Chapter 11
Jonas
I was nearly done making breakfast when Eddie stumbled down the stairs, dressed, his hair sprayed into submission, his eyes groggy. When he plopped down at the table, I quietly slid his plate in front of him and handed him an orange juice. He devoured the bagel in record time, then picked each fruit out one at a time, eating all the grapes, then the strawberries, and so on.
“You know, you’ve always picked through your fruit like that, even when you were a toddler,” I said.
“You’ve told me before,” Eddie said.
“Do you like the new cream cheese? It’s French.”
“It tastes like a bagel.”
I laughed. “You should probably shake off that funk before we get going. Today is going to be hard enough; starting the day off with grumpy will only exacerbate things.”
“Can you use normal words? Please, Dad. It’s a weekend. I don’t want to think this hard on a weekend. It’s bad enough I have to spend the day with him.”
“That reminds me. You’ll need a spiral notebook and something to write with.”
Eddie looked at me, eyes a little wide. “What for?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full." I sighed. “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but the quickest way to end this is to do it right the first time. Principal Moss insisted that you both journal your experience and thoughts. She wants to make sure that you’re getting out of it what you should be.”
“That a bully can push me until my breaking point, then we both get punished because the school didn’t handle him sooner." Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a great lesson for both of us. He gets away with everything, and I get caught under the zero-tolerance rule. I was defending myself.”
“I am not thrilled with how they’re handling this, either, but maybe this will be good for you.”
He was taking his dish to the sink when I said it. As soon as the words left my mouth, he spun and glared at me. “Good for me? Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, Eddie. But this isn’t going to be the only bully you know in your life. If you don’t learn solid conflict resolution now—”
“You’re victim blaming!” he accused.
“You’re twisting my words. And I’m not saying this is your fault. What I am saying is that in your adult life, you’re going to run into a lot of people just like this kid. If you know how to handle things, life will be easier.”
Eddie shook his head, grabbing his backpack and throwing it over his shoulder with more force than he needed. “I’ll be in the car.”
I followed him out, and we rode silently to Hopeway House.
Eddie got out of the car before I’d put it in park, his shoulders still stiff with anger at what I’d said. I groaned inwardly and prepared myself for the day ahead. If he thinks he’s mad, he should be me, I thought.
I counted to ten, then let out a breath, then repeated the process. When I opened the door, I wasn’t any calmer, but I’d resigned myself to the day ahead. I was going to do what I could to make this as easy for Eddie as possible. Even if he didn’t think I was.
I signed in and hurried to catch up with Eddie, who had already signed his name in the book and was heading toward a double door that led to a small conference room. He pulled the door open, and I caught it just as it started to swing shut. Then I heard a sound that made my blood run cold, and suddenly, I wasn’t so interested in conflict resolution.
“‘Sup, loser?” a teen voice sneered when Eddie walked over the threshold.
The hair on my arms stood, and I fought the rage. Then I froze as another voice spoke.
“Leo, please! We’re supposed to be resolving our issues, not creating new ones. You promised you would try.”
I shook my head, dazed. “There’s no way.”
But when I entered the room, my eyes landed on the familiar face I’d watched, the shoulder-length luscious hair I’d run my fingers through just the night before. “Arthur,” I said, shocked, my voice breathless.
He looked from me to Eddie, then to the teen who sat near him, glaring at Eddie, then back at me again. When he hung his head and stared at his fingers, I knew it was real.
A kind-looking woman with a low ponytail and plain blonde hair smiled from the head of the table. “I see that everyone is here,” she said. “I’m Mrs. Granger. I’ll be your facilitator today.”
“I thought we were feeding the homeless or something,” the teen sitting with Arthur said with a laugh. “What are you going to ‘facilitate’?" He used his hands to make dramatic air quotes, and my ire rose.
Arthur looked mortified, but the woman was unruffled. “You must be Leo,” she said warmly. “I look forward to helping you through this difficult time in your life. I hope you’ll find working with military vets an enjoyable and rewarding experience.”
“Whatever,” Leo said.
“Leo, please,” Arthur hissed.
Arthur hadn’t looked at me since that initial moment when everything had fallen into place. I wasn’t sure I could make eye contact right then, anyway. I was so angry, I was having a hard time keeping my breathing calm and even.
Keep it together. You can’t let Eddie see you lose your temper, I thought, but it was doing nothing to calm me.
How could Arthur raise a bully? Bad kids came from bad homes. I’d seen it time and time again. If Leo was acting out, there was a reason.
What had I gotten myself into?
Mrs. Granger was still talking, her singsong voice grating on my nerves as I fought to keep myself under control. It was a losing battle.
“So, Leo,” Mrs. Granger said. “Tell me what led to this moment. Why are you here?”
“Principal Moss sent me here,” Leo said with a derisive snort.
“Of course, she did, Leo,” came Mrs. Granger’s placid response. “But what actions led her to make that decision?”
Leo shrugged. “I guess you could say that Eddie’s a giant pu—”
“Leo!” Arthur said.
Leo feigned a look of genuine surprise. “Father,” he mocked. “Are we not having an authentic conversation here? Are you policing my truth?”
“Knock it off, Leo,” Arthur said.
Leo leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Whatever. I was just saying what I was thinking. Eddie can act like a victim all he wants, but if he hadn’t called my father a fairy, I wouldn’t have had to pound him.”
Before I could say anything, Eddie was on his feet, leaning across the table toward Leo. I grabbed him around the waist and held him back as he shrieked in rage. “I never said anything about your father being gay. I didn’t know your father was gay.”
“Sure you didn’t,” Leo shot back, clearly amused that he’d gotten under Eddie’s skin.
I pulled Eddie back into his seat, but Eddie wasn’t done. “My father is gay, too, you moron.”
