joe cringed as that word came out of his mouth.
“I didn’t say that. Start somewhere else.”
“Like what? Give him a chance?”
Braxton pointed his finger ever so gently. He spoke slowly. “Yeah. Maybe so. Can you do that?”
Joe sat up. He pulled his lower lip, then spoke loudly. “Honestly. No. I don’t want to.”
“Fair enough. I tell you what, I liked what you said. Pretend. Pretend to be nice. Make the effort, go through the motions. Sometimes that’s where we have to start. Often the heart isn’t there yet. But here’s the thing, if we wait for the heart to get there, chances are it never will and we’ll just keep wallowing in the poison of hate and rage. So why not, go through the motions. Pretend to be nice. And from there see what happens.
Joe mouth curled and he shook his head. “Really? That simple, eh?”
“Simple. Yeah it is. But it’s also damn hard. You know, doing what’s hard, that’s what keeps the world going round. And Joe, the decision to start … that’s toughest thing of all. Go home, worry about one thing … just worry about today. Today, give your dad a chance, even though your heart ain’t there yet. And if that’s what it takes, pretend, pretend to be nice. It’s worth a try. And all that other stuff that seems so overwhelming, leave it on the back burner.”
“What?”
“That other stuff, it’ll wait. Focus on today, on the dad issue. Okay? Go home and do what’s hard. And Joe, don’t let hate destroy you. It isn’t worth it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sarah opened the front door, then turned around and looked up and down at Joe as he stood in the archway leading from the living room. “Are you certain you two will be okay, here on your own?”
Joe nodded. “We’re fine and dandy, mom. Go. Have a good time.” Joe glanced back at Steven and rolled his eyes; Steven laughed. Joe’s mom had been hovering over him all week, wouldn’t let him out of her sight. ‘Don’t you run off again. You scared me to death.’ She had said that several times every day since Christmas. He’d felt smothered. She was killing him. ‘Trust me mom, I’m fine.’ He’d told her endless times. He begged and pleaded all week that she and dad go out as planned. Finally, they were leaving for their New Year’s Eve Party. As Sarah followed Robert through the front door, Joe said, “And don’t let dad drive home whatever he says.”
“Oh, he won’t be driving home. Bye then.” The door began to close, then opened quickly. “Are you sure … “
“We are fine. Just go to your silly party. Steven promises to keep me from killing myself. Go. And Happy New Year.” Joe smiled. His mom did look better: eyes brighter, more confident in her dress, her walk. She seemed happier. As the door closed, another thought shot through his brain. How long will this last? How long will he stick around? He worked hard to push that intrusive thought out of his mind, a thought that came every time he caught a glimpse of his father.
He turned around. Steven sat cross-legged, nestled close to the fireplace with an arm wrapped round a very large bowl of popcorn. Joe said, “Thank God. Finally. Peace at last. Peace at last.” He smiled as a strange feeling of relief embraced him. Things were better. The week had been manageable, almost decent. Of course, he’d only spoken sparingly to his father – anything more could light a fuse; a short fuse not easily extinguished before reaching its destination, where dangerous and deadly explosives guaranteed destruction. The fuse had not been lit since Christmas Day. No drama for a whole week. Braxton will be proud of me, Joe thought, as he heard his dad’s car pull out of the drive.
Joe stepped into the living room and swiftly kicked Steven’s bare foot. “Game time.”
“Nooooo. Partieee time.” Steven said, and let out a war cry that would cause any white man within a mile to run for cover.
Joe kicked Steven again, this time hard. He yelled, “Stop that!” Steven then laughed heartedly and let out another war cry.
Joe pounced on Steven and wrestled him to the ground and put his hand over his mouth. Steven bit his hand causing Joe to scream, “Holy crap man!” Both laid flat on the living room floor and laughed. Joe laughed hard, laughter of relief – Steven was safe, life was good. Earlier that day Child Protective Services had approved their home to serve as a temporary kinship foster placement; Steven had a home. The world had not ended, as hideous as Christmas Day had been, as horrific as the past few months had been, Joe’s world somehow ticked on. Death was not the answer after all. Depression lies, desperation lies. Joe sat up and said, “No partying. It’s time for the game.” Joe grabbed the remote and turned the TV on.
A few minutes later, Steven disappeared into the kitchen. He returned with two two-liter bottles of Coke, a huge bowl of chips and four kinds of dip. “A bottle for you, one for me, should last all night. And the house to ourselves. Let the party begin. Who can we call? Come on, you know some girls we can call and get over here? I know you do.”
“I know I do. But I ain’t calling ‘em. Peace, quiet, and Razorback football. This is the perfect New Year’s Eve, if you shut the frick up.”
