Crazy (29 page)

"Oh my, this is a problem, now, isn't it?" she says, after she's made the tour of the house and returns to the living room. "Well, hopefully it won't be for long. Can we do something about the cold in here? Your father could catch pneumonia." She rubs her arms and shivers.

CRAZY GLUE
:
Yeah, if she wants to pay for it.

"I've kept the heat down to save money," I say. I go to the thermostat and turn it up.

"This is not a good situation here," she says.

"It's going to take quite a bit of work to fix this place up. It will probably have to be sold 'as is,' and the new owners will then fix it," Sam says.

I turn to Sam. "What? Now you're selling our house out from under us? What gives you the right to do that? My dad
owns
this house."

"I have no right, Jason, but Clara, as your father's conservator, does. We're just thinking of your future. Would you rather it continue to deteriorate so you get even less money for it?"

"You know," I say, fuming, "maybe you should stop thinking of my future so much, because every time you do, you just dish up another load of crap for me to swallow. We're not selling the house!"

Dad turns around and faces the two of us. "Houses are strangers to me," he says.

I go stand beside my dad. "See? How's he supposed to live here on his own? He needs food. He won't shop for himself. I need to go shopping and get him some food and..."

"Oh, I've got food in the car," Clara says, her voice all cheery. "I went shopping before I picked your father up at the hospital. Come on—we'll go get it."

CRAZY GLUE
:
Well that solves everything.

The four of us tramp back outside and Sam, Clara, and I head for the car. Dad heads across the street toward the river.

"See! See!" I say. "This is what's going to happen." I run after Dad and lead him back toward the others. "He's just going to wander off when I'm not here."

"It's so long," Dad says, his eyes still on the river. "And you know who lives in the water, don't you?"

"Look, Jerry," Clara says to me, "we're all doing the best we can here, all right?" She lifts her pink head above the open trunk of the car to look at me. "In an ideal world your father would be all better, your house would be warm and wonderful, and the two of you would live together, but the reality isn't quite so rosy."
She lifts a grocery sack out of her trunk and Sam lifts out another one. "We've just got to each do our part to make the best of a difficult situation. All right?"

"My name is Jason, not Jerry," I reply.

CRAZY GLUE
:
Dude. You're acting like such a turd.

AUNT BEE
:
He's scared.

FBG WITH A MUSTACHE
:
Living by himself will never work. They have to see that.

After we unload the groceries and tidy up a bit downstairs, Clara and Sam say it's time for us to leave.

"But I need to wash sheets and make the beds—or at least my dad's bed—and I need to fix him his lunch. He won't eat unless I fix it." I look at him rummaging through a stack of papers he found on top of his desk. He's wearing a fresh set of aluminum foil ear covers. "Will you, Dad? Are you going to make yourself some food? Will you take your medicine so you'll get better?"

Dad stares at the three of us standing at the front door. "Have you seen my violin?"

"Goodbye, Mr. Papadopoulos," Clara says. "We'll see you later. You take care now, won't you?"

"Jason, say goodbye to your father. We need to go, too, now," Sam says.

I look at Sam and shake my head. I can't understand how they can just turn their backs on my dad. Can't they see that he's in no shape to be left alone? Doesn't anybody care?

FBG WITH A MUSTACHE
:
You do.

I wade through the books Dad's just dumped on the floor and I grab his arm. He stops pulling the books off the shelf and blinks at me. "Dad, I've got to go now. But I'll be back. Turn on the radio so you won't have to listen to the Furies, okay? Please eat something, and take good care of yourself, and I'll..." I stop and turn back to Sam and Clara. "You know how many pots he's burned out on the stove? He'll set this place on fire. We can't just leave him. Come on!"

Sam steps over the books and takes my arm. "Time to go, Jason. I promise. I do. I promise I'll get you in to see the judge, but now it's time to go."

"Hey, have you seen my violin?" Dad asks.

A
WEEK LATER
, on Friday morning at nine o'clock, I'm sitting in the courtroom with Sam, Clara, Captain Lynch, Dr. Gomez, Haze, Pete, and Shelby. All of them have agreed to come and speak for me.

