Chapter 16

The Lawyer

Dad was steadfast when he wanted to help someone out.

I remember when Charlie had an accident in the backyard. He fell down the deck stairs, his foot twisting in an unnatural way, and he cried out in pain. Dad ran to help. He was there to hold Charlie, to ask him where it hurt, to comfort him and tell Victoria to fetch ice. He carried a sobbing Charlie out to the car and they left for the hospital.

When someone was in trouble, Dad was always the first to offer help. He would get medicine or prepare a wet towel or call the doctor. He was in tune with suffering, and actively tried to end it.

But I’m not sure he understands his own pain quite so well.

I ponder these things as I lay on top of the back of the couch, watching Mark trying to fit a board into place. I think about how Mark has suffered in his life, and the baby he lost. I wonder if being here with our family, helping us out, makes him feel a little better.

I’m still puzzling over these things when Victoria walks in. I think this would be a good time for her to talk to Mom, as Aidan is not here today.

I notice that Charlie has left his blue headphones on the couch. I jump up and bat at the wire with my paw until they fall on the floor. Victoria takes a step forward and picks them up, and then looks at them a long moment.

Remember Charlie! Go talk to Mom about Charlie.

Victoria and I make eye contact. I think she understands.

“Where’s my mom?”

Mark peers over his shoulder. “She’s in the kitchen.”

Victoria exits, and I follow her. I’m curious to see what she wants. I hope it’s to talk about Charlie, and I soon find out I am right.

Victoria finds her mother in the pantry. “Mom,” she says softly, “I’m worried about Charlie.” She holds herself tight, arms wrapped around her torso, the sleeves of her black sweatshirt pulled over her hands. She still grips the headphones tight in her fist.

Mom turns off the light and shuts the pantry door. “You are?”

“Yeah. He has . . . I saw he has bruises on his arm. And his side. I think someone is bullying him in school. Or playing too rough with him. Or whatever. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

From the way Mom’s face falls, I can tell she’s worried. “Bruises? Did you ask him about it?”

Victoria nods vigorously. “Yeah. He just told me not to worry about it. But seriously. It’s been bugging me. I started asking around school. The seniors sometimes haze the eighth graders anyway. It’s hard having six grades in one school. And Charlie . . . Well, you know. He’s just such an easy target. I mean, you know how kids are. They say stuff to him. But this is different.”

Mom’s eyes are intense as she scrutinizes her daughter. “You’re right. I’m glad you told me.”

Victoria, in turn, just stares at the floor. “Yeah. Okay.”

Mom goes to the foot of the stairs and calls for the boys. Kevin comes down immediately, and Charlie follows a minute later. They all stand around the kitchen table.

“Yeah, Mom?”

Charlie’s face is so smooth, so clear, so innocent. I feel for him. Because as soon as Mom opens her mouth, I know he’s going to be depressed.

At the same time, my heart soars. Because maybe now we will have some answers! And then my boy won’t suffer anymore, once we catch the culprit.

Right?

“Charlie. Have a seat.” Mom sits down in a kitchen chair opposite him and rests a hand on his knee, maybe thinking this will soften the blow of the conversation. “Victoria tells me she saw bruises on you. Charlie. Why didn’t you tell me? Who is hurting you?”

Charlie goes pale.

Kevin turns to look at Charlie, eyebrows raised.

“What?” Charlie asks quietly, as if he didn’t quite hear the questions.

“Is it those boys on the bus who gave you a hard time last year? I’ve got half a mind to call the bus company and give them a piece of my mind.”

“No.” Charlie looks like he just wants to melt into the floor.

“Is it that kid who harassed you in seventh grade—what was his name, Colin?—the one who stole your backpack and kept taking your gym clothes. The one who kept calling you . . . mean things.”

“No.” Charlie speaks more forcefully now. “No. Nothing like that. I told Vicky: It’s nothing. I fell off the skateboard.” He glares at Victoria. “I told you that.” He grinds his teeth. “Why are you telling Mom, like it’s some big thing?”

There’s a moment where Mom just stares at Charlie with pity. I’m sure he hates when she looks at him like that. I know I would.

“Guys. Please.” Charlie presses his lips together, and stands up. He starts pacing in a circle. “I’m fine. I’m okay. I hate it when . . .” He stops, resting his hands behind his head. “Just don’t worry about it.”

A deeper voice cuts in. “Maybe you should call the school.”

The whole family turns to see Mark standing in the doorway, resting with his shoulder against the doorframe. Even Gretel tips her head, confused at this interruption. Mark takes up the whole space of the open doorway. His calm energy makes me relax. I watch him with interest.

