Date: Thu, 01 Dec 2005 12:35:47 -0800 From: fritz@nehalemtel.net Subject: I Love Corey, Chapter Seventy-one Somewhere along the way things went radically wrong. How else can you explain my having to write the seventy-first of the hated warnings and disclaimers? Jeez, what a drag. Oh well, I might just as well get started. Minors leave. You know darn well you shouldn't be reading this story, so why are you? The funny thing is, I have no idea if any minors are trying to read this story. However, if they are, I've done my part and warned them not to. My conscience is somewhat clearer. If you are offended by descriptions of gay sex, also leave. Surely you realize that Nifty is a site containing adult stories, many of which contain such descriptions. Don't try to claim you didn't realize that. I mean it's not like Nifty went out and captured you and forced you to read these stories. You found Nifty by searching for it. I feel sorry for those of you who are forbidden by law from reading stories such as this one, in your area. Boy, that sentence sucks. However it does cover what needed to be said. It's just that you may have to read that sentence several times to figure out what it means. Anyhow, if you think it applies to you, go to some other site. I don't want to get you in trouble. If you are unwilling to leave, be careful and don't let anyone find out you were here. If you fail to do so, you will likely become an outcast at the least, a convicted criminal at that worst. For those curious about such things, the only trees harmed by the writing of this story were those needed to make enough stakes, to support enough grape vines, to supply enough wine, to help me write this story. After all, the creative mind needs lots of lubrication, and wine is excellent at that task. After all, we all think we are a lot smarter after a drink or two. Anyhow, that wine enabled me to make the whole story up. None of the characters are based on anyone, living or dead. None of the events are based on any happenings within my knowledge. In other words, the whole story is the result of too much wine and too much free time. Maybe next year I'll have to buy another bottle of wine to keep me going. Then all I have to do is find a bottle of free time. Since I wrote it, that makes this literary masterpiece mine. Well, maybe it isn't quite a masterpiece, but it is still mine, so I would appreciate it if you respected that fact. You're more than free to read, and hopefully enjoy it, but please credit me if you find something you wish to quote from it, and don't use it in a commercial manner without contacting me and sharing the wealth. Yeah, I know it's hard to share a penny. Where did the penny come from? You've heard the old saying, "A penny for your thoughts?" Well the story is from my thoughts, such as they are. I somehow doubt that it is worth much more than that. Even at a penny a chapter I still couldn't buy a cup of coffee. Poor Don is once again faced with the task of making sense out of my gibberish. After all, if you can't make sense out of it, how can you correct it? I can only offer my thanks for his efforts. His work makes the story much easier to read. I, as a writer, and you, as a reader, owe him much. Go ahead and take the plunge. Write me and ask questions, offer criticism, make suggestions, or just offer comments. I try to answer all such emails. Send them to fritz@nehalemtel.net Don't forget to put "I Love Corey" in the subject line so you don't suffer the fate of having your email deleted. You can also request to be put on the chapter notification list at the same email address. Now with all that said, I hope you enjoy the following chapter. Fritz I Love Corey, Chapter Seventy-one It didn't take us long to get to the Intensive Care unit. The charge nurse was a little abrupt when we first approached her, but as soon as I explained who Corey was, she was very helpful. In fact, she almost seemed to want to mother Corey. However, she didn't have very good news to give us. She tried to give it in a manner that offered hope, but if one listened closely, there seemed to be little hope to offer. Nurse Moore didn't know many of the details of what had happened to Mrs. Babcock, but she knew the results. Basically someone had beaten Mrs. Babcock severely and the damage consisted of a fractured skull, which was causing swelling of the brain, some broken ribs in which one lung had been damaged, and a broken arm along with many bruises. The most severe problem was the swelling. The doctors were working frantically, trying to relieve the pressure, but so far it wasn't working as well as they wanted. No one knew if there was any damage to her brain outside of the swelling, but they suspected there might be. While they had managed to slow the swelling, so far they hadn't managed to stop it. If they couldn't get the swelling under control, well it didn't look very good. The doctors were just getting ready to operate again to try to relieve the pressure. Nurse Moore said Corey could have a quick look at his mother if he wanted to, but only for a minute or so. That look was probably a mistake, but Corey insisted on it. Mrs. Babcock looked horrible. I mean anyone would probably look bad in intensive care, but she looked