I'm Worthless Because Nobody Likes Me - 1. Chapter 1

Ian sat on the top step of the stairs into 319 Winesap Lane watching a person from the real estate company in Warnton, New York, put the for sale sign into ground near the top of the rockery. Erik’s trustee squashed the proposed deal with Wayne County thinking a private sale would raise more money. But, that wasn’t what was making him sad. He was the last boy in the house.

Steve had gone first. A couple who lived across the street from the elementary school were contacted by Bill Daniels, the social worker responsible for 3 19, after they sent in an inquiry about fostering a baby. At first, they didn’t want a boy as old as Steve, but Mr. Daniels was able to convince them it would be easier for them to foster an older child than probably waiting years to foster a baby. And, on Steve’s first visit both of his potential foster parents fell in love with him.

Unfortunately for Steve, as the visits continued to the inevitable conclusion he became sadder and sadder. Finally, his future foster parents confronted him one night when he was in the process of crying himself to sleep. They couldn’t understand what the problem could be because everything had been going so well. To them, Steve seemingly had been looking forward to moving into their house. The woman drew Steve up out of the bed and hugged him closely while her husband rubbed the little boy’s back.

“Stevie, hush, what is your problem, dear?” the woman asked.

“I’m not going to be able to see Ian ever again,” Steven blubbered.

“Who’s Ian?” the man asked.

“He’s my best friend at the house.”

The adults looked at each other in the way only those deeply in love can do. The silent language of their eyes went back and forth until the woman said, “Stevie, dear, how old is Ian?”

“I don’t know, but he’s in high school, that’s why no one wants to foster him.”

“How did you become such good friends?”

“We’re the only boys at the house who don’t have boyfriends. We don’t do things with each other, honest. We just like each other. We’re not gay, honest.”

“We believe you, son,” the man said.

“Why did you say that?” Steven asked.

“We do believe you, Stevie,” the woman said.

“No, the other part when Daddy Devon called me ‘son’. Why did he say that?”

“Because Stevie someday Evie and I hope to be able to adopt you,” Devon said.

“And, make me your son for real?”

“Yes, Stevie, dear, that’s what we hope for,” Evie said. “Now, lay down and close your eyes. Think good thoughts and you’ll have pleasant dreams.”

The adults left the bedroom and went down to the kitchen. Evie put decaf espresso and hot water in the French coffee press. After making the press do its magic with the grounds, she poured the brewed coffee into two mugs and took them over to the dinette.

“Thanks,” Devon said. “Well, what are we going to do?”

“As I see it we have two choices,” Evie said. “One, we take Stevie out of the home and let him get over his loss of Ian over however long it takes. Or, two, we see what we can do about fostering Ian. I’m a little reluctant fostering a boy as old as him—however old he is—but maybe we should at least check out the situation. What do you think.”

“We have the room for him and I’d rather have a happy Stevie than having him go around sad all the time and having comfort his crying every night.”

“Well, yes, we do have the room, but don’t you think we should bond with Stevie before we bring in another boy.”

“Yes, there is that, so I suppose we’ll have to think about it some more,” Devon said. “We could just wait and see how Stevie gets on; and, then check in with that Mr. Daniels about Ian.”

They came one Friday evening and took Steve away. For some reason, Ian couldn’t quite figure why, the husband who said his name was Devon asked him about school and was quite surprised he was a sophomore when he was only fourteen-years-old. Through his tears, Ian watched Steve give him a little wave as the car drove away.

* * *

While Steve was being processed for his new foster placement, Billy and Jamie were going through their steps to new futures. Per’s parents had agreed to take in Billy and Curt’s parents succumbed to their son’s pleadings to allow Jamie to move into the extra bedroom on the second floor.

Luckily for Ian the two older boys would come back to the house with their boyfriends whenever they could on weekends. But, the reality of the coming end was fully forefront in Ian’s mind. Steve, Jamie, and Billy were all going into foster care in Warnton while he was destined for the secure group home in Lyons. There was just no getting around it; nobody in the world wanted him.

One day two weeks after Steve left Ian was in the kitchen looking at all the knives in the rack. All of them were practically razor sharp because it was his chore to sharpen them every Friday afternoon. It was the new evening social worker who gave Ian the job and who checked the sharpness when he came on duty each Friday. It took a few times before the boy finally figured out how much a knife had to be sharp to get a pass in the inspection.

