Spider Webs - 9. Chapter 9: Ignorance

I should have known life was going to really clout me on the head first thing next morning. But I didn’t, and I was unprepared to feel the hands on my body shaking me awake. My eyes snapped open and I sat up abruptly, immediately looking for the source of the disturbance. My eyes found Ken in my bedroom, making me extremely uncomfortable because I was naked under the bedding.

My next thought was what Ken would think with Patrick in the same bed as me, equally naked. I immediately started looking for the source of that thought, but I needn’t have bothered. Aside from me, my bed was empty. Except for Ken and his coffee mug, I was all alone.

I glared at him, my temples throbbing with my early morning surprise heart attack as I wondered what he wanted.

“Morning Micah,” he greeted.

I just stared at him before looking at the clock next to my bed. It wasn’t even six o’clock in the morning yet. I was definitely going to yell at him for coming into my room so early in the morning and waking up. But I didn’t get a chance.

“It’s time to wake up. Why don’t you get dressed and meet me downstairs in the kitchen; we’ll go get breakfast or something.”

Was he seriously waking me up just to go get breakfast this early in the goddamn morning?

I must have been glaring at him something awful because his next words wiped the glare off my face.

“We need to talk about you getting drunk last night…or something.”

Oh…shit.I mean seriously, shit! I hadn’t even drunk anything last night, because I didn’t drink! I was going to tell him that too, except he patted me on the leg and left my room, apparently expecting me to meet him downstairs like he’d said.

Yeah right!

Five minutes later I was standing on the back-porch, a cigarette in one hand and a travelling coffee mug in the other, smoking a cigarette while he warmed his Ferrari up and backed it out of the barn they used as a garage.

He was also giving me an impatient look. I’d glared at him when he informed me that smoking was bad for my health; apparently no one had bothered to inform him that waking up a sleeping teenager at six a.m. on a Saturday was bad for his; so I figured we were even. He told me to hurry it up because smoking wasn’t allowed in his car. I took my time.

But eventually the looks got to me and I decided that this conversation wasn’t going to be that bad, because we’d had a decent conversation the night before. So seriously, I should probably just stop being paranoid and get this whole thing over with. Besides, my cigarette was out of tobacco and the cotton was starting to burn and smell up the air around me. I flicked my cigarette into an ashtray that must have been placed outside recently and decided to get this crap over with.

I hopped into the Ferrari.

It was after our trip down to burger king where I’d scarfed down enough food for three that I was glad but, at the same time wished I hadn’t. You see, Ken had driven us to an empty school parking lot and parked the car. Aside from some crappy classical music playing on the radio, everything else was silent the entire time, aside from the rustling sound of food wrappings as we both ate.

After we were done eating, he told me to get out of the car. I didn’t think much about it because he was unbuckling his seat belt and doing the same. So I did, and I watched in curiosity as he walked over to a trash can and threw away the burger king sack.

It’s when he told me come around to the driver’s side of the Ferrari and get in that I became a bit lost and confused. I thought we were going to come out here for a nice chit chat about last evening’s misunderstanding; not for driving lessons.

Apparently I was wrong though because I was sitting behind the steering wheel of his car while he sat in the passenger’s seat, explaining to me how the clutch and shifting gears all worked. I nodded my head as Ken continued to explain, in theory, how to drive a stick shift until finally I got bored and, my foot on the clutch, the gear in first and my other foot on the gas; I attempted to move the car.

It moved, too, in the form of lurching, bouncing, and finally the car shuddered to a stop. My heart was beating frantically in my chest, and I swear my face was red. A check in the mirror confirmed this fact. My face was indeed red. I couldn’t believe I’d killed the car.

“Right,” Ken remarked, with a chuckle and a nudge to my shoulder, “try again.”

I glared at him but begrudgingly did as he said.

“Right, now get it going, press down on the clutch, put it into 2^nd gear, give it some gas and let go of the clutch,” he murmured.

I did as he said: The car died on me. Restarting the car, I gave it another go, then another and another before something seemed to click inside my head and soon I was zipping and zooming around the parking lot like it was no one’s business.

It took about ten tries but all in all I finally got the car rolling in first gear across the parking lot. I got so I excited I hit the brakes and took my foot off the clutch; promptly killing the car. I looked at Ken; he was smiling. Without even waiting I restarted the car and got it going again.

“Now head for the road and take a left,” Ken suddenly murmured. I blinked, surprised and quite promptly stomped on the brakes. The car died.

“Uh,” I said, uncomfortable with the idea of taking the car onto the main road.