even worse. You could see the bruising and swelling. Add in the respirator tube and all the monitoring equipment and the whole scene was ghastly. I wouldn't have recognized her based on what she looked like. The left side of her face was so swollen that it looked like an angry balloon about ready to burst, and that didn't even begin to describe the cuts that were stitched up and the fact that her hair had been shaved off. Nurse Moore hadn't mentioned that the fingers on her right hand looked like they had been run over by a steam roller. The thought went through my mind that the doctors weren't really fixing many of her problems, and then it was followed by the thought that they were too busy trying to save her life to worry about the little things, like mashed fingers. I suppose they figured there would be plenty of time to fix her fingers if she lived. Like I said, it was probably a mistake to let Corey see her, because he would have collapsed if I hadn't held him up. Still, maybe it was for the best. Had they not let him see her, he would have always wondered. Now he could see for himself, even if it hurt. We had no more than gotten in to see her when she was wheeled off to the operating room. Then it was go and sit in the waiting area. At least we were the only ones there to start with, so there was plenty of room. There was a kind of sofa thing and Corey and I sat down on it. He was crying softly and all I could do was put my arm around him and try to help ease the pain. The rest of the boys scattered out on the rest of the chairs and just sat there. There really didn't seem like there was much to say. Two hours later Corey's head was in my lap and he was asleep. The rest of the boys were sleeping also, and I was kind of dozing. Several people had joined us and the room was becoming crowded, but I wasn't sure what to do. I finally slipped out from under Corey and went and talked with the nurse. She didn't have any real information to share and told me the whole thing might take quite a while. With that piece of information, I decided to get a motel and put at least everyone but Corey to bed. Since I'd gone to school at U. C. Davis, I was very familiar with the area and it wouldn't be hard to select a motel. In fact, I knew of one less than a mile from the hospital. However, Corey wouldn't go with us. He wanted to stay in case his mother needed him. I thought about it a few seconds and decided to take a chance that he would be all right and grabbed the rest of the boys and headed for the motel. There was almost zero traffic and it didn't take long to get there and get registered. I managed to get adjoining rooms with a connecting door. Telling the boys to go ahead and order breakfast from room service, I hurried back to the hospital, all the while hoping that everything was still all right. In just under forty minutes I was stepping out of the elevator and back into the intensive care area. There was a policeman talking with Corey when I reached the waiting area. They didn't see me walk up and were somewhat startled when I asked what was going on. The policeman apologized for not waiting for me to be there when he talked with Corey. However it was soon apparent that he had just gotten there and basically they had only exchanged names. As soon as I introduced myself, and he did the same, we got down to the reason for his visit. Officer Harman was investigating Mrs. Babcock's assault. There wasn't any problem with who had done it, because the perpetrator had been captured and there were several witnesses to the assault. Whether the charges would be aggravated assault or some degree of murder depended on whether Mrs. Babcock survived or died. In the meantime, the police needed background information on Mrs. Babcock and suddenly were interested in why I was Corey's guardian, if I really was. There was no problem proving I was his registered guardian because Judy had suggested I keep copies of the court order, declaring me such, with me at all times. I had certified copies of the order in both the Gator and pickup, and a card in my billfold that listed the order number and phone numbers where it could be verified. I'd gone down to the Gator and gotten the copies for Officer Harman and, as he was copying down the information on them, he commented that at least they made it much easier for his department because I had copies of the order with me. When I didn't comment, he explained that without them the Department of Children's Services would have been called in and he would have also had to investigate me to make sure I was an acceptable guardian for Corey. If fact, Officer Harman seemed almost giddy that he wouldn't have to spend a lot of time investigating Corey and me. You could just see him cheer up and relax. It was obviously hard on Corey when we had to tell Officer Harman that Mrs. Babcock had a drug problem. All children want to be able to be proud of their parents, and when they have to admit that a parent is less than perfect, it hurts them. Perhaps thinking that a parent is perfect gives a child confidence that his parents will be able to protect him. All I could do was keep my arm around his shoulders to try to let him know I was there for him and would support him. It was pretty