Chapter Text
I know you're feeling like you just can't win, but you're trying
It's hard to keep on keepin' on, when you're being pushed around
Don't even know which way is up, you just keep spinning down, 'round, down
Every storm runs, runs out of rain
Just like every dark night turns into day
Every Storm by Gary Allen
September 2001
Patrick cowered in the back seat of the tan sedan. This would be his fourth home since his mom died back in April. The case worker was a kind man, overworked, but kind. Every time Patrick saw him his curly blonde hair seemed to be more and more unruly if that was even possible.
When they had first met, the evening after his mom died because his nosy neighbor had called the authorities, Patrick had thought he seemed scary. The wide berth his mere size demanded was intimidating enough. Pair that with him being responsible for ripping Patrick from the only home he had ever known was not winning him any favors. But, later that night, as they sat in his car outside the first placement — a temporary emergency home for teen boys — he had spoken to Patrick like a grown up not the child everyone else treated him like.
That night had gotten Patrick to trust him a stones throw, which was more than any adult in his life — ever. He later learned the man’s name was Isaac and he was invested in all his cases beyond the usual amount. The week that Patrick had stayed at the emergency home for teen boys he saw Isaac no less than 5 times. It was never for long, but still Isaac made sure he came by frequently. Patrick’s bunk mate, Lester, told him case workers didn’t usually do that.
“You’re lucky if you see your case worker outside of them dropping you off.” Lester had popped his gum in Patrick’s face after he said that. Patrick knew it was to show him that Patrick shouldn’t be getting it stuck in his head that Isaac actually cared or that Patrick himself was special.
Joke was on Lester though. Patrick didn’t need to be told he wasn’t special. He already knew it. How special could he be if he’d only had his mother’s attention a handful of times in his thirteen years? No, most of Patrick’s life he mattered to no one and nobody paid him any extra attention. Pretty soon he knew Isaac would disappear just like everyone else had in his short life.
But Isaac hadn’t disappeared. In fact, the day after Lester told him that, Patrick was packing what little he had into the duffle he’d brought with him. Isaac had come to tell him the providence had found a new, permanent placement for him. Lester had laughed and told him how permanent was a misnomer that just meant he would stay longer than a week. Usually only a few months, a year if you were lucky.
The next “home” Patrick was sent to, if you could even call it that, was filled with 8 other kids of varying ages and traumas. The parents were just there to collect the government check. There was a lock on the refrigerator and they kept the batteries to the TV remote in their pockets. The dad would leave the house everyday for work, but the mom watched each child like a hawk. After Isaac left that first night, the mom took Patrick’s meager belongings and told him he’d get them back if he earned them.
Patrick spent that first night curled up on his tiny bed in the smallest ball he could manage. He didn’t speak or even show a sliver of emotion. It had only been a week since his mom died and already he knew he had to protect himself. No one cared that he was cold because the blanket he’d been given was old and torn. No one cared that the rain pelting the window put Patrick’s teeth on edge. No one cared that he cried himself to sleep that night, silent like most nights of his life. That first night at the second home was the first time Patrick squeezed his eyes shut and wished he could just disappear.
About a month after Patrick joined that family, Isaac returned to take him to a different one. A kid older than Patrick, Jessica he thought was her name, had reported the dad for inappropriate behavior. So, the kids were all taken out of the home while they investigated. Unbeknownst to Patrick, a few months later they were all returned to the home after no wrongdoing was discovered. The day Patrick was taken to his fourth home was the day Isaac defied orders as a case worker and demanded Patrick not be returned there.
So, here he was sitting in Isaac’s backseat once again waiting to be dropped off at yet another home. He hadn’t been gone from the previous one for more than 3 hours and he already couldn’t remember a single thing about them. It has simply been a roof over his head for two or so months. Nothing special stood out. He watched the trees in a very nice neighborhood go by without a sound. He could already feel the dread and ache of being a fish out of water settling in his chest. Patrick didn’t belong here. He was trash, worthless. People like him never got to live in nice, normal neighborhoods like this. Ones that seemed to be straight out of a TV show.
This time he travelled wearing nothing more than a thin grey long sleeve T-shirt, dirty jeans that were stained with God only knew what and didn’t quite cover his ankles. Patrick no longer had a bag of belongings, his second home had made sure of that. This latest home hadn’t been terrible but he had to share a wardrobe of clothes with two other boys around his age. The only thing they allowed him to take with him was the clothes on his back and a little green army man he had found in the park that previous weekend. Patrick was allowed to take it because they didn’t know he even had it.
“I promise you are going to love this place. They are so excited to meet you. It’ll be just you and them. They don’t have any other kids currently.” Isaac tried to sound enthusiastic but nothing was going to get Patrick to trust his words. Patrick wasn’t the kind of kid who good things happened to.
Instead of responding he simply fiddled with the plastic figurine in his hand and continued to watch the neighborhood pass by. Soon, Isaac slowed down and came to a stop outside a two story home with a warm and inviting look to it. The shutters that flanked the upstairs window were the most midnight of blues Patrick had ever seen. It reminded him of the thunderstorms that terrified him but he didn’t say so out loud. He knew it was rude to speak negatively about someone else’s clothes or home. He gulped down the fear bubbling up in his chest from the sight of those shutters.
He didn’t realize Isaac had noticed until he spoke.
“Patrick I know you don’t trust anything, but please try to trust me. This is going to be the last home you’ll be placed in and it’ll be the best one. I promise.” Patrick didn’t have to be looking at Isaac to know the man was earnestly looking at him.
“You said that about the last one.” Patrick mumbled, gripping his army man for dear life. He wasn’t sure why but he felt safe with the little bit of plastic within his grip.
“I know. I’m sorry. But this couple they are looking to adopt. When I called them about you the mom wouldn’t stop asking questions. She’s so excited.” Isaac’s hand somehow reached Patrick’s knee from his position in the driver's seat.
“They don’t want me. I’m damaged.” Patrick mumbled because he already knew that people looking to adopt from government care weren’t looking for 13 year-olds.