Sam stunned me when he told me just before we entered the courtroom that my grades might be the deciding factor. "This judge takes education very seriously, and I've just had a look at your recent records." Sam shakes his head. "They don't look good."

CRAZY GLUE
:
You had to go and write 'Cap'n' on that exam.

The courtroom is small. There are a few benches in the room, a table where I suppose lawyers might sit with their clients, or whatever they're called, and then a raised platform in the front of the room where the judge is sitting at his table staring at notes about my case. He's got a gavel on his right. His assistant, or whoever it is I see taking notes, is sitting to the judge's left, and a man in a policeman's uniform stands by the entrance. It's just like on television, only this is for real. This is for my dad.

The judge tells us all that this is an informal hearing, no jury, no lawyers, no witness box, just us. We don't even have to stand up to speak, so we can all relax.

CRAZY GLUE
:
Got that, goob? Relax!

He leans over his notes and studies them for several minutes, ignoring us as if we aren't even here.

CRAZY GLUE
:
He's looking at your grades. He's probably trying to read that history test with no beginning and no ending.

SEXY LADY
:
Just the middles.

FBG WITH A MUSTACHE
:
You don't feel so clever now, do you?

I jiggle my knees up and down until Sam, sitting on my left, sets his hand on them to stop me. I can't help it. I'm so nervous and jittery. Let's get this show on the road already.

Finally the judge looks over his glasses straight at me. "So, you want to change your visitation hours, do you?"

I stand up halfway and nod. "Yes, sir." I sit back down.

He leans forward, setting his elbows on the table. "Jason, do you understand why your current visitation rights have been set at once a month?"

Again I stand up halfway to speak and Sam pulls me back down in my seat. "Yes, sir," I say, blushing. "I'm supposed to get on with my life. It's to give me a chance to lead a normal life, and to—uh—to do well in school and stuff like that."

"Good enough," the judge says. He pauses and
looks down at his notes a second before returning to me. "Tell me about your father, Jason."

CRAZY GLUE
:
Careful, not everything. Not about that time when you were six.

I scratch the side of my face. "Well, he's my dad, and he's always been there for me, and—but now he's sick and it's bad and they—the doctors—say, or think, that he won't get well enough to live on his own, so they're putting him in a residential center place—I mean—what I mean is he can't live on his own, but that's what he's doing right now." Now that I've started speaking and telling my dad's story, I feel angry at the hospital, and this gives me a surge of energy. I stand up all the way, and Sam doesn't pull me back down.

"They say he can't function on his own and that he'll never write any more books—he'll always be sick—but then they just dumped him. They released him from the hospital. He doesn't eat." I lift the papers in my hands, the notes that I took about his behavior to give to the judge. "He doesn't take his medicine—and maybe, maybe if he did, maybe he'd get better. He's got new meds now. And he's gotten better before. He just needs to take his medicine regularly and in time he could get better. Right?" I glance at Clara, who gives me a slight nod; then I return to the judge. "He could get better if he'd take his medicine. Maybe he could even be well enough so he wouldn't have to go to that residential place, but right now—I mean, he
could burn out the pots the way he's done before, or wander off, which he's done, and never be found again, and—and I'm just worried about him all the time now that he's on his own. I can't sleep 'cause I'm so worried about him. So if I could just see him every day and make sure he's still there, and if I can get him to eat and take his medicine ... that's all I'm asking."

I look at the judge, who's staring at me with his glasses pushed down to the end of his nose. He's an old guy, like in his sixties or older, with silver hair and heavy-looking jowls.

Finally the judge speaks. "It says here in my notes that you've missed a lot of school this year and your grades have steadily dropped. Is that because of your father?"

LAUGH TRACK
:
Uh-oh!

I blow out my breath. I don't want to wreck my chances, but I know I have to tell the truth. "Yes. Yes, sir—Your Honor—it is, mostly, only I got stabbed and my mother died, so I missed some school, and that added to my dropping grades some."

"Yes," the judge says. "Yes, I'm sorry about your mother. But perhaps that's all the more reason for you to get some distance here. You may have forgotten what it's like to have a more—how should we say it—predictable life."

