Chapter 23

Timmy tried to call Peter when he got back to his apartment, but there was no answer. This did not surprise Timmy.

He felt at loose ends, not knowing what to do with himself for the rest of this Sunday afternoon, but luckily there were few hours left of the day. His friend was in the hospital, his lover was who knows where avoiding him, and Nation's was too far away to hitch to this late in the day given he had to work in the morning. Motorhead had arrived and was playing guitar with Will in the living room, and Timmy had given Motor a polite nod and stayed away from him and his suggestive leers. This meant Will couldn't watch the television that was in the room with Will and Motor. In the end, Timmy sat in the dining area where he could hear the music clearly through the opening in the wall, and watch people in the town square from the front windows. The shadows cast by the old elm giants slowly moved across the little park until they advanced to cover it all, and it was time for dinner. Motor left. Timmy cooked for himself and Will, and after they ate, Timmy went to bed.

Timmy found Nation's held no interest for him after work on Monday. Danny's bouncing voice was not going to precede him coming through the door because Danny wasn't going to be coming to Nation's any time soon. He didn't want any of the men, he wanted Peter. Drinking was getting boring, as he was getting tired of feeling hungover and sick in the mornings. Drugs took all of his money, and look what they did to Danny and what they made out of Ron and Paul. He felt lost and without direction. Finally, he left and went to the library and took out some science fiction, and hitchhiked home.

Will's eyebrows raised up when Timmy walked in the door. It was very early for Timmy to appear. He picked up and handed Timmy a bundle of documents that had been lying in the window between the dining area and living room.

"Here, you better take these. A sheriff brought them today," Will said. He looked sympathetic as Timmy straightened the pages out and began to read.

"'Petition to Ajudicate Minor Child as ChINS.'" read Timmy out loud. "Wha?!?" He silently poured through the rest of the paperwork. "Oh god, there's Farnham's signature on the affidavit saying he believes I'm in danger from lack of adult supervision. Man, I've been living on my own like forever. Why is he doing this to me?" Timmy wailed.

"I guess I knew you were underage," said Will, "but I thought your parents had given you permission or something."

"I left on my own, but they never objected. They were glad just to get me out of their house. That was about a year ago," Timmy reflected. "I mean, I've been working with DSW, and my worker Jennifer knows about my situation and seems ok with it. It's not like I can't take care of myself."

"Yeah, you've done ok by me. I was afraid you wouldn't hold up your end of the apartment and expenses, but I was pleasantly surprised to be wrong when you paid everything on time. You've also done real well in letting me know when you were going to be away at night. I'm glad to have you as my roommate. Timmy, if you want, I'll go to court for you and testify," offered Will. "I think they're railroading you."

"Oh man, would you? That is so amazing, Will!" Timmy was flabbergasted. He would never have expected Will to stand up for him.

"If you look carefully, Farnham never says you did anything wrong. He just contends you've been wandering around without supervision. Never mind you hold down a job and pay your way here, and maintain regular meals. I don't think he did his homework before starting this legal action, Timmy," Will guessed.

"But look, Will, this hearing is going to be Wednesday afternoon. You'd miss work," objected Timmy.

Will had a determined look on his face. "I know, but I need to do this for you. You've helped me quite a bit lately." He was thinking of the way Timmy held him after the fire, just held him, without asking for a thing.

"Shit, I'm going to miss work, too. My boss will have my hide," Timmy whined.

Will grimaced at the mild obscenity, but let it go. "She'll just have to get over it. They're not going to fire you, you're too good of a worker. They hung in there for you during your tonsil surgery, and your being late when you first moved here. They're not going to get rid of you, now. They'll support you in this," Will assured the boy.

"I don't know what to do. What should I do, Will?" Timmy worried, his eyes big.

"Call your DSW worker," Will instructed Timmy. "She'll know what to do."

"I don't have her home number," Timmy objected.

"Call her in the morning," insisted Will. Timmy agreed this was his only plan of choice for the evening, and hoped Jennifer could lead him through the morass of the legal system the next day.

Timmy had a hard time sleeping that night. He tossed and turned, wondering if this time on Thursday he'd be back at his parents' nightmarish house.

"Denise, please, I gotta make an important phone call this morning," Timmy begged.

She looked at him suspiciously, seeing his extreme agitation. "What is this about? What's so important that you can't wait until lunchtime?"

Timmy was too nervous to prevaricate. "Man, it's about this petition the state has filed against me. It wants the court to making a finding that I'm a ChINS, a child in need of supervision, and make me move back to my parents' house. I gotta call my social worker to figure out what to do."

