Crazy (28 page)

CRAZY GLUE
:
That's what happens when you're young and alone in the world, goob. Other people are gonna run your life.

Sam leans forward and looks me in the eyes. "No," he says. "It's out of your hands."

CRAZY GLUE
:
What did I just say?

"Why? How? I don't understand. How can this happen? And what's supposed to happen to me?"

Sam looks at the Lynches and I say, "What? Why are you looking at them like that? Stop it!"

Sam sits back and takes a deep breath. "Jason, it's the way these things happen sometimes. I'm afraid your father will lose his parental rights and you'll be put up for adoption."

LAUGH TRACK
:
(Gasp).

I'm so stunned I can't even speak. I spread my hands and shrug and open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I start to feel something rumbling in the pit of my stomach. It rises up, and up, into my throat, and then with my eyes closed and my hands in fists, it finally explodes in a yell that sounds something like "Mom!" Or maybe "Dad!" But it doesn't matter, because neither one of them can hear me.

S
AM AND THE LYNCHES
gather around and try to comfort me, but I won't be comforted.

"You lied to me, Sam," I say when I can speak again. I'm all choked up, and for some reason it hurts my Adam's apple to speak. "You said it was only going to be temporary and that's total bullshit!"

"I didn't realize then how serious your father's condition was," Sam says. "I made a mistake. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Well, I can tell you I'm not going to be put up for adoption." I look at the three of them and they just give me their pitying looks.

"You can't just decide my whole life for me. I'm not some little kid."

Nothing I say makes any difference. Dad and I are in the system now, and the system has rules and laws and procedures that must be followed, no matter what. Our desires are not part of the system.

I tell Sam and the Lynches that I need to cool off and take a walk. I need to be alone. I grab my jacket and leave the house.

It's a freakin' blizzard outside. I swear it has to be the snowiest year on record. The snow blows in my face and collects on my eyebrows and ices my cheeks so that they feel like these frozen knots on either side of my face. Snowdrifts are forming everywhere, against houses and garages and trees and mailboxes. The storm swirls around me, and the blustery cold feels good.

I stuff my hands in my pockets and head down the street, grateful that at least I have on a decent pair of shoes—hiking boots—another gift from the Lynches' closet. I imagine there's some poor naked kid stashed in there who keeps having to hand out his clothes.

AUNT BEE
:
You have to admit, they're awfully good to you and life is a lot easier now.

So what? They're not my family. I have Dad and he has me. I don't want to be adopted.

FBG WITH A MUSTACHE
:
But that's not up to you anymore.

CRAZY GLUE
:
Anybody could adopt you.

Yeah, anybody, and anything could happen to me. That's what's so scary. My life is just one big out-of-control ride, and all I can do is close my eyes and hold on while all these random acts of shit just keep flying at me. Out of the blue my mom has a stroke and dies. Out of the blue my dad goes crazy. Why? No reason. Shelby's mom gets sick and dies. What for? Pete's father gets addicted to drugs. Why Pete's father? What choice does Pete have in the matter? Or Haze and his parents' divorce battles—what kind of say does he have? All
this crazy shit happens that's so totally out of our hands, and all we can do is duck and dodge all the crap as it comes flying at us.

CRAZY GLUE
:
You're a bad dodger, goob, 'cause fate keeps hittin' the bull's-eye on you.

I realize I've walked to the club and I keep walking through the almost-empty parking lot while the wind dumps snow on my head and down the back of my neck. I shiver from the cold and decide to see if the clubhouse is open.

The main entrance is open and I step inside. The lobby is warm, the dark paneled wood and the fire in the fireplace inviting. "Jason, how you doin'?" Elliot, the guy who mans the front desk, says. "Cold enough for you? You're the first person here this morning. Did you come for a swim?"

I don't know what I've come for except to get out of the cold, but then I see a phone sitting on the desk in front of Elliot. "Actually, I just came in to use your phone. Would it be all right if I used it? It's a local call."

Elliot gives me the hairy eyeball. "Phones out of order at the Lynches ?"

