Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Mark didn’t think he’d ever heard Lucas Cain
speak more than a couple words in a row. But now, his voice on the
phone a strange mix of anxiety and determination, the man was
practically babbling.
“I’m really sorry to bother you. I just…Alex
is here, and he’s pretty messed up. He needs some help, and he
trusts you. I don’t know who else to call. I can leave as soon as
you get here. Or I can walk him over to you somewhere, and then
leave him there, or wait outside for him, or…whatever you want. He
needs help. Can you help him?”
Mark knew what he was supposed to do. He was
supposed to call Terry, or maybe even Mr. Wilson. He’d tell them
where Alex was and that would be the end of his involvement. Before
leaving the church that afternoon Terry had made it crystal clear
that there should be no contact between Mark and the boy until Mr.
Wilson okayed it. And of course Mark wasn’t supposed to be dealing
with Lucas Cain, either. Terry hadn’t left any doubt about either
of those expectations. Terry was a friend, but he was also Mark’s
boss. Worse than all that…Mark had taken a vow when he’d been
ordained, promising before God that he would obey his bishop and
those in authority over him. He’d sworn to it.
But for some reason, he couldn’t walk away
from this. “Keep him there. I’ll be over in ten minutes. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay. I’m really sorry…”
Mark hit the button to end the call. He
didn’t want to hear the man’s apology, not for this. He was halfway
to the car when he remembered that he hadn’t wanted to hear an
apology for Cain’s greater sin, either. Or at least, Mark’s mother
hadn’t wanted to hear it, and he and his father had gone along with
her wishes. Victim reconciliation, that’s what the social worker
had called it. But the victim was dead and gone, safely beyond
feeling blame or forgiveness. For the first time, Mark wondered
what Cain would have said, if he’d been given the chance to speak
to the grieving family.
But that was a thought for another time, and
Mark spent most of the short drive trying to figure out what on
earth he was going to say to Alex. The kid was stubborn; it was a
great strength, most of the time, but it might be a weakness in
this case. If he’d already decided what the best outcome of the
situation was, there probably wasn’t going to be much Mark could do
to change his mind. Of course, maybe it wasn’t Mark’s role to
change the kid’s mind. Maybe he should just focus on helping Alex
achieve whatever it was he’d decided to want.
It felt odd to be back at the halfway house
after so much time, and Mark noticed a few little changes as he
walked around to the back of the building. He wasn’t sure why he
didn’t go inside first, but something told him that Alex would want
to stay outdoors, and that Cain wouldn’t object.
Sure enough, they were sitting at the picnic
table, leaning against the table part with their legs outstretched
as they looked over the garden at the setting sun. They were facing
away from Mark, and he took a moment to watch them. If he hadn’t
known differently, he might have thought they were just enjoying
the evening air, but he noticed how Alex was huddled in close to
Cain, as if looking for warmth or comfort. Or intimacy, Mark
supposed, but Alex had said there was nothing happening on that
front, and there was nothing truly incriminating in their poses.
Two friends, one of whom needed some physical contact. For a crazy
moment Mark envied their wordless comradeship, but then he
remembered why he was there. The scene might appear peaceful, but
that didn’t mean there wasn’t turmoil under the surface.
“Hey, Alex,” he said softly as he approached.
“How’re you doing?”
Alex turned. His eyes were red and swollen
and his voice was scratchy as he said, “I’ve been better.”
Cain jerked awkwardly to his feet. “I’ll go
inside,” he said. “I can watch from the window and you can wave if
you need me.”
Alex looked like a toddler being asked to
surrender his teddy bear but it was Mark who spoke up and said,
“No, you should stay. You’re part of Alex’s team. He needs
you.”
Cain started to speak, then stopped. He held
his hands out in front of him as if trying to mold an answer from
the air, then let them fall to his sides. Finally, he sank back
down next to Alex, and they both swung their legs around so they
were facing Mark across the table. Alex stared at him demandingly.
Cain kept his gaze locked on the table.
“I’m not going to pretend to be someone I’m
not,” Alex said, his chin jutting out. As Mark had expected, the
kid was battered but still ready for a fight. “He can’t make me
straight, and I won’t let him make me ashamed.”
“Okay.” Mark meant it. There was no way he
was going to argue with that sentiment. “So where does that leave
you? Lucas said you were talking about moving out. Is that really a
step you need to take?”
Without defiance, Alex didn’t seem to have
much energy left at all. “You don’t know him,” he said miserably.