"Whoa!" she cried. "I need more information about this. Get a cup of coffee and let's sit in the back of the room and talk about it." Timmy agreed and went for the java, while Denise gave the other women their tasks and got them started for the day. She came back and took Timmy to the big work table in the far rear of the factory room.

"What gives, Timmy? I thought you were all set. You seemed like things were kinda unsettled when you first started working here, but lately you've really been with it. You're on time, you're eager to start in the morning, and you haven't missed work except for your tonsils. Why's the state doing this, Timmy?" she grilled.

Timmy took the petition out of his pocket, and handed it to her. She skimmed through it, and groaned.

"What's this Farnham guy got against you?" she asked.

"I dunno. I only recently met him, and I thought we got along. Me and my best friend Danny witnessed a traffic accident, and Farnham questioned us about it. Then my friend got into trouble, I found him passed out, yelled for help, and someone called the cops. Farnham responded to the call. He interrogated me about that incident, too, but I didn't have anything to do with my friend passing out, I wasn't even there when it happened. Farnham sat and talked with me afterwards and was all sympathetic like." Timmy stopped and reflected on all the things Farnham could bust him on, if he knew about them. Timmy didn't think he did, though.

"Timmy, I didn't ask before because it didn't seem like my business, but now that it may affect your job here, I need to know: Why don't you live with your parents?" Denise prodded.

Timmy's face screwed up. "My parents are born again Christians. I got nothing against God, I feel like he's gotten me out of a lot of hassles. He and I have a good relationship. My parents, on the other hand, wanted a perfect little automaton, and wouldn't let me go to other kids' houses, or listen to music, or make art, or do much of anything except pray, read the bible and do all the work around the house. When I was 13, I began saying no to them, and my father started beating me. That left bruises, and the school officials started asking what was going on, so my parents made me skip school to hide what they were doing. The school sent a truant officer over to find out why I wasn't at school. The officer threatened my parents with the authorities if they didn't stop beating me and keeping me out of school. My father gave in and the beatings stopped, but he watched me like a hawk all the time. If I messed up at all, he wouldn't let my mother feed me, only punish me. Finally, I walked out when I was 16, and didn't go back. They don't want me back, either. They say I would poison my younger brother and sister and lead them astray." He finally wound to a stop, feeling haggard. There was a deep abyss of abuse that Timmy didn't even touch on.

Denise sensed there was a lot left unsaid, and patted his hand. "Timmy, you're getting a bum rush here. You make your phone call, and I'll cover for you with the big bosses. I also see that you've got a hearing on Wednesday, that's tomorrow (!) and you might need some more time off to get ready. You can have the time off. I'll even happily come and testify about how well you're doing in your work for us. You're doing good, Timmy, I want you to know that."

Tears welled up in Timmy's eyes, and he sniffed once, then choked back the sob and suppressed it. "Thank you, Denise."

"Go," she said, and she got up and went back to the front of the room. A half shake later, Timmy made his way out of the company to the street corner telephone booth, where he made all his calls on workdays. He reached DSW, and got through to Jennifer immediately.

"Timmy! I tried to call as soon as I found out, but you'd already left for work, and I didn't want to get you fired by calling you there. Especially now! Can you come over?" Jennifer excitedly asked.

"I think so," answered Timmy. "I gotta go ask my boss. I'll either call right back or come over in a couple of minutes."

"Great!" she exclaimed, and hung up.

Denise waved him away when he asked if he could go over to DSW. Timmy sighed gratefully and hurried out the door.

Jennifer came and got him out of the waiting room seconds after he had announced himself to the bored receptionist.

"Wow, Timmy, what did you ever do to Officer Farnham?" she said by way of greeting.

Timmy denied knowledge of any cause for Farnham's concern. He told her of the only two times he'd had contact with the man, and that he'd been doing nothing wrong either time.

"Ok, sounds like he's made a lot of assumptions here about things he knows nothing about. I think he's going to make a fool of himself in court, but we have to be prepared for him. I need to know everything about your life, Timmy. Tell me about your parents. Why don't you live at home?" Jennifer began.

Timmy told her a slightly more detailed version of what living at home had been like than he had told Denise. She nodded vigorously, and confirmed that had been her guess, as confirmed by her dealings with Harlan and Pauline before and during the tonsil surgery. He then went on and responded to Jennifer's additional questions about work, his apartment, and his social life. It was only during his comments about the latter that she frowned and showed concern.

"Hanging out in the bar is not going to go over with the judge well. Do you drink a lot there?" she interrogated Timmy.

He hesitated a moment, and then carefully said, "The owners and the bartenders have never served me when I've been there or seen me drinking in the bar."

Jennifer caught the evasion. "But others have? How about drug use, Timmy?"