CHAPTER THREE

(Sorry about the lack of indents. >< When I pasted it they all went away)

When I awoke everything was silent, no movement anywhere. The sun had gone down considerably but not completely yet. I was a bit disoriented, and couldn’t remember what I had been doing before I fell asleep. The TV was now turned off and everything was silent. I had managed to get on my side, lying flat on the couch, and there was a grey plaid blanket which appeared to have been laid carefully over me. I propped myself up on my elbows, looking around. The whole place was empty, not a single person in sight. I blinked and noticed that there was a dim light coming from behind me. I twisted my body around, peering over the black leather couch. I saw John sitting at his work desk with his head resting on his left palm and a pen in his right hand. He began tapping it vigorously against the desk, as if deep in thought. I rested my head on top of my arms on the back of the couch, feeling a little relieved as everything suddenly came back to me. John was the sole person that I could look at and really just feel comforted by his presence. He seemed so stressed out, like he was trying to find the solution to a tough math equation. As if in sync with his twitching hand, his foot was tapping against the floor. I smirked at his actions, finding it all rather amusing. What could he possibly be working so hard for?
It seemed as though he heard something behind him even though I didn’t make a noise, because he stopped his movement abruptly and stared straight ahead at the wall for a few seconds, before turning and noticing me. My eyes were glazed over with sleep and I just sort of smiled at him effortlessly. If my head wasn’t resting over my forearms, it probably would have been weighing me down because it felt rather heavy.
John looked surprised for an instant to see me up, but nonetheless he smiled back meekly. He appeared to be a bit relieved of some stress when he saw me, but it still lingered in his expression. His short chestnut hair was flipped every which way; a result of him running his hands through it like he always did when he was worried or anxious.
“Did you have a nice nap?” He asked, leaning back in his revolving chair.
I nodded. “I can’t even remember falling asleep or lying down. I was so exhausted,” I said. “Where’s Emera?”
“Oh, she left for Old Forge over an hour ago,” he said, nodding and tapping his fingers on the armrests.
“I’ve been sleeping for that long?”
He nodded again. “We tried not to wake you.”
“I was in a deep sleep I guess.”
“Yeah, you were,” he said, while turning the chair around to face his desk again, but he was a bit further away from it this time. He reached over, shuffling through the papers, clumping them all together and fixing the pile. He placed the pen on top of the pile, then began clicking the pen over and over. “You hungry? We can order pizza if you’d like.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. Food seemed foreign to me momentarily, and I could feel my stomach grumbling as John merely spoke the word.
I tried to speak, but he spoke up at the exact same time, our voices combining.
He laughed. “Go ahead.”
“Oh, I was just wondering what you were doing with those papers before.”
“Organizing your written files I brought home from St. Benedict’s. I finally got a hold of Child Services at work today,” he pushed his thin reading glasses to the bridge of his nose and rested his arm on the armchair, looking me straight in the eye.
“Oh,” I said, not expecting that.
“They spoke with Judge Thomas and members of the committee. They’re letting you have a hearing,” he seemed pleased with his words, and expected the same enthusiasm back from me. Well, he wasn’t going to get it.
“That’s great,” I said, not making any eye contact whatsoever.
There was a silence between us for a while and I could tell he was about to give me one of his long lectures about what was right and wrong and what needed to be done.
“Shuro, I don’t understand,” he started. “I’m doing all of this just so you could lead a better life, and not be thrown into the ugly remnants of Ron’s. The least you could do is be a tad pleased. This is for the better, trust me.”
When I didn’t say anything he started up again. “What are you worried about?” His tone was softer this time.
I couldn’t argue with him. As much as I loathed Ron, a part of me still preferred this life to living in a foster home waiting for some strangers to adopt me. Call me psychotic, I don’t care. A better life, I guess, just isn’t what I’m cut out for. Not every human being has a perfect life. It’s better to just accept that. Does that make sense?
“Nothing,” I said, pushing myself up off the couch and then heading toward the bathroom to just dodge the conversation.
“Shuro, get back here,” John said in his stern voice. “You can’t avoid the situation.”
“I have to pee,” I lied, as I walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I leaned up against it, my back pressing into it’s hard surface. All this was too much for me to take in.
I guess trial didn’t have to be that horrible. Ron would go to jail. That was something I’d wanted to see happen my whole life. That was the bright side of it. But then there were so many dark sides which I didn’t want to see happen.

