A Life Worth Living - 2. Chapter 2

Four months later

“IS he okay?”

“He’s resting. Let him rest. He’s been traveling.”

“He’s been asleep for like, thirteen hours.”

“Okay, everyone out.”

There are some murmurs and shuffling feet, but the light that has crept in from the door remains. Someone sits on the edge of the bed.

“Jonah? Sweetie?” It’s my aunt Vienna. Her voice is soft.

I stir just enough to let her know I didn’t die in my sleep. I would welcome that with open arms, though.

“Are you hungry? Do you need anything?” She asks, just above a whisper. Her motherly instinct is kicking in. She brushes some hair away from my forehead and lets her cool hand rest there for a moment. She must think I’m sick. In a way, I kind of am.

I shake my head and roll over, taking the covers over my head. I feel her get up and then the door closes with a click. Throwing the covers off me, I stare into the darkness. The room has blackout curtains and the first thing I did was shut them. I see nothing. The room is quiet. Despite what was said, I’ve slept probably two hours. Every time my eyes close, it replays over and over in my head. That night. My fists curl into tight balls.

It’s all my fault.

I should have never pursued James. Ever. I should have never taken one look at him. Not one look at his soft face, his brown eyes, his crooked smile. Never should have done anything. Never should have kissed him, loved him, felt his skin on mine. Because if I didn’t, my parents would be alive.

I wouldn’t have had to crawl out of the broken back window, felt glass shards stab in my hands. Wouldn’t have had to scream in agony as glass also cut into my legs, cutting open my pants and my skin. Wouldn’t have had to struggle to open the passenger side door only to see my mom’s head split open or my dad’s neck obviously broken. Wouldn’t have had to be airlifted from our car as it dangled on the side of the snowy mountain.

None of that would have happened if I didn’t love James Caldwell.

But I do.

And I haven’t seen him or talked to him since that night. After I got out of the hospital, I snuck out of the foster home I was in and walked to his place only to find it dark. I peered in the windows. The home was empty. Everything was gone. And so was he. Like he was never there to begin with.

I screamed into the darkness.

✦✦✦

SOME amount of time passed and I am still tucked into my new bed. The quiet darkness remains. The door opens and I hear a guy's voice go, “Wow, okay.”

My bed sinks again. A hand falls on my shoulder and shakes me a little. “Hey, Jonah.” I’m shaken some more. “Hey, dude. It’s me, Monty.”

They’ve sent him in? Where’s Vienna? It sucks he has to see me like this.

I roll to my other side away from him and groan. “What?”

“Uh, you really gotta get up. I’m so sorry, Dude,” he says. I don’t move. Several seconds pass. “Um. Okay, I’m really sorry for what is about to happen.”

This time, I do move, rolling back to my original position and seeing his shadow moving toward the window.

“What’re you doing? Montgomery, don’t you dar—” I’m cut off by the curtains being pulled open and a piercing light strikes the room and my eyes for the first time in what has probably been days. My cousin, Montgomery, stands at the window facing me with a small smile, hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a black hoodie and plaid pajama pants.

“Hey,” he says.

I pull the covers up to my eyes. “Hi.”

He scratches his head. “Look, I didn’t want to have to bother you since you just got here and uh, I know it’s been hard. But Mom—I mean, Vienna. My mom needs you to get up.”

“Why?” I mutter.

“There’s a social worker coming.”

My stomach tightens. I hate social workers. Too many of them have been on my case since that night. Asking all these dumb questions. Taking me to get evaluated. Asking me how I am doing. News flash: I’M DOING BAD. Then dragging me to court so some judge can make decisions about my life and then going onto the next case because to them I’m just a file number.

“When?” I ask.

“In an hour.”

Fuck. I sit up. “An hour?” My room is a mess of boxes and suitcases. I’m not wearing a shirt. And for the first time, my smell wafts into my nose and it’s not great. My hair feels matted.