“Sorry to interrupt. It’s just that . . . Katie, since you work in a preschool, I’m sure you know that schools have very strict anti-bullying laws. Start by reporting it to the high school. Call the principal over there. See what they offer to do about it.”

Kevin’s face contorts with disbelief. “What?” he spits out, as if Mark has suggested something crazy.

Mark’s face doesn’t change in expression. He stares down Kevin briefly, but turns back to Mom. “If they don’t respond adequately, we could threaten to sue. That’s the last thing they want.”

Victoria and Mom look interested and grateful. They both glance up at Mark from their seats, faces wide open with hope.

But Kevin explodes.

“What do you mean WE?” His hands tighten into fists and he leans forward. “YOU’RE NOT PART OF THIS. No one asked you to get involved. We’re having a family discussion, and you weren’t invited to join in. WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS HERE? You’re not part of this family.”

For a moment, Kevin reminds me tremendously of Dad. The way Dad simmers until he boils, and then “all hell breaks loose,” as Mom has described it.

But Kevin almost never raises his voice. This is something brand new.

Mom’s eyes open wide. “Kevin. That’s uncalled for. Mark is trying to help, and he has a good idea.”

Mark holds a hand out toward Kevin, as if to say: hold on. “I don’t mean to imply that I’m part of your family. Sorry. What I meant was, I’m a lawyer. When I say we could sue, what I mean is just that I could help out. I could put you in touch with the right people, who have handled cases like this before. But the school needs to be notified first, and given a chance to respond.” He turns his gaze from Kevin to Mom, and for the first time he looks a little hesitant. “I mean, I’m obviously not with a law firm right now. But I was. I mean, I am still. A lawyer.”

Mom opens her mouth, but no words come out. I think Mark has utterly confused her.

I don’t think she expected him to be a lawyer, whatever that is.

Kevin takes a step back. His face is starting to flush. I think he is surprised. But not deterred. “Great. That’s great. Good for you. How awesome for you.”

“We don’t need to do any of that,” Charlie insists. “Please, please, please don’t call the school.”

Kevin clears his throat. “Mark, maybe you should go home. It’s dinnertime.”

“Kevin,” Mom warns.

“I’m sure your wife has a hot meal waiting for you, and your kids can’t wait to see you. So instead of hanging out around here, inserting yourself into our family where you don’t belong, why don’t you pack up your crap and let us have our private family discuss—”

“KEVIN.” Mom stands up. She looks bewildered.

Mark goes pale. He stands up straighter. I can see that something about what Kevin said has caught him off guard.

Victoria’s chair screeches across the tile floor as she violently pushes back from the table. “Shut up, Kev. He’s just trying to help. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Kevin shakes his head. “I’m done.” He storms out of the kitchen, and Gretel jumps to get out of his way. “I’m done, I’m done, I’m done.” We hear him tromp to the back of the house. He opens the sliding glass door and goes out to the back deck.

“Victoria,” Mom asks, her voice shaky. “Why don’t you go upstairs and give us a minute, honey.”

Victoria nods, and gives her mom a pat on the arm as she passes by. She also touches Charlie lightly on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Charlie,” she whispers.

Once she’s gone, Mark sticks his hands in his back pockets. He bows his head. “I’m really sorry. I should go. So you guys can talk.”

“Actually . . .” Mom taps her fingernails on the table. She gives Charlie a look. “I can see Charlie doesn’t want to talk to me. But maybe he’ll talk confidentially to his lawyer.” Mom raises an eyebrow.

Charlie gives her a shrug back, as if to say: maybe.

“Why don’t I start dinner. The two of you can go into the study. I won’t listen. And maybe you could give Charlie some advice on what to do.”

Mark looks pleased to receive this offer. He seems to weigh it over in his mind. “Well, sure. Okay. Good. My client and I will retire to my office.” He gestures toward Charlie. “Want to talk?”

Charlie hesitates, glancing back at where Kevin exited the room.

“It’s okay,” Mark says. “I know I’m not Kevin’s favorite person right now. But this is important. Maybe I can help.”

It takes just one look at Mom’s anxious face to get Charlie to turn and follow Mark into the study. He seems reluctant to upset Kevin, but even less so to disappoint Mom.

I follow, naturally.

Charlie slows down when he sees me trailing him. “You coming, Lil?”

Of course!

We go into the back room and they sit down on the couch. I watch from the floor. Mark perches on the edge of his seat, as if ready to jump up into action at any moment.