Ian picked up the chef’s knife and ran the fleshy part of his thumb along the blade edge barely feeling the sharpness. He looked at his wrist and imagined pushing the blade across it pressing it deep into his flesh. He placed his wrist on the counter and then he slowly lowered the edge onto his bare skin until small droplets of blood began to form along the blade.

“Ian,” a voice said softly behind him. “Put the knife on the counter.”

“Uh, uh, you don’t know what I’m going through,” Ian whispered as tears began to dribble down his cheeks.

“I’ve seen it all more times than I want.”

Ian turned and saw Mr. Daniels standing in the kitchen’s entryway with concern on his face. He threw the knife into the sink and with blood streaming down onto his hand he ran into the man’s arms.

“I’m going to be all alone,” Ian cried. “Nobody wants me.”

“There, there, child, we’ll find you a family somewhere who wants a boy just like you,” Dr. Daniels whispered. “It’ll just take a bit longer than you want, but I have the best record in the entire state for getting teenagers matched with adults who want to foster. You’ll just have to give me some time, but first I’m going to have to take you to the hospital for a little visit.”

“To see a shrink?”

“Yes, to see a shrink. You attempted suicide and we need to stabilize you so that it doesn’t actually occur.”

“You mean, you don’t trust me if I say I won’t.”

“As much as I want to, I’m not in a position to trust you. We have to follow procedures and one of those is to hospitalize someone who attempts suicide. Now, let’s get that arm taken care of.”

They went into the lavatory where Mr. Daniels ran cold water over the slight wound. He took it out of the water and patted it dry. He found a box of 4X4’s and tape in the drawer. Working quickly, he got Ian’s arm bandaged before too much blood seeped from the wound.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches,” Mr. Daniels said. “Okay, let’s go upstairs and pack you a bag of clothes.”

When they got out in the foyer they were confronted by Billy and Per. Billy said, “Hey, Ian, what’re you doing home so early?”

“I skipped sixth period. I wasn’t in the mood to listen to ol’ man Rogers go on and on as if I don’t know anything about algebra.”

“Hey, what happened to your arm?” Per asked.

“I accidently cut it moving some knives around to get them ready to be sharpened.”

“Come on, Ian, let’s get that bag packed,” Mr. Daniels said.

“Where’s he going?” Billy asked. “Did he finally get a placement?”

“No, I have to take him to the hospital for a little checkup,” Mr. Daniels said.

Ian heard Per say as he was walking up the stairs, “Do you think he cut himself on purpose?”

“Nah, Ian isn’t like that,” Billy said.

“Are you sure?”

“I guess. If he did it to commit suicide he’s going to be gone for a while.”

“If that’s the case, Steven’s going to throw a hissy fit when he comes to visit.”

When they got up to Ian’s bedroom, Mr. Daniels said, “Go ahead and sit up on the bed. Try to keep the hand above your heart. Now, where’s your luggage?”

“In the closet,” Ian said.

“There’s only a big book bag. Don’t you have something else?”

“No, that’s all I got.”

“Then we’ll just have to make do. I don’t know how long they’re going to keep you, but let’s assume it’ll be a week. That’ll make it four pants, oh, say, six shirts, if you wear t-shirts we won’t have to worry about taking any button-downs. Plus, if you wear t-shirts, we don’t have to worry about undershirts. Then all we’ll need is underwear and socks. How’s that sound?”

“Why’re you asking me; as if I have a voice in this venture?”

“Look, Ian, I’m trying to make this as easy as possible. I could just as well put clothes in the bag as I see fit and not ask your opinion.”

“Then why don’t you do that,” Ian said as he lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling light fixture. For some reason, he always hated the look of it. For one thing, it was old; probably manufactured back in thirties, but when the house had been remodeled this room didn’t get one of the light fixtures that were in the other bedrooms. It almost made him feel slighted in some way, as if Mr. Johnson purposely put him in this room with that light fixture because he wasn’t gay or because he was a runaway who didn’t make it. But, he had to admit that was just crazy thinking, like trying to slit his wrists was being crazy.

“Okay, I’ve finished packing your bag,” Mr. Daniels said breaking Ian’s reverie. “Ready to go to the hospital?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Frankly, no.”

“Might as well go then.”

When they got down to the foyer, Billy, Per, and Jamie were waiting.

“Hey, Ian, going on a home visit?” Jamie asked as he walked in the front door.

“No,” Ian said.

“But, where are you going?”

