The Geek and His Artist (32 page)

“You’re a bit of a special case, Simon. Since you are already seventeen and almost an adult, you don’t have quite the same process as others would. Sometimes these things can be a long, drawn-out process. But as you graduate in only a few months and turn eighteen shortly after, some of it isn’t necessary.” Mrs. Andrews pulled out a folder and legal pad. She glanced down at something on the top page. “This is what’s called a ‘Shelter Hearing’ where they approve the temporary custodianship to the Bennets.”

“Right, I think you said that yesterday? Or am I remembering something else?”

She smiled. “You’re sharp. I figured with all the rest yesterday, you’d forget.”

He shook his head.

“Okay, then. Because we’ve requested the hearing especially for today, you’ll be seen first.” Adrian was looking at his own folder. “You’ve discussed the questions?” he asked Mrs. Andrews.

She nodded. “Yeah, we went over them yesterday. I really don’t think there’ll be a problem.”

Simon let the legal chatter go over his head. He was too nervous to pay much attention, anyway. He met Jimmy’s gaze, and Jimmy gave him a bolstering smile. He took a deep breath.

A frighteningly short time later, Simon’s name was called, and the group filed into the courtroom. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the tiny room wasn’t quite it. He decided he’d just seen too much television. The dark wood “bench” stretched along one wall, but only rose slightly above the floor. A huge Allegheny County Family Court seal hung on the wall behind it. On one end of the room, an older lady sat, looking over a stack of papers, and at the other, a man in a long-sleeve white shirt with a badge hanging around his neck sorted through folders.

Simon followed Mrs. Andrews and Jack to a table not far from the door. Two uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs sat directly behind it, with another shoved in at the end. An identical table sat near the opposite wall, with the same type of chairs, both empty. Along the wall behind Simon, Mrs. Andrews, and Jack, the Bennets and Adrian took seats. Mrs. Andrews patted Simon’s hand, and then she and Jack started pulling out folders and papers and legal pads.

A phone rang up on the bench, and the man with the badge answered. Simon didn’t hear the reply, but then the man returned the receiver to the cradle and stood. “All rise!”

Simon struggled to his feet. He leaned on the crutches as the man with the badge introduced the Honorable Marcus Nivens and called the court to session. The man who walked in set off every bit of Simon’s gaydar, and he hoped that was a good sign. He swallowed and glanced back at Jimmy, who smiled and winked. The judge gave Simon a friendly smile, making his blue eyes crinkle at the corners, before he took a seat.

“Please be seated!”

Simon rubbed his palms on his pants and tried not to let the butterflies in his stomach riot out of control. He glanced over at the empty table again, then forced himself to pay attention as Mrs. Andrews answered the basic questions about the case and introduced Jack. Jack stood, handed a paper up to Badge Guy, then sat again. He confirmed he was Simon’s attorney and was from KidsVoice.

“Mrs. Andrews, what are the circumstances for removing Simon from the home?” Judge Nivens asked.

Simon swallowed.

“Simon is a victim of domestic abuse by his father, Peter Williams.” Despite the buzz in Simon’s ear, he heard the strain in Mrs. Andrews’s voice. “Saturday evening, at 8:33 p.m., he was brought in to the Presbyterian Hospital Emergency Room. The X-rays confirmed a broken ankle, three bruised ribs, and several other bruises. I was contacted by Amy Carney, an intern from the Department of Public Welfare and the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet.” She pulled out a few forms and handed them up to Badge Guy. “These are the hospital reports and initial call-in report from Children, Youth and Families. When I responded and spoke to Simon, he confirmed the abuse from his father. I did not see his father once while I was at the hospital. We’ve been unsuccessful in making contact with him since then.” She paused to pull another piece of paper out. “Sunday, Children, Youth and Families requested a protection from abuse order for Simon and the Bennet family.” She handed this over.

“How were the Bennets chosen to shelter Simon?” Judge Nivens asked.

“Jimmy is a long-time school friend of Simon’s, and his parents, when made aware of the abuse, offered shelter, knowing Simon had no other family.”

The judge nodded and fell silent. He read something, flipped a couple of the papers over, then looked up again. “Simon, I’d like to ask you a few questions. Can you sit over here?” He pointed to a chair at the end of the bench.

