PART ONE OF TWO PARTS:
 

Slowly.. very slowly... Brad started to emerge from his alcohol-induced slumber...It was like swimming in syrup. As much as he didn’t want to wake up... his body was forcing consciousness upon him.  Each stage more agonizing than the last.  Finally forced to crack his eyes open.... big mistake...big mistake!!!!  Convinced he was now blinded for life, he groaned in pain…Bigger mistake, the groan tore at his throat and the noise seemed so loud it echoed between his ears.... Damn even his hair hurt.  He buried himself further under the covers to hide from the sun coming in the window, but Mother Nature demanded otherwise. His bladder came awake with a vengeance... sitting up took a Herculean effort ....biggest mistake.. the room spun and his vision clouded.. whoa stop the world... please.  He sat on the edge of his bed with his head held gingerly in his hands.

Bladder demanding ...Now! Now! Now!

Standing up....nope…nope….nope, not a good idea.

His vision went black a moment...his stomach rolled. Brad blindly groped for the bathroom door... as soon as he answered that call he got another more urgent call.  His stomach revolted violently from last night’s partying. He barely had time to bend over the toilet. His stomach seemed to pay him back in kind with an overabundance.  There seemed no end in sight.... with each heave his head tried to explode.

His eyes were watering, his nose ran, sweat popped out on his brow.  “I gonna die... I wanna die,” he panted during a short break...(retch)

“Oh..please just let me die.”

Just then he felt a cool washcloth on the back of his neck. The unexpected touch made him jump which made his stomach heave in turn made him puke and the pounding God the pounding.  Lynne, his foster mother, was there with a cool cloth and helping hand.. she held his forehead when he heaved... it helped.

Thank God I slept in my pants, he thought.  It was bad enough to have your head held for you while you ralphed in the toilet, but to do so nude would be too much.

Lynne held his head as he heaved and heaved.  Poor boy was a mess. His face was pale and he was breathless from the exertion, his eyes were tearing and his nose running. Last night...no wait, very early this morning, she heard him finally come in from obviously a night of parting... ‘course he wasn’t very quiet about it for someone trying to sneak in.

She had stayed up most of the night worrying where he could have gone, made calls to friends and nearly called the cops, not wanting to do it at all. Brad was her and Jake’s foster son. They had taken him in five months ago. The boy had had a rough time of it in the system. It seemed most of the homes he went to were little more than halfway houses and some he had been abused in and the others just ignored.  After talking to him, his counselor and probation officer. she felt so drawn to him and so did her husband who had been a foster kid himself.

Calling the cops would just be another black mark on his heavily marked record as a delinquent. No, she would wait him out and then boy oh boy would he get it.

When he stumbled in around 4 am, he was so drunk he could barely walk. In fact he literally crawled up the stairs into bed. He didn’t even see her in the living room as he probably didn’t see anything the way he stumbled around.

Mr. Turner called maybe half an hour after the boy had gone to bed surprising her at the hour of the call. He just wanted to let her know that he had been the one who had dropped Brad off that morning. Seems Brad and his son, Todd, had been out to the old grain mill with a group of kids having a kegger. Mr. Turner found out about it and grabbed any kid he knew and took them home, unfortunately too late to stop any drinking.

Lynne thanked him for his kindness and assured him that Brad was in for a rude awakening, and to let Todd know that Brad wouldn’t be available for calls for a few days.  Mr. Turner said the same of Todd.

Lynne went to bed with a plan....

“I’m gonna die... I wanna die..” moaned a poor, very hung-over kid. ”Oh, please just let me die.” Brad winced as his voice came back at him from the toilet bowl. Each heave echoed mercilessly off the porcelain walls inducing more heaves, more echo’s  and on and on.

Lynn smirked a bit to herself. Just wait, young man...just wait , she thought. The day has just begun.  But she continued to soothe him with the rag and hold his head for him. Her maternal side slid out of neutral and into gear for the duration of his offerings to the morning after gods.

After a long while, Brad’s stomach was totally void of anything. His head felt like it was cleaved, but he was able to control his guts now. Maybe. He and his foster mom sat on the bathroom floor his back against the tubs cool rail while she washed face with a cloth.

She sat up most of the morning devising her plan on handling the situation. Had Jake been home she was sure he would have handled it right then and there. When it was clear that he was through throwing up she decided to begin the day.

 “Bradley!”

 “Hummm?”

“Get dressed and come to breakfast.”