“Trust me. They want you.” Isaac reiterated before climbing out of the car, signaling for Patrick to do the same.
Patrick didn’t respond. He knew this couple would like him at first, but then they’d find a reason to return him for a baby or small kid. Someone who had less miles on them. A kid who could sit through a movie in the dark without freaking out. A kid who didn’t cry when it rained.
He climbed out of Isaac’s backseat, but made sure he stayed behind the older man as much as possible. At 13 he was shorter than average and extremely skinny so it wasn’t hard to do. He’d made a life out of remaining invisible even when in plain sight. He heard the front door open before he saw on account he was staring at his shoes.
Shoes that were as ragged and dirty as the rest of his clothes. These shoes had been second hand when his mother got them from the mission where they sometimes ate dinner. Patrick was proud that he’d managed to keep a hold on his own shoes for this long, but he also knew they were barely holding on. He didn’t want to look at his new “mom” out of fear he’d see the pity and disappointment she was sure to have at the sight of him.
In fact, her arms were around him in a tight embrace before he ever saw a single part of her. His first introduction to this woman was the soft fuzz of a cardigan against his cheek and the warmth her body radiated into him. Then he smelled it, the underlying vanilla smell. He loved the smell of vanilla. It reminded him of his grandmother — she died when he was young, but before that she had been his only source of love and warm food. His grandmother always smelled of vanilla because she was always baking.
“My sweet boy.” The woman never even pulled out of the hug as she spoke “You must be tired and hungry. Let’s get you some food then you can rest.”
Her voice sounded as heavenly as she smelled and felt. Patrick blinked back tears as he thought how much he would miss this woman when they sent him back. The ache in his chest had already started and they hadn’t even said goodbye to Isaac yet. In fact, they hadn’t even moved from the front stoop.
“Marce. You gotta let go of him at some point.” A booming, yet gentle voice sounded from beyond the front door.
Patrick jumped back, he hadn’t expected the man hanging back against the door frame to speak. Even more, he hadn’t expected him to sound that way. Isaac reached out and placed a grounding hand on Patrick’s back. The touch was meant to keep Patrick from bolting back to the car and to remind him he wasn’t alone in this scary new world.
“Should we grab his things?” The woman asked Isaac and Patrick curled in on himself again, embarrassed.
Isaac squeezed his shoulder from where he’d draped his arm, “This is all he has. The last home wouldn’t release the things he’d come to them with.”
Patrick surreptitiously looked up to see the woman’s reaction to Isaac’s words. Her face took on a look of pity before she realized Patrick saw and schooled her features. “No worries, Clint and I have purchased a few things for your first day of school.”
The woman, Marcy then guided them all toward the front door and the sitting room beyond it. The home inside was so warm and loving, and clean. Every other home Patrick had lived in was cluttered, but this home didn’t have a thing out of place. He knew immediately he should take off his dirty shoes, it was only polite. Patrick leaned over and started to untie his shoes.
“Patrick?” Isaac was the first to speak. Patrick looked up and saw that his new “mom and dad” were just staring at him like he had two heads.
“I’m sorry.” Patrick stopped what he was doing and fought back tears. He knew he was going to be punished for not asking first. His mom always hated when he did stuff without her permission. She would make him go to bed without eating. “Can I please have dinner? I promise I’ll be good from now on.”
“My sweet, sweet boy.” Marcy moved forward. “We were just surprised at how polite you were being by taking off your shoes. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She cautiously reached toward Patrick to help him.
He sniffed and finished toeing off the worn down sneakers, “I just didn’t want to get dirt in your nice home.”
“That’s ok. This house could use a little dirt. Adds character.” Clint chuckled from behind Marcy. He smiled at Patrick.
Marcy smiled at Patrick and gestured for him to leave his shoes by the door if he so chose. Then she gently placed her fingers in his unkempt, reddish brown, wavy hair. He usually didn’t like people to touch him because it always ended in pain. But something about this woman made it okay. He didn’t fully trust it, but he was willing to give it a shot; to be polite.
“How do you feel about mac and cheese?” Marcy guided him toward the kitchen beyond the front room. Patrick panicked for a second, not sure what to say. He hated saying the wrong things. He looked back toward Isaac.
“Don’t worry.” Isaac stepped closer to Patrick and kneeled down a bit so they were eye to eye. “Clint and Marcy here are going to take the best care of you. But I’m always a phone call away if you need it. Ok?”
Patrick silently nodded his head and bit his bottom lip. He reached out and took the card Isaac held out to him. It was the same card Isaac always handed him when he dropped him off. Patrick half expected Marcy or Clint to eye it warily or even grab it from his hand immediately. Every other family he’d been with hadn’t let him keep his card or use it. But it seemed like they were more concerned with how he was reacting and feeling. Isaac smiled and took his leave at that moment.
The sound of their front door clicking shut behind Isaac was deafening. Patrick felt the tightness in his chest. His vision started to swim and he dropped to the floor in a ball. Curling up in a ball with his knees hugged to his chest made the closing walls seem less suffocating. He could kind of hear them saying things to him but the roaring in his ears drowned them out. Patrick closed his eyes and squeezed his army man into his palm against the pressure of hugging his legs.
While Marcy and Clint didn’t touch him during his moment of panic, Patrick knew they stood nearby. As his vision slowly came back into focus and the roaring died down, Patrick still didn’t unfold himself from his sitting position on the floor. He turned his head to rest his cheek on the small patch of skin coming through the hole in the knee of his jeans. He closed his eyes against the tears wanting to fall. He stared at the legs of their kitchen table and chairs. Just like everything else he’d seen in this home they were nice and beautiful.
“Whenever you are ready you can decide what you want to do next.” Marcy’s voice floated above Patrick like an angel. It was the first time in his life he’d been told he could decide what he wanted.
“Could I have some pasta?” Patrick’s voice came out scratchy and timid. He didn’t move from his spot, but he knew she heard him. Patrick knew not to be too loud or ask for too much. Marcy had already mentioned mac and cheese so he knew that was a safe option. He also didn’t want to ask her for anything else because he could smell that the food was already made. She must’ve cooked it while he was panicking.
