Skin and Bones

When the social worker – who preferred to be called Craig, which I didn’t – got here, he decided to let us eat our dinner in peace and wait with the bad news until later.
This, of course, was a very bad idea. During dinner I kept worrying about what the news might be, and I could tell that Gerard felt the same by the way he kept giving me worried glances.
I don’t know if I ate enough. By the time we were finished, all the food on my plate had been touched and moved around, but I think that was it. I don’t know if I ate any of it.

Now that we’re sitting in the living room drinking coffee – only me being the exception – I know that the bad news aren’t far away. I know that the release of worry is near, but I want it to be closer.
The social- Craig is politely sipping away on his coffee, while listening intently to Donna talking about how my grades have gone up and how I’ve made so many new friends. She’s promoting me to him. Actually, she’s promoting herself. Usually, I’d be happy that she’s so set on keeping me here and making themselves look good so that I can, but right now; it’s annoying.
I need to know the bad news.

“Well, maybe we should cut to the chase. I can tell you’re all a bit anxious to know.” I lift my eyes quickly from the spot they’ve been staring at on the floor and look up at the- Craig.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but unfortunately, Frank,” I swallow once in attempt to get my nerves under control, but I can’t. My lips keep quivering, my hands keep shaking and my eyes stay wide open. “your father has hired a lawyer to get custody of you.”

What should be release – closure, even – only turns into a shaky exhale. I thought the tension, worry and nerves would be gone once I got the news, but I was wrong.
I’m wrong.

“Another social worker will be put on the case, and he or she will, along with the judge, come to inspect Frank’s living conditions. Of course, they will also inspect Frank’s father’s home to see if it’s suitable for a teenager, but they might inspect this house further, since Frank has actually lived here for a while now.”

Donna keeps nodding. Donald keeps frowning. I just stay frozen.
Craig sighs.

“I really want Frank to stay here. I saw his reaction when his father was here. I know he’s better off staying here, at least until he’s 18, but unfortunately; it’s no longer my decision. My reports may have an effect on the judge’s decision, but we can’t be sure.”

Gerard carefully wraps an arm around my shoulders, and even though I don’t move or react in any way, I love it. I love feeling him close. But sadly, nothing seems to comfort me now.

“Even though Frank might feel at home here, he also needs to look like he’s at home here. He needs to know where everything is, like where you keep the aspirin, where the coffee mugs are, where the cereal boxes are. Even where the spare key is.” Craig puts down his coffee cup and starts using his arms and hands to explain things.
“I suggest you give him his own room, if it’s possible. I assume he’s already got his own toothbrush, but he also needs his own towels, sheets, clothes, sho-“

“He’s got his own clothes!” Gerard suddenly interrupts, sounding desperate. Craig looks at him suddenly and shocked, but smiles gently.

“That’s good. It shows that you care about his welfare and want him to feel comfortable.” I want to smile. I really do. And I want to turn and give Gerard a tiny, secret kiss, but I can’t. I really want to, but I can’t move.
“Basically he needs to know just as much as you do. Even where the lawnmower is, even if it’s only Donald who mows the lawn.”

“Alright,” Donna nods.
“We can do that,” she mumbles, as if she’s only talking to herself.

A long silence follows. Everyone is looking down, thinking, while I just keep staring at Craig. I want him to say that this was all a joke – a test of some sort – to see if they really wanted me to stay and were willing to fight to keep me.
But it’s not. Craig keeps looking down into his coffee with a serious frown on his face that doesn’t seem to be changing any time soon.
It’s not a joke. It’s not a test. This is for real.
But the Ways still passed.
They want me.