“It sounds like you’ve been bullied in school before. It sounds like this isn’t the first time.”

Charlie sighs, and leans back against the soft cushions. His blond hair is spiked up in all directions, and he has outlined his eyes in black. I’ve become used to his new look. In fact, he looks a little like me, with my tan fur and dark eyes, now that I think about it. “Yeah. Of course. But this is different.”

“How so?”

“I don’t want my mom to call the school. I just . . .” He turns his head away.

“I agree that this is different. This is more than teasing. You have bruises. Someone grabbed you, hit you, or pinched you. On purpose. Am I correct so far?”

Charlie shrugs. “I guess so.”

“So you were physically harmed. Now, if the reason . . .” Mark leans forward a little and stares off at the bookcase, I think so he won’t make Charlie nervous. “If someone is hurting you because of . . . certain reasons, that makes it more serious. For example, your race. Or religion. Or a disability. Or your gender or sexual orientation. That sort of thing. The school is supposed to protect you from that type of harassment. Do you want to talk more about that?”

Charlie’s eyes dart over to Mark for just a moment, and then he stares down at his lap. “Um . . . noooo. Nope. I’d rather not.”

Mark nods, as if he expected this answer. “Okay.” He doesn’t move his head, but he lets his eyes slide over to Charlie for a moment. “You don’t talk about it much around here, huh?”

Charlie rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. That’s fine.”

They sit in silence.

I hope Charlie understands that he is safe here. I think he can trust Mark.

I haven’t understood all of the words Mark has used in this conversation. But he sounds like he knows a few things. Maybe he really could help. I wasn’t expecting this development, but I’m grateful for it.

When Charlie doesn’t respond, Mark turns his head. “Charlie. If you’re not ready to talk about it right now, that’s okay. We can pick up this conversation later. But I want to ask one more question. There is something I’d like to understand right now.”

Charlie’s face lights up, as he realizes he’s almost done here. I suspect this conversation wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it was going to be.

“Yeah? Okay. Go ahead.” Charlie’s hands, which were nervously drumming on his legs, fall still.

“Is the reason you don’t want your mom to call the school based on the fact that someone will brand you a tattletale, and make your life worse? Or is it that the assaults are not actually happening in school?”

Ah. This is interesting. Mark has guessed at a few things that didn’t even occur to me.

But his second question confounds me. Because if the assaults are not happening in school, when are they happening? I never see anyone hurt Charlie.

I watch Charlie. He pulls his feet up onto the couch, as if he’s now trying to make himself fit into a smaller space. His hand absentmindedly plays with his shoelace. He tips his head back, as if there is something fascinating to look at on the ceiling.

“Um . . . they’re not assaults. I mean, someone grabbing or pinching me isn’t that bad. I’m always fine.”

“Charlie. No one should be touching you at all if you don’t want them to. No one has the right to inflict pain on you. Don’t you agree?”

Charlie squirms a little in his seat, frowning down at his knees. “Yeah. I guess so.”

When Charlie doesn’t say anything else, Mark nods. “Okay.” He looks at a spot across the room again. “I’ll think about what our next move should be. I’ll help you, whatever you need. We can talk about this more later.”

Charlie turns his head away. “You won’t say anything to my mom, right? I mean . . . if we talk, you won’t tell her everything, right?”

“No. I won’t. Unless I think you’re in danger. But you need to know that sometimes when someone is getting hurt, it gets worse. It doesn’t always resolve itself. Even if you think it’s not that bad right now, you need to tell someone if you realize you’ve come to that point where things are escalating, where you’re really in danger.”

Charlie lets out the deep breath he’s been holding. “I’m not in danger. I’m just . . . frustrated.” Slowly, Charlie gets up and heads over to me. With two hands, he picks me up off the floor, slings me over his shoulder, and we head upstairs.

I don’t know why Charlie is making things seem better than they are. They are not okay. I’ve had to comfort him more than once at night, as he sheds a few tears and pushes his face into my fur. But he hasn’t told me what’s wrong. He just hugs me and whispers nice things in my ear. He’s keeping this secret, even from me.

Once we get up to his bedroom, Charlie stops and looks out his window, perhaps wondering what happened to Kevin. I understand. I’m a little worried about Kevin too. He doesn’t seem quite himself lately.

Once Charlie drops me on his wool blanket, I purr in relief. I’m so glad Mom knows about Charlie’s injuries, and Mark is helping out. Now we’re finally getting somewhere! This is tremendous!

But I can see now this won’t get resolved as quickly as I’d hoped. So I need to stay focused. And keep things moving forward.