“Of course dear,” Marcy said with a smile. Though he couldn’t see her, Patrick heard her move about the kitchen putting the mac and cheese into a bowl for him. “Here you go.”
She handed him the food where he was on the floor. Unlike other “moms” Marcy didn’t demand he sit at the table to eat. She silently met him where he was and accommodated him. It broke at Patrick’s walls a tiny bit to be trusted in such a way. He still knew it was only a matter of time before they too gave up on him, but for now he was comfortable; guard still up but comfortable.
When he finished with the first bowl, Marcy asked him if he wanted any more. Patrick had originally shook his head no because being greedy was something he couldn’t afford in his life. But, a gentle “ok” from Marcy was all it took for him to finally look up at her and ask for more.
“I’m sorry. I am actually still hungry if that’s okay.” Patrick stated quickly, on guard for any harsh words or hands that would surely come from his simple request.
“Of course, my sweet boy.” Marcy replied with a warm smile and a gentle touch as she took the bowl from Patrick’s outstretched hand.
Patrick started to think this woman would always call him a sweet boy, which he was absolutely certain he didn’t deserve. While Marcy filled up his bowl again he looked over toward Clint. The man was now sitting at the table, a notebook out in front of him. There were some diagrams drawn on the page but Patrick couldn’t see them properly from where he sat on the floor. Patrick quietly stood up and inched himself closer to Clint, not daring to breathe too loudly or move too suddenly for fear he’d get in trouble.
Finally curiosity got the better of him and he asked the question that had been hanging on his lips since he first noticed Clint. “What’s that?”
Clint smiled to himself as he continued to look at the notebook before him. Then he looked up at Patrick and motioned him closer. He pulled out the seat adjacent to the one he sat in, but didn’t ask Patrick to sit. So, Patrick sat down and looked closer at the drawings before him. Something about Clint put Patrick at ease, even more so than Isaac. This man before him while he looked intimidating was actually the quietest, kindest person Patrick had ever met. There was something in the way he looked at people which made Patrick think he was looking within them not just at them.
“This is for a shed I want to build in the backyard. I need a place to put all my tools since Marcy said they're cluttering up the garage.” Clint winked at Patrick as if he was in on a joke about Marcy’s habits. The simple gesture put Patrick a little bit more at ease.
“Here you go dear.” Marcy placed the bowl in front of Patrick on the table before she continued, “Never mind what that man says, he knows I’m right.”
The easy way they talked to Patrick and included him into their lives was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. The way they spoke of the tool situation was as if Patrick had always been in their home and that he was their son, not just some kid off the street. It felt like a soft, warm hug around his heart.
Clint sat and discussed what the shed would need with Patrick as he ate his second helping of the macaroni. Patrick didn’t have much to add to the discussion, but that didn’t deter Clint from continuing to talk to him as if they were both contributing. Patrick loved to watch him scribble various numbers and shorthand all over the page as he talked his way through the idea process. There was something normal and reassuring about it. Patrick could forget for a moment that he should be on high alert, that he could be thrust back into chaos at any given moment. And yet, they sat there just like that going over ideas – Clint asking Patrick what he thought – for almost an hour and nothing came crashing down to remind Patrick that he didn’t deserve this nice thing.
Patrick had just stifled a yawn as Clint added a notation to consider a window in his shed to “let the light in from the dark” as Patrick had said, when Marcy tapped him gently on his shoulder.
“I think we should get you washed up and ready for bed. Do you want a shower or a bath?” Marcy looked Patrick dead in the eyes and waited for his answer.
How did she know that the water splashing down on him from a shower terrified him? How did she know that he would want the choice of a bath to be presented to him? Was she able to see the fear in his eyes at the mere thought of being stuck in what reminded him of a rainstorm?
“Ok. I will draw you a bath, could you come with me and pick out what pajamas you want to wear?” Marcy didn’t need Patrick to verbally tell her, something in his face must have given it away. On one hand Patrick was relieved he didn’t have to voice his unease out loud, but on the other that intimate knowledge scared him.
He quietly followed Marcy as she walked toward the back half of the house. They walked down a short hallway that ended in a flight of stairs going up. He stopped at the bottom, unsure of what going up would bring him. Logically he knew this kind woman would never do anything to harm him. And yet, his brain was far from logical at any given time. He expected Marcy to climb the stairs and wait for him on the second floor landing, but she didn’t. She just stood off to his side and waited for him to take that first step. Patrick didn’t know how this woman knew all these things swimming inside his own brain, but he was too tired to ask her.
Finally, he took a deep breath and told that voice in his head to shut up. He knew he wasn’t about to find chaos upstairs, but the voice within was loud. It took all his strength to simply climb the stairs. But, climb the stairs he did. Patrick curled in on himself – to make himself smaller – as he waited for Marcy to climb the final stairs and join him on the landing. She gave him a soft smile and quietly directed him to a room off to the right. The door was a nice wood – Patrick didn’t know what kind, but he knew it wasn’t one of those cheap doors that could fall apart at any moment like his mom had. When she opened the door Patrick expected the room to have only a bed and a place to put clothes. What he found instead was a room that was made to be lived in.
There were framed drawings on the walls of nature scenes that instantly calmed him. There was a huge window on one wall that overlooked the street out front of the house. The bed was only a twin but on it was a set of sheets that looked new, warm, and inviting. Even more surprising was the amount of light the room held. There was a big light overhead, but there was also a lamp on a table next to the bed. It was a simple red and white lamp that had the Canadian flag all over the lampshade. Patrick had to hold back a smile because right next to that lamp was a stack of books just waiting to be read. He couldn’t immediately tell what they were, but based on the cover of the top one they were probably about sports – Patrick loved baseball though he’d never really played, just watched it on TV.
