Skin and Bones

I open my eyes and see Donna.

“Hey there, sweetie.” She’s smiling, but she still looks concerned. I feel something cool and moist on my forehead. She moves it down to my temple.
“You feeling alright again?” She dabs my cheeks and other temple, before she lays the wet cloth on my forehead again. I nod and the cloth falls into my eyes. She giggles, but I just enjoy it for the short time it’s there.
“I’ll get you some juice. Your blood sugar might be low.” She gets up, but I grab her hand quickly.
My mom brought me juice.
I try to speak, but my voice fails. I clear my throat and try again.

“Can I have some milk instead?” She smiles softly.

“Only if you dip some cookies in it.” I smile widely before she leaves. Then my smile breaks a little. I passed out. That’s bad.

“Is he awake?” I hear the social worker ask. His voice echoes, so he’s obviously in the kitchen – probably sponging on Donna’s good cooking.

“Yes. So please, leave him alone for a bit to recover?” He doesn’t answer.

I slowly sit up and the blankets that’s over me fall down on the floor. I want to pick it up, but my neck hurts. I rub it gently and stretch it out while I’ve got my eyes closed. I try to find the specific muscle or nerve that hurts, but it seems that it’s more than one.

“Here you go, sweetie.” I look up and smile at Mrs. Way. She gives me a glass of milk and a cookie. I hold firmly onto the glass. I’m not gonna put it down until I’ve finished it.
“Just relax, okay? I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” I nod and bite a little chocolate off the cookie. She smiles and puts the remote in my lap before she leaves. I press the power button with my pinky and brush off the few crumbs that falls onto the remote. The TV turns on to some music channel, but the volume is very low. I suspect that Mikey might’ve been watching some late-night-TV. I actually think that this specific music channel turns into a porn channel after midnight.
I look down at the couch.
Where has Mikey not jerked off?!

“So do you consider your economy stable enough to support another teenager?”

“Yes.” I can’t help but overhear. The volume of the TV is low, even though it’s a punk-rock video that’s on right now. I’ve never heard the song before.

“Are you both sure that you’re ready to take care of him? He’s got a lot of baggage. He might need some counseling.”

“The school is already taking care of that.” She knows?
“If he needs more professional counseling, we will make sure to give him the best this state can offer.”

“Can you afford that?” I swallow down some milk.

“Donald and I planned on setting up a college fund for him. We can afford setting aside an amount each month, but if needed, we will use that money to help Frank.” I look down at the white liquid. I’ve drunken half, which means I have half a glass of milk left. So is it half full or half empty?

“Alright.” I will my head not to turn and see what’s going on.
“All I really want to do now is ask Frank one final question. Do you think he’s up for it?” I take a bite of my cookie. I’ve almost eaten half without even noticing it.

“You’ll have to ask him.” I hear the chairs screech across the linoleum floor and their feet come closer.

“Frank?” I look up at him. I try to rid my eyes of fear, but I can’t: I’m afraid.
“Can I please talk with you one last time? It will be quick. I promise.” I look over his shoulder at Donna. Her eyes are smiling, but her mouth is frozen.

I look back at him and nod.
He smiles and then sits down on the coffee table in front of me. He looks up at Donna.

“Can I talk with him alone? I will let myself out when I’m done.” I look down at my milk and take a small sip. Once I’ve swallowed it down, it leaves a sour taste on my tongue, as if I’ve just eaten a sweet lemon.

Donna’s footsteps softly leaves. Soon I can’t hear them at all.

“Alright, Frank.” I look up at him. For once, he actually looks sympathetic – as if he actually, genuinely cares.
“I just need to ask you one final question, and I want you to think about it before you answer. I don’t want you to think about anyone but yourself. I want to know what you want. Okay?” I stare into his eyes and listen carefully. I don’t wanna fuck this last thing up. This last question could determine this entire visit – my entire life.

I nod.
He sighs and closes his eyes briefly as he takes a deep breath, before he looks at me intently.

“Do you want to stay here?” I’m staring into his eyes, but I don’t see them. It’s like I look past them and see everything else.

I’ve always been here. Ever since I met Mikey at the beginning of Middle school, I’ve been over here almost every day. After my dad left, I spent a weekend here. We had so much fun. I remember having a hard time going home, because all I really wanted to do was stay. I remember coming home that Sunday and finding my mom passed out on the couch, and all I could think about while I tried to wake her up was how much I didn’t want that life. I wanted the Way’s life.

I focus back on the social worker and look at his eyes.

“Yes.” I’ve always been here.
He sighs. His face is blank as he writes something down in his notebook and then gets up. I keep seated – a firm hold on my glass.

“I’m gonna go back to the office and write a report. It’s my boss who’ll decide whether or not the Ways will be able to legally adopt you or even let you live here until you turn 18, but for now,” he pauses. My throat twists around itself and my eyes grow wider.
He smiles.
“I will let you stay here.”

A smile slowly spreads on my face as tears well up in my eyes.
He smiles widely, before he walks away. I hear the door close behind me. Right now, just this second, I really wish I remember his name.