“Jamie, please, Ian isn’t feeling so well right now,” Mr. Daniels said. “I’m taking him to the hospital to get him checked out.”

“But, what does he need a bag for?” Jamie asked.

“Hey, numb nuts, figure it out,” Ian said. “Mr. Daniels is taking me to the hospital and I’m taking a bag with me. Plus, I have a bandage on my wrist. It shouldn’t be that hard to figure out considering where we’ve been living for the past year.”

“Oh, shit!” Jamie exclaimed. “Sorry; now, I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything and it’ll make it easier on me,” Ian said.

“Come along, Ian,” Mr. Daniels said.

Ian followed the social worker out to the Explorer and tossed his bag in the back. He went around and got into the front passenger seat as he felt a tear dribble down his left cheek.

“Don’t worry, son, you won’t be gone that long,” Mr. Daniels said.

“I’m still sad for some reason,” Ian whispered. “I don’t think the house will be here when I get back.”

“I don’t think you’ll be in the hospital all that long. Probably not more than a week.”

* * *

“You’re not taking me to Newark?” Ian asked when he noticed they weren’t headed in that direction.

“No, the psych unit is in Rochester,” Mr. Daniels said.

“I’m going to shut my eyes. I don’t feel very good.”

“Whatever you want.”

After a period of time Ian didn’t know how long, he felt the Explorer come to a stop and the engine was turned off. He opened his eyes and saw they were in a parking garage near the entrance to an emergency room. He thought about saying something, but figured, at most, it would be redundant and a waste of time.

“Ian, we’re here,” Mr. Daniels said.

“I got my eyes open; I can see the situation.”

“You don’t have to get surly about this.”

“Look, I admit I tried to off myself. That’s a given. Now, I’m being taken into psych care at an adolescent psych ward. That’s also a given. What I don’t know is how long I’m going to be here and whether the house will be there when I get out.”

“Come on, let’s get your bag,” Mr. Daniels said as he opened his door.

“Sure thing, mo Thiarna.”

“What’s that, some new teen expletive?”

“Nah, it’s Irish. Mr. Johnson was teaching me that before he died.”

“What’s it mean?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Learned the dirty words first, huh?”

“It’s not a dirty word.”

Ian pulled his bag out of the back of the Explorer and followed Mr. Daniels into the emergency room. Surprisingly, they weren’t that busy and a nurse at the counter said, “Yes, may I help you?”

“I’m William Daniels, a social worker with the Wayne County Department of Social Services. This is Ian Moran, one of the residents of a group home I monitor. He tried to commit suicide, but I stopped him before he did significant damage to his wrist.”

“We’ll determine how much damage he did to himself,” the nurse brusquely said. “Do you have his Medicaid card.”

“Ian?” Mr. Daniels asked.

“Oh, yeah, my part in this conversation,” Ian said as he took out his wallet and gave the nurse the card.

“Who is this Mr. Johnson?” the nurse asked. “And, why didn’t he bring the boy in.”

“Mr. Johnson is deceased,” Mr. Daniels said.

“Oh, then that’s why you’re here with the boy,” the nurse said. “Okay, please give me your contact information.”

While they were doing that a med-tech in light blue scrubs came up to Ian and said, “Hi, I’m Darren, one of the med-techs, why don’t you come with me and we’ll take a look at that arm?”

“Sure, why not?” Ian said.

“You live here in Rochester?”

“Nah, I’m from Warnton, for now.”

“You’re moving?”

“Sort of, I’ll be at the group home in Lyons when I get out of here.”

“Okay, let’s go in here,” Darren said as he opened a door to a small room that had an exam table in the middle of it and was backed up against the far wall. “Up on the table and I’ll get that bandage off your arm. Oh, dear, looks like you did a little more damage than the person who brought you in thought. I’m going to have to have a doctor take a look at this. Do I have your promise not to try to leave or mess around in the drawers?”

“Maybe.”

“At least you’re honest. No matter, I’ll page the front desk and hopefully they’ll send help soon.”

After a while, a nurse poked her head in the door and asked, “Darren, have a problem with the kid?”

“You know suicides, they can’t be trusted to be left alone. He needs to be looked at by a physician. That cut appears to me to be too deep.”

“Sure thing, hon, I’ll upgrade his status on the board.”

She left and Darren said, “And, now, we wait.”

“You can leave if you want,” Ian said. “I’m not worth paying any attention to.”

“Not going to happen, boy. You’re mine until the doctor arrives.”