“Dude, your hair is a mess.” Monty comes to my side and sits. “But yeah, an hour. They just called. Didn’t give us much of a warning. Calvin and Blair are tidying.”

Calvin and Blair are the other two of my triplet cousins. This is my situation now. I’ve been thrown in with my only cousins and they’re triplets. But it’s loads better than any other option.

“Okay,” I say, rubbing my eyes and rubbing my temples. Grabbing the glass of water on the bedside table, I drink it back in a second. “I’ll shower and be right out.”

I may hate social workers and would rather sleep all day, but unfortunately, that’s not an option. I had to plead to the judge in a hearing five days ago to let me live in New York with my aunt and uncle instead of the random home Social Services put me in.

There was all this arguing about it and I didn’t know why. It was in my parents will that this would happen if they died before I turned eighteen and yet it didn’t seem to matter. Social workers, lawyers, these random fucking people would meet with me and then I’d be forced to sit in court as they threw around all sorts of words opposite of what I said or wanted. One woman said it wasn’t in my best interest to move to New York. I almost jumped across the room and beat the shit out of her. Who the hell was she to make decisions on me? She had never met me and she said she represented me. Well, fuck that.

So, I plead by writing a letter to read in court. My aunt and uncle came to do the same. And then the judge said I could go as a trial run. Six months I’d stay. And after that, they could see if it would be permanent.

The judge, an older woman with small glasses, leaned forward and stared at me with a stern look and said, “You will be on your best behavior, young man. Hear me?”

“Yes,” I said. My social worker, Carla, nudged me. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“Very good.” She sat back in her chair and cleared her throat. “In the matter of Jonah Kildare, the juvenile will stay with his paternal uncle and aunt in New York for the next six months. This court will require a monthly report from New York and a final report when the six-month timeframe is up. At that time, if all goes well, we can look at guardianship for this young man. I take it the interstate paperwork has been completed and is approved by New York?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Carla said.

“Very good. I will also ask that if any issues cause concern, you must motion this matter in front of me for my review. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Carla said again.

“Very well. That concludes this matter. What will be our next case?”

Carla took me out of the courtroom and was greeted by my uncle and aunt. They hugged me. They kept telling me how good this was and everything was going to be okay. I wasn’t sure I believed them. There was this looming feeling of doom over me, like if one thing went wrong, I’d be responsible and shipped back to North Carolina with strangers. It made me sick.

I take a good shower, scrubbing the dead skin off my body and washing my hair three times. It’s gotten longer since winter. James said he liked my hair longer. I placed my head against the shower wall and slowed my breathing as the hot water rushed over my body. Imagining him was difficult. My hands found their way to my chest in a tight ball as I closed my eyes and tried to wash him and everything away. After a few minutes, I felt only a little better.

Good enough for now.

I put on some fresh clothes and wander out of my room. Voices come from downstairs. Waiting for a few moments, I hoped to hear some more talking, but maybe they sensed me coming. I make my way into the kitchen and Blair is in front of me, throwing her arms around me.

“Oh, Jonah!” She says before pulling back. “It’s so good to see you.” She plays with my hair for a moment. “Ooh, you smell good too!” She’s always been bright, from what I remember.

“Blair, calm down.” My other cousin, Calvin, comes to her side and he flashes me a smile. “It’s good to see you,” he says to me. “Thought you may go into hibernation.”

All three of my cousins then stand in front of me. The last time I saw them all together was a few years ago for Grandma’s funeral. They were maybe ten. I was 11. Now Monty’s got striking facial features and looks six feet tall. Blair looks like she’s straight out of a high-budget teen show on Netflix. And Calvin seems like he could probably model for some upscale clothing place.

“Okay, guys, give him space to breathe, good Lord,” Vienna, my aunt, comes into the kitchen holding a mug. “Hey, Hon, you hungry?”

I look around. Their kitchen is big and sleek. Warm sunlight illuminates the place. “Uh, what time is it? Better yet, what day is it?”