The smile slid off Leo’s face. He looked from Eddie to me, then back again, his jaw slack as he worked through everything. “But you look like him,” he said at last.
Eddie scowled and gave his head a little shake of confusion. “He’s my dad. Of course I look like him.”
“Now who’s the moron?” Leo said. “Two dudes can’t have a baby.”
“No,” Eddie said, his voice calmer now. “But my dad can use science and a surrogate." Eddie shrugged. “There’s more than one way to become a parent.”
I almost missed the moment that emotion covered Leo’s face, then was buried almost as quickly. He hid the pain behind blue eyes that were gorgeous and nearly gray, his sandy hair hanging in his eyes, in desperate need of a trim. He made the connections quickly, with mental leaps and bounds, and when he stopped taunting Eddie, I knew he’d figured it out.
I’d gone to great lengths and expense to become a father, and Eddie’s entire life, he’d never questioned whether he was wanted or not. Leo hadn’t been afforded that luxury, and I could see that pain colored how he viewed the world around him. I hadn’t gotten too far into Leo’s story with Arthur, but I had been working with kids like Leo for far too long not to see the writing on the wall.
Abandonment. I knew Leo was adopted; I just hadn’t known why until that moment. It was all starting to make sense, and that deep pain, coupled with Arthur’s obviously permissive parenting, was a volatile combination.
“Stop staring at me,” Leo said angrily.
I shook my head. “You know, you don’t have to lash out. You can talk to your teachers and your dad about how you feel. You don’t need to take it out on Eddie.”
“What do you know?” Leo asked, anger flashing in his eyes. “You don’t know nothing.”
“I know that you’ve been through a lot, and with a little guidance, you can turn that anger into something constructive.”
Arthur stiffened. “I’m doing my best,” he grumbled.
I turned to look at him. “It wasn’t a comment on your parenting, though trying to be his friend isn’t doing him any favors. Troubled kids need direction and structure.”
“He’s not troubled,” Arthur said, indignant. “He had a rough start, but he is loved, and he is empowered to be everything he can be.”
I sighed. “Arthur, do you hear yourself? This isn’t a personal growth seminar for adults. He’s a kid.
“He doesn’t need you to honor his truth, or any of that new age mumbo-jumbo. He needs you to be the adult. You need to set rules and boundaries, and when he crosses them, there need to be consequences.”
“Your way can’t be working too well if your son is here, too,” Arthur challenged.
“He was defending himself against your son’s physical attack. His being here has more to do with a poorly-written zero-tolerance policy than parenting.”
“Both boys have things they need to work on,” Mrs. Granger said. “No one is innocent here. But this is a very good start, and we’ve made a lot of progress today.”
Arthur and I turned to glare at her simultaneously, but she had already directed her attention to the boys.
“Gentlemen, if you’ll put today’s date on the top of the page, your parents will step out of the room so you can journal quietly.”
“Yippee,” Leo said sarcastically.
I stood, walking out the door behind me without waiting for Arthur. I heard him call out to me, but I kept going.
The air was crisp and smelled heavily of the dew that still clung to the air when I stepped outside. Arthur came through the door a few seconds later and stopped several feet behind me. “What the hell was that, Jonas?”
“What was what?” I asked calmly, without turning to look at him.
“My parenting isn’t permissive. Just because I don’t run my house like a drill sergeant doesn’t mean that I’m permissive.”
“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” I said.
“When are we going to talk about it?”
“Maybe when I get over the shock of learning that it’s your child that’s been harassing my boy?” I turned. “Or maybe when I can look at you again without the image of you spinelessly asking your son to stop acting like a holy terror in that mediation room.
“Jeez, Arthur. He’s out of control, and you just beg him to behave. You’ve handed him the reins, and he’s running amok. How can you expect to parent if you cower when his temper flares?”
“That’s not fair. You don’t know what he’s been through.”
“No more than a lot of kids, yet he chooses to act out and lash out. He’s hurting, Arthur. And you enabling his behavior is only making it worse.”
“What are you saying, that this is my fault?" He looked crushed, but I wasn’t about to pull any punches when it came to my kid’s safety.
“No, Arthur. I’m saying to grow some balls and control your damn kid.”
I left him standing there, heading back into the building in time to see Mrs. Granger emerge with a big smile on her face.
“How is everything going?” I asked. Any excuse not to talk to Arthur when he appeared beside me a few moments later.
“It’s going well,” she said. “They’ve done their journaling, and now we’re ready to show them around and give them their duties for the day.”
“Perfect; where do you need me?”
Mrs. Granger’s smile was kind. “Frankly, I would prefer it if you and Mr. Reed would leave the boys here to sort out their feelings without adult angst getting in the way. I can call you when they’re through, but we have enough adults monitoring them to ensure that they stay safe and work together.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.
“With all due respect, Mr. Beauchamp, I piloted this intervention program, and I’ve done a very good job of keepings kids from ending up in your care." She patted my arm affectionately. “You let me do my job, and these two won’t become your job.”
Without another word she turned, leaving Arthur and me to see ourselves out the door. “Jonas, can we talk?” Arthur asked, his voice timid, unsure.
I shook my head and kept walking toward my car. “Not now, Arthur. Just, please. Not now.”
“All right,” he said.
His head hung slightly, and I had the sudden urge to go to him and comfort him. Leo’s problems had started long before Arthur had adopted him, and sometimes love wasn’t enough to heal the deepest wounds.
But I was angry that this kid had been bullying Eddie unchecked for so long, and I was frustrated with how Arthur was handling the situation. This side of him was not appealing, and I was starting to wonder if I’d misjudged him.
He was still standing in the same place when I pulled out of the parking lot and headed home. I sighed, and almost turned back. But in the end, I stuck to my guns.
One of us had to.