“C’mon Micah,” Ken said with a laugh, “You drove a truck all the way up here from Oregon. Surely you can drive my car a couple of miles.”

He was challenging me. I could see it on his face. I finally nodded my head, hiding the uncertainty I was feeling as best as I could. I had thought he was going to discuss last night with me, not teach me to drive a stick-shift. But, whatever, the morning had been surprisingly pleasant, so far. Who knows, maybe the rest of the day would turn out to be pleasant, too.

Restarting the car, I got it back into first and, looking both ways, I checked traffic and finally rolled onto the road. The car leapt at the slightest touch, just revving to go. It was thrilling.

“Alright, slow it down,” Ken said, laughing some more, “we don’t need a ticket.”

I didn’t want too, but…okay. I followed his directions as he gave them, until finally we were in the parking lot of a church. All the fun I’d been having up to that point faded away and I immediately started frowning.

“C’mon,” Ken said as he opened his door without looking at me and got out of his car. I was still frowning but got out and looked around, hesitating.

I wasn’t dressed for church; Ken didn’t look like he was dressed for church either, unless this was some crazy church group that encouraged it’s congregation to wear Hawaiian shirts and khaki shorts. There were a handful of cars in the lot besides the Ferrari. A low cast-iron fence protected a cemetery from intruders, but we weren’t going there. Ken was ahead of me but had finally stopped, looking back at me while, apparently, waiting.

“I’m not religious,” I informed him. That was the only thing I could think of to say. Not why are we here? Or anything else. Just…I wasn’t religious… “Joel isn’t either,” I added, just to make sure he knew.

“Oh, okay,” was his only response. He looked like he was filing the information away for later.

“So… we can go now, right?” I finally asked, in case he didn’t get the point I was trying to make.

I’ll admit it. Churches made me nervous and had ever since I’d found out shortly after my mother’s death that homosexuals went to hell. That year was the last year Joel or I ever attended Christmas and Easter Services, even though my mom had taken us when she was alive. But more importantly, I figured that, after last night’s adventure with Patrick in the bathroom, I should definitely avoid the church.

“No,” Ken’s reply pulled me out of my thoughts. Then he turned around and started, well, marching, literally, towards the church, as if he was just as uncomfortable with the idea of going in there as I was.

“C’mon,” he shouted over his shoulder, “we’re going to be late.”

I thought about leaving him there. I mean, I still had the keys to his car, y’know. It would have been so easy. I was even fairly certain that I could find my way back to the house on my own. But, I finally decided that as long as God didn’t bother me, then I wouldn’t bother him. I dragged my feet anyways, holding my breath as I crossed the threshold. Nothing happened. I let out a shaky laugh.

“You okay, Micah?” Ken asked, looking slightly concerned. I tried to ignore him. “I mean,” he continued, “you’re acting like you’ve never been to church before.”

I frowned. “I have,” I stated, “the last time was for my mom’s funeral.”

“Oh.” It was like he didn’t know what to say, “I’m sorry,” he added a second later.

I rolled my eyes at him. He didn’t even know my mom.

“C’mon,” Ken said a second later. Apparently he wasn’t going to let my feelings regarding church deter him from whatever mission he was on.

When we headed down some narrow stairs and into what could only be described as a meeting hall full of people, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The room was full of individuals ranging in age, anywhere from their late teens to their eighties, and in at least one case, probably the hundreds. I continued to look around even as Ken found us a pair of seats, still uncertain as to, well, everything, I guess.

But I decided not to worry about it. I mean, everyone in the room appeared to be relaxed, chatting idly about their week, like old friends catching up, though every now and then we got some strange looks from men with buzz cuts, well, Ken did, anyways. I was being ignored, for the most part.

Then someone stood up and the room fell silent as the gentleman cleared his throat. “Good Morning, Ladies and Gentlemen. This is the regular meeting of ‘The Salty Dogs’ Meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. My name is Timmy and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Hi Timmy!” The group said together.

My face went red. I knew it went red. I turned and gawked at Ken in disbelief. He’d dragged me to an AA meeting? What…the…hell!

“Let us open the meeting with a moment of silence to do with as you wish followed by the Serenity Prayer,” Timmy said.

Ken wasn’t looking at me, but he had to know I was staring at him. “I’m gonna go get some coffee,” he said, “Want some?”

My disbelief had me shaking my head before I even thought about what he was asking. “What?” I asked right after that, “No. I’m not staying.”

I ignored the looks we were receiving. I moved to get up but Ken’s hand on my shoulder put me right back in my seat. “Sit down, Micah. We’re staying.”