Breakfast !!!!!!!! was she fucking nuts????????

“Lynn... I really don’t....”

“I don’t want any argument, young man.”

She said in a soft,  but none-the-less firm tone and left the room.

“Did she know I came home drunk?” he asked himself. Duh! What else could she think? What would happen now? Nothing good. This day is really going to suck.

Later, dressed, Brad came into the kitchen to the smell of bacon, and coffee. The coffee---no problem---but the bacon was tempting his guts to heave again. He sat down at the table and laid his head on it.

“Down boy,” he said inwardly to his traitorous stomach.

“Brad sit up. Here eat this.” She clanked the plate down on the table.  The sound was disproportionably loud.

Brad slowly sat up to a plate of English muffins with a little butter and two aspirins with a glass of juice.

He looked at the plate with little interest, but he was very much interested in the aspirin.

“Could I please have some coffee?”

It was a long shot hope. Since moving in with the Grangers he was not allowed any coffee. They felt he was too young. He felt that at age 15 he was plenty old enough and had been already drinking it before. But he had no luck talking them into it. In fact he had a lot of problems talking them into a lot of things. No coffee, no smoking, no drinking, oops, and perhaps hardest for him was swearing. He had a real foul mouth he knew that, and a matching temper. The Grangers were the strictest and most stubborn of all his foster homes. And the most generous. These two traits confused the hell out of him.

“Okay.  Just one cup.”

Did he hear her right? His brown eyes must have conveyed his confusion.

“But just this once,” she added quickly. “And it will be weak, with cream.”

“Aw c-mon, Lynn.”

“Bradley, it will be weak or none at all. Hear me?” she firmly said.

He tried nodding his head but stopped short. It hurt too badly so he just croaked a “yes.”  He was confused by her demeanor. If she knew he was hung over why didn’t she just chew him out and get it over with? Something had her acting strange. Better just leave it.

“Here this will help the aspirin work faster. Don’t get used to the coffee, now eat, we have lots to do today. I left you a list of chores to do, I will be exercising the new horses, today, and Jake won’t be back till late this afternoon or evening so it’s you and me. So eat up.” With that she kissed the top of his head gingerly, but slammed the door on her way out, or at least it sounded like it, pain splintered through his poor brain.

The muffins were crunchy... like mini explosions each bite. But it felt good to put something in his stomach.  With his breakfast done, he looked over his list she left him and groaned and laid his head on the table in misery.

 1.  fix the broken stall boards

 2.  Split and stack wood pile

 3.  Mow front fields and along the drive.

Yeah it was only three things but each would take hours.  Damn this day was going to suck.

Out in the barn he found that his foster mother had already cleaned the stalls, but the odor of the barn was over-powering inviting his stomach to rise against him---again. Usually he found it not too bad; he almost enjoyed the smell when clean any way. Coming from the city where smog reigned supreme, fresh country air and barn odors are strange to the nose. He found the stalls with broken stall boards.  Horses had kicked and broken the boards. It took sliding the boards one at a time out of the u channels and replacing the broken board with a new one and sliding the boards back. And, of course, the broken ones would be practically at the bottom. It took a lot of banging to loosen the boards before moving them and to replace the boards. It was not helping his pounding head.  Worst was the wood splitting. Each log that he split felt as if he was spitting his own skull.

During a break he had a chance to mull over his predicament. Not good on all fronts. Lynn was clearly upset. She was just so damned calm about it. Sitting on a large log he hung his head down to stretch his neck and shoulder muscles that were screaming almost as much as his brain. His stomach was in knots. Not sick, just tight. What will happen now? Had he blown it this time. Would last night’s little stunt push them over the edge? That thought surprisingly brought tears to Brad’s eyes. Angrily bushing away the weakness leaking
from his brown eyes, he tried to shake that thought from his whirling mind. Will they send him away? The mere idea of going back into the “system” terrified him no end. This was the first place he could see staying. That too scared him. To invest in that kind of commitment. To trust that fully. The Granger’s were great. So far only one mishap.

Several weeks ago they had a blow up. He had said something smart to Lynn, real crude. Brad knew he had a mouth on him. Now they did, too. Well, Jake, his foster dad came in at that moment. Jake was not a real big man. Not much taller than Brads 5’8”, but lean and well-built. It was his eyes and that calm, deep voice. Just a hint of drawl to it that made up for his stature. Jake pinned Brad to the wall. Didn’t slam him or use any violence at all. Just held him there with one hand. Dude’s strong was the thought that flashed in his mind then. Just one! Drilling him with those golden eyes. So light hazel they looked gold like an eagle’s and just as fierce.