"No, sir, I know what it's like to have a normal life. I remember, and I have that now with the Lynches—
my foster parents." I glance at Captain Lynch, and he lifts his head at me and smiles, encouraging me.

I return to the judge. "I know my grades aren't the greatest, okay? But, if I could have this time with my dad, you know, see him every day, I swear—I mean—I promise I'll pull my grades up and I'll go to summer school."

The judge leans back and scowls. He looks doubtful.

"Look, I'm not asking to be there full-time. I understand that I can't do it all on my own. That's why I've missed so much school, because before, you see, I had nobody else. It was just me and my dad, and I couldn't—I couldn't do it. But Clara, here, is his guardian—I mean, you appointed her, or somebody did, to be his guardian and to look after his money and stuff—and I have Sam, and the Lynches—my foster parents—and my friends—I have friends, Shelby, and Pete, and Haze—they're the best, and I have Dr. Gomez, she's my—the school psychologist." I turn and gesture to them, aware for the first time how much my circumstances have changed. Until now I've been resenting Sam's interfering and Clara's acting as Dad's guardian, and the Lynches' taking the place of my parents. I've been resisting it all, but now I'm looking at these people, every one of them here to help me and my dad, and I realize how much better my life has gotten because of them.

I look at the judge. "I have all these people now to help me, so it's different. It's all different. I'm not alone anymore. Before—before I was all alone."

I don't know what else to say, so I just stand with my arms locked straight in front of me, crossed at the wrists, and my hands in fists. I chew on the inside of my cheek and wait.

The judge doesn't look convinced.

He tells me to sit down, and then he asks for Clara's evaluation of my dad's situation.

I sit down and brace myself, expecting Clara to tell the judge that Dad is doing just fine on his own and that he doesn't need me.

She describes the condition of the house and Dad's mental instability. Then she says that she doesn't feel he's a danger to me or to himself, but that he does require extra care in terms of feeding and cleaning and other daily maintenance tasks and that I might be the only one able to get my dad to take his medication.

CRAZY GLUE
:
Thank you, pink-haired lady!

Then Dr. Gomez reports on our lunchtime meetings at school, and I'm starting to feel hopeful. The judge's face doesn't look quite so stern.

He stares out at Cap and asks him if he would be willing to supervise these extra visits with my dad if extra visitations were granted.

Before he can answer, I stand up again and interrupt. "Excuse me. But I'm almost fifteen years old. I
would like to have unsupervised visits with my father. I thought that was understood."

The judge just kind of glares at me, so I sit down and Sam whispers, "Just wait."

Cap says, "I am willing, Your Honor, to see to it that Jason gets to his father's home and back safely. I am also willing to see to it that he doesn't neglect his schoolwork, and that it doesn't interfere with other activities that we might plan for him and the family. He has to keep his room neat and help out around the house. I'm willing to see to it that he attends to these things. As for accompanying him and supervising him while he's with his father, I don't feel that is necessary."

"And his adjustment in your home?" the judge asks.

Cap clears his throat. "Adjustment in a new home is always difficult," he says. "And while he's been with us such a short time, he has received some disturbing news, which, though it upset him greatly, I believe he has handled with maturity and wisdom. He's played by the rules, even when he hasn't liked them. He's good to his foster sister and respectful to me and my wife. He's a good boy, Your Honor."

Cap looks at me and winks, and I press my tongue against the roof of my mouth. I make a promise to myself to be much nicer to everybody after this.

Finally the judge asks for Sam's opinion about my visitation rights.

Sam says, "I've been put in charge of Jason's welfare, and so it is his welfare and not his father's that I am most concerned about here, as I believe we all are."

The judge nods and says, "Indeed."

CRAZY GLUE
:
There goes your case down the drain, goob.

I swallow and close my eyes, and wait for Sam to bring up my bad grades.

"And as with all my other cases, Jason's visitation has been scheduled for once a month. I think there would have to be pretty extenuating circumstances for you to order a change in this schedule. As you've stated, Jason's grades have slipped and he's missed quite a lot of school, this year in particular. I wasn't aware until this morning when I got a copy of his records exactly how dismal Jason's grades are."