Skin and Bones

We’re having soup. I think Mikey told his mom about me, because she keeps telling me how it’s completely okay for me to leave some on my plate and just stop when I’m full.

I’m not full yet. I’ve had at least 5 spoon-full and I can still eat – I might not be hungry, but I can eat. Soup is just like water with a bit of taste.
Yet I do avoid the vegetables floating around in the reddish liquid and the roll next to my plate.

Sometimes I throw a glance at the roll in attempt to change my own mind about it, yet I always come to the same conclusion. I bring my left hand underneath the table so I won’t reach for it at all.

I dip the spoon into the fluid – avoiding the carrot that floats close to it – and bring it towards my lips, but I freeze midway. A sudden warmth around my hand breaks my focus.
I look down underneath the table and see Gerard’s hand covering mine. He spreads his fingers and lets them dance over mine, before I spread mine too and let our hands entwine.
I look up at him. He’s smiling – a shy look in his eyes. My heart and stomach do a back flip each.

“Frank?” I look up at Mrs. Way quickly. Her voice was neutral, but she might be mad. Is it wrong of me to hold her son’s hand during dinner?
“Gerard? Are you both done?” I look around the table and notice that the others are starting to clean up. I’ve even put down my own spoon without noticing.
Just then, I realize how full I am. I suddenly feel food press against the back of my throat – as if I’ve eaten too much for my body to contain – but I swallow it down. I grab my glass of water and finish it to make sure all food stays down.

“I think we are,” Gerard says. I put my glass down and nod quickly. I’m about to apologies for my belated response and to say thank you for dinner, but Mrs. Way interrupts.

“Alright. Gerard, would you help you brother and dad clean up while I have a talk with Frank?” I look down. What did I do? Did I do anything wrong? Is this about us holding hands?

Slowly I loosen my grip on Gerard’s hand and slide my fingers out from between his. He lets go too, before he grabs his and my plate and disappears into the kitchen.

“Why don’t we go sit in Mikey’s room, yeah?” I look up and smile quickly, before I quietly get up from my chair. The dining table is in the corner of the living room near the kitchen, so if she doesn’t want to sit in here and talk, I guess it’s pretty bad.

I nervously follow her out of the living room and down the hall – running every possible scenario through in my mind. They all end the same way; I will have to leave.
We step into Mikey’s room and she closes the door behind us while I walk over and sit on the un-made bed. She sits down beside me.

“So. How was your day?” I glance up at her and spot a smile. I smile down at the floor.

“Great, thank you.” I can tell she’s trying to lighten the mood, but I can’t help but to be tense – to worry.

“Great.” My smile quickly disappears. She sounds nervous, which only makes me more nervous.
“Okay,” she sighs. She places a hand lightly on my shoulder.
“I called the police today.” I close my eyes and try to just listen – not to think about all the horrible things this conversation might lead to.
“They had me call a social worker. We talked about the possibilities of you staying here.” I swallow hard and prepare myself for what might come.
“He said he would have to study your situation.” Mrs. Way starts rubbing my shoulder. I can feel her nervous tremors.
“He will come with you to your school tomorrow. He will observe you throughout the day to see how you’re behaving and interacting. After school, he will come back here. He will observe how comfortable and happy you are. After that, he will talk with all of us individually.” She sighs heavily.
“It will be a long process.” I bite my tongue and the inside of my cheek to stop myself from crying. The back of my eyes are burning. I focus on the hem of Mikey’s shirt that’s currently being twisted between my fingertips.

I don’t want to leave. I really wanna stay here. It’s safe here. It’s the only place I’ve felt safe at for…

“Frank?” I look up at Mrs. Way. Her eyes are glistening.
“I want you to know that we want you stay here. We don’t wanna pressure you or guilt you into anything, but if you want to stay here, don’t be afraid to say so.” My lips are trembling as they stretch into a small smile.

A tear pours out of Mrs. Way’s eye and I can’t keep my own inside anymore. With one blink, three tears trickle down my cheeks.
I sniffle.

“I want to stay.”