He got a blistering lecture on respect and manners. He felt small and uncomfortable held in that gaze, and the voice reached and threatened that stubborn bravado of his. Jake not once raised his voice or a hand. Again something new and surprising. When his foster dad was done with the speech, Brad was told to apologize to Lynn. He remembered mumbling a sullen “sorry” and rudely brushed past Jake and took a walk outside. It ended up quite the walk, too. He was at the end of the ½ mile drive before he knew it.

He was mad, confused and scared all at once. So he just sat down on the ground by the mail box. Brad just looked down the road. What now? After a long while he still just sat there till he heard the truck coming down the drive. Jake and Lynn pulled up next to him and both got out and walked up to him. Before Brad could say anything or stand, Jake crouched down to him and told him to get in the truck. It wasn’t a request either. Brad looked to both. Lynn’s doe brown eyes had a worried, sad look. Jake just looked stern nothing giving away his intentions. It was on the tip of his tongue to smart off, but he swallowed the retort. Instead he got in and sat between them. Truck still running. Jake sat there a moment just looking out the window. Then he turned that golden gaze on Brad. “Son, you’ve been here a couple months now. And for the most part I think you’ve been happy. I know we have been very happy to have you, but… “ here it comes, Brad braced himself for the usual we don’t want you, can’t keep you, get lost, Shit.

He knew it. It was too good to last.  “But, it’s time to make a decision, son.” What’s this? ”This has to be your choice or it will not work out for any of us. Lynn and I want a family.  We want you to be part of this family. Lynn placed a hand on his own. What’s this? Brad’s mind spun.  “But...” Oh, here it comes. “But, you have to make the decision, Brad. To stay you have to live by the rules.”

“What rules?” Brad’s said a little surly.

“Rule one. Your the kid we are the Parents.”

“Let me guess, rule two is refer to rule one,” Brad snapped, knowing he was pushing it but he couldn’t seem to help the anger and resentment from coming to the surface.

“No, Bradley,” Jake’s deep voice rumbled with a hint of frustration. “Rule two: You break the rules you’ll have consequences and punishments. That’s it. It’s that simple, son. No surprises. And you have a pretty good idea of what we expect from you, son, but we can go over details later. So ball’s in your court, Bradley. We can go down the road and take you back to the boy’s home.” A shudder passed through Brad. His stomach froze. “Or you can stay and live by our rules here. Your choice, buddy. This pickup goes both ways, but before you decide let me tell you there will be no going back. It's a done deal either way, Brad. Got it, boy?”  Brad could only nod his head. He was so shocked by the fact it was his decision. He just sat there a long time with his head down looking at his fists. His chest was tight with tears that he wouldn’t let come. Crying was a weakness.  He was left alone to make the decision. He didn’t want to go back to the home. Looked up ahead to the road. He heard Jake take a deep breath. Looking over at him he saw something, could it be fear in his eyes? He held Jake’s gaze a good, long time. Jake could almost hear all the thoughts going on in Brad’s mind. No doubt the same he was faced with long ago as a foster child. Jake knew the cost of those tears, but he waited the boy out. Brad broke eye contact first and then looked to Lynn. Tears were flowing down her face. It was too much. Lots of other foster mom’s cried. Only it was to the social worker about how he was unmanageable, how he ruined this or that and would they still get their money. That was real pain in her lovely gentle face. The dam broke. Brad couldn’t stop the tears. He was surprised when Lynn hugged and cooed to him. He didn’t let himself cry much or long.

He disengaged from Lynn’s embrace and looked Jake full in the face. “I’d like to stay,” he paused, “Please.”

Lynn sobbed then and held his hand tightly in one of her’s and Jake’s in the other. “Okay, son,” Jake said. You understand now there is no changing your mind when you don’t like something. This is for keeps, son. It’s your choice, okay? I want you with us, but it has to be this way. Like a real family with real family rules and real family consequences. Understand?”

Brad started crying again. Put his face in his hands and wept, just a little. A real family? Jake pulled him in a huge bear hug. Brad wasn’t used to touchy feely stuff. This was okay. Non-threatening. Jake let him cry a bit before giving Brad a little shake.

“Son, I need to know. “ In a tearful voice Brad said he understood and wanted stay.

