The Way Things Are (32 page)

“He….” Patrick hesitated sheepishly. “I was uncomfortable sitting next to him in the car.”

“Uncomfortable?”

“He has a nice voice. And nice eyes. He was totally cool, but I was maybe more abrasive than I should have been. Not only did he put up with me, he actually made me laugh. He made me feel better. Jay did community service the next day. I picked him up, and Ken asked about the boxing class Jay wanted to use for an enrichment activity thingy. We were heading that direction, and he asked to come along to check out the class. He talked to the owner, watched the class a bit, and let me talk him into sparring with me.”

“You talked him into it?”

“Seemed like a good way to lead up to asking him out.”

“You wanted to see him again, socially?”

“Yes. I asked if he wanted to learn how to box, and I invited him out for a drink.”

“And did he say yes?”

“No, he shot me down. He explained that it would be a conflict of interest for us to hang out. After that, I saw him when I brought Jay in each week to check in, and when I took Jay to perform his community service on Saturdays. Last Saturday… sucked. I found a dead body while I was inspecting container seals in the yard.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m a longshoreman. I work at the docks. I was getting a bit of overtime and I was inspecting the seals on all of the containers that had triggered inspection alarms when they were weighed.”

“I meant the dead body part.”

“Yeah. It was creepy. I spent hours talking to the police and letting them collect evidence. One of the cops turned out to be Ken’s brother, and Ken was there when I finished giving statements. He gave me a ride home Sunday, and….” Patrick shrugged. “I asked him if he’d stay.”

“You invited him to stay?”

Patrick nodded. “Ken said he wanted to, but since Jay still had five days left before his hearing, it’d be a big risk. He said if Jay got in trouble again, Ken couldn’t be his JPC. If he had mentioned it might also get him fired, I’d have shut up about it.”

“Did he stay?”

“Yes.”

“Did Jay serve all of the community service hours Ken recorded?”

“Actually, he did about four more that didn’t count.” Patrick smiled as he remembered Jay’s furious rant about Ken declaring community service hours wouldn’t be deducted from his total unless Jay was focused, working, and had a positive attitude. “Ken told him that if he spent more than thirty minutes of each hour staring off into space and not doing anything, that hour wouldn’t count.”

A hint of a smile crossed Mary Anne’s face again. “And was that a source of contention or conflict?”

Patrick shrugged. “I hadn’t really thought about it, but after Ken explained it, I was surprised he set the cut-off at half an hour.”

“How so?”

“If anybody on my crew slacks off for half of the time they’re supposed to be working, they’ll be out of a job before the night is over. I expect better than that from my son. I would have put the limit at fifteen minutes. But I doubt Jay would have ever finished his community service if I were in charge of it.”

“Has Ken had any interaction with Jay since your relationship began?”

“Uh, yes. He’s had dinner with us most nights this last week. This weekend someone broke into my place. Jay spent the night at a friend’s house and was supposed to go to boxing with the same friend, but he blew it off. I had to stay at my apartment until the police were done. I didn’t want to leave anyway, because if Jay came home, I wanted to be there. Ken went and found him at the library and brought him home.”

“And was Jay present at any point when you and Ken were together?”

“I said he came over for dinner.”

“I mean when you were intimate.”

“Oh. No! Hell no! He was at a friend’s house Saturday night and he stayed with his godfather last night. Ken spent the night at my apartment, but he was helping me clean up from the break-in. I know if this lasts, I’m going to have to get over it and just remember to lock the bedroom door or something, but right now….” Patrick shook his head. “The last thing Jay needs is more change right now.”

“And do you intend to pursue this relationship?”

Ken had told him to be honest. “If he loses his job over me, I don’t know,” Patrick said miserably. “Ken’s one of the best things that ever happened to me, but he’s also the best probation officer Jay’s ever had. Until last night, I was starting to think Jay might stay out of trouble for the first time ever, and it was thanks to him. And he loves his job. How could anybody not resent something like that?”

“He’s not losing his job,” Mary Anne said simply. “He made a stupid decision, but not a criminal one. Would you mind if I let him in?”

“Sure.”