The most surprising part was when Marcy opened the closet and revealed all the clothes inside. There was an array of colors and styles. Patrick slowly moved closer and tentatively reached out to touch each piece. Then he looked up at Marcy and she nodded. Without saying a word he knew they had bought all these clothes, just for him. He quickly wondered how they knew what to get him, but figured Isaac must have spoken to them before he arrived. After all, that seemed to be how things usually worked. The grown ups decided what Patrick needed and he just had to willfully go along with it.
Marcy moved over to the dresser that sat next to the closet and opened up one of the drawers. She left it open, not touching anything inside it.
“Patrick, I am going to go across the hall and start running the water for your bath. The pajamas are here. Pick whichever ones you want to wear and then come find me. Okay?”
Patrick nodded his head with a jerk. This woman was giving him unsupervised, free reign in this room? He was scared to even touch anything. This was a test. She wanted to see if he would grab something just so she could yell at him and take it away. Patrick moved away from the closet and stood in the middle of the room not touching anything. He was frozen. He couldn’t risk failing this test. He already liked these people and he couldn’t risk messing that up in less than a day. He didn’t know how long he stood in the middle of the room, but soon Clint stood in the doorway looking at him quizzically.
“Is there something wrong son?” Clint didn’t move toward Patrick, but he could tell by his microexpressions that he desperately wanted to.
“I didn’t steal it. I didn’t touch anything. I promise. Please don’t send me back.” Patrick couldn’t help the tears that streamed down his face as he looked at Clint, desperate.
“What do you mean?” Clint looked from Patrick to the dresser and back to Patrick.
“She told me to grab pajamas and meet her in the bathroom. I promise I didn’t touch anything. I passed the test.” Patrick spoke a mile a minute, not pausing to take a breath.
“Oh.” Clint finally understood and he slowly moved into the room. He didn’t touch Patrick. Instead, he went over to the dresser and pulled out a couple of options. “You know, Marcy likes a good test as much as any teacher, but this wasn’t a test, son.”
He still didn’t meet Patrick’s eyes or admonish him for crying. “She simply wanted you to decide what you wanted to wear. I don’t think she realized you’d be overwhelmed and need to be given a couple of clear options.”
Clint turned around and squatted down to meet Patrick at his level, “So, do you want the blue, green or red bottoms?”
Patrick stared at the flannel plaid options before him and reached quickly for the green ones. Clint smiled and also handed him a green shirt to match. Then he stood up and motioned his head toward the bathroom across the hall. It was his silent way of saying, “let’s go.” Patrick appreciated Clint so much in that moment. For the first time ever, he was respected for having feelings and not told he couldn’t express those feelings. Patrick was still nervous that the other shoe would drop, but for a little bit he felt maybe he could let his guard down and take a warm bath.
Once in the bathroom, the smell of something hit Patrick’s nose and his tears subsided. In fact, a great calm came over him and he knew that things were okay for a little bit longer. Marcy’s smile faded as she saw his tear streaked cheeks. Clint shook his head and stopped her by saying, “We got a bit overwhelmed, but it’s all sorted now.” Patrick nodded in agreement. He didn’t wish to speak and Clint gave him the perfect out.
“Well, okay then. I have put a bit of lavender into your bath water, that’s what you smell. It has calming properties and should help you relax so you can sleep easy tonight. I am going to leave you here to wash up.”
Patrick’s panic must’ve shown in his eyes because Clint stepped in, “I think I’ll hang out in here just to keep him company, Marce.”
Marcy looked between them slightly confused, but she let it go. Marcy patted Clint on the cheek and gave Patrick a smile before she took her leave.
Later that night, Patrick was sleeping when his mind turned to thoughts of terrifying images. His new parents turned into giant monsters who towered over him and had fire coming from their eyes and heads. They had booming voices that said, You are bad. You are too much trouble. You don’t deserve nice things. You deserve to go back. You deserve to be taught your place. You shouldn’t speak, just stand there and don’t move.
The images terrified him but even more he felt the air around him close in and Clint and Marcy crowded up into him and forced him down into a hole in the ground. They told him that was all he deserved. Patrick kicked and fought as they tried to force him into the hole. He was screaming as loud as he could for anyone, for Isaac, to come and save him.
The light in his room came on and Marcy’s warm touch gently shook him out of the nightmare he was having. He realized it was only a nightmare when he heard her soft, loving voice telling him things. He couldn’t quite make out what she was saying because the roaring was in his ears again. But as the tears fell from his eyes and the reality of his world came back into focus, he could discern from her face that she was reassuring him with her words.
As everything came back to reality and the roaring floated away from his ears, Patrick found he could speak aloud.
“You guys were big and scary and trying to push me into a hole. You said that’s all I deserved. It was dark and I couldn’t breathe.” Patrick hiccuped through his words and didn’t dare to look at Marcy. He knew she’d be disappointed in him. That he would even suggest she could ever be that kind of person.
“Well, that’s a new one. Do you want to talk about it some more?” Marcy asked, she didn’t tell him his visions were wrong or that he was silly for having them. She simply pushed past that and asked him if he wanted to talk about it.
Patrick shook his head and pulled his knees back up to his chest. The tears continued to fall, he was surprised he still had any after the day he’d had. He watched as Marcy smoothed the blanket at the end of his bed. She didn’t move any closer to him now that he was awake. It was as if she was giving him space to breathe. Patrick couldn’t understand why she was doing all of this. So he asked her.
“Why?” His voice came out soft and hoarse.
“Why what, my sweet boy?” Marcy looked at him with only softness in her eyes. There was a twinkle there that Patrick didn’t understand or fully trust.
“Why are you being so nice? I called you a monster. I almost destroyed the bed?” He looked at the tangled mess of sheets around him.
“Oh my dear, sweet boy. You didn’t call me a monster, your scared dreams did. As for the mess, that’s okay. You should see Clint’s side of the bed when he wakes up.” She gave him a smile and patted the bed as if to say she wanted to pat him but knew he couldn’t handle that.
“But aren’t my dreams a part of me?”
“Dreams like the one you just had are from a deep part of yourself that needs to be shown love and understanding.”
Patrick took notice of how she didn’t say yes or no to his question, she simply validated his feelings with an answer.