That night was a long and emotional one.  The three of them sat up a long time talking. It was open and honest. Brad opened up some to them. He was nearly choking on tears when he confided that he wanted to be like a son or nephew to them.

Brad snapped out of his reverie. This was not getting the woodpile any smaller and was only making his head hurt more.

By lunch he was a truly paying for last night. Never again.   Never again. He repeated it like a prayer.

Lynn watched him most of the day and admired his work ethic. She knew how he was suffering and still he did his best, he didn’t slack in the quality or quantity but he didn’t move real fast either.   His foster-mom also noticed she wasn’t the only one admiring him.  And not for his work ethic. The UPS driver fairly drooled over him as she drove by. Brad’s shirt was off and sweat ran down his upper body and face. She felt a mother’s pride in her
son’s build. He was filling out in all the right places, regular meals and ranch work agreed with him and she ruefully noted that she would have to keep close tabs on that as the summer progressed with the starting of riding lessons and seasonal boarding.

Lynn’s eyes narrowed as he wiped the sweat off his face, chest and six pack stomach with his shirt, Yes, sir, those girls will eat him alive.  They shared a light lunch of salad and sandwiches. Nether said much which was fine with him, he felt too bad to talk much or eat much and she seemed likewise occupied. That worried him some. Clearly she knew about last night. Why wouldn’t she just blast him and get it over? A couple times he nearly said something, but never did.

After lunch he finished the woodpile into a neat stack for the winter to come. His arms and back were killing him from the exertion, not to mention the dull ache that was throbbing in his brain.

The mowing was the worse, yet. The riding mower was an old rattletrap, it bounced and jerked all over the place. For what seemed like an eternity, he mowed the two five-acre paddock used for showcasing the horses. It kept the grass at an even length and helped it flourish---so he was told. The sun was very hot and beat down on him. His head felt like an over-poached egg, the heat and hang over coupled with the anxiety of his situation was percolating his temper.  Almost done...almost done, Brad repeated like a mantra to get him through this last chore. The push mower nearly beat him to death and it sounded like a machine gun. He wove the mower in and out of the trees growing along the grassy sides of the half-mile drive. Several times he had to stop to unclog the damn thing.  The sun was setting when he put all the tools away. By then his mood had really deteriorated to a low boil.

Lynn, with the help of a day worker, had the horses fed and was already in the house cleaned up and preparing dinner when he entered.

"Brad, dinner will be in a couple hours. So go shower," she called from the kitchen.

His stomach still felt queasy. "Ain't hungry, I’m done for the day," he said as he stormed into the kitchen instantly regretting slamming the screen door. Her back was to him so he couldn’t see the smirk on her face.

"But I will shower," he said rubbing his temples.

Oh, you're not done yet, kiddo, not by a long shot, she thought to herself.
 

Once in his room he flopped on the bed. He was hot, his body was sore, his head still hurt some. He felt like an over-wound clock. He could feel the alarm building up. Anxiety over what will happen now. Should he pack and wait out for the worst or should he go talk to Lynn? He was in no mood to talk and had a feeling he was shortly in for a bitching out. Was she waiting for Jake to get home?  His anxiety rose a level thinking about how mad Jake would be. He pinched his face between his eyes. He couldn’t relax. He felt bad about last night, more than just the hangover. He knew that it was a not a good idea. He just acted on impulse. His damn impulses got him in a lot of jams. The last month had been the best ever for him. Evening games of 1 on 1 with Jake, camping, fishing, Lynn took him into town last week and bought him a truck-load of new clothes. Brand name shit, too. He couldn’t remember the last time he got anything but used stuff. Well Christmas. When she said to set aside some of them for school he got quiet and moody all of a sudden. Lynn asked him once they were back in the Jeep what was wrong.  Sullenly he told her that he had problems learning sometimes; that he hated school. His grades sucked. He had a hard time in Math and English.

“I’m just not smart I guess,” Boy, was that not a “smart” thing to say.

He got a very cold look from her. He got a mental image of her transforming him to a chunk of ice.   “That, young man, is garbage. That is a cop out. I don’t ever want to hear you say something like that again.” She poked him hard in the chest to get his attention. ”That’s taking the easy road. Oh, poor me. You are very bright. No, sir, Bradley Roberts “GRANGER” she put heavy emphasis on the last. I won't have it. Do you hear me?   Brad was unsure how to react. She had just defended him to himself. And she was upset with him now.