“Please don’t hurt me. Please, I’ll do whatever you ask, but please don’t hurt me. Do you want me to suck your cock? I’ll do that, but please don’t fuck me. Please don’t. I don’t want that. I, I, I …”

With that Ian fell to the floor, pull himself into a fetal position, and began to whimper between unintelligible mutterings. Darren pressed the emergency call button on his pager and after a couple minutes two nurses and a doctor came into the room.

“What happened?” the doctor demanded.

“I don’t know, Dr. Fawcett,” Darren said. “I only said we had to wait for a doctor and he went off, thinking I was going to assault him. Then he fell off the table, wound himself into a ball, and began crying and muttering. I think it’s obvious he’s been abused at some point in his life.”

“That’s more than obvious,” Dr. Fawcett. “Nurse Palmer, please prepare a pediatric sedative, stat. In the meantime, let’s get a look at that wrist. Hmm, yes, I think we’ll need some stitches. Darren call the on-duty pediatric orthopedic surgeon and get him, or her, down here. I can never remember if Dr. Sims works Fridays or not.”

One of the nurses left and soon returned with a syringe with a long needle. Darren loosened Ian’s belt, undid the buttons on his jeans, and pulled the pants and underwear down enough to expose the gluteus maximus. The nurse injected the medicine and after a couple minutes Ian relaxed from his adverse reaction to Darren’s words. They picked him up and laid him on the table. There was a knock at the door and a shockingly white woman somewhere in her thirties with her black hair done up in cornrows and braids extending halfway down her back came in.

“Ah, Dr. Sims, how’s it going?” Dr. Fawcett asked.

“That depends on what you’ve got for me.”

“Attempted suicide; according to the person who brought him in the boy was trying to use a chef’s knife, but he was able to intervene before the boy did real harm to his wrist.”

“Prepare this boy for surgery,” Dr. Sims said. “From what I can see he was able to notch a few of the tendons and they need to be repaired before he can be released to Psychiatry.”

“Darren, get a gurney,” Dr. Fawcett said.

“He’s not that heavy,” Darren said, “if someone will hold the door I can carry him.”

* * *

“Well, good morning, sweetie,” a woman in light green scrubs said. As Ian’s eyes adjusted to seeing, again, he saw her name tag. Julie Newcomb, LPN.

“Hi; where am I?” Ian softly asked.

“Pediatric surgical floor.”

“I figured you would’ve put me in the Psych ward.”

“Not naughty little boys who almost cut their hands off.”

“I didn’t cut it that bad.”

“According to Dr. Sims, you came very close to doing that very thing. Now, are you hungry?”

“Sort of, but I think I could use one of those urinal thingies.”

“No urinals for you, young man, you’ve been plumbed.”

“You cathed me?”

“Don’t blame me for that. You talk to your psychiatrist.”

“Hey, why am I tied to the bed?”

Suddenly, his expression changed dramatically. His eyes widened and his mouth contorted itself into a grimace before he blurted out, “What are you going to do to me. I’m sorry. Don’t hit me. I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean to do it. Honest, I’m sorry!”

As Ian continued on as an RN came in and asked, “What’s going on?”

“Nurse Jenner, he’s negatively reacting to being tied to the bed. That’s all I can figure.”

“Go have Hazel prepare a sedative and bring it back.”

The RN went to the bed and jostled Ian’s shoulder. He turned his head and looked in horror at the person standing beside him.

“No, Mommy, don’t hit me again. Please, Mommy, don’t hit me. Please, I didn’t mean to do it. I won’t do it again. Please don’t hit me!”

“Ian! I’m not your mommy,” the Nurse Jenner said as she jostled his shoulder again. “Come on, boy, look at me. Do I look like your mommy?”

“No,” Ian whispered. “Please untie me. Please. Mommy tied me up and beat me. Please untie me.”

He began to sob and the nurse undid his straps. The LPN returned with the sedative and the RN said, “Take that away and dispose of it. Call Pediatric Psychiatry and have them send someone down. This boy needs their help now.”

“Sure thing.”

“Ian, I’ve untied you,” Nurse Jenner said. “Is there anything you need?”

“Uh, well, something to eat would be nice,” Ian said calmly as if the preceding outburst hadn’t occurred. “And, since I’m not tied to the bed, maybe, you could, possibly, uncath me?”