I got angry. I turned to him, “Look, if you needed to attend an AA meeting that’s fine, but you didn’t need to drag me along. I’d really rather not know I ended up in the hands of another alcoholic!” I hissed at him.

“We’re not here for me. We’re here for you,” he announced, derailing me for a moment.

Then his words hit me and I got really, really mad.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

I blinked at the sudden prayer as it reverberated around us.

“Alcoholics Anonymous is a fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others to recover from alcoholism,” Timmy said right afterwards, “The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking. There are no dues or fees for AA membership; we are self-supporting through our own contributions. AA is not allied with any sect, denomination, politics, organization or institution; does not wish to engage in any controversy; neither endorses nor opposes any causes. Our primary purpose is to stay sober and help other alcoholics to achieve sobriety.”

“Are there any new members within their first 30 days of sobriety that would like to introduce themselves, or, perhaps, if you’re just visiting our meeting but not new to AA you’d like to introduce yourself?”

I turned. The entire room was staring. I felt like I was going to die. I slumped down into my chair, really pissed off. Someone cleared their throat. There was no way in hell I was going to introduce myself.

“Right. James will read “How it works” from the big book, followed by the…”

I tuned him out. I tuned them all out, and focused on my anger instead.

I wanted to scream in frustrated rage. But mostly I wanted to scream at Ken for automatically presuming I was an alcoholic. All because he’d caught me sneaking into the house, smelling like booze that had been poured all over me! I’d barely even drank anything last night.

If he was going to be concerned about someone, he needed to be concerned about his own damn kid! I was shaking like a leaf in the wind now.

I needed to get out of there. I abruptly stood up, shrugging Ken’s hand off my shoulder when he tried to stop me. Then I practically shoved someone out of my way and walked out of that meeting room, more pissed off over the entire situation then I was embarrassed anymore, vaguely aware that Ken was following, calling after me. I ignored him.

“Micah, god damn it! Will you fucking stop, already, and talk to me!” he suddenly shouted, frustration evident in his voice. Fine. If he wanted to have this conversation in the hallway of a church where the Lord and everyone else could hear us, who was I to question it.

I turned on him. “Talk to you? You want me to talk to you, when you dragged me out of bed before 6 a.m., bought me breakfast, took me out and taught me to drive a stick-shift in the form of your Ferrari and then made me drive to an AA meeting, all without telling me what we’re doing or even bothering to talk to me about last night first?” I was shouting now.

I inhaled. I needed air. I was shaking harder; I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins, gearing up for a fight.

“Have you lost your fucking mind!” I shouted, louder than I had been shouting before. He winced and looked around. “Fine! Whatever, let’s talk! I went out last night, because I saw people trekking across your back field! I followed them! I found myself on a beach with a bunch of high school students partying it up like there was no tomorrow. Some chick I don’t know started talking to me. I lost track of time! Then when I realized what time it was I decided to come home!”

I was sweating. My fists were bunching up, “Only, before I could some asshole decided to dump booze on me! I hadn’t really drank anything. I mean, why the fuck would I? My dad’s an alcoholic, in case you’ve forgotten! He liked to kick me around a bit! That asshole kid who dumped booze on me tried kicking me around a bit! I left his ass lying flat on his back! The same as I left my father when I walked out of his house for the last time! And I came home! So there, we’ve talked, you ignorant asshole!”

“Micah…”

“Fuck. Off …Asshole!”

I turned and walked up the stairs, ignoring him as he hollered after me. Someone said something from downstairs. I didn’t know who or what it was, I just needed to get out of there. I crossed the threshold into the parking lot of the church. It was only then that I realized I’d automatically covered Reese, Patrick and Joel’s part in last night’s escapade. Whatever.

“Micah!” he shouted. I dug into my pocket and pulled out his car keys and, turning, glared at him, then I tossed his car keys as far as I could into the cemetery.

“Fuck yourself, mate,” I whispered. I felt like crying now.

“Eh…Micah…I’m just…trying,” he stated, aghast. The Timmy guy had followed him up the stairs.

“You wanna try?” I asked. I was crying now, uncertain as to why… “you can start by going to find your fucking car keys and staying the hell away from me.”

“Micah!”

“The deal’s off,” I informed him. I turned and walked away. He didn’t follow me.