obvious that Mrs. Babcock couldn't protect him right now, and that she hadn't been able to do a good job of that for several years. Still, even though I had tried to convince him that I would look out for him, he still hadn't developed the feeling of complete trust that most children instinctively have in their parents, no matter how badly placed that trust might be. It really didn't take all that long to answer all of Officer Harman's questions. After all, we really didn't have any idea of just what Mrs. Babcock had been doing since she left the rehab center. In fact, we didn't even know where she had been living. Officer Harman was nice enough to share that information with us. Officer Harmon was just about to leave when a doctor entered the waiting area and came over to us. I figured I knew what he was going to say just by the resigned look on his face, and I was not mistaken. He tried to make it as easy as possible, but how do you tell people that someone has died without there being any shock. There really isn't much way to do that and so, when he told about the swelling of the brain and what they had tried to do to reduce the pressure, I could see that he was just building up to the fact that the efforts had not been successful. He finished by telling Corey he was sorry and had done the best he could. The doctor then gently suggested that we get some rest and worry about making funeral arrangements later in the day. Of course that changed Officer Harmon's report and he said we would have to get permission from his office before we could do much of anything. Then he and the doctor left the room to talk with each other. It was now official. Corey's mother had been murdered. A person hears and reads about murders in the news all the time. Yet when it directly affects you, you feel altogether differently about it. I mean I didn't even really care for Mrs. Babcock and suddenly a whole different bunch of emotions were flowing through me. Of course, there was worry for Corey and how he was going to handle the loss of his mother, but there was also a feeling of rage and helplessness that there was no way that I could have known that something like this could happen, or in any way prevented it. That helplessness in protecting Corey almost overwhelmed me. I was angry that something like this could happen, and frightened that I had no power to prevent it. That feeling left me scared. What if something happened to Corey? How could I go on? While those thoughts were racing through my mind, all I could do was hold Corey and let him cry. I just couldn't come up with any words that I thought would help. I could feel his tears getting my shoulder wet, but I had no answers on how to help calm him and ease his pain. I just felt so helpless and useless. Officer Harman returned and reminded us that we would need to talk with the police department before we could really make funeral arrangements. He left a card giving the precinct address, and offered his condolences. There didn't seem like much more he could do, so he left. The nurse also offered her condolences and told us we might as well try to get a little sleep. She suggested talking with the police later in the day before trying to do anything. The next thing I knew she had gently managed to get us headed towards the elevator. Newton's law kicked in and since we were in motion, we stayed in motion until we got to the elevator. After that, I guess instinct kind of took over. I was so busy trying to figure out how to calm Corey that I have no idea how I pushed the button for the elevator, or for that matter, made it to the Gator, and then to the motel. I was just numb. People you know aren't supposed to be murdered. That happens to other people. Maybe those other people know how to deal with it, but I sure didn't. I could understand accidents because my parents had died in one, but I wasn't prepared to deal with someone being murdered. No matter how I tried, my mind just could not seem to figure out why people murder other people. Corey just wasn't saying anything. He'd cried at first, but now was just quiet. In fact, he didn't even seem to realize where he was. I suggested that he get undressed and into bed, and he just stood there, doing nothing. That left me undressing him and getting him into bed. I was reminded of undressing Kevin when he was mostly asleep. Corey acted just like that in that he didn't resist, but he didn't really help either. I got him in bed and crawled in beside him and he didn't even assume his usual position. He just laid there. Finally, I just slid over to him and spooned up against him. There didn't seem to be much to say and maybe physical contact would help him. At first there was no reaction from him, but after a few minutes he rolled over into his normal position and started crying again. As his tears dripped on my chest, I started rubbing his back. All I could do was hold him and rub his back and that made me feel so helpless. I mean really, telling him it would get better seemed silly because nothing was going to bring his mother back. While his pain would lessen over time, there was no way to make it go away right now. All I could do was try to support him and help him through the worst of his pain. Corey's crying