"Uh..shit, Lynn...I just,” uh oh more ice.

"Oh.. sorry. It’s just that I have a hard time keeping up."

Lynn’s face beamed back at him with a look of understanding.  “Sweetie, we can work on that. I bet we can get you up to speed before the first day.” She had such a smile going he couldn’t resist smiling back. It was also on this day that he met Todd and they became friends. He always came over for a game of B-ball or more likely Lynn’s fried chicken.

They had made a day of it. Lunch, shopping, she even took him to a music store and let him chose some CD’s. They had the clerk in stitches as they argued over the attributes and failing between Country and the rest of music world.

Never had he had such a day. She even let him drive her Jeep CJ-5 down the drive.   Each night she or Jake worked with him on his practice homework. They weren't the Cleaver’s, but close enough for him.  Now he had ruined it.

Brad’s guts knotted. He got up and began to pace. Jake said that this was for keeps. I’ll probably just get grounded, he reasoned to himself. But a nagging feeling told him this was the end of the gravy train. That it would be just like all the other times he fucked up.  He’d be on his way back to the home. He was near panic when Lynn walked in.  Brad’s guts knotted. He got up and began to pace. Jake said that this was for keeps. I’ll probably just get grounded. He reasoned to himself. But a nagging feeling told him this was the end of the gravy train. That it would be just like all the other times he fucked up.  He’d be on his way back to the home. He was near panic when Lynn walked in.

“Brad I thought you were going to shower?” She had a set look to her face. She was definitely not happy with him.

“I...uh...I was just getting ready to.”

“Well seeing that you haven’t yet I guess this as good a time as any. We need to have a serious talk young man.”

His temples began to throb again, God not now. He thought to himself. “Lynn, can’t it wait till later..ple..”

“No, it can’t. You’re in some deep water. Bradley, and we both know why. So you and I are going to deal with it now and I am very sure your father will have something to say about it later.”  She glared at him and pointed to the bed. Silently telling him to have a seat.

Just then his temper snapped.  “Goddamnit, Lynn, I don’t want to fucking talk about it now. I just want to left alone, leave me the fuck alone.” He was yelling and felt that burning desire to lash out at anything in his way. No matter who or what that was.

Brad recognized that need and had a stronger need for some room. NOW. He started to walk past his foster mother.  “You just watch that mouth of yours, Bradley Roberts Granger,” she snapped as he started past her. “Oh no! We are not done yet, mister,” grabbing his upper arm to stop him.

The next few moments seemed to move in slow motion. Even so he was helpless to stop the events. The moment Lynn grabbed his arm he immediately reacted, violently. He jerked his arm loose from her grip, a painless grip he noted much later, and instantly raised his closed fist to her.
 

Lynn hadn’t heard the shower start yet. It had been sometime since Brad huffed upstairs.  Dinner had sometime yet to go, so she figured now was as good a time to “Get into it” as any. She headed for his room. Brad’s door was open so she walked in.

"Brad, I thought you were going to shower?"

He looked odd, all tight and nervous, pale even.  The next few minutes seemed to fast forward for Lynn. One moment she was scolding him for his foul mouth the next she was grabbing his arm to keep him from storming out of the room. She was wholly unprepared for his reaction. Brad ripped his arm out of her grasp. An easy task, she was not gripping very tightly just tying to make him stop. As he tore loose he raised a closed fist to her. She was so shocked she cried out and lost her balance and fell hard on the floor. Something firm slammed against the back of her head and neck. Nothing painful just the blow of the fall.

Brad stopped himself just as he was going to through the punch.Punch? At the same moment in time he heard Lynn cry out his name and fall. She had such a surprised look on her face. She fell hard and hit her head against his mattress. She just looked up at him with that look as he stood over her with his fist raised still. Fear, cold and sickening shot through him.

“Get out. Get out now,” his mind yelled. What had he done? Lynn sat on the floor staring up at him in shock. He was just standing there with fists raised and a horrible look of a trapped animal on his boyish face. Neither said anything. She watched as his Adam's apple bobbed convulsively. Then just like many of her colts in training she saw his muscles bunch. Not for fight but for flight.

"Brad, no!...don’t!...wait!!!!!!!...come back.........”

He was gone with the slamming of the kitchen door.

On to Part Two of For Keeps
 
 

  Back to Frost Spinner's Home Page  E-mail me, I would love to hear from you.