“Don’t like football. Never have. Never will. We need to have a real party. Yip, a real ass-grabbing party.” Steven reached for the cell phone in the front pocket Joe’s jeans.
Joe swatted his hand away. “I blew off three parties so I can watch this game in peace. When my Razorbacks play, there are to be no distractions. That includes your loud mouth.”
“Whatever.” Steven put the bottle of Coke in Joe’s hand and said, “Drink up and enjoy. Enjoy. And happy flippin’ New Year. Hey, let me call Maddie. We need to try again.” Steven reached again for Steven’s cell. Joe slapped his arm away.
“Leave it out. No party. No Maddie. Just football.”
Steven laughed, then sighed. “So sad Maddie’s been blowing you off. She should be here. You know that. Come on. Call. Try again.”
“No. And no means nooooo. It’s a word you never learned. It means stop and desist and leave it out.” Joe said. He sipped his Coke and gagged “Crap, what’d you do to this Coke?”
Steven laughed, one of those ‘I know better than you’ laughs. “Noth’n wrong with it. Drink up. Noth’n wrong with it at all.”
“Yeah, right.” Joe knew Steven had spiked the Coke, probably with dad’s expensive Vodka. So what? New Year’s Eve. Why not enjoy a bit of a buzz? I deserve it, earned it. The annus horribilis is over. A new year’s dawning, a new life can begin.
Not until half time did Joe begin to realize how much Vodka must have poured into the innocent bottle of Coke. He knew it’d be plenty enough to get him grounded for life. But by then he certainly didn’t care. He continued to finish his two-liter bottle of pop.
“No more! No more. I can’t deal with this!” Joe turned the TV off. “Screw this! You know what? I think I’ll Maddie … I mean call her. Wish her hippy New Year and all that. A new year with no more garbage. Enough of this stupid game. My God! Forty-two to … to … to ten goddamn it. Screw it. Screw the hogs. I can’t stand to see anymore of this slaught ... slaughter of the Razorbacks.”
“Yeah, do it. Let’s call her. Here.” Steven snatched Joe’s cell out of Joe’s trouser pocket before he had time to react.
Joe reached over to grab it, but fell off the couch. Joe laughed as he laid face up on the floor. “Whatever. Go head. Try, try again. No, don’t bother, her phone’s off. And you know why? Do ya? Cause we had to go and save you and ruin everyone’s Christmas and everyone’s goddamn life. She’s grounded forever and ever and ever.”
“If it wasn’t for me, you never would have seen her again. So there.??
? Steven unlocked Joe’s phone, found Maddie’s name and hit call. The phone rang one time. The irritating and robotic female voice declared, The wireless customer is not available. Please try again later. “Oh well.” Steven said as he pulled Joe off the floor and messed his hair up. “Don’t ever forget. If it hadn’t been for me, you never would have seen her. And you know you love her to death.” Steven tried to get Joe back in his seat, but Joe fell to the floor again. “Yip, you are truly well plastered up. Hey, we can try her home phone. I have the number. Maybe her parents are out at some party. Her grounded little self, home alone, all by herself, just waiting for us to call.” Steven snickered, then laughed loudly. “No. You know what we should do? We ought’a … just go over there. Why not? I got the address.” Steven said pulling out an information sheet from his back pocket.
“Hell, yeah. Let’s go, little Indian Littleaxe. Why the hell not? Yeah, why not? Get me a New ear’s smooch … what did I say? Year’s. New Year’s. Who knows maybe even a New ear’s rump. No, romp. No, we can’t do that. No way. Yeah, let’s go. Why not? ”
Steven shook his head and shrugged his shoulders; his words came out in a strangely apologetic tone. “Maybe not such a good idea after all Joe. You’re right. Better just stay here.”
“No. Even-Steven. You know, that was your first ever freaky … no, freakin’ great, wonderful idear. You drive your little motorbike. You sober enough? Cause I ain’t. How much stuff did you put in those drinks anyway.”
“Nut’n in mine. Only yours. Two bottles of vodka and half of fifth of gin.”
“Holy, holy shitt’n crap. Dad’s gonna go crazy wild when he sees that hard stuff gone. Grounded for eternity I’ll be. Damn you, Steven. Where’s my coat?” Joe stood up. His legs wobbled and he landed on the floor and chuckled. “Whoa. Yeah, gonna be grounded for life and then another life. And you … you be grounded forever too.”
“If they care about you drinking, they should’ve locked it up or something. But we had better stay here. You’re jacked up ever so good.” Steven said as he tried to hoist Joe back on the chair.