“You said it was dark and scary. Was the lamp not enough light for you?” Marcy asked, her concern leaked into every word that she said. Patrick nodded. Marcy nodded in understanding then she moved from where she was at the end of his bed.
He waited. Waited for her to say, “Please pack your things. We changed our minds. We can’t handle you after all. You’re too damaged.” But it never came. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and let him cry his nightmare away on her shoulder. When she left she kept the light on.
The next morning, Patrick woke up to the sound of someone playing the piano that he’d seen in the room off the kitchen last night. The music was beautiful and carried the most lightest of touches as it floated up the stairs into his bedroom. But, then jarringly a wrong key was pressed and the magic was gone. He looked around the room and saw that his lights were both still on from the night before. The closet door, which he had left open last night – out of fear of what could lurk there in the dark – was now closed. On the chair on the other side of his bed he saw that someone had placed a couple of clothing options out for him to choose from. There was a completely blue outfit and one that was a simple white shirt that was paired with a red t-shirt and grey sweats. Patrick reached for that one and stared at them. They were brand new – he had never touched brand new clothes like this before. If he’d been in a better headspace last night he would’ve noticed the same thing about his pajamas.
He realized he needed to use the restroom, so he went in search of either Clint or Marcy. He had to be sure it was ok for him to use their bathroom.
Just as he reached the landing he heard Marcy wishing someone goodbye. Maybe it was the person who had butchered the song that Patrick had woken up to. Not moments later, Patrick had reached the bottom stair when he heard Clint open the door and the sound of fast paced feet could be heard. He saw a young boy almost streak past him without notice, but then the boy screeched to a halt and stared at him. Patrick shuffled his feet and stared at the ground. He always hated when people looked at him like he was an exhibit at the zoo.
“Marce, he’s here.” Clint hollered from the front sitting room, not realizing Patrick was also on the stairs.
Marcy came into view of the stairs and sighed at the sight of the boy who had run inside before noticing Patrick. She clicked her tongue and motioned for his right hand. Patrick saw that he wore a baseball glove.
“Theodore Mullens, what have I said about bringing your baseball glove to piano practice?” Marcy put a hand on her hip and gave him a stern, but kind look.
The boy, Theodore, rolled his eyes, sighed heavily, and removed his glove with a huff. “These fingers are meant for music and they can’t do that properly if they’ve been shoved into a glove first.”
“Precisely, dear.” Marcy took the glove and placed it on a shelf by Patrick’s head. “Oh Patrick, there is cereal or bread in the kitchen if you want to make yourself some breakfast.”
From behind Theodore, and out of sight of his wife, Clint winked at Patrick and gave a mischievous smile. “Come on, son, I’ll get you taken care of.”
Patrick nodded his head and followed Clint into their kitchen. He could hear Theodore asking questions as he and Marcy got settled in for his lesson.
“Mrs. Brewer, who is that boy?”
“His name is Patrick and he lives with us now.” Marcy replied, “Never mind that right now though. You have music to learn.”
Theodore started to play a couple of notes but then he stopped again to ask another question, “Will you ever call me Ted?”
“Your mother blessed you with such a beautiful name, I plan on using it.” Marcy replied. Patrick smiled to himself as he heard her tap the piano signaling Ted should just play.
“So, we have frosted flakes or cheerios or toast.” Clint broke through Patrick’s distraction and called his attention back to the kitchen instead of the lesson happening beyond.
“Cheerios. Please” Patrick said quietly. He didn’t really know how to act because he still wasn’t used to being permitted to make decisions.
“Do you want any banana slices added to the cereal or blueberries maybe?” Clint asked with the fridge open to grab the milk.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had either.” Patrick wasn’t lying, fresh fruit like that was a privilege he rarely got and even then it wasn’t paired with cereal. He’d only ever had bananas after they were super mushy and about to go bad.
“Tell you what. How about I add a couple slices of banana and you can decide if you like it?” Clint looked at Patrick closely. It made him wonder if this man already knew he didn’t like blue things. Patrick wasn’t even sure why he didn’t like the color blue at all, but it had to be something in his past, right?
He didn’t like dark blues because they reminded him of thunderstorms that scared him. It made him think that the world was closing in and he would either be swallowed up or drown. But with regular or light blues his aversion didn’t make sense to him. He supposed maybe greyish blues reminded him of the way his mom always looked when she took too many drugs. But again, that didn’t explain the regular blue colors.
“Son?” Clint asked again.
“Sorry.” Patrick shrugged his shoulders and shrunk within himself. He couldn’t believe he’d zoned out like that. It was so rude of him to ignore Clint like that. “Sure, you can put in bananas.”
He didn’t really want any bananas added, but he figured Clint couldn’t be mad at him if he agreed to what Clint asked. He didn’t exactly like bananas, but again, Clint had suggested it so he figured it’s best to just go along.
“Patrick, if you don’t want the bananas I don’t have to put them in.”
“No. That’s okay.” Patrick shrugged and sat down at the table, waiting for Clint to give him his cereal.
Clint handed him the bowl and then sat down on the other end of the table to read his paper. Patrick ate each bite slowly and calculatedly. He avoided scooping up the bananas with each bite he took. He forgot that he had originally come downstairs to use the bathroom because Clint and Marcy had been so earnest in getting him his breakfast. But, he remembered just as his bladder let go right there in the kitchen, right as Ted and Marcy came in for a break.
He stood up and started to cry. Now he was going to get it. He had ruined the clothes they had let him sleep in and he had made their kitchen dirty. Plus, worst of all he had embarrassed them in front of someone else. Patrick knew he needed to go to the bathroom to clean up, but he couldn’t move. He was frozen in fear and embarrassment for what had happened. He was thirteen years old. He should be able to control himself. He just kept crying, even as Clint reached him and gently started to guide him toward the bathroom. Patrick freaked out and shoved Clint's hands off of him. He watched as Clint backed away slowly with his hands up and in plain view.
“Hey, Patrick is it?” Ted stepped forward and Patrick turned his attention toward the other young boy. Patrick nodded and swiped his arm across his eyes and sniffed back the snot coming out of his nose.