slowly ceased and his breathing softened and became more regular. He was asleep. I should have gone to sleep also, but my mind was unable to relax and do so. All kinds of thoughts were whirling around in it. While I had a guardianship of Corey, would his mother's death change his status and cause the courts to take a different approach to his placement. I tried to remember just what all the papers had said about that. My mind just kept going around in a circle, worrying about would he still be with me or would he be placed with someone else, like maybe his grandparents. My God, I hadn't contacted them and told them of Mrs. Babcock's death. Still, maybe it was better not to call in the middle of the night. As far as that went, perhaps the police had already done so. I could see I needed to contact the police and find out whom they had contacted and perhaps a few more of the details. So there I lay, worrying about all kinds of things and rubbing Corey's back. Every time I quit rubbing, he started to get restless, but as soon as I started again, he relaxed and continued sleeping. Then I remember that I hadn't contacted the Sterretts. I needed to do that as soon as possible so they knew the dinner was off. I probably better contact Jerry and Bob also. There were all kinds of things I should be doing and it was still too early to do any of them and so I just lay there, rubbing Corey's back. At least I could do that and it seemed to help him. I wasn't really paying attention and suddenly noticed that the toilet in the other room flushed. Shortly after that, Kyle stuck his head through the door that connected the rooms. About that time I realized it was getting light enough to see. While I'd glanced in and checked on the other boys when we first got back to the motel, none of the other boys knew Mrs. Babcock had died. They'd been asleep and I hadn't bothered to wake them. Kyle saw I was still awake and came over to see what was happening. He didn't know Mrs. Babcock and so he seemed to take the news without much reaction. Apparently our whispering bothered Corey and he rolled off of my chest and curled up beside me. Kyle headed back to bed and I turned over and once again spooned up against Corey. When I put my arm across him and put my hand on his chest, he seemed to relax back into me and soon I dozed off also. For a day that had started off pretty good, yesterday turned out to be a day that had really sucked. I finally noticed some soft voices talking about something. When I finally managed to think about what was being said, it was a discussion about should they order room service or go downstairs to the restaurant. A little more thought told me the voices belonged to Kyle and LT. I managed to pry an eye open and turn my head their way. "What time is it?" "Ten after eight," JJ answered me. I felt like I'd been run over by a truck, but it was time to get started. I had a lot to do and waiting wasn't going to make it any easier. "Let's go downstairs," I mumbled while rolling out of bed. I never really thought about it, but of course both Corey and I were naked. Mark's eyes about fell clear out of his head when I allowed my piss hard-on to lead my way to the bathroom. I felt some better after I had shaved and washed my face. In fact, by the time I was dressed I felt like I might survive. The jury wasn't completely in on that, but the outlook was better than it was last night. Even Corey looked a little better. At least he appeared to understand what was going on as he got dressed. There wasn't much said as we went downstairs and went into the restaurant. The waitress was even nice enough to show up with coffee when she brought the menus. Maybe she noticed me fondling the coffee cup, or maybe it was just the policy, but I really appreciated that cup of coffee. At least it helped get my brain in gear. Eventually we all figured out what we wanted and ordered. Then there was another pause while we waited for our meals. I guess breakfast was okay because I didn't notice anything wrong with it. Still, my mind wasn't really worried about food. I was still trying to figure out what to do first. Since Corey wasn't really talking, that left poor Mark with no one to talk to. Corey was normally the only one besides him that really talked in the morning, but this morning Corey didn't have anything to say. However we made it through breakfast and returned to the room. Now it was time to try to figure out what to do first. Since no one had any suggestions I eventually decided we needed to visit the police and see who all they had notified. Hearing no objections, that's what we did. It turned out that we were the only ones notified. For whatever reason, Mrs. Babcock had listed Corey as the only person to be notified. The only thing was, she had neglected to supply my phone number and had just listed the town. That explained some of it. Now I knew why Hank and Judy had showed up. That also meant that I would have to call her parents and I wasn't looking forward to that. The last time I had talked with them, the atmosphere had been less than friendly. I also found out that there would have to be an autopsy because of the nature of the death. However, the police assured me that it should be over by tomorrow night. After