Calvin laughs and sits on a barstool, picking up a croissant from a box. “It’s Saturday and it’s two PM.” Blair and Monty join him. “Oh shit,” he says. “Mom, it’s two PM.”

Vienna wipes her hands on a dishtowel. “Yes, Honey, I know. They should be here any moment.”

“Where’s Uncle Nolan?” I ask.

“He’s here in his office. Work call. But he should be down when he can.”

A doorbell rings and she walks off.

“Is that…” I step back, facing where I thought the sound was coming from.

“Must be the Social Worker,” Monty says. “Jonah, you want some water? Anything?”

I don’t say anything. All I do is stare at the entrance way hearing my aunt and another guy's voice coming closer and closer.

“Jonah?” Blair asks. “You okay?”

My aunt appears and a young guy is at her side. He lights up as he enters the room.

“Ah, and you all must be the rest of the Kildare’s.” He puts his hands on his hips.

Vienna gestures to them. “Those three are my biological children. Calvin, Blair, and Montgomery. Triplets.”

“Ooh,” the guy says, “got your hands full.”

“You’re telling me!” She laughs. “And this is Jonah.”

He approaches me and sticks out his hand. “I’m James Porter. I’m your New York social worker.”

Oh, fuck me. I step back and feel bile creeping up my stomach. Covering my mouth, I run off and find myself puking into the nearest toilet. Thank God I made it. My stomach hurts with every hurl. This can’t be happening. Of course, this guy's name is James. Why wouldn’t it be? Tears creep out of my eyes.

There’s knocking on the door. “Jonah? Jonah? You okay?” Vienna knocks with rapid fire.

“I’m fine,” I croak, my hands clutching my shirt. There’s more knocking.

“Hey, Jonah?” It’s the Social Worker. Whose name is—shit. I throw up again. “Hey, dude, can I come in?”

Sweat seeps through my skin, into my shirt. My forehead rests on the toilet seat. Probably the least flattering sight of me. “Whatever,” I groan.

The door opens and he comes and kneels next to me, putting a hand on my back. It feels cool, almost soothing.

“Whoa, there,” he says. “Can you sit back?”

After deep breaths, I lean back and flop against the wall. Some drool slides down my chin that I wipe away with the back of my hand.

“I’m sorry,” I croak. “This is horrible.”

The guy shakes his head and leans back, placing himself against the sink vanity. “No, it’s not. I should be the one apologizing.” I raise an eyebrow. “I should have known. It’s in your file that I got. Him. James. Your, uh…”

“You can say it,” I mutter, glancing down at the tiled floor.

“Hm?”

“You can say it,” I repeat. “Boyfriend.”

Out of the corner of my eyes, he nods. “I wasn’t sure what to say. Your file calls him a partner.”

My eyes widen. “Partner? Oh, God. That’s worse.” My heart drops.

“I’m sorry that I forgot. You can call me Jay, though. That’s what I went by in school. If it makes it easier.”

I meet his eyes again. “Okay,” I say. “Sure. Jay it is.”

“Shall we go back out there?” He gestures towards the door. “Or do you need another minute?”

I nod. “Just another minute. Lemme get my shit together first.”

Jay stands. “Fair enough. I’ll leave you to it.”

When he leaves, I stay. My legs go numb laying on the hard floor. There’s a whooshing in my ear. I take a shaky, deep breath. It hits me that I’m not home. There’s a spot of vomit on my shirt and I’m sitting on the bathroom floor of my aunt and uncle's homes. Five days ago I was in a foster home with an older woman who would always just give me sad eyes. Four months ago I was sleeping in my own bed. The queen-sized one in my green-painted room. All my stuff was there, everything that made me me. And a couple weeks before that I was sneaking kisses with James in the locker room after his swim meets.

Eventually, I get up, splash cold water over my face, and rinse my mouth, spitting until no more saliva comes out. My fingers run through my hair trying to make myself appear a bit better before seeing Jay again and so far, he isn't bad. Seems nice enough. Better than the first one I had. Laura. She sucked. She hated me. Called me ungrateful.