“Neither one of you does. You don’t understand how he can…once he
decides on something, that’s it. He won’t let it go, won’t let
anybody rest until he’s got what he wants.”
“And what does he want now?”
“A straight son. So, I guess he’s not
going to get what he wants, not this time. But he doesn’t actually
care if I’m straight or not, inside…he just wants a
straight-acting son. Like I was until a few months ago, at
least around him. But I can’t…if I do that, if I go backward…”
“What will he do if you don’t?” Mark leaned
in a little. “Is there a risk that he’ll get physical with
you?”
“I almost wish he would,” Alex said
softly.
“No you don’t.” They were the first words
Cain had spoken since the discussion began and he kept his gaze
locked on the table top, but he kept going. “It’d make things
clearer, right? Like, if he hits you, he’s a bad dad. Plain and
simple, you can announce it to the world and nobody can argue with
you. Right?”
“Yeah, exactly. If he’d hit me, we wouldn’t
be having this big discussion. Everyone would just say, ‘yeah, of
course Alex, you need to move out.’ And I would.”
“But he’d still be your dad. Even if he’s not
a good dad, he’s still…” Cain trailed off, then shrugged. “You’d
think it’d be clearer. But it isn’t. Not really.”
Mark couldn’t think about the experiences
that had informed Cain’s perceptions, not right then. “It’s all
largely theoretical, right now. You say there’s no reason to
believe he’d be physically violent. But he’d be…what?”
“He just…he keeps at you. Like, everything
you say, he’ll turn it around to be about what he wants it to be
about. He’ll yell, sure, but he’ll also…he’ll make me feel like I’m
an idiot, or a pervert. If I don’t do what he wants, he just…he
looks at me like I’m dirt, like I’m the hugest disappointment
ever.” Alex looked from Mark to Cain, and then back. “It doesn’t
sound like much, I know. But it’s…it’s exhausting.” He turned back
to Cain. “What you were saying earlier, about needing to stay here,
because you weren’t as brave as me? The problem is, I’m not that
brave. It just about kills me every time I have to stand up to him.
I can’t do it forever. I can’t do it any more at all.”
Mark had counseled enough troubled teenagers
to know when one was on the edge, and he could see the signs of
crisis in Alex. But seeing the problem didn’t make it that much
easier to solve. “I think this is going to be something we have to
work at, long term. We’re not going to settle anything right away.
All we can do right now is find you somewhere safe to sleep
tonight.” Alex wasn’t looking at him anymore, so Mark leaned
forward a little. His hand itched to reach out to the boy, to let
his touch give comfort and request attention, but he knew the
rules. No physical contact—it was too risky. Perception was more
important than reality.
But Cain somehow seemed to sense what Mark
wanted, and he nudged Alex’s shoulder. When the boy looked up, Cain
jerked his head in Mark’s direction. And he did it all without
seeming to look up from the table.
Alex returned his gaze to Mark’s, and Mark
said, “When I say ‘safe’, I don’t just mean safe from outside
trouble. I mean safe from you too. I need to know that you’re not
going to make any bad decisions. No running away, no destructive
behavior. Nothing that will make all of this worse than it is.”
Mark didn’t think the kid was a suicide risk, at least not yet, so
he left his warning there. “Do you understand what I’m asking of
you? I’ll find you a safe bed, and you’ll go to it and sleep in it
and wake up and eat some breakfast tomorrow morning. Then you’ll go
to school as if nothing’s happening.”
“I could go to the farm,” Alex said quickly.
“Couldn’t I?”
“The farm instead of school? I don’t think
so. Not yet, Alex. That’s the sort of thing that’s going to get
your dad worked up, not calmed down.” He decided to be a bit more
open—the kid was sixteen, after all. Mark was bracing himself for a
fight to give the kid a voice in his own decisions, so he should
follow his own convictions and give the boy the big picture. “Most
of the times in a situation like this…well, honestly Alex, most of
the time we find somewhere for the kid to cool down for a few days
and he ends up going home on his own.” He quickly held up a hand to
forestall Alex’s protest. “I don’t think this is going to be one of
those situations. So the next most common way we’d solve something
like this would be to find the kid somewhere to live that both the
kid and the parent agree on. It’s got to be a real agreement.
You’re sixteen years old, so the cops aren’t going to force you to
go back home. But the courts won’t force your dad to pay your way,
either, and you’re legally required to go to school. So if we can’t
get your dad to contribute voluntarily you’ll need to try for
welfare, and that means social workers and maybe the courts and