Mary Anne’s heels clacked across the concrete floor. Ken shuffled in silently and sat down beside him. When the door clicked shut, she rounded on them with an angry, open expression. Whatever professionalism she’d possessed a moment ago was gone. “I should smack you! I’d ask what the hell you were thinking, but I don’t actually want to know!”

“I’ve got no excuse,” Ken said quietly.

Patrick wanted to jump to his defense, but Ken was smiling. So was Mary Anne.

“You are so lucky you talked to me about this six weeks ago! You have no idea how lucky you are!”

Patrick glanced between them. “Six weeks ago?”

“After we met, I was hopeful,” Ken clarified.

“Try desperate,” Mary Anne huffed.

Ken just shrugged “Maybe a little desperate.”

Patrick sat back and stared at them both. They wore easy smiles and Mary Anne’s posture had relaxed. Ken didn’t even look like a man talking to his boss. “You’re friends?”

“Yeah,” Ken muttered. “Am I going to get a write-up?”

“Verbal warning. You took steps to distance yourself from Jay’s case before this mess started, and you informed me of it. And again, it was stupid!” she snapped. “You’re damn lucky he’s worth the trouble!”

“He is,” Ken said, grinning.

“Now, about Jay,” Mary Anne said, pulling a color printout of Jay’s latest graffiti out of a file. She set it on the table and spun it around.

Patrick stared at the image, stunned by the fear the image provoked. The demon was the same creature he’d seen in Jay’s graffiti in New York, but now she was cowering in fear, stumbling over a dingy suspension bridge while an impossibly large dragon lashed out at her with claws, tail, and teeth.

“That’s my fault too,” Ken said immediately.

“How so?” Mary Anne asked.

“I talked with him about his mom. I mentioned that sometimes when a parent stands by and does nothing to stop the abuse of a child, it’s really because they’re just as afraid, and often just as in danger, as the child themselves.”

Patrick leaned back in his chair, studying Ken’s guarded expression closely. “You told him what?”

“That his mom was probably just as afraid as he was. The New York State DMV’s last phone number for her belongs to a residential domestic abuse shelter,” Ken explained, running his fingertips over the edge of the table. “The first time Jay was arrested, when I couldn’t contact you, I tried to get ahold of her. I should probably apologize for talking to him about it, but I’m not going to. Knowing that she was hurt and manipulated, knowing that she was probably terrified too, might be the only thing that can help him. When I was in his position, it was the only thing that helped me.”

Patrick felt his heart break at the pain and misery in Ken’s voice. Ken had been through far worse than Jay, and he’d somehow come through his own rocky childhood as a whole, stable adult. A few traces of the vulnerable boy Ken had once been remained, and Patrick wanted nothing more than to try to shelter him from the pain of his own memories, to protect Ken just like he tried to protect his son. Patrick swallowed down the lump in his throat as he realized Ken had delved into those painful memories to try to help Jay put himself back together again.

“I….” Patrick squeezed Ken’s shoulder hard. “I don’t even know….” He shut his eyes, determined not to do something pathetic like cry. “Thank you.”

“Well, that explains the picture, at least,” Mary Anne said, sniffling. “But there are more effective, cheaper, and less damaging ways of working through abuse issues. The best counselor he could possibly work with is now
not
an option, so I’ll have to get him a referral to someone else.”

Ken looked at his boss and shrugged. “She could probably be objective if you think she’d be a good match.”

Patrick stared between them both. “Huh?” he asked again. Too late, he thought back to their quiet conversation on his couch.

Mary Anne explained, “His mother is a wonderful counselor, and she’s particularly good at working with children from abusive homes. She would have been absolutely perfect!”

“Jay doesn’t do so well with women, anyway.”

“Which is precisely why he needs to work with one.”

“He doesn’t want to do therapy,” Ken cut in.

Mary Anne gasped and stared at him. “Wow,” she laughed. “You’ve gone from responding like a social worker to responding like an overprotective parent in one week. You’ve got it bad, Atkins. Jay
needs
therapy. Do I care if he
wants
it?”

“No,” Ken said, apparently on cue.

“All right. We’ll figure out the therapy thing. Will he have to go to court again?” Patrick asked.