"No, I got some bad news and I needed to take a walk," I say, surprised by my own honesty. "I want to call my teacher and talk to her a second. Could I? I won't be long."

Elliot looks left, then right. "Well, okay, if you keep it short," he says.

I nod and pick up the receiver. "Oh, and do you have a phone book?" I set the receiver back down while Elliot reaches under the desk and pulls out the phone book. He dumps it on the desk. "Here you go."

I look up the number and call Dr. Gomez, hoping she won't mind that I'm calling her on a Saturday. I just feel I need to talk to her and get her advice. She's a psychologist. Maybe she can tell me some way to keep my dad out of the nursing home, or whatever Sam had called the place they were sending him. Maybe she can tell me I don't have to be put up for adoption. I need her to tell me that. I need her reassurance. Fortunately, she's home and answers the phone right away.

With Elliot pretending he isn't listening to everything I say, I tell Dr. Gomez what's happened. I tell her I feel like I have no control over my life at all.

"I'm sorry, Jason," she says. "That's a lot of news that's hard to hear, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Really hard." I blink my eyes, trying not to cry.

"What you have to realize, though, is that as much as you'd like to help your father and maybe you still feel some guilt about his situation, you first have an obligation to yourself, to your own well-being. Even though you weren't included in their decision, it sounds like they've made the best choice for you and your father. He'll have a place to live with all the support services available for him."

Now I'm crying and sniffing and wiping my nose on my jacket. This isn't what I wanted to hear. "So, I'm supposed to take it, then," I say. "The crap gets dumped on me ... and I'm supposed to just smile and go along with it." I sniff. "That's just life, right?"

"Jason, you can't control the universe and everything that happens in it, but you can control your reaction to it. You can control you, and how you choose to live each day."

"No, I can't. What if I'm put up for adoption and some abusive people get me and stuff me down in a basement and feed me on chicken wings or something?" I glance at Elliot, who looks like he's trying not to laugh. What's so funny, I'd like to know.

"Come on, Jason," Dr. Gomez says. "That's not likely to happen. And even if it does, you still have a choice as to how you're going to take it, how you're going to feel about what's happening to you. Look at the prisoners of war, or Nelson Mandela—he spent thirty years in prison. He had no control over that except how he thought about his imprisonment, what he made of the situation, and that's what makes all the difference." Dr. Gomez pauses a moment, then adds, "Anyway, most likely you'll live in foster care until you're eighteen and then you'll be on your own, if you want. But you know, it's nice to have a family to come home to, a family for the holidays, people who love you no matter what. And you aren't losing your father any
more than you've already lost him. You just wouldn't live with him anymore."

"I have a family already," I say, badly in need of a tissue for my runny nose. "I have that with my dad, and with the group. Pete and Haze and Shelby are my family. I don't need anybody else for the holidays."

CRAZY GLUE
:
Yeah, you tell her!

"Now see there? That's the good that's come out of your particular set of circumstances," Dr. Gomez says. "You have these special friends and they have you. Together you've created something good out of some pretty rotten things that have happened in your lives. You have to look at life that way, see the good in it, the good that can come out of a tragedy, and let go of the rest. Don't hang on to your life as a tragedy you have no control over, Jason. Don't act the victim, or you'll become one. And don't shut the Lynches, or anybody, out," Dr. Gomez says. "You never know who may come into your life."

"Yeah," I say, wiping my nose on my coat, feeling only slightly better. "That's what I'm afraid of."

I
GET THIS WILD IDEA
while I'm trudging back through the blizzard to the Lynches' house. I'm thinking about my dad coming home and wondering who's going to keep him from burning out the pots on the stove and who's going to make sure he eats and takes his meds and doesn't run off, or hurt himself. I'm also thinking about what Dr. Gomez said. She's right—I don't want to hang on to my life as a tragedy—but how do I get some control in my life? If all I can do is control myself and my reaction to things, well, my reaction to this plan for my dad is that it's total bullshit. All this court-appointed stuff—well, why can't I be his court-appointed son and visit him every day?