“I know where the bathroom is, we could go up and get you cleaned up?” Ted’s voice was soft and kind, but also hesitant.
Patrick nodded and followed Ted with his head hung down in shame as he walked past Marcy.
“You know, Mr. and Mrs. Brewer are the best people. They aren’t mad this happened. They’ll just clean everything up and move on.” Ted said over his shoulder as he led the way up the stairs.
Once they had both hit the landing he motioned toward the bathroom door and nodded his head. “Why don’t you go ahead and start, I’ll go to your room and grab your clothes. Do you know what you want to wear?”
Patrick couldn’t find the words so he just shook his head and shrugged. Ted nodded and smiled.
“No worries, I got this.” Ted moved toward the room that was open, Patrick’s room. Then seeing that Patrick hadn’t moved he added, “Go. I won’t let them come in and bother you. Just get washed up. I’ll knock so you can let me in.”
Patrick jerked a couple of nods to his head and then disappeared into the bathroom. Once inside the bathroom he quickly stripped all the clothes off of himself. He debated running a whole bath and decided to just use a washcloth to get rid of the remnants. He kept scrubbing and scrubbing at his skin to make himself clean. He had been wrong to mess up this bad. It was one thing to have a nightmare, but totally different to wet yourself at breakfast. His skin was starting to turn red and yet he couldn’t stop himself from continuing.
The knock on the door stopped Patrick in his tracks. He quickly grabbed a towel from the shelf by the sink and wrapped it around his waist. He then scrambled to figure out where to put the washcloth. He didn’t want Ted to think that he had been scrubbing himself this whole time. He tossed the cloth into the hamper and opened the door. He stepped aside and let Ted come in.
“I don’t have to stay, I just wanted to give you this.” Ted held up the red and white ensemble Patrick had been assessing that morning. “I’m guessing this was what you wanted to wear? It was on your bed.”
Patrick bit his lip and nodded.
“You don’t talk much do you?” Ted observed as he set the clothes down on top of the hamper. Then he stepped backwards toward the door with a little grin, “Hap-pee to meet you.”
What should have caused Patrick to be more embarrassed actually made him laugh. He’d never had someone to share a joke with before. This kid didn’t know him at all and yet he was willing to help him out in this mortifying situation. Not only that, Ted hadn’t even teased him about it. Instead, he had made a pun that would make just about anyone groan. Patrick appreciated it and Ted. After the door closed behind him, Patrick bent over in laughter. He just couldn’t stop laughing. It didn’t make any sense, but the joy was bubbling up inside him and just wouldn’t go away.
He still hadn’t managed to stop laughing when the bathroom door opened again. He looked up and saw both Marcy and Clint staring at him with a smile on their face. He grabbed the shirt combo from the hamper and shoved it over his head. The giggles kept coming as he stood there trying to decide how insecure he was about them watching him get dressed. Before he could finish deciding, Marcy spoke.
“What has you laughing so hard?” Marcy asked, being sure not to look directly at Patrick so he felt comfortable with getting completely dressed in front of an audience.
“Ted.” Patrick shrugged as he pulled his pants up.
“I love that kid. He’s got a wicked throwing arm.” Clint exclaimed excitedly.
“Theodore is definitely a good one to have around.” Marcy agreed. “He’s actually waiting downstairs for you to finish up. He wants to hang out with you or something.” She shrugged.
“Can I?” Patrick couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled out of him. He forgot to be careful and not make any sudden moves. “I mean, he seems cool.”
“Of course you can.” Marcy smiled and patted his head as they all three walked out of the bathroom and back down the stairs.
Patrick rounded the corner into the front sitting room and found Ted sitting on the couch practically bursting out of his skin. When he heard Patrick walk up he jumped up with a huge grin on his face. Patrick had never known someone to be that excited to see him, of all people. In fact, most of his life no one noticed him at all. He simply existed.
“Now Theodore,” Marcy’s voice was firm but kind, “Please remember the rules.”
Patrick looked from Ted to Marcy completely lost. Rules? So, he wasn’t out of the woods yet. This was the real test. They’d want to see if Patrick would agree to go with this kid and break one of their rules he didn’t know about. Patrick immediately curled up on himself. Ted must have noticed because his next words were directed at Patrick.
“My mom has a set of rules I have to abide by whenever I go anywhere in the neighborhood. Even when I come over here for piano. I can’t stay out past curfew – which is basically when the sun starts to go down. I can’t leave the neighborhood, which is this street and the next street over – only because that street holds the other half of the park that starts at the end of this street. And finally, I can’t be disrespectful to any adult or go with any adult I don’t know – which duh.” Ted grinned a smile that almost split his face in half.
Patrick smirked and decided right then he would always stick with Ted. Ted would never let anything bad happen to him. He was a good person with a heart bigger than his whole body.
“Oh.”
“Now, Mrs. Brewer, I would glove to play catch with Patrick. Can he come along?” Ted motioned for his glove that still sat on the shelf by the stairs. Marcy shook her head and smiled.
“Only if he wants to.” She handed Ted back his glove.
“I would, but I don’t have a glove.” Patrick mumbled and looked down at his shoes, embarrassed.
“Oh, son. I have one you can borrow. It might be a little big, but next weekend we can celebrate your first week of school by going out and getting you one of your own.” Clint grinned and moved to a chest that sat back by the fireplace that Patrick hadn’t noticed before. He opened it up and revealed it was filled with lots of odds and ends, knick knacks from a life well lived.
Moments later, Patrick was trailing after Ted as he skipped toward the park at the end of the block. The kid was probably around the same age as Patrick, but he was definitely a good 6 inches taller than him. It didn’t matter to Patrick at all because he was pretty sure he was making his first ever best friend. As he walked down the block he fiddled with the army man he had put in his pocket when the Brewers hadn’t been looking. He was very excited for this new adventure, but he still needed his army man for reassurance.
“Hey Patrick!” Ted called from a few feet in front, “Hurry up I want to show you something really cool!”