“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Your psychiatrist ordered you to be tied to the bed, so if the psychiatrist they send down now says it’s okay for you to remain undone, we’ll take out the catheter. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The LPN returned with a tray that had a small brown paper bag on it, a container of milk, and an apple. She moved the tray stand over Ian’s bed and placed the tray on it.

“Go ahead and eat,” Nurse Jenner said. “I’ll just go over here and wait for the psychiatrist.”

“You don’t have to stay,” Ian said. “I won’t run away.”

“Like I said, you eat and I’ll watch.”

Ian looked in the bag and saw some kind of sandwich that had been cut in half and put in a sealed plastic container. A bag of chips was hiding under the sandwich. He opened the sandwich container to examine what was between the two slices of white bread. For all that he could see was the meat was something off-white in color and slightly sour in taste. He was almost afraid to eat it.

“What’s wrong,” Nurse Jenner asked.

“This meat tastes funny,” Ian said.

“That’s because it was made by the hospital kitchen. Most of their food tastes funny, but go ahead and eat it. Not like it’s going to kill you. Of course, in your case, you might want that.”

“You don’t have to talk mean.”

“Eat! So, I can get back to work. It’s not like you’re the only patient on this floor.”

Ian noticed there was a small packet of yellow mustard and after opening it, he spread some of it between the meat and cheese of the first sandwich. With the mustard on the sandwich it wasn’t half bad; well, actually it was a little more than half bad—maybe, something close to three-quarters bad—because the cheese had a soapy taste to it even with the mustard coating. But, Ian kept eating until everything was gone.

“There, I’m done; you can leave with a clean conscious now,” Ian said.

“Aren’t you a snippy little bastard,” Nurse Jenner said. “Are you sure your parents were married when you came along.”

“No, I’m not sure of anything about my parents other than my mother preferred men with big dicks, my real dad was mortally wounded in Afghanistan when he took a bullet through his neck, and the man who my mother married next turned her onto drugs until they OD’d up near Plattsburgh; and, now, I’m in foster care and because of my age probably won’t have anyone who I’ll be able to think of as a parent.”

“Hi, Ian, I’m Dr. Peters, I’m on staff up in Adolescent Psychiatry,” said a rather tall and slender man with close cropped salt and pepper hair. “Sorry for eavesdropping, but I heard your little diatribe. You sound like a bitter young man. How’s your wrist? Any pain?”

“A little.”

“Feel you need something for it.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want anything that I’ll get addicted to.”

“Don’t worry about that, Ian. Nurse, I think Tylenol #3 should be sufficient.”

“Yes, Doctor, I’ll order it.”

After she left, Dr. Peters asked, “Done with this tray?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ian said.

Dr. Peters moved the tray stand away from the bed and brought the chair up close to Ian. He sat down and took out a yellow tablet and a pen.

“I’m old school; haven’t figured out how to use those newfangled electronic tablets. Now, your name is Ian Moran; do you have a middle name?”

“Two: Michael and James. I was christened Ian Michael James Moran and I’m from Dellsville, New York. Being a Moran, I was raised to believe I was less than a pile of dog shit in the middle of a dusty road.”

“Uh, huh, tell me about your real dad. Do you remember him?”

“Not really; I was just a little kid. I have vague memories of a man in fatigues, because I think there’s a National Guard armory down in Malone, but I could be mistaken. According to my mother, after he died it was like he never existed; except, of course, for the money that suddenly came in. Mom had an account that absorbed thousands of dollars, but there was money for me, too; except Mom was the trustee and I don’t know if there’s any money left.”

“Tell me about your mother.”

“She beat me, okay?”

“Do you think she loved you?”

“What is love? I don’t know. I had a friend at the group home and we liked each other a lot. It wasn’t a sexual love, but it was physical. I think he was four years younger than me. We slept together a lot, too. But, he left the group home early in its demise and I didn’t have anybody to be close to. The day I tried to kill myself there were only three of us left in the house and the other two already had families interested in fostering them. Nobody wants me. Life can’t get much worse than that.”

“You still haven’t told me about your relationship with your mother.”

“When Daddy died she was a mess and then the money came in. She went out a lot to the bars in town. She’d bring home men with her. Most of them ignored me as she led them into her bedroom, but some would look at me in that way.”

“What way?”

“Like they wanted me, too. Sometimes after they’d finished with Mom, they’d come to me. They weren’t nice, after all I was a Moran. They simply figured I was fuckable. It hurt, okay? It hurt and I couldn’t stop it. Most of them didn’t use a condom, either.”