FBG WITH A MUSTACHE
:
Is there such a thing?

I stop in my tracks. The snowflakes swirl around me. Maybe there's no such thing, but why couldn't I convince a judge to give me permission to see Dad every day? These are extenuating circumstances. Any judge in his right mind can see that Dad needs care more than once a month. He needs his son. He needs me. Yes! I
start walking again. I'll go to court. Why not? Gomez says don't be a victim. Okay, then, I won't be.

When I get back to the house, I find out that Sam is gone and my dad's release has been postponed until tomorrow because of the snow. Even my afternoon with Haze, Pete, and Shelby is canceled, so I spend the day learning how to play chess with Cap, and the next morning I tell Sam my great idea. We're on our way to my house to meet Dad and his guardian. I'm excited and nervous about seeing him again. I wonder if he's changed any and if it's for better or for worse. I know I'll feel better if I can just get Sam to go along with me on my plan.

He shakes his head as if what I've suggested is impossible. "You've got school and other obligations, Ja-son. You can't drop everything, ruin your whole life for your father. He'll be all right, you'll see."

"I don't want a life without my dad. Don't you get that? I'll go to school. I'll even live with the Lynches. All I want is to be able to visit every day and spend some time with him—and without you there watching over me. I mean, this whole system is whacked. You think my dad's going to hurt me? I'm grown up now. I don't know why I can't just go over and see him. My friends can go visit him whenever they want, but I can't. That's insane! Don't you see how insane that is?"

Sam frowns. "But it's for your protection, Jason."

"No, it's not. That's such a load of crap!" I slap my thigh. "We don't need supervision. It's not like he's an abusive parent who might beat me. This is an exception. Isn't that sometimes why people go to court? To make an exception to the rule? That's all I want to do."

Sam's face, usually set like a brick with his jaw clenched and jaw muscles bulging, softens.

"It might take a couple of weeks to get a hearing for this, Jason. In that time you'll probably see that your father is doing just fine."

"But this is an emergency," I say, seeing my chance. "Can't you push this? I looked it up on the Internet. You could push this if you wanted. It's just until they find a home for him."

Sam moves his head side to side as though trying to decide which way to go with this.

CRAZY GLUE
:
Come on, Sam—be a sport.

"Please, Sam. A son should be able to care for his dad. Come on. My friends, or anybody else even, could drop by and visit him anytime, but I can't. How is that fair? Please, Sam."

"Yeah, all right." Sam grips the steering wheel tighter. "I'll see what I can do. No promises, though."

"You'll push it, then? You'll get me a hearing right away, right?"

"I'll do my best, Jason. That's all I can do," Sam says.

"Yeah," I say. "That's all I'm trying to do, too. Thanks." I smile at him; then I turn to look out my window. I notice the sun is shining. There's not a cloud in the sky.

A few minutes later we roll up outside my house, and I see my dad sitting in the car in front of us.

I jump out and rush over to the guardian's car to open the door for him.

"Hey, Dad. How you doin'? It's so good to see you."

I take his hand and help him out, and he stands on the sidewalk and looks at me.

I give him a hug, but it doesn't seem to register.

"Jason, the Furies are just infuriating today," he says. He covers his ears with his hands. "Do you know Atropos, here? She's come to determine my fate."

CRAZY GLUE
:
It's like he just saw you five minutes ago instead of two weeks ago.

An old woman with pinkish purple hair comes around to our side of the car and holds out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Clara Brown, your father's guardian. You must be the son."

I shake her hand, feeling all choked up for some reason. I look at my dad. He's staring at the house as though trying to figure out why it looks so familiar. I take his arm and lead him up the steps. I pull the key out of my pocket and unlock the door.

The inside of the house feels even colder than the
weather outside. It's dank and moldy smelling. We all enter, and Clara wanders from room to room. I try to look at the house through her eyes and I'm embarrassed. I know my mom would be ashamed at how far we've let the house go. But we had no choice. I watch Clara taking note of the paint peeling off the walls and the cracks in the ceiling, and the fallen plaster upstairs, and no furniture in some of the rooms.