Patrick smiled and ran to catch up. He couldn’t wait to find out what his new friend had in store for him next. Was it going to be a secret place that only Ted knew about and was going to share with Patrick now that they were “hanging out”? Or was it some cool trick Ted knew with the baseball? Either way, Patrick couldn’t wait to be in on his first ever good secret. He’d only ever had to keep bad ones.
He caught up to Ted as he sat on one of the swings and motioned for Patrick to sit in the other one. Once Patrick was settled, Ted reached into his pocket and pulled out something small. He handed it over to Patrick who held it in the palm of his hand. Looking down he saw that it was a small plastic ball. It was tie-dye rainbow colors and if Patrick dropped it it would probably bounce pretty high. He looked over at Ted, confused. It was the taller teen’s turn to look a little embarrassed.
“My dad gave that to me for my fourth birthday. He had shown up to my party late and promised that there would be more when he got the chance. I guess he never got the chance because that was the last time I saw him, almost 10 years ago.” Ted shrugged and snatched the toy back and placed it in his pocket. “I saw your toy and wanted you to know it’s cool that you have one too.”
“I haven’t had this guy long. I only just found him a week or so before I moved homes. But he makes me feel safe, I guess.” Patrick held his toy loosely in his hand and twirled it around as he spoke.
“Mine makes me feel like my dad is there to protect me, even though he’s not.” Ted shook his head and grabbed his glove off the ground and tossed Patrick the one Clint had loaned him. “Let’s throw the ball around. I gotta practice.”
“Are you on a team?” Patrick was in awe of Ted already. “I’ve always wanted to play.”
“Yeah, I’m on a summer league team right now, but when we get to high school I’ll join a school team.” Ted tossed Patrick the ball and he easily caught it.
Then he wound his arm back and tossed the ball back at Ted. “How do you get on a team?”
“You mean you really don’t know?” Ted paused to study Patrick. Not in a pity way or an about to tease him way, but an I’m intrigued by you way. “It’s actually very easy.”
“Before now, I’ve only known hiding out from my mom and her druggie friends/boyfriend, if she was even around. Most of the time I watched out for myself. I didn’t have time for sports, unless I watched them on TV.” Something about Ted made Patrick feel at ease to tell him this little bit about himself.
“Oh. My mom isn’t always around either, but not in a bad way. She just has to work. Single mom and all.” Ted tossed the ball back at Patrick, there wasn’t any pity in his voice or the way he looked at him and for that Patrick was grateful.
As the two of them headed back to the Brewer home a few hours later, Ted wrapped his arm around Patrick’s shoulder. “You know I learned two things today.”
“What’s that?”
“One, you aren’t actually half bad for someone who’s never played sports before. And two, I’m so glad you moved to the neighborhood.”
As Patrick returned Ted’s smile he couldn’t help but agree. He was glad he moved to the neighborhood too.
September 2002
Patrick was in a tizzy. He needed to figure out what he was going to wear, but he couldn’t decide. Nothing in his closet fit what he wanted to achieve. It all had to be perfect on this momentous day. Today he was going to be theirs, for real. Today, Patrick would become Patrick Brewer. He had to find the perfect outfit to show just how special this moment meant to him.
“Mom!” He yelled for Marcy, then he stopped. When had he become comfortable with calling her mom instead of Marcy? It had happened gradually over the past year, but still it surprised him.
“Yes, my sweet boy?” Marcy asked as she approached his room. Her words turned to frustration when she saw him. “Patrick! We are supposed to be at the courthouse in an hour. Why aren’t you dressed yet?”
“That’s just it. I don’t have anything to wear!” Patrick threw up his hands in frustration.
“A year ago that line would have worked. Now you have a whole closet of clothes.” She moved to assess the situation and gasped at the mess he’d made in his attempt to find something suitable.
“Patrick Michael Brewer!” Marcy only used all of his names when she was upset with him, which wasn’t often. “What is this mess?”
Clint must’ve heard the commotion because he came to the doorway adjusting his tie underneath his navy blue sweater. Patrick looked at his dad in his sweater and matching tie. Then he looked at his mom in her royal blue dress with flowers all over it.
“That’s it!” Patrick grabbed his mom to get her attention. “Mom!”
“Yes.”
“Where are the sweaters and things you guys got for me when I first moved in? The ones I didn’t ever touch?” Patrick’s eyes were dancing. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.
“The blue things?” Clint asked from his spot by the door.
“Oh my sweet boy we put those in storage. Why are you asking about them now?” Marcy couldn’t figure out where her son was headed, but she wanted to support him.
“I couldn’t find anything to wear because nothing fit what I felt was needed for today. It’s a special day and none of these clothes are special enough. I need one of my blue sweaters.” Patrick started to move past Clint. He knew they kept “storage” in the garage. He hoped to find the sweaters in there.
Marcy and Clint followed him. “Sweetie, you don’t have to put yourself through that just for us or whatever you think this day needs to have.”
“You don’t get it mom. I have to wear blue.”
“Okay then explain it to me. Patrick, sweetie, I want to understand.” Marcy grabbed his arm to stop him in his tracks and pause his maniacal quest for blue.
Patrick took a deep breath and looked from his mom to his dad. “Dad’s wearing his blue sweater and matching tie, you are wearing your favorite blue dress. Today is the day we become a family. We should all look like we belong together.”
“Okay, well then your father and I should change.” Marcy started, but Patrick stopped her.
“You misunderstand. I used to be scared of blue because it made me think of all the bad things in my life: my mom, being alone, darkness, thunderstorms. All of that. Only now, I’m not scared anymore. Sure, I still don’t like the dark and thunderstorms make me nervous. But, I’m not afraid of blue anymore. Now, blue means love and warmth and togetherness. I want to show that to the world today. The day we become a family.” Patrick could feel his eyes welling up with tears, but this time they weren’t scared tears, they were happy.
“My sweet, sweet Patrick.” Marcy pulled her son against her chest and continued, “We’ve been a family from the day you came to us.”