that I was free to have a funeral. The police also wanted to look over her apartment, their words, to see if there was any apparent reason for her killing. Although they had lots of witnesses, still they needed to check and see if they could learn anything. They told me that if no one objected, they could start on that right away. I also learned that the crime had taken place just outside a bar so at least the apartment wasn't a crime scene. The perpetrator still wasn't talking, but the police figured they had more than enough witnesses to make a solid case and get a conviction. With that they suggested that we all go over to the apartment and they could look around while we watched. Somehow I got the impression that they were just going through the motions. I suppose they figured they had an airtight case, but still felt they needed to appear like they had overlooked nothing. I was more than a little surprised that they would allow us to be there, but could really see no reason not to go. Then we had to wait a few minutes for Officer Harman to show up. He hadn't told me he was the lead detective working the case. About twenty minutes later Officer Harmon showed up with another office he introduced as his partner, Officer Pauling. Then they had to lead us to her apartment because, even though he had told me where it was, I wasn't familiar with that area. Their search was quick, but quite thorough. I might not be the brightest person, but it looked to me like they were searching for drugs. They did do a quick scan of the mail, which was on the table, but mostly it was like they were looking for hidden drugs. They did things like take all the drawers out and check behind them. Suddenly I realized they were also keeping an eye on both Corey and me as they did their search. It didn't take long to come to the conclusion that this search was also some kind of test for us. I suppose anything we did, that might look a little odd, would cause them to investigate us further. Since I didn't really know how to act innocent, I just continued to sit there with my arm across Corey's shoulder. In a short while they finished. Then Officer Harmon suggested we might like to look at the mail. The mail wasn't much. A few bills and an eviction notice for non-payment of rent. There was nothing that might be described as personal in the mail. When I mentioned the eviction notice, Officer Harmon suggested we might want to remove any personal things, of Mrs. Babcock's, that we wanted. That seemed reasonable. Sadly there wasn't much to remove. A few dirty clothes, a couple of romance novels and some old bills about covered it. The only real thing Corey wanted was the photo album he had given her. We did find a couple of sets of cheap earrings to add to the small pile of things. There were few groceries and those didn't look very good, so they went in the trash. When we were done, all of the things to be saved fit easily in a garbage can bag. So little for a lifetime's collection. I called the landlord on my cell phone and after talking with him, he agreed to come down and I agreed to pay the back rent. The two police officers thanked us for our help and left. I was left wondering what help we had given them, but they appeared happy. Soon the landlord showed up and I paid him. The rest of the bills I could handle when we got home. However paying him did present one surprise. We learned there were storage lockers in the basement that went with each apartment, so we checked hers out. Surprisingly most of her personal things, except for the photo album, were in two boxes in her locker. They contained a bunch of pictures of Corey when he was younger, some more books and some papers with things like a copy of her birth certificate and the like. The only thing of any real interest was a key to a safety deposit box. I wasn't sure just what it would take to get access to that box, but there was the name of the bank and the box number on the envelope that contained it. By now it was just after lunchtime. I finished making calls except for Corey's grandparents while we waited for lunch. I'd managed to contact the Sterretts while we waited for the detectives but had been unable to reach Bob and Jerry at that time. This time I had more success and Bob told me Dog was a little restless but doing well, and Jerry suggested it might be better if I took Monday off and made the rest of the arrangements for the funeral. That left Corey's grandparents to contact. About the only other thing was to pick up her car and figure out what to do with it. I already knew the car was in the police impound yard so all I had to do was make arrangements to pick it up. I could even do that up until 5:00 PM. After that I would have to wait until tomorrow morning. The call to Corey's grandparents didn't go any better than the last time I had talked with them. In fact it might have even been a little worse. I was once again informed that they had no daughter, or grandson, and was instructed not to ever contact them again. I was tired, and the stress had been building up, but suddenly I understood how someone could kill another person. Those two really deserved it. Perhaps if they had been a little more loving and understanding, Mrs. Babcock would have