I was sitting on the cold bathroom floor for a pretty long time just thinking things over, when I heard the muffled song of the phone ringing. John picked up, his voice seeping through the cracks of the bathroom door. I raised my head, suddenly interested in who John was talking to, and what about. It was probably Child Services or something.
“Yes, speaking,” I made out from John’s muffled voice. “Yes... I have them all here... You would? Sure, that’s not a problem at all... He’s actually here with me now... Eight-thirty tomorrow? No problem.”
Great. So John already had to be somewhere tomorrow morning; a Saturday.
“Alright, I will speak with you later then. Thanks a lot. Bye.”
I heard the sound of the phone being hung up, and I brought my knees to my chest, resting my head on them. There had to be some way I could just forget about all of this. At least the hearing was two months away; I had enough time to actually start to want it to happen.
“Shuro, are you going to come out of the bathroom, or am I going to have to eat all of this pizza myself?”
I sighed lightly, then finally pushed myself off the ground, regaining my strength. I opened the door, and then walked glumly over to John. “You didn’t even order it yet.”
“It still got you out of the bathroom, didn’t it?” John smirked, picking up the phone.
I walked over to the kitchen island where I had been previously sitting with Emera, feeling a little discomfited. I mounted one of the tall stools, eyeing John who was now ordering the food.
I wondered which he preferred: having a night like this with me or a night with Emera. It was more of a rhetorical thought though, since I figured he preferred his own wife over a cold, tormented boy.
When he was finished ordering, he came in front of me and took a seat across the table, taking off his glasses. I could see his deep brown eyes, staring back into mine. “Child Services wants to meet you finally.”
“Joy.”
“Tomorrow morning, at eight-thirty.”
“Sounds like a blast,” I said with heavy sarcasm.
“Hey, come on. It’ll be fun. We’ll go for breakfast afterwards.”
I couldn’t help but look away. My lack of eagerness for the whole thing to happen was weighing me down.
“Shuro,” he said, and from what I saw out of the corner of my eye he was trying to capture my gaze.
I looked at him finally. “John?”
“Tell me what it is you’re afraid of. I know you are; I can see it in your expression.”
We paused for a few minutes. He stayed completely silent, waiting for my response. I could hear the humming of the refrigerator beside us.
“I don’t know... I guess the drastic change in lifestyles,” I said finally.
“I can understand that,” he said. “You’ll adapt, though. I know you can. You’ll still be going to St. Benedict’s, so it isn’t too much of a huge transformation.”
I laughed sarcastically. “Right.”
He leaned forward on the table and rested his elbows in front of him.
“I can’t help but think that if I have this perfect little life, I won’t need anything from my past anymore...”
“Right,” John said, nodding. “Like what?”
“Well, like the people who were in it. If I’m perfect, I won’t need you anymore. You’ll go about your business and forget all about me.”
John shook his head incredulously. “Shuro, you’re just moving on with your life, not trading places with someone else. You’re still going to be you. And moving to a foster home doesn’t make you perfect, it just makes you happier. It’s not perfection, it’s just the norm.”
“But I’m not normal, John. I never was. And the truth is; I don’t even want to be.”
John sighed, then shifted positions. “What do you mean? You mean you want to stay living with Ron until you’re old enough to move out?”
I could tell he was trying to understand me and see where I was coming from. He did that pretty often. The thing about John is that he never judges anyone based on what others think of them. He thinks for himself and has a huge opinion, and he accepts everyone. No wonder he made such a good lawyer.
“That’s what I’m saying,” I told him, my voice low and soft.
“Shuro, I gotta be honest. I know what you’re going through. It’s a huge transformation.”
“Do you?” I said almost sarcastically.
“No, not really. But I can picture myself in your boots, and that’s how I know how you feel. And hell, I would feel the exact same way if I were you right now. New family, new house, new rules… But I can promise you all the important stuff in you life is not just going to vanish. I’ll still be here. And I’m going to stay here until you’re fed up of me.”
He always did know just what to say at exactly the right time.
“Trust me.” No more words were needed; all that mattered was that we knew what the other was thinking. His tender words found a way to soothe me, and I soon forgot all about my issues. John had that effect on me; whenever he looked me straight in the eye he had a way of hypnotizing me. Maybe it was the fact that I was amazed that a man as remarkable and busy as John was was going to such vast measures to help me.
The doorbell rang, breaking our eye contact. John leapt off the stool and quickly reached in his back pocket for his wallet. He got it out as he walked over to the door and out of sight. I heard the pizza guy naming the price.