“Did you report it to the police?”

“Me? I was a Moran. I was shit. I was scum. In Dellsville, there wasn’t anything lower than me. Nobody would’ve believed me and if they did, they would simply assume I came on to the men on their way out the door. Do you know what it’s like to be a pile of shit?”

“No, no, I don’t. Okay, Ian, I’m putting in an order to move you into the Pediatric Psychiatry ward. Later today, someone will be down to bring you up. Then we can continue our chats.”

“Whatever.”

* * *

“Mr. Daniels, so good of you to come,” Dr. Peters said. “I understand the group home in Warnton has closed.”

“Yes, we had to put Ian’s belongings in storage at the group home in Lyons. But, how did you find out?”

“Let’s see, yes, it was two boys from Warnton, one named Jamie and the other named Billy. Are they two of the three boys who have foster placements in Warnton?”

“Normally, we do not allow children who have been fostered together go see someone who is in the hospital. Was the visit monitored by one of your people?”

“Although I was not on duty that day, the visit definitely was supervised by two members of our staff. We don’t allow unsupervised visits and now that I know your policy we will change procedures.”

“Did the visit go well?”

“Yes, at first, but after Ian found out the house had been sold and the new owner was going to tear it down to build a newer structure, well, he, in popular parlance, lost it. The other boys were removed from the room and Ian had to be sedated.”

“How’s he doing, now?”

“He’s very depressed, even though he’s heavily medicated. Medicine only goes so far. Plus, he’s begun to have nightmares, which are causing him a lot of trouble. You know our policy is community care after discharge, but I’m worried about Ian going to that group home in Lyons. It doesn’t have a good reputation here in the hospital.”

“Yes, I know, but there is a family in Warnton that might be willing to take him in. They’ve recently fostered a boy and have been doing very well with him, but they’re somewhat reluctant to take in a new boy.”

“I’m sorry to say that we’re going to discharge Ian this Friday. For the time being, he’ll be transferred to a private intensive care adolescent mental health facility over near Buffalo, but if you could arrange for that foster family to take him in, we would be amendable to that decision. I know there is an excellent psychological/psychiatric clinic in Warnton that we’ve referred a number of adolescents. So, Mr. Daniels, please talk to that family, again. You can tell them if Ian goes to Buffalo, he may not be released until he’s an adult. It’s now or never for the boy.”

“Okay, I’ll do my homework,” Mr. Daniels said. “May I see Ian?”

“Oh, yes, I think that might do him some good,” Dr. Peters said. “Come with me and I’ll take you to an interview room in the ward.”

The men walked out of the interview room and into the foyer of the Pediatric Psychiatry ward. Mr. Daniels and Dr. Peters waited at the door until one of the psych attendants came and opened it. She checked Dr. Peters ID and allowed the men entry. The first thing Mr. Daniels noticed was most of the patients were sitting in recliners watching some innocuous program on a TV hanging from the ceiling.

“Come in here and have a seat in the chair over there,” Dr. Peters said as he opened the door to the interview room without a desk or computer terminal, but had three chairs, one by the far wall and two by the door. “I’ll go get Ian and you can talk to him. Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t appear to be paying any attention to what you’re saying. That’s from his mental condition and the medicine we’re using to bring him into some state of sanity.”

After a few minutes, the door opened and Ian and Dr. Peters entered the room. Mr. Daniels stood up and was surprised when the boy came to him and wrapped his arms around him. Mr. Daniels returned the hug and felt Ian relax in his arms. This was home territory for the boy and the man didn’t want to show any reluctance in giving comfort. After a few moments, Ian pulled away from the older man and went over to the chair next to Dr. Peters.

“Hello, Ian,” Mr. Daniels said.

“Hi,” Ian said.

“I’m working on getting you a placement in Warnton.”

“That’s nice.”

“You do want to live in Warnton, right?”

“Whatever.”

“Ian, do you want to live where Steven is living?”

“They don’t want me because I’m too old.”

“I’ve been talking to them about fostering you.”

“It won’t happen Mr. Daniels; you’re just wasting your time. I’m a Moran, no one wants me. Dr. Peters, can I go back to my room? I’m tired.”

“Sure thing, Ian.”

The doctor and Ian left the room leaving Mr. Daniels alone. He tried thinking about how he was going to approach the couple who was fostering Steven. He could think of a number of options, but with Ian so visibly depressed they might not want him in their home. He went out to the Explorer and called the couple who said they might foster Ian.