If I'm a bad person, you don't like me
Well, I guess I'll make my own way
It's a circle, a mean cycle
I can't excite you anymore

Where's your gavel? Your jury?
What's my offense this time?
You're not a judge but if you're gonna judge me
Well, sentence me to another life

Don't wanna hear your sad songs
I don't wanna feel your pain
When you swear it's all my fault
'Cause you know we're not the same
No, we're not the same, oh, we're not the same

We're the friends who stuck together
We wrote our names in blood
But I guess you can't accept that the change is good
It's good, it's good

Well, you treat me just like another stranger
Well, it's nice to meet you, sir
I guess I'll go, I best be on my way out

You treat me just like another stranger
Well, it's nice to meet you, sir
I guess I'll go, I best be on my way out

Ignorance is your new best friend
Ignorance is your new best friend

I leaned my head against the window, closing my eyes as the lyrics drifted through my head from the radio station the car was currently tuned too. My day had been crap. It hadn’t gotten any better either.

By the time I made it up the hill and back to the house from the church it was well past noon; sweat was dripping down my torso, my underwear was jammed up my ass-crack, and my leg was really really hurting. Stupid bruised bone. Who the hell ever heard of a bruised bone, anyways?

Needless to say, I was cursing and not in any better of a mood then when I’d left Ken earlier. I also wasn’t sure why I’d come back to the house either, except I wanted to try and talk Joel into coming with me one more time.

As far as worrying about Ken, I wasn’t. He was a moot point, because he wasn’t even home yet. Which was a good thing, because that would just make things ten times easier. At least, it was supposed to.

I walked into that house like I owned the place.

“Where’s Joel?” I asked the first person I came across, which happened to be Elizabeth. She was fluffing the couch pillows or something. She frowned, taken aback by the harsh tone of my voice.

“Upstairs,” she replied, “him and Reese aren’t feeling well. They’ve been throwing up all morning.”

I snorted. It was funny to me. I hoped they, or at least Reese, anyways, choked on his own damn vomit. As far as I was concerned, this was his fault, and I had no sympathy whatsoever.

“Why,” she asked. I ignored her and headed for the stairs. I’d changed my mind. One way or another, Joel was coming with me, period, before he turned into a juvenile delinquent or alcoholic or something.

“Micah?” she hollered after me, “What’s going on? Where’s Ken?”

Like I said, I ignored her. But it didn’t matter because about then a couple car doors slammed. A quick glance out the front window revealed Ken’s Ferrari and another car I didn’t recognize. I rolled my eyes; of course the one man in the world that I probably hated more than my own father would inconveniently arrive at the same time I was about to, once more, kidnap my little brother.

I banged on Joel’s door and, without even waiting for an answer, barged into his bedroom. Joel was sitting on the bed, his blankets up around his skinny frame. He shot me a dirty look.

“Keep it down,” he signed,“my head hurts.” I ignored his complaint, grabbed some clothes from his dresser and promptly threw them at him. “That’s your own damn fault. Now stop playing with your lil’ dick and get dressed, we’re leaving.”

I frowned as I said it, in no mood for an argument. Joel even started to roll his eyes at me. I growled at him and took a step towards him. He started moving. I nodded. I was going to need more money then what I currently had on me, though.

I turned around then turned around again when something hit the back of my head. Joel had thrown his underwear at me. “I’m hung like a horse, just so you know!” my eleven year old brother informed me.

I rolled my eyes at him and shot out of his bedroom and into my own, “Where’s Micah? Is he here?” I heard Ken asking from downstairs. I promptly ransacked the dresser drawer I had been keeping all my money in. I was running short on time. Then I bolted toward Joel’s room and came to a stop before I could even exit my bedroom door. Ken’s face came into view abruptly. I backpedalled and slammed the bedroom door shut in his face, just barely getting it locked in time. I shoved my dresser into the door for added security.

“Micah!” he shouted through the door.

“Well someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” I heard Elizabeth’s voice coming through the door.

“Micah’s a brat who needs to get spanked,” Ken said.

What? I did not. “Not by you old man!” I hollered through the door.

“For crying out loud, will you calm down already,” I heard another voice saying. I didn’t recognize this one. “I mean seriously, you kinda opened yourself up to this one, Captain.”

“No one asked you,” I heard Ken say.

“I like him!” I shouted.

“Shut up, you’re in trouble, young man!” Ken shouted back.

“Enough!” Elizabeth shouted right afterwards, “And someone tell me what the hell is going on already. Right now!”

I scowled. “He started it!”

“Ken. Talk! Now!”

“Yeah! Tell her about how you woke me up at 6a.m. and took me driving, then dragged me to an AA meeting!”

“You did what?”

