| Suffer the Children 9 Justin lay in bed months later. The morning bells were due to go off any minute but he just wanted to enjoy his happiness. Good things were happening. Love— that was the best— that feeling that someone cared and now he had three someones besides Joan. He felt a twinge of sadness that his family still hadn't written or visited, that they had ignored his birthday, but he was able to bury it before any tears came. He thought about Lance. This was the best friend he always wanted. Some nights they stayed up really late talking about what they would do together when they grew up and left St. Catherine's. Justin was amazed that Lance wanted this friendship, too. The younger boy worried constantly that he would do something foolish and the relationship would end with Lance walking away like his parents. He forced his brain to think about the exciting things in his life. He had the highest grades in his class and Miss Scott gave him a five dollar prize which he promptly spent on his friends, showering them with penny candy and gum. He had saved one dollar and bought a card for Lance and told him how grateful he was that Lance was his friend. Joan read it and cried He had his own cheering section at the swim meets. Justin practiced hard and it paid off. He won several medals and an award from the coach for being such a hard worker. When the season ended, Lance suggested that they join the choir. Justin laughed. Only the dorks joined the choir. But when he saw the hurt look on Lance's face, he shrugged and agreed. Mr. McLean was the choir director. He was scary and mean, Sister Mary's brother. Justin questioned Lance about whether this was really a good idea but Lance was determined. Justin sighed as they pushed the door open. "Well?" Mr. McLean barked. Justin cringed but Lance just stood taller. "We want to join the choir," he stated firmly. He didn't wilt under the intense stare. "OK. Let's hear you sing," he said, folding his arms on his chest and daring them to make fools of themselves. They had practiced a duet which was perfect for their voices, Lance's naturally deep voice and Justin's high, sweet one. As they sang, they looked at one another for courage. They didn't see the gleam in AJ's eye. As they finished, they looked down, expecting the worst. "That was excellent. You with the deep voice, what's your name?" "Lance Bass, sir." "Well, Lance, your voice is great and will only get better once you mature. And you?" he said pointing at Justin. "Justin Timberlake, sir." "Your voice is beautiful," he said. There were titters from the rest of the choir and Justin blushed a deep red. "Thank you, sir," he answered but he actually wanted to disappear. Beautiful— great— more teasing. But it was OK when he glanced at Lance and saw him smiling proudly at him. "Tomorrow at three. Be on time. I hate it when boys are late," AJ said and turned back to the choir rehearsal. They walked back, talking about what he said. "Maybe someday we could sing together," Lance said. Justin looked at him and burst out laughing, the thought absolutely ludicrous. Lance frowned, "Be like that. You'll see." Then it was homework, and dinner and, and, and... The next day Justin and Lance arrived early. Mr. McLean was going over sheets of music. He looked up and smiled. The boys were surprised and couldn't hide it. "I do smile occasionally despite rumors to the contrary," he said. "Listen, boys, you both have lots of potential and I would like you to take vocal lessons in addition to the choir. It would require some sacrifice of time but you are both very talented and I'd like to see that talent developed." Lance looked at Justin with a smug I-told-you-so expression. Justin surprised both of them when he asked, "What do I have to sacrifice?" He was thinking of his time with Joan and even though he had friends and activities, he still needed that time with her, to assure him that he was a good boy, that she loved him. He wouldn't give that up. When AJ said it was another three hours a week, Justin said no and nothing they said, no amount of whining from Lance, swayed him. AJ debated forgetting the whole thing but he knew Justin had real talent and it was a sin to waste it, as his sister would say. "OK, we'll do it during your music class period." Music class was ridiculous here anyway. If it hadn't been a state requirement, it would certainly not be offered. The boys hated it and mocked it and made Miss James cry every day. She would be upset to lose two of the handful of students who ever paid attention. So they started training and Justin found it enjoyable. He loved to sing. And it was another thing to share with Lance. That was the best part. The bells rang and Justin got up. He still headed for the showers early even though no one had bothered them in months. Yesterday was a big day for him. Chris was discharged from St. Catherine's and Justin felt safer already. He didn't have a clue what Chris despised in him but he shivered whenever Chris was near. Joey and Kev were still around but without Chris, they never seemed so scary. Justin never saw the stairway door open, never saw the small pipe raised over Chris's head, and certainly never saw what happened next. Chris brought the pipe down on the back of Justin's head and the child folded without a sound. The older boy dragged him into the stairwell, checking to make sure the hallway was still empty. Joey and Kevin waited. This was the only part he needed them for. Joey picked Justin up and threw him over his shoulder. Kevin had the roll of duct tape that Chris told him to get and he carried that along with Justin's shower things. They went to the basement, to the same closet. Joe dumped the boy on