“Maybe, but I didn’t always believe it or trust it. I think a part of me still doesn’t trust it. I need this day to go perfectly because it’ll prove once and for all that the voices in my head are silly.” Patrick pulled out of the embrace to find that Clint had slipped out to the garage and had somehow quickly come back with the box of clothes already.
“Let’s see if we can’t find something special in here.” Clint smiled at Patrick and cupped the back of his head lovingly.
“I also decided something else.” Patrick stated, standing up as tall as he could manage.
“Oh dear. More change.” Clint whistled and Marcy swatted his arm.
“Whatever you decided, I am sure it’s wonderful.” She responded with her signature smile.
“I want to cut my hair.” Patrick exclaimed as he reached into the box and found the perfect shirt. It was a blue, red and white checked flannel. It wasn’t a sweater, but it was blue and it spoke to him. “This is the shirt to wear!”
“Honey, I hope you weren’t wanting to cut your hair today. We have to be at the courthouse in half an hour. There isn’t time.” Marcy placed a hand on his arm and Patrick looked her in the eye.
“No. Just in general. I want to cut my hair.” He smiled a cheeky grin before he bound back up the stairs to complete his ensemble.
“Patrick please be aware we need to be in the car and on our way in ten minutes!” Marcy yelled up the stairs after her son.
So much had changed in the year since she first laid eyes on that timid, scared, brown eyed boy with disheveled reddish brown hair and tattered clothing. He still had miles to go before he’d really and truly be okay, but Marcy was proud of him. He had managed to remain friends with Ted beyond that first day and while she worried he didn’t interact with anyone else she felt one friend was better than none. Yes, she was certain today was just the start of Patrick’s story. He was closing that old chapter of his life, but still bringing with him the trauma of his experiences. But, with the smile he now wore daily, Patrick was going to rise above it all and be stronger for it.
“I don’t understand why you keep saying that.” Ted was walking home with Patrick from school.
“Because last weekend it became official.” Patrick shrugged and turned to walk backwards so he could face his best friend. “There are no take backs.”
“Were you actually worried they would?” Ted took one look at Patrick before he added, “You did.”
“When you grow up not wanted it becomes really easy to believe no one will want you, not forever anyway.” Patrick shrugged. Then having enough of the serious topic he gave a wicked grin before taking off. “Race ya!” He called over his shoulder.
“No fair! You’re tiny and have a head start.” Ted whined as he picked up his pace. “You are un-bee-lievable!”
Patrick just turned around again and started jogging backwards. He laughed as he responded to his best friend’s ridiculous pun. “Buzz buzz. I’m flying circles around you!” Patrick began jogging in a circle around Ted who had gone back to walking.
Pretty soon they arrived at their street. Ted’s house was right on the corner. From the looks of it the house was dark — his mom was at work. Ted looked at it nervously and shuffled his feet.
“Hey, come over. Pretty sure mom made some cookies. We can work on our math homework.” Patrick patted his friend on the back and motioned toward his house three doors down.
“Ok.” Ted nodded his head and promptly agreed. The nerves left his face immediately.
They were laughing about another one of Ted’s puns when they walked in the Brewer’s front door. They were both toeing their shoes off when Marcy called out a greeting.
“Please close the door, Patrick you may think you live in a barn but you don’t.”
Patrick and Ted looked at each other, rolled their eyes, and laughed.
“Don’t think I don’t also hear Theodore. Did you ask his mom if he could come over?” Marcy added sternly. Patrick could tell she was in the kitchen. He motioned his hand for Ted to follow him.
“But mommmmm.” Patrick drew out her name indignantly. “Ted’s mom is working. I told him he could come here and do homework with me.”
Patrick didn’t even realize his mom had company until he saw some movement out of the corner of his eye. He immediately made himself smaller and turned to address the other person. But before he could even get a word out he was stopped in his tracks.
“Adelina?!” Patrick looked between his mom and the woman who had been his birth mom’s nosy neighbor. Patrick’s lip wobbled before he burst out in apologies.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked if Ted could come over. I promise I won’t complain when you ask me to close the front door. I’ll just remember to close it. I’m sorry I got a bad grade on my English test. I just didn’t understand one of the books we read. I’ll do better I promise.” Patrick didn’t take a breath as he streamed out each of his apologies.
“Patrick.” Marcy’s voice dropped lower and softer. “My sweet Patrick.” She placed her hand on his cheek to get his attention. Her thumb swiped away some tears that had escaped.
“Please. Give me another chance. I don’t want to go back!”
“Patrick, remember, we adopted you last week. We would never send you back. Never.” Marcy moved her hand to cup the back of his head and rubbed there soothingly.
“But, Adelina.” Patrick was entirely confused.
“She’s a dear friend of mine from the gardening club I’m in. She came over to check and see how you were doing.” Marcy kissed Patrick on his forehead and moved aside so Adelina and Patrick could make eye contact again.
“About a year and a half ago when your mother died I told Marcy there was a boy who needed her love and attention. Then I put her in contact with Isaac, he’d asked me a few questions when he first came round to do a welfare check. Before your mom had died.” Adelina told Patrick her story and he just stared at her.
Without a word in response Patrick ran up the stairs two at a time to the safety of his bedroom. He didn’t check to see if Ted had followed or not. He was too caught up in the mixed flurry of emotions. He was still on edge from thinking he would be sent back. He wanted to be glad that his mom’s old neighbor had stepped in but a part of him still hated her for doing that and pulling him from the only life he’d known. Even now when he should be over the moon grateful that he was given this second chance with the Brewers.
Ted quietly opened his door with a knock. “Hey.” He whispered and slowly approached his best friend’s bed. He sat on the end of it.
“If your dad were to walk in the door today how would you feel?” Patrick asked softly.
“I’d be mad at him for leaving, but happy he decided to come back. But, also nervous about him leaving again.” Ted patted Patrick’s foot and then like a blessing from above said, “hey I need help understanding this math stuff. Wanna help?”
Patrick smiled and nodded. They pulled out their books and got started. The subject of Adelina’s presence and Patrick’s mini freak out are all but abandoned.