turned out differently and would still be alive. The pain she must have felt over their rejection was something that probably overwhelmed her. All I can say is that it was a good thing that the whole conversation was by phone. I was left wondering if they would ever understand just what is was they were throwing away by their unreasonable attitude. At least this time they hadn't bothered to spout the Bible at me like they had the last time we talked. How some people, who consider themselves Christians, can stray so far from Christ's teachings is a thing I have no explanation for. I doubt that any smoke and steam was shooting from my ears, but the boys apparently thought there was. The only one that didn't look apprehensive was Corey and he just looked like he'd been kicked in the stomach. One look at him and I quickly calmed down. I couldn't begin to understand the way he must feel from having his mother die and his grandparents reject him. How some people can be so cruel is beyond me. At least I wouldn't have to worry about his grandparents trying to gain custody of him, that is if they stuck by what they said. As cruel as they were, I wouldn't put anything past them. When I got myself a little more under control, I was left trying to figure out just what to do. We could just go home or we could stay here another day. I probably had just about enough time to get Mrs. Babcock's car out of impoundment. However, I wasn't sure just what to do with it. Then there was the safety deposit box. All of a sudden the thought went through my mind that the police might like to know about the box. As far as that went, they didn't know about the storage locker. I was tired and had a splitting headache. I just wanted to curl up and rest for a while, but there were still so many things to do and decisions to make. Most of all I just wanted to make Corey feel a little better. I started by retrieving the aspirin from the Gator. I always kept a bottle of them in all my vehicles for those times when I had a headache, and today I was glad I did. After taking a couple of them, it was time to make some decisions. I really hated to start on the subject of the funeral but there wasn't any way to get around it. "Corey, where would you like your mother's funeral to be held?" I really hated to ask, but it was something we needed to start planning. "I donno," he mumbled. That really wasn't much of an answer, and the way he said it about broke my heart. His voice sounded so little and helpless. We were sitting side by side on the sofa and I just put my arm around his shoulder and pulled him a little tighter to me. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but we really need to make some plans. You need to decide if you want a funeral or a memorial service, and where you want it held. Also, you need to decide whether on not to bury her or cremate her." I tried to make my voice as soft and gentle as I could, but there was no way that could really help. I could feel his shoulders start to shake and knew he was once again crying. A child of fourteen years should never have to make decisions like these, but I didn't see any way around it. While frequently he acted with surprising maturity, today he was just a child who was hurting. My heart just ached because there was no way I could relieve his pain. All I could do was hold him and hope that was enough to get him by. It took a little coaxing, but I finally got him to commit to what he wanted. I really hated to put any pressure on him, but I wanted it to turn out the way he would like it to be. It would be his last remembrance of his mother and it needed to be as close to what he wanted as possible. When offered with the choice of a funeral or a memorial service, he chose the funeral. Since his grandparents wanted nothing to do with him, or the funeral, we would hold it at home, with Fr. George presiding. The interment would be in the local American Legion Cemetery, which was only a mile from the house. I thought he had made a good choice in having it close to home, because it would be easier for him that way. We would be in our own house, surrounded by our own things. I knew Fr. George would do a good job with the funeral, and the church was well equipped to handle such things. I couldn't believe the number of things that now needed to be done. Of course I needed to contact Fr. George to let him know. That produced one answer I hadn't yet thought about. Fr. George suggested the local mortuary as being the best one to contact. He told me that most mortuaries had agreements with each other and that by putting Rowlings' in charge, they would be able to have the body picked up, when released, and transported home for preparations. I ended up giving Fr. George enough information to get the whole process started. He would contact Rowlings' and we could stop in as soon as we could to pick out the casket. He assured me they would take good care of everything on their end. By now the afternoon was pretty well shot. We could drive home or wait and go in the morning. Since Jerry had already given me the day off, I decided to wait and go home tomorrow. That would give me a little more time to figure out what to do about the car. It really was a pretty decent car and I was torn