“What was I supposed to do? I caught him sneaking in last night and he smelled like booze. I didn’t know how to approach him and ask him about it. He gets so defensive whenever you try talking to him anyways, so…I just took him to an AA meeting. I mean, I figured, if he had problems, maybe this would be a good way to show him that we’re there for him or something…”

Silence.

It was killing me.

“Okay…” I heard Elizabeth say. Only it was quiet. I realized a second later that I was hearing their voices coming out of one of the air ducts. “…tell me about this morning before the meeting.”

“Well…I woke him…we…breakfast…took him driving…he looked like he was having fun so…”

“Stop right there,” Elizabeth suddenly ordered.

“okay…”

“Ken…he looked like he was having fun, you were getting along right?”

“Well…yeah…”

“And then you took him to an AA meeting…”

“Well, I let him drive…”

“Ken… he was having fun. You then took advantage of that fact and took him to an AA meeting. Did you even think about how that could affect your relationship when we have such a tenous relationship with him as it is? I mean…I’ve read all the books. You have too. Foster kids have a really hard time opening up, and you may have found the way to get through to him and then you went and ruined it.”

Huh? What books? And I did not have a hard time opening up. I thought I’d done a rather marvelous job of it myself.

“Well..maybe…but you didn’t hear him and the way he was swearing at me. It was rude and disrespectful.”

I rolled my eyes.

“What? Why are you rolling your eyes at me?” I heard Ken ask.

Uhm... I looked around the room. There was no way he could see me.

“Because that’s just nonsense. We didn’t raise these boys, they’re not like Reese,” I heard Elizabeth say, “And we can’t hold them to the same standards we hold him at, not right now anyways. All we can do is correct the behavior.”

“So… I suggest we do anger management classes,” Ken said next.

I didn’t need anger management classes! “I’m not going!” I shouted.

“You are too, and that’s the end of it!” he shouted back.

“Ken!”

“What, I’m just trying to correct the behavior,” he proclaimed defensively.

There wasn’t anything wrong with my behavior. Whatever. I didn’t feel like listening anymore. I got up from where I’d been lying next to the vent and, as quietly as possible, moved the dresser away from the door.

I unlocked the door but didn’t use it. I opened the bedroom window and checked the distance to the ground. Unfortunately there was a roof in my way. I’d forgotten about the fact that the porch wrapped around the entire house, to my advantage, I decided as I crawled through the window onto the shingles.

And after scuttling around on the roof for a bit I finally decided that, even if I did fall or, in this case, drop to the ground, I wouldn’t break any bones. There was only one way to test that theory though. I grabbed the edge of the roof and swung myself over it. My stomach crawled up my throat.

“Micah Geoffrey Raines! You get down from there right this minute!” Her voice was sharp, unexpected. I gasped and lost my hold on the roof, falling at least 15 feet. I landed on my feet and, with a sharp pain in my leg, dropped onto my back. The air got knocked out of my lungs.

“Oh…I swear to god, if you broke a bone I’m going to break your neck, Mister!” and then Elizabeth was peering down at me.

“Owe,” I gasped.

“Have you lost your damn mind, child? What the hell were you doing up there?”

She stared at me. I stared back.

“I’m waiting for an explanation, young man,” she was tapping her foot against the ground. “I swear, you’ve all lost your damn minds,” she muttered a second later.

“Escaping,” I let out and then tentatively sat up.

“Escaping from what? This isn’t a prison!” She replied, clearly exasperated.

“Sure feels like it,” I muttered.

She rolled her eyes at me. “Anything broken?” she asked after I stood up. I shook my head. Nothing felt broken.

“Good… now go for a walk, or something. Be back before dinner,” she told me. I was left standing there on the lawn, shaking my head in disbelief, as she disappeared back into the house.

I didn’t want to go for a walk either. I’d had enough walking for one day. And she clearly intended me to take a walk to cool my anger, or something. I grunted, disgruntled at the thought that she was throwing me out all of a sudden, which made no sense considering I’d been trying to leave. Whatever.

I headed for the road, now at a loss as to what to do and where to go just as a beat up car pulled into the drive, the blond head behind the wheel of the car staring at me in surprise as the car abruptly came to a stop.

I frowned as I reached a decision. I didn’t feel like walking anywhere. Patrick had disappeared before I’d even woke up, and…he was the only one who could tell me why he’d done what he’d done.

I opened the passenger door and hopped in.

“You’re an asshole.” Those were the first words that came out of my mouth.

“You should probably start driving,” were my second words.

And that’s how I came to be in a car with one Padrig Branwen Rhys, commonly referred to as Patrick.