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Sixteen years old/10th Grade/April
Iglanced at the clock on the dashboard as soon as we pulled out of the parking lot of the hospital. It wasn’t quite nine thirty at night. We had been at the hospital since early afternoon. Patrick had been through one hell of a day, and I was sure he was drained of energy. I felt pretty shitty too, though not nearly on the scale that he did. I hadn’t eaten nearly as much as I was used to, and my body was starting to bitch about it.
My parents spoke to the police, counselors, and doctors off and on throughout the day and evening. They accepted responsibility for Patrick’s care, and the police were supposedly visiting Patrick’s home. The police said they’d stop by our house tomorrow to check on Patrick and see if he needed anything from his house.
Mom had called home several times throughout the afternoon and evening, so I knew Grandma and Grandpa were aware of the situation. I didn’t know how much Morgan knew, or Chase, but I sure hoped Chase would be either in bed or calm when we got home.
“Patrick, sweetie, when we get home, I’ll make you something to eat so you can take the antibiotic. Does anything in particular sound good to you?”
“Anything will be fine, thank you,” he replied sleepily from my shoulder. He was dead tired and shaking.
“Mom, can you turn the heater on?” I asked and started to rub up and down Patrick’s arm quickly to infuse some warmth. “Patrick’s cold.”
My dad took his eyes off the road long enough to glance at Mom. They both mumbled something and then my mom reached for the heating control on the dashboard.
When we got home, I led Patrick straight to the kitchen table and helped him sit down. I was going to get him something to drink, but Dad stopped me and told me to sit with Patrick and he’d get us something to drink. Grandpa sat at the table with us and asked us how we were doing. I thought if anyone would be good for Patrick right now, it was Grandpa. He was a psychologist before he retired. While Grandpa kept both of us talking, Mom hurried around the kitchen with Grandma helping as they talked about clothes and temporary sleeping accommodations.
Temporary? What the hell did that mean?
“He’s never going back there,” I announced.
“We know, Hollis,” Mom replied.
“Then what’s with the word temporary?” I asked.
“Hollis,” Dad called my name. I looked at him, and he gave me a look that meant not now. That was bullshit, though.
“No. I want to know what the hell you mean,” I snapped and stood up. “Because I’ll leave with him before anyone makes him go back! Were you people blind for the last seven hours?”
“Stop, man.” I looked down when I felt Patrick’s hand on my wrist. “Don’t yell and argue,” he begged.
“Hollis, sit down and relax,” Grandpa calmly said. My raised voice had affected Patrick.
“Sorry,” I said in a calmer tone. “I just want to know what they mean.”
“We just mean until we can get Patrick a bedroom set up,” Mom answered.
We had plenty of space. There were two guest rooms downstairs and one upstairs. The one upstairs was next to mine and separated by a bathroom. It was the ideal room for him because it was upstairs and we could share a bathroom.
As Patrick and I ate, I pleaded my case for him to have the upstairs room that was attached to my bathroom.
Understandably, Patrick didn’t have much of an appetite and wasn’t very talkative. He was tired, and I was sure he wanted to erase the day. As I finished eating, Morgan and Chase came downstairs and lingered around the counter. When Grandma saw Chase, she put a plate of cookies in his hand and nudged him toward the table.
“Did you guys make the cookies Chase and I started?” Mom asked.
“Yes, I saw the cookie dough in the fridge and thought the boys might like them,” Grandma said. Chase came over and stood between where Patrick and I sat.
“Would you like some cookies?” he offered.
“Yeah, thank you, Fireball,” Patrick said and winked at Chase. After he took a few cookies off the plate, I took one.
“Watching your figure, Hollis?” Morgan teased.
“I have to watch the sweets. But I can’t pass up a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie.”
Dad brought the antibiotic pill to Patrick so he could get it in his system. I was still shocked by all the horrible things his body had been through. I had a feeling there were emotional horrors that he’d been alone with.
“Are you tired, Patrick?” I asked when smaller conversations broke out between Mom and Grandma and Dad and Chase. He nodded, and I stood and glanced at Morgan. “Patrick has had a long day, and I think he’s ready to turn in,” I announced. Morgan came over and collected our plates so I didn’t have to worry about them.