between getting rid of it and keeping it around for when Kyle got his license. In the end I decided to get it home someway and let Corey decide if it bothered him to have it around. Now I was stuck with the fact that there was only one of me and two vehicles to get home. I decided to give the police a call and let them know about the storage locker and the safety deposit box. That way there shouldn't be any problems on that end. Officer Pauling happened to still be there so I got to talk with him. I told him what we had found in the storage locker but admitted I had no idea what was in the safety deposit box or even when I could get the courts to allow me access to it. He chuckled and told me he might be able to do something about that problem and said if I was going to be around tomorrow, he'd find out. When I told him I would be in town for the morning, he said he'd call me back. I was surprised when only about ten minutes passed and the phone rang. Officer Pauling said if I could meet him at the bank around ten-thirty, he was sure we could get into the safety deposit box. I told him that should be no problems and he thanked me for bringing the matter to his attention and hung up. I was still trying to figure out what to do about Mrs. Babcock's car, but it was getting close to dinner time, so we decided to go find a Chinese restaurant. I could worry about the car later. I remembered a pretty good Chinese restaurant from years ago, so we headed for it. We had to get back out on the freeway and low and behold, my problems with the car were solved. When I pulled onto it, there was a U-Haul truck, towing a trailer with a car perched on top of the trailer. Presto, the proverbial light bulb went off. I could rent a trailer and haul the car home. After all, the Gator was equipped with a hitch and everything. In fact, all I could do is marvel at my stupidity for not thinking of it sooner. I'd been so busy, worrying about how to get the car home, that the obvious solution had never occurred to me. Maybe I needed to go get my sign like that comedian on television talks about. Just color me stupid. The Chinese restaurant had changed hands. I won't go there again. In fact, the Chinese in the frozen food sections is much better and I won't eat it. Even the boys just picked at their meal and finally we left. Way overcooked and absolutely tasteless is being kind. I could see a stop at a grocery store for some snacks was in order, or the boys probably wouldn't make it through the night. I wouldn't really mind that, but they are so noisy when complaining about starving. You'd think they would be husbanding their energy, but that isn't the way it seems to work. By the time we had enough snacks to last the evening, it cost more than the dinner. My only consolation is that I was sure the snacks would be much better than the dinner. Corey seemed to be coming out of his funk, just a little. Maybe the shock was wearing off. At least he seemed to be paying attention to what was being said although he didn't contribute much to the conversation. When I thought about it, all the boys had been being quieter than usual. We got back to the motel and the boys picked out some mindless television program to watch, all the while making the snacks disappear at an alarming rate. I was beginning to think it would have been much smarter to just go to another restaurant and buy another meal. At least the food would have come closer to a balanced diet. Several packages of cookies, chips, and some dips soon sated their appetites, and before long we all went to bed. It had been a long and depressing day, and none of us had gotten enough sleep last night. At least Corey curled up in his usual position with his head on my chest. Somehow that made me think that we would manage to get through the whole thing. "I'm an orphan now," he said in a small voice. There was pain and a sound of helplessness in that small voice. Suddenly I realized that I was an orphan also. "Guess we both are. Maybe we can look out for each other," I almost whispered back. "When will it quit hurting so bad?" I thought for a little while. I wanted to tell him it would soon quit but in truth I couldn't tell him that. It still hurt when I thought of my folks. "I don't know that the pain ever goes away. After a while it gets a little easier to bear, but it doesn't go away. I still have moments when I think I have to call Mom or Dad and tell them something. Then I remember I can't, and feel bad. It doesn't happen as often as it did at first, but it still happens. Anymore when I get to feeling bad because my folks are dead, I try to remember the good times we had together. It doesn't always work, but sometimes that helps." I didn't really know if that was the thing to say, but it was about the way I felt about it. There were still times that I missed my parents so badly that I felt like crying. However, those moments occurred a lot less frequently since Corey came into my life. When I thought about it, that hadn't happened since the last checks had come from the insurance companies. Maybe I was finally putting it behind me. However, in times like this, it still hurt. I just pulled Corey a little tighter to me and held him. We could hurt together. To be continued...