After three rings the phone picked up and he said, “Hello, this is Bill Daniels with the Wayne County Department of Social Services, are you still interested in fostering Ian Moran?”

“Well, my husband and I have been discussing it and our other boy is certainly interested in having a brother, even if Ian would be considerably older than him. But, we’re still on the fence because we feel we need to bond more with the other boy.”

“Let me tell you my predicament. As you know, Ian is in the Pediatric Psychiatry unit at the University of Rochester hospital. Their policy is to stabilize patients and then move them out into community care. In Ian’s case, because he is in foster care and has a history of suicide they are going to send him to a private youth mental treatment facility near Buffalo. When they do that I will no longer have any control over his placement in a foster home. Ian will be discharged this Friday and transported to the new facility.”

“Friday?”

“Yes, you need to decide by Thursday so I can process the paperwork, but, in all honesty, the earlier the better.”

“I’ll talk with my husband when he comes home from work this evening and call you in the morning.”

* * *

Mr. Daniels went up to the Pediatric Psych ward on Friday morning to wait for Ian’s discharge. Finally, Ian walked out the door with Dr. Peters right behind him. As if refusing to acknowledge Mr. Daniels’ presence, he stared at the floor.

“Ian it’s good to see you,” Mr. Daniels said. “How’re you doing?”

“He acted out last night and had to be sedated,” Dr. Peters said. “We were afraid he wouldn’t meet the requirements for discharge, but this morning he’s back to his good old demeanor once again.”

Ian looked as if he was trying very hard to disappear into the background. He hated Dr. Peters for his constant upbeat attitude. It was as if the man never had a rainy day.

“Ready to go to your new foster home?” Mr. Daniels asked.

“Sure, why not,” Ian whispered.

“We think he’s totally blocked out the possibility someone would actually be interested in fostering him,” Dr. Peters said. “We’ve been working on it that past few days, but he just isn’t accepting it.”

“I want to thank you Doctor for working with Ian,” Mr. Daniels said. “I’m sure, once he meets his new family, he’ll brighten up.”

“We can only hope. I’ve sent a referral to the mental health clinic in Warnton and here are his prescriptions to be presented at the pharmacy. Ian it’s been an honor to work with you. Remember to think good thoughts and life will be much easier. Goodbye, son.”

Without acknowledging the psychiatrist, Ian picked up his bag and walked over to the elevators. He turned and saw the two older men talking. Mr. Daniels looked up and had a strange face that Ian couldn’t understand. Finally, he figured it must be someway adults looked when they were around troublesome kids. He felt a tear in his right eye, but brushed it away before it had a chance to escape. Then he saw Mr. Daniels walk over toward him and he pressed the down button. One of the elevators showed up just as the man reached him. They got on the elevator in turn and Mr. Daniels pressed the button for the second level of the parking garage.

Ian went into a psychotic state he learned in the psych ward by talking to the other kids. It enabled his body to follow along with Mr. Daniels while not having to interact with the man. Actually, he really didn’t care what happened to him now that he wasn’t going to that house of horrors over near Buffalo. Some of the kids had told him of being locked in rooms overnight with just a bucket to pee and shit in. One of the boys told him about electroshock treatments that turned him into not much more than a vegetable for weeks at a time. Ian wondered if that would be worse than going into a foster home with adults he’d never met before. Unbeknownst to him he shut his eyes and drifted into dreamless sleep.

“Ian, Ian, wake up boy,” a voice said.

Ian rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked around.

“Come on, we need to take your prescriptions in,” Mr. Daniels said.

“Why do I have to go with you?” Ian asked. “Don’t you trust me to wait for you?”

“Frankly, no, not with your history.”

“Okay, I’ll go,” Ian said as he undid his seatbelt and got out of the Explorer. “Are we in Warnton?”

“Yes, that’s where your new family lives.”

“Oh,” Ian whispered.

“Cheer up, I went to a lot of trouble getting you back here. You know parents are reluctant to take in a teenager.”

“Yeah, but they better be nice or I’m running.”

“I think they’ll meet your specifications.”

They went inside where Mr. Daniels presented the prescriptions to the pharmacist, plus Ian’s Medicaid card. After about twenty minutes, the pharmacist called Ian’s name and he went to the counter to pick up his meds. Mr. Daniels followed along, much to Ian’s annoyance. After being in the psych ward, he hated being watched, outwardly or surreptitiously.