Carla was better but seemed naive and kind of stupid.

There were a couple of others here and there that sucked enough for me to forget their names.

Everyone was waiting for me back in the kitchen. Calvin slowly picked at the same croissant, taking another bite.

“You okay?” Blair asks. She loves to ask that.

“I’m fine. Just had a moment.”

“How about we take this into the living room?” Vienna suggests.

I don’t remember much of what their home looked like, but I do remember loving the living room. They live on the beach and the living room overlooks the ocean. Younger me would sit inside or on the balcony for as long as I could watching the waves rolling into the white sand. People love to parasail out here too. I wanted to do that.

“I must say,” Jay says as we settle on the couches, “it is sort of a treat to be out here in Southampton.”

Vienna sits and crosses her legs. “Why’s that?”

The cousins sit around me on the couch. Calvin on my right, Blair and Monty on my left.

“Rare that we’d have clientele out in this area. It’s beautiful. You have a beautiful home.” Jay smiles. “Anyway, I won’t stay here long as I’m sure you are getting Jonah settled in.”

I shift a little.

“Jonah, it’s good to finally put a face to the name. Your social worker, Carla, in North Carolina filled me in and I got your file. This is going to be quite simple. There’s an order from your home state court that has you staying here for the next six months. I’ll see you monthly, maybe more if need be. I’ll report to your home state and then make a recommendation. The judge will want you to, of course, be well-behaved, be in school, do some therapy, and all should be good.” He smiles.

I don’t. “Why’s it feel like I’m on probation?” I ask. They all look at me. “I mean for real. What’s this got to do with anything? Be well-behaved? Who does this fuckin’ judge think I am? A fuckin’ serial killer?”

“Jonah.” Vienna’s eyes are wide and she’s biting her bottom lip.

I sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I shake my head and look back down at my lap.

Jay sighs and says, "I cannot imagine what this is like. I can’t and never will. Losing parents has got to be the worst thing that can happen. Ever. And also losing a boyfriend.” My eyes squeeze shut to stop the tears. “But you are so lucky to have your family behind you. To support and love you through this all. It won’t be easy, but I believe you can get through this, okay?”

I nod.

“You’re a good kid, Jonah.” There’s some shuffling. “Ms. Kildare? Can I talk to him in his room?”

“Yes, absolutely,” she replies. “It’s upstairs. Jonah can show you.”

I lead him to my new room. “Sorry for the mess,” I mumble. “And maybe the smell.”

He laughs. “Your room will not be the first teenage boy’s room I’d be stepping into.” He steps in after me and looks around. My boxes and suitcases are scattered around. It feels messy, cluttered, and empty at the same time. The walls are blank. Nothing’s been unpacked except a few things like clothes and some books.

“Big room. You like the space?” he asks. I shrug. “What’s something you like to do?”

I dart my eyes around. “Uh, I liked to draw.”

“Oh, you know, when I was reading your file, Carla described you as ‘artistic’”,” he says.

I frown. “Did she?”

He nods and opens the folder he’s been carrying around. “To be more exact, she wrote, ‘Artistic and creative. Enjoys painting and drawing his life through extensive and impressive art pieces’.”

There’s a warmth that forms in my stomach. I remember this day when she and I were gathering my belongings from my house. She was folding some of my clothes neatly into boxes and saw a drawing of a dragon I did.

“You drew this?” she asked. “It’s amazing.” And for a few minutes, I showed her more of my stuff. “Never stop doing this, Jonah," she said.

I guess she paid more attention to me than I thought.

Jay closes the folder. “I always have to ask, do you feel safe here? Do you need anything from me?”

I’ve gotten this question a lot and for some reason, it makes me feel small. It’s like I’ve forgotten what safety feels like. But I’m with my family. They love me. They’ll protect me.

