Find Beauty in a Message

Chapter 9

Will has a hard time sleeping that night, wrought with guilt over something he can't control. The idea of Boris going home to an empty house, of sleeping alone, of being afraid, it keeps him awake. As the hour creeps close to one o'clock, he sneaks out of bed for a glass of water only to be waylaid by Jonathan, who's eating at the dining room table.

"Hey, you alright?" Jonathan asks.

"Yeah, I