Simon pulled himself up and wiggled around Mrs. Andrews’s chair, then hobbled to the seat indicated. He sat down, propped the crutches to the side, and rubbed his palms on his pants again. His heart pounded so hard, he almost didn’t hear Badge Guy asking him to swear to tell the truth. He managed to hold a hand up and say he would.

“Simon,” the judge said, drawing Simon’s attention to him.

He forced himself to focus. “Yes, Your Honor?” He silently thanked Mrs. Andrews for coaching him on that the day before.

“Simon, can you tell me what it was like when you lived with your father?”

Even with the gentle tone of voice, Simon couldn’t stop his reaction. His stomach did a very complicated flip-and-twist before tying itself in a horribly intricate knot. He wasn’t sure it would ever completely unravel. His heart pounded in his chest and tried to crawl up his throat. He swallowed and willed himself to calm down. He closed his eyes, did his best to take a breath—not nearly deep enough—and started speaking.

Talking about it was almost worse than when it originally happened. He found he couldn’t look at Jimmy or the Bennets, couldn’t even look at Mrs. Andrews. He tried to focus on the judge, but he couldn’t sustain eye contact for long. Instead, he concentrated on the knees of his pants as he forced the words through his lips. Nightmares he’d long ago suppressed resurfaced, and as he recounted them, his throat dried up and his hands shook no matter how hard he gripped his knees.

He tried not to see them in his mind’s eye—the broken easel, the mop handle, the steel-toed boots, the heavy ashtray, the beer bottles. He tried not to think about the insults. At the time, he’d thought them the better option, but he’d since learned better. He didn’t want to remember the punches, the kicks, and the hair-pulling. But he forced them out, hoping the words were coherent enough.

He paused when a glass of water was held in front of him. He hadn’t even noticed anyone move. He took it and swallowed some of the water, then held it out with a shaky hand. Badge Guy gave him an encouraging smile as he took the glass back.

“Take your time, Simon. I know this is hard,” the judge said, and Simon looked up at him and nodded.

He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

“Just a few more questions, but these aren’t hard, I promise.”

Simon nodded again. He breathed a bit of relief as he explained he was happy at the Bennets’ house, liked Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, and felt safe there. Finally he was allowed to go back to the table.

He listened to his new mom and dad answer basic questions about their house and jobs. They discussed being financially sound and able to take care of another child. Then they both, separately, talked about wanting Simon with them.

Once they’d finished, Simon was surprised when the judge granted the request only a few moments later. Immediately after that, they stepped out of the courtroom.

Simon managed to smile at Mrs. Andrews, shake Jack’s and Adrian’s hands, and make it to the elevator. As soon as they stepped in, though, he turned and threw himself against Jimmy, who wrapped him up tightly in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Jimmy murmured. “So, so sorry.” He ran his hands over Simon’s back until the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Simon pulled himself together and followed the Bennets out to the lobby.

“Are you up for lunch?” Mom asked.

Simon took a deep breath, struggling to battle the memories back into their box.

“We don’t have to, Simon,” Dad said, and Simon opened his eyes, looking up at the older version of Jimmy. He had one hand on Simon’s shoulder and an expression of misery on his face.

Simon didn’t want them hurt. Didn’t want them upset, miserable, or anything else. But he could admit it helped him to know they cared so much. He took another breath. “I want to go.” He met Dad’s soft brown eyes and swallowed. “Thank you.”

Dad smiled, squeezing his shoulder. “We’re glad to do it. So… where do we go for lunch?”

A
S
J
IMMY
turned his computer off and stood up to get ready for bed, he couldn’t help but worry about Simon. Simon had seemed to calm down and lightened up a bit when they’d gone to the Primanti Brothers in Market Square for lunch. His expression at the sandwich—typical for anyone seeing the stack of meat, cheese, fries, and coleslaw stuffed between slabs of bread for the first time—was downright comical. The sandwiches
were
a lot to take in, and Jimmy loved seeing Simon laugh at his own attempts to eat the gargantuan thing.

But as the day wore on, Simon got quieter and quieter. Part of that might have been the homework Simon struggled with, but Jimmy knew part was undoubtedly the horrible morning. Jimmy tried to draw him out, cheer him up—as did Mom—but nothing seemed to work. Jimmy guessed Simon was just trying to dealing with the emotional trauma. Jimmy just wished there was something he could do.