Over dinner we talked about the trial; John told me some key issues that would be brought up, along with the different procedures we would have to go through with. I took it all in, listening to every word he said. He seemed so keen on proving to me that this was the right path to take.
God, John could talk for hours on end when it’s something he’s passionate about. After a while he started speaking lawyer, and I began to zone out. There were so many words passing through my mind that I couldn’t help but ignore them all. I just ate my pizza, nodding as John would go on further about the court business. I was interested in law, but when John really got involved in his speech, I needed subtitles. I could understand him most of the time, but not when he completely forgot he was talking to a fifteen-year-old and not a business associate.
So instead of attempting to listen any further I just munched on my pizza, zoning out every so often. I think he was expecting me to be listening, because every now and then he would slow down and then chuckle. I just apathetically laughed along, even though I had no idea what the joke was.

After dinner, John let me watch T.V. while he sat behind me at his desk, working up a sweat. I never knew what he was doing, exerting himself so much like always, especially on a Friday. I flipped through the channels, seeing nothing too interesting, until I stopped on a movie channel and kept it on some old-fashioned horror movie. About half an hour in, John unsuspectingly offered me a large bowl of popcorn. I hate popcorn but I couldn’t refuse the gesture. I don’t mind the taste so much; it’s more of the small kernels that bother me. They always get wedged in my throat, and they’re impossible to get out.
Every so often I would look over at John and see his strong posture hovered over the desk, pen in hand, glasses pushed to the bridge of his nose. His concentration was so intense; I had this deep yearning to break it.
I grabbed a piece of popcorn and tossed it at him. It hit his back with effortless success. I smirked, pleased with my accomplishment and rested my arm over the back of the leather couch.
He turned, giving me a side glance and then he narrowed his eyes in a playful way. He tried to ignore it, turning back to his papers that seemed to be hogging all of his attention and focus.
I rolled my eyes and faced the T.V. again, watching a lady screaming at the top of her lungs. It sounded as if she were standing right in front of me, because the surround-sound was so intense.
“Can you lower that please?” John asked.
I looked over to him again, his back still facing me, and I leaned over the couch once more. “What if I said no?”
He didn’t answer. Man, when he got involved in something he really blocked everything else out.
“What if I don’t want to?” I repeated, anxiously waiting for his response. He had to engage now.
He finally turned, his chair turning along with him. He looked at me with a tired and unimpressed expression on his face. “Just lower it, please.”
“What are you doing that’s so important?”
“Making sure all the written information is filled out for your hearing.”
“It’s two months away.”
“Better to get it over with now, so we’re prepared.”
“You must have been a geek in high school,” I joked.
John chuckled, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples. “I was always the organized one in my class.”
“Ever gotten shoved in a locker?”
“Once or twice,” he joked. “Though it doesn’t compare to the time I got chili sauce all over my shirt and was laughed at by half the school, including the staff.”
“When did this happen, yesterday?”
“Actually, last week.”
We both sort of chuckled and then he just sat there staring, looking pretty damn drained.
“You look like you’ve just come back from the dead. Why don’t you call it a night already? You’ve been going at this for the past two hours,” I said.
He looked up at me from his daze and exhaustedly formed a smile. “I think you’re right.”

