Skin and Bones

School went by fast today. There were no surprise quizzes and I always pay more attention in science when I get a report back with a thousand red crosses, underlined sentences and added comments.

In gym I was told to take a seat on the benches to make sure I didn’t collapse again, and I even managed to con the teacher into believing Mikey had to stay with me at all times to make sure that I was okay.
Gym was fun.

What wasn’t fun at all was when we got home.
It’s still not fun.
It’s more like a nightmare.

“So, how are you doing, Frank?” the social worker asks as he places his elbows on his knees and leans closer to me. He’s on the other side of the coffee table – further away from me than Donna – but he’s still too close.

Even though I really am grateful that he let me stay here, I’m still petrified of him. He’s my worst nightmare and can easily make it all worse.
He’s like Freddy Kruger of children’s welfare.

“I’m great,” I say with a hint of a smile. I’m afraid to show too much weakness. I’m afraid of being too happy and comfortable, since I might as well be leaving in a few minutes.

“I’m glad to hear that.” His voice isn’t as happy as his words indicate.
A slight tickle passes through my eyeballs and my body tenses.
He sighs.
“I can tell that you’re nervous, so I will get straight to the point of my visit.” I grip the armrest of the couch as I stare into the social worker’s eyes and await my sentence.
“We have found your grandparents.” The tickle turns into a burn and my eyes start itching. I grip the armrest tighter – as if it’s any assurance that I’ll stay here.
Which I won’t.
I’m leaving. He will pry my hand off the couch and drag me out of here. I can’t stay.

Tears and cries and pleas are all building up in my throat and I can feel them scratch like sand in my windpipe.

“They live in Canada. They have no legal right over you since they’re not American citizens.” I sob. My desperation and panic comes out as a loud sob of relief, and Donna quickly wraps her arms around me and pulls my head into her chest as the tears start seeping from my eyes.
“You’re staying here for a while longer.” A while? What does ‘a while’ mean? How long is ‘a while’?
I lift my head and look at him. He’s blurry, but there. I stare at his empathetic eyes.

“How long?” My voice is quivering.
He sighs and looks away for a few seconds. I heave for my breath as I fear the upcoming answer. I won’t accept an ‘I don’t know’. I need to know!

“I don’t know.” No! Please!
“We are entitled to search for your dad. You can’t be adopted until he’s signed off on his parental rights. It’s all very beaurocratic, but it’s necessary. If we find him and he wishes to take him home with you, we have no choice but to let him. He has the right to have you as his son. Of course, because of his long absence as a father, he will be under our supervision, but we can’t keep him from you.” The tears won’t stop.

I tear my eyes away from the social worker and look down at the carpet as my body slowly moves up and down with each of my heavy breaths.
Why can’t I just be 18 already?
My head shoots up.

“What if I get emancipated?” A spark of hope runs through me and stops my tears, but it dies immediately when the social worker sighs.

“It takes a long time. You might turn 18 before the process would be over.” I close my eyes and lower my head.
Donna rubs my shoulders comfortingly.

“What if you don’t find his father? Then what?”

“Unless we find any family members who’re willing to take him in, he will most likely be able to stay here.”

Silence fills the room and the only thing I can hear is my own heavy breaths. My eyes are itching and my nose tickling, but my spinning head full of thoughts takes my mind off of it.

“I really do hope you get to stay here, Frank. I really do. But I have to do my job.” I don’t move. I don’t respond. I wish I could go back to liking him and see him as my savior, but he’s just another worker. He’s just another demon disguised as an angel trying to help me.

I hear him leave and Donna is replaced by Gerard who hugs me close and kisses my head. I can hear his soft voice constantly whispering things into my hair, but I don’t acknowledge them.
I don’t want to.
I want to stay.
I want to hear them forever – regardless of what they mean.