The only other thing Jimmy could think of was the news that Simon’s counseling intake had been scheduled. He knew Simon didn’t want to go, wanted to try to just forget about the shit The Bastard did to him, but Jimmy knew that wasn’t going to work. Simon needed counseling, needed to talk things out with someone to be able to get past the years of abuse. He’d promised to go with Simon, be there when it was over, and Simon had nodded, but Jimmy wasn’t sure if what he said got through.

Jimmy shook his head and went to the dresser to pull out boxers. He still wasn’t quite used to sleeping in clothes, but he wasn’t about to possibly freak Simon out by going to bed completely naked. He didn’t think Simon would really
mind
—his boyfriend was delightfully sexual—but he was a little afraid it would push things too far.

He’d just tossed the boxers onto the bed to change when he heard the sound of glass shattering. As soon as he realized it came from the bathroom where Simon was, he dashed out of the room and across the small landing to the bathroom. Simon was staring with a horrified expression at the now-broken little glass jar Mom had kept on the counter for cotton balls. Glass shards intermingled with the cotton, and Jimmy looked around to find a towel to put the shards on when he realized there was blood on Simon’s hand.

Simon didn’t seem to notice. The look of horror on his face shifted into terror. “Oh God, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I don’t know—”

“Whoa, it’s okay, baby!” Jimmy stepped over the worst of the glass to wrap Simon up in his arms. “It’s no big deal, really.”

Mom showed up then and seemed to take in the whole scene in about three seconds flat. “Get him to your room so we can clean it up,” she said quietly to Jimmy.

When Jimmy lifted Simon into his arms and stepped over the glass, Mom followed him into their room. He sat Simon on the bed and looked back to see Dad carrying a broom and dustpan into the bathroom. He turned back to Simon and kissed his boyfriend’s temple. “Really, it’s okay. Mom doesn’t care, it’s just a little jar.” He wrapped himself around Simon as much as he could, but nothing he said or did seemed to be able to calm Simon down. He sent a panicked look at his mom.

She knelt in front of Simon and, heedless of the blood, took his hands. “Simon,” she said, firmly, “look at me.”

It took him a few more seconds before he finally focused on her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s fine. I know you didn’t. I’m not going to punish you. It was an accident. Do you hear me?”

Simon swallowed a few times, then took a breath. “It’s… you’re… not?”

She shook her head. “No. There’s nothing to punish for. It’s all right. I promise.”

Jimmy felt Simon’s breathing start to calm, and he felt horrible. He had no idea what to do, how to fix something like that. He took a breath. “I’ll get stuff to clean that up,” he murmured, kissing Simon on the temple.

He gathered a towel, peroxide, and Band-Aids and hurried back. His mom was still kneeling in front of Simon, and she reached for the supplies, but something on his face must have stopped her.

She stood up instead, kissed the top of Simon’s head, and stepped to the side. “I’m going to make sure it’s cleaned up. It really is okay, Simon.”

Simon looked up, and the expression on his face made him look so young and scared. “Thank you,” Simon whispered.

She smiled and kissed him on the forehead again. “No worries. Now, once Jimmy cleans those cuts, you get some rest, okay? It’s been a crazy day.”

Simon nodded without speaking, and she left, closing the door behind her. Jimmy focused on the cuts, cleaning them carefully, saddened when Simon didn’t even flinch from the peroxide. Jimmy knew it had to hurt. “I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t have to hurt you.”

“It’s okay,” Simon replied, and Jimmy heard the shakiness still in his voice.

“No, it’s not. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Really, I d—uh, I’ll be okay. They’re small cuts.”

Jimmy looked up and tried to meet Simon’s gaze, but he couldn’t catch it. He was pretty sure he knew what Simon had almost said, and it made him want to hunt The Bastard down all over again. “You don’t deserve it, Simon,” he said quietly, going back to cleaning the cuts. There weren’t too many, but Jimmy wanted to make sure he didn’t miss any glass. “You never
deserve
something like this.”

“He did it, you know,” Simon murmured.

Jimmy looked up again. “What?”

“I broke a bowl once, this big glass one my mom had. It slipped right out of my wet hands when I was washing it and shattered in the sink. He, uh, took one of the pieces and cut my hand with it as punishment.”