It was now almost midnight, and John had lent me another set of his pajamas to wear; pants and a tank. I changed in the bathroom which was smack in the middle of his bedroom and the guestroom which I would be staying in. The plaid pants smelled of freshly washed clothes mixed in with that wooden smell of a drawer. I slid into them, letting the bottoms drag over my toes. They were four or five sizes too big, but I didn’t mind since they were comfortable.
John made me brush my teeth with a spare toothbrush he kept under the sink. He’s very pro-hygiene.

It was around twelve-thirty when I finally lay down in the guestroom to get some sleep. The day had been long, regardless of my little nap. I tried to get to sleep but for the life of me could not; I didn’t know what it was. I just lay in the warm bed on my side, staring out the slightly open curtains to the night sky.
My life was about to take a drastic turn. I was in the middle of an extremely dense situation, and it was only about to get worse. As if things weren’t complicated enough in my life.
But even if it was difficult for me to stray away from all the downsides of the trial, I tried to focus on what John had said earlier, about this being the normal thing to do in a situation like mine. I trusted John, and what he said always seemed so sensible and wise. In fact, I think he is the only man I completely trust in this world.
I heard him still walking and shuffling about in his room, probably working still, even though I told him to stop. He never did know when to give it a rest when it came to his job. He was always on the phone with someone, always occupied.
My eyelids did not want to stay shut, and I was starting to get a little irritated, so I sat up, distressed. I didn’t know what to do, so I just slid out of the bed and my feet wandered over to John’s room. I saw the light from the crack under the door suddenly go out; he was probably just about to call it a night.
I tapped lightly on his door with my knuckle, then entered after I heard him say “Shuro?”
He was standing next to his bed, near the window, his body a dark silhouette against the curtains. Everything was so quiet that even his whisper seemed to echo throughout the room.
“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” He asked, casually taking off his glasses and placing them on his night table beside the bed. I couldn’t really see where I was going, but I just walked over to where he was and plopped down on his bed before he did himself.
“Yeah,” I said, pausing and looking up at him. “I can’t take my mind off the trial.”
John quietly cleared his throat, then sat down right next to me on his bed, adjusting his pajama pants. “You don’t have to worry; I’m settling everything for you. All you have to focus on is telling your story to the judge, and everything you can remember that Ron has done. It won’t take much to convince the judge that he is guilty.”
I just slid my arms between my legs quietly, listening to him. His voice calmed me, and surprisingly I was starting to feel a bit more confident about the whole situation.
“John...” I started, my head turning toward him. My eyes were glazed over, my expression changing intensely to try and capture his gaze. The look on my face told him that whatever I was about to say needed a truthful answer. “...Why are you doing all of this for me?”
John sighed softly, looking away for a few moments, as if contemplating just exactly what to say. He then looked back at me, meeting my intensity, his eyelids heavy. The seemingly hour-long pause was ended by the sound of John’s calm whisper.
“Shuro, sometimes when you really care about someone deeply even though they irritate you sometimes,” he laughed softly, still gazing at me. “You’ll find you’re willing to do just about anything within your power to help them when they need it most. When...” he paused again. “When you see them presenting themselves to you everyday wearing a new bruise or scrape, it’s like witnessing the murder of a child in slow motion. You know they can be so much more than just somebody else’s disgraceful remains of a life. You see all of the possibilities they’ve got going for them in the future.”
I sat silently, trying to take in everything he was saying. His stare was so intense, I felt like I had to break it. “You’re still talking about me, right?” I joked.
We both chuckled and the atmosphere in the room felt lighter.
“Get some sleep, okay? Tomorrow’s a big day.” John patted my knee.

And I did. As soon as I hit the pillow I was out like a light.


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