After leaving the pharmacy, Mr. Daniels said, “Go ahead and put your prescriptions in the Explorer, we can walk down to the mental health clinic.”

“Whatever,” Ian said as he did as told.

As they walked the block and a half to their new destination, Ian tried not looking around. He knew people were watching him because all of them knew he’d been in a psych ward. People talked and rumors spread; once again he was just a worthless piece of shit walking on other people’s sidewalks.

“Ian you don’t seem too happy to be back,” Mr. Daniels said.

Ian just kept walking and wishing he wasn’t here. He almost thought of just taking off running away from this man. Once up to the state highway he probably could get a ride to either Wolcott, Rochester, or down to Lyons. Of course, hitching wasn’t what it used to be. You always ran the chance of being picked up by some weirdo who only wanted to get into your pants. He remembered the horror stories Jamie told and wasn’t looking for a hunk of man-meat being shoved up his ass. You could only scream so loud.

“Here we are,” Mr. Daniels said. “Come along, Ian.”

This stop didn’t take all that long and they were out before anyone tried to talk to Ian. Just as they were leaving, he got a familiar feeling in that particular place in his mind which might lead to a full-blown fit, but as he looked around at the street he realized no one would come running with a syringe to sedate him. Reluctantly, he had to admit it was time to start acting sane, again.

“Who are these people you’re taking me to?” Ian asked.

“Well, there’s a mother who stays at home, the father is a professor at Warnton College, and they already have another placement. I think you’ll like living there a lot.”

“Am I going to be able to connect with Jamie and Billy?”

“And, Steven, too; don’t forget him.”

“He’s younger than me and his foster parents seem like they didn’t want me being around him.”

“That’s all in your head.”

“Are you sure?”

“In fact, I am, but I cannot reveal the secret that is coming.”

“I have a feeling I’m not going to like this.”

They continued their walk to the Explorer and when they reached it, Mr. Daniels said, “Ian go ahead and get in. I have to make a quick call to my wife.”

“Whatever,” Ian said as he got in.

After a few minutes, Mr. Daniels got in and started the Explorer; and, then he said, “Ready to go meet your new family?”

“Not really.”

“Why did you say that?”

“Because they’re not going to like me. I’m worthless. Nobody likes me.”

“Don’t be too surprised,” Mr. Daniels said as he drove up toward the schools. He stopped in front of a house directly across from the elementary school and said, “Well, here we are.”

“This is where Steve lives,” Ian said.

“Yep and it’s where you’re going to live,” Mr. Daniels said.

With great trepidation, Ian got out of the Explorer, got his bag out of the back, and started up the walk toward the house. The front door flew open and Steve ran out and wrapped his arms around Ian, nearly knocking him down onto the pavement.

“Ian, you’re here, come inside I want to show you your room,” Steve said.

Ian pulled away from the younger boy and stared at him. He simply couldn’t believe he was being accepted into this home.

“Come on, Ian, I want to show you everything,” Steve said as he pulled at the older boy’s hand.

Finally, Ian allowed himself to be guided into the house, but when he went through the front door there was a resounding cheer, “SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Ian stood and looked around the room. There was Jamie and Curt, Billy and Per, Steve’s foster parents, Mr. Daniels’ wife and daughter, and a few kids he knew from school. They all came up to him and hugged him, until, finally Ian had to push some of them away and stand in a corner by the fireplace.

All the youngsters looked at Ian as if he was a rabid dog. He hung his head and stared at the floor not believing this many people cared for him.

Finally, Mr. Daniels broke the ice and said, “Everyone, please understand Ian just got out of the hospital and is a little unsure about people caring for him. According to his doctor, it’s going to take time for him to trust people who say they like him.”

Then Steve came up the Ian and said, “Ian, come with me and I’ll show you your bedroom.”

The two boys went up the stairs with their arms across shoulders and around waists. They came to a hall and turned into a bedroom.

“This is your bedroom,” Steve said. “I’m through that door. Well, not exactly because there’s a bathroom between us. Mom and Dad said, if your placement works out, they’ll be willing to adopt you, too. Ian, I’m so happy you came to live with me.”

Ian stood there almost unbelieving what was going on. He couldn’t understand why these adults might want to adopt him. He was shit. He’d always been shit, but now it seemed as if someone had shoveled him onto a bit of lawn beside the sidewalk. Maybe, just maybe, there was a future for him.