the floor and turned to Chris, "Anything else?" "No, thanks guys, go now so you have an alibi. I'll be in touch from the outside." He shooed them away and stood over Justin. He took the roll of duct tape and set to work taping wrists, ankles and mouth. As he was finishing up, Justin moaned behind the tape and his eyelids fluttered open. At first, Justin had no idea where he was or why or how he had gotten there. Then he realized that his wrists and ankles were bound and that there was tape over his mouth. He couldn't keep the fear out of his eyes when he saw Chris leer, clapping with anticipation. "Here we are again, Justin," he said. The rage was there, in his voice, his face, the set of his fists. Justin was terrified and helpless. He couldn't resist when Chris pulled him up and draped his wrists over a hook. Chris stepped back and smiled as if admiring a work of art. "This, Justin, is my parting gift to me. Do you know that I hate you?" A tiny shake. "Well, I do. Do you know why?" Another tiny shake. "Do you want to know why before I beat the shit out of you?" Justin was paralyzed. Chris took that as a yes. "Well, here's why. Because Joan loves you. Because you made friends even though I tried to stop it. Because you are so pretty. Because you are so good. Because you try so fucking hard. Because you're an angel and I'm not. I'm none of those things." He was screaming at the end and the tears were rolling down Justin's cheeks. And then he started punching the child, punctuating each blow with a reason, repeating them over and over, until "Because you're an angel" was all he could say, his own tears falling freely. Justin lost consciousness before the end and hung there like a rag doll. He never felt Chris lift him off the hook and sink to the floor with him, sobbing, "Why couldn't I be like you?" He never knew when Chris wiped his eyes, stood and said, "Goodbye, Justin." He never saw the door shut quietly, leaving him alone. Upstairs, Lance was frightened. He had rolled over as always, sneaking a few extra minutes of sleep, knowing Justin would wake him when he returned. So when Nick and Howie knocked, he was surprised. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Nick frowned, "Why are you still in bed and where's Justin?" Lance looked at the clock. It was almost 7:00. Shit, where was Justin? Lance said, "I don't know. He got up and went to the shower. He never..." Lance jumped up and threw on his clothes, realizing that Justin had to be in trouble. "We have to tell Joan." Howie and Nick looked confused but followed Lance out the door. They met Joan in the hall on the way to Mass. She smiled, happy to see them. Before she could ask about Justin, Lance blurted out, "He's gone, Joan, since 6:30." "Gone where?" she asked, a puzzled look on her face. Lance was crying now. "I don't know. He never came back from the shower." Nick whispered, "Chris?" Joan shook her head, "He left yesterday. Anyway..." She stopped. She had seen Chris's hatred of Justin and it had only gotten worse since the winter. If he had been biding his time, there was no telling what he would do to the younger boy. On a hunch, she headed to the basement closet and when she opened it, she couldn't stifle a horrified cry. He was there, but unlike the last time, he was nearly unconscious. "Nick, Howie, go upstairs and get the nearest monitor to call 911 and tell them where we are." She knelt down and peeled the tape off his mouth. She was relieved to hear him groan. He tried to shift and she heard a sharp gasp, "Hard. To. Breathe." She cursed under her breath and laid him flat on his back. She tried to loosen the tape on his wrists but he whimpered and she stopped. She stroked his curls, afraid to touch him anywhere else, and whispered calming words. It seemed to take forever for the ambulance to arrive and Justin was getting more and more frightened, his breath coming in uneven gasps. "Sssh, baby, it'll be OK. The ambulance is coming. Try to be quiet." She looked at his face, grimacing with the effort to breathe. She felt so helpless watching him. When they finally heard the sirens, she and Lance let out audible sighs of relief. Hours later, she was still at the hospital. James sat beside her, holding her hand and reassuring her everything would be fine. The doctors in the emergency room had ordered lots of tests and ended up deciding that Justin's spleen would have to be removed, but they needed consent. That was two hours ago. Joan had called Justin's parents and when there had been no response, James had gotten the signed release from Justin's file and brought it over. Now they were waiting for the surgery to be over. "Is it possible that they won't even call?" Joan asked. She hated them. Even if they called, she didn't think she could actually speak civilly to them. She was sure that they would see this as Justin's "punishment" for being gay. And if they went down that road, Joan couldn't vouch for her reaction. James had the sense to remain silent. If he tried to excuse their behavior, he would probably end up with a split lip himself. He knew when it came to Justin, Joan had no access to rational thought. Not that he could even begin to explain the Harlesses' behavior. He was glad that Justin had this tiger of a woman defending him, watching over him, loving him. Dr. Stewart came into the waiting room. Joan squeezed James's hand so hard, he gasped. They stood, Joan searching the surgeon's face for clues. "Mrs. Peterson. Mr.....?" he said, holding out his hand. "Cronin, James Cronin from St.Catherine's. How is he?" "We removed the spleen with no problem. We also sutured some lacerations on the liver and stomach. The punctured lung will heal as will the broken