“Yes,” I say. “I’m safe. I’m okay.” Even though it’s said to him, I’m affirming myself. I’m safe. I’m okay.

“If you want, I can arrange a video chat with Carla. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

I nod. “Sure.”

We end the visit to my room shortly after that and he goes to talk to Vienna in another room. It makes me kind of queasy knowing they’re talking about me. But it’s whatever.

I wander back into the living room. My cousins are still there and I sit right back where I was. A minute passes, it’s quiet.

“Ya know,” Blair says, breaking the silence. “Your social worker is kind of hot.”

“Blair!” Monty blurts.

“Can’t say I don’t agree,” Calvin says, snickering.

“Both of you out! Time and place!” Monty points to the entranceway. They get off the couch, covering their laughs with their hands. “Leave!”

Once they’re out of sight, I glance at Monty and we both burst out laughing.

“I’m so sorry about them,” he says, between laughs. After a moment, we settle down and I’m watching the waves through the room’s huge windows.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the beach,” I say.

It’s been ages since I’ve walked in the sand. It’s cool to the touch and seeps between my toes with each step. There’s a warm breeze. Salt air whips around and in my hair. There’s a couple kids running around. They look about five years old. A woman yells for them to slow down.

The sun is lowering, coming down to meet the horizon. I want to be out here when it’s a thousand pinks stretching across the sky. I sit and lean back on my hands. The waves crash and crash and spread against the shore before crawling back to where they came from.

There’s a crunching noise behind me and it makes me crane my neck back to see Calvin approaching. He swipes a now broken seashell from attaching itself to the bottom of his sandals. He wears sunglasses and carries two cans of something in koozies. He sits next to me and hands me one.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Some sparkling water,” he says nonchalantly. “Thought you may want one.”

I crack it open and take a sip. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Cuz.” He nudges my shoulder. “It’s good to see you again. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

“What can I say, I like to make a good entrance,” I say. He looks at me with a tight-lipped, small smile. “You can laugh.”

He does, just for a second. “Sorry,” he says. “I still feel bad.”

“It will be okay.” I take another sip. For several moments, we just sit and watch the ocean and the swooping of seagulls in the golden sky.

“What was his name?” Calvin asks.

There’s no question on who he means. “James,” I say. “James Caldwell.”

“Have you—have you talked to him? Does he know you’re here?”

My hand tightens around the can. I shake my head. “No. He doesn’t. I haven’t spoken to him since—” I stop. A shaky breath escapes between my slightly open lips. “Not since December,” I finish.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Calvin replies, his reply low and delicate.

I set my drink in the sand and pull my legs in with my arms around them. My head rests on my knees and I look over at him. His blond hair flutters in the wind.

“He was everything,” I say. There’s a sudden urge that fills me up like lava and I find myself spewing words about him and for the next while, I tell him about James. Calvin listens and doesn’t speak. And it feels good to talk about him. To put him in a good light instead of the dreadful last memory of him or blaming him for it all because not an ounce of it ties back to him.

Calvin mentions he has a boyfriend. A boy on his soccer team. Still closeted.

“What’s his name?” I ask, and then I finish off my drink.

“Don’t. You’ll make fun of me.” Redness flushes his cheeks.

“No, I won’t. It can’t be that bad.”

He sighs and chuckles to himself. “His name is Kyle.”

“Calvin.”

“Stop it!” He shoves me. “You said you wouldn’t!” He laughs.

I’m covering my mouth trying to do the same and hoping he thinks I’m not making fun of him. “I dunno man,” I say, “never thought parents still named their sons Kyle.”

“You’re a douche,” he says back, but he's still grinning ear-to-ear and flushed in the cheeks.

“Thanks,” I say, looking back at the water. “You’ve made me feel better.”

“You’re family. It’s what we do.”

The sun has gone down a little more. With the waves crashing, I think for a moment, and not a moment longer, that this will be okay.

I'm safe. I'm okay.