“Not if he gets everything I’m assigning done. Obviously the consequences have to increase since this is his second offense. I’ll have him brought in and we can go over the details.” Mary Anne turned toward Ken. “Unless you have Mr. Connelly’s permission to stay, get out.”

“He can stay.”

“Actually, unless you need me, I’m going to step out,” Ken said, standing up quickly. The smile on his face was almost evil. “I’d like to see if my big brother’s around next door.”

“I can’t overlook one of my staff assaulting a police officer.” Mary Anne grinned up at him. “Extenuating circumstances aside.”

“I promise I’m just going to talk to him. It might be a loud conversation, but still
just
a conversation.”

P
ATRICK
SIGNED
release forms, signed the little yellow form notifying Jay that if he failed to report to his probation appointment, a warrant would be issued for his arrest, and then another form indicating he’d received Jay’s personal belongings, minus eighteen cans of spray paint.

“Do I want to know where you got eighteen cans of spray paint?” he asked while Jay reached for his shoes.

Jay tugged his shoes on and kept his eyes down. “Uh….” Jay glanced between Patrick and Ken, and Patrick could tell he wanted to ask about what Ken was doing there.

Patrick just turned Jay toward the door and steered him out of the building. For a moment, Patrick wondered at the confused look on Jay’s face, but the kid didn’t say anything. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“But….”

“Out.”

The ride home was silent and more awkward than Patrick would have expected. No one but Jay could communicate so much without saying anything. Jay had a whole range of different silences covering every emotion from happy to annoyed. Patrick could tell from the way Jay very carefully said nothing at all that he was anxious, confused, and uncomfortable. Patrick wasn’t sure what to say, or whom to say it to.

But he hated the silence. “If you’re wondering about whether or not I’m going to punish you—”

“I already know you’re going to say you really don’t want to, but you have to be consistent or I’ll never learn anything, and that I’m grounded for two weeks and if I get caught doing it again, you’ll take my sketchbooks away for a month.”

Patrick knew Jay was rolling his eyes just from his tone of voice. “What is it, then?”

“Why am I reporting to someone else?”

“It’s a new charge,” Ken tried.

“Yeah, right. Last week you were all ‘I believe in you, we’ll deal with anything, blah, blah, blah….’ And then you dropped my case the first chance you got. When the old lady told me, I figured it was because you were uncomfortable about what I said yesterday. But you’re still here.”

Ken glanced sideways at Patrick, silently asking for advice. Patrick just shrugged, glad Jay couldn’t see his face from the backseat.

“Well,” Ken said carefully, “I didn’t want to have to juggle being friends with your dad with being your JPC. I don’t like to work with my friends’ kids.”

He felt like applauding. Ken had managed to completely avoid the issue without actually telling a lie.

“So you’re not freaked out or anything?” Jay asked.

“What would I be freaked out over?”

There was another silence from the back seat.

“Over what you said about your past? Jay, what happened wasn’t your fault, and I hope you know that. I’m glad you told me about it. Now I can make sense out of the graffiti obsession. But I’m not freaked out over it.”

“You’re not freaked out over anything?” Jay asked, the edge still clear in his voice.

“Something particular on your mind?” Ken asked.

Jay squirmed around the back seat. “Whatever.”

Patrick dropped his head against the seat. There were distinct undertones there he was pretty sure he should have been interpreting, but he just couldn’t think anymore. Not without coffee and food, anyway.

“I can’t suggest the bar for lunch with him, can I? Where do you want to eat?” Ken asked as if reading his mind.

Patrick opened his eyes, wondering for a second when he’d closed them. “Lunch?” It took an embarrassingly long time for his exhausted brain to chime in and remind him Jay probably hadn’t had lunch. He might not have had breakfast either, and it was dinnertime. “Dinner?”

Ken slapped the steering wheel hard. “Oh, I got it! There’s a Denny’s by my place. Problem solved.”

“Why can’t we go home?” Jay asked.

“Everything’s still a mess. Your futon’s okay, but all the sheets and blankets have to be replaced. We’ve got to go shopping. I…. Fuck it, I don’t know what we’re doing.”

“We’re going to Denny’s,” Ken said again, as if that really could solve everything. “We can drop Jay off back at Corbin’s if you’d like. After Denny’s.”