ribs. That boy is very lucky to survive a beating like that," he said, shaking his head, a look on his face that asked who would do this to a child. Then he continued, " He'll be here for a few days at least and if there are no complications, we'll release him. He will need rest at home. Are his parents coming soon? I'd like them to hear this before I leave." James and Joan exchanged a look and when the doctor frowned, James said, "We don't know. They haven't responded yet. Joan would like to stay with him though if that's all right with you." Dr. Stewart had a strange expression on his face, one that said what the hell, but he simply nodded and said, "It would be great. He will be disoriented when he wakes up and you'll be a calming influence." He held out his hand, "Well, I'll be going. Sorry we had to meet under these circumstances. He looks like a nice kid." Joan's eyes were bright with tears as she shook his hand. James took his turn and then guided her to the nurses' station. "Dr. Stewart said..." An older nurse looked up and said, "Timberlake. Right there. She pointed to a glassed-in cubicle across from the station. Joan held her breath, afraid of what she would see. He was so tiny in the bed. There were tubes everywhere. One in his nose, one in his chest, one in his hand, one attached to a bag. Then there was a cuff on his arm and a clip on his finger. And machines. One for the chest tube, one to dispense the IV fluids, one to measure and record his blood pressure and heart rate, one to measure the oxygen. And they all beeped or hissed with regularity. "Oh Justin," she moaned, "You poor baby." She maneuvered a chair between the machines and sat down next to the bed, James's presence forgotten. Justin looked so pale except for all the bruises. They were on his wrists and his upper arms and his jaw and his cheek and one eye was swollen shut. And that didn't include what was under the gown. She shook her head and reached out to stroke his curls. "Joan, I have to get back. I'll call the nurses' station if we hear from the Harlesses," James said. Joan didn't even turn, just nodded. Nurses came and went every few minutes. Joan would stand aside while they performed whatever task they had to do and then slip right back next to him so that he would know she was there when he woke up. It was ironic that when she finally put her head on the bed for a few moments' rest, he regained consciousness. He opened his eyes slowly, feeling like there were weights on them. He actually tried several times before he had success. The first thing he focused on were the two machines next to the bed, whirring and beeping. Where was he? Panic set in especially since they had restrained the arm with the IV for just that reason. The tubes in his throat and chest frightened him, too. He realized Joan was here. "Joan," he whimpered. When she didn't respond, he tried to make it more audible. This time it came out as a loud squeak, "Joan." She heard it in her sleep and sat up startled. He tried to sit up himself but Joan pushed him back down as gently as possible. "Lie still, Justin. It's OK, sweetie. Just lie still." She was stroking his curls and his cheek, attempting to calm him before he tore at all of the tubes and hurt himself. A nurse appeared and Joan had to move. When she took her hand away, Justin started to cry. "Jus, the nurse has to look at you. I'm not going anywhere." She moved to the other side of the bed and held his hand. The nurse checked everything with the efficiency of those with long experience in ICU. Then she put medication into the IV and whispered to Joan that he would be asleep soon. With a last snap of the sheets, she left. Joan sat back down and resumed stroking Justin. His lips trembled, "What happened? Why do I have all of these machines? Am I going to die? Where's Lance?" She answered his questions as briefly as possible knowing the full story would come out later. By the time she finished, his eyes were closed and he was relaxed. She closed her eyes and thanked God that he was going to be all right. When she was sure he was asleep, she went out and called James even though it was past eleven o'clock. When he heard her voice, he came awake. She filled him in on Justin and then asked, "Have they called?" He hesitated, "Umm." "James, I'm a big girl. You can tell me." "OK, yes they called and when I told them that we no longer needed the consent, they said fine and hung up." Joan was stunned into silence. "Joan, you still there?" "Yes." The rage was building into volcanic proportions. "That was it. You tell them that their child was beaten within an inch of his life and their only concern is that they don't need to be bothered with giving consent?" "Umm, pretty much," he answered. "No who did it or will he be ok or where should we come or give him our love or ...." "Stop it, Joan," he ordered. "You are expecting blood from a stone and you know it. If they were capable of any of that, he wouldn't be with us. Now go take care of him. At least he has you. I'll relieve you for a few hours tomorrow. Try to get a little rest. Good night." "Night, James." She walked back into the dimly lit room. Justin was still sleeping and she sank into the chair and let the tears come at last. She cried not only for this child's hurt right now, but for his past and for all the pasts of all the children who had been so damaged. She cried for Chris who had the humanity beaten out of him already, who needed to act out his pain in such a cruel way. She cried for the parents who weren't able to see what they were doing to these babies. She cried for herself , watching their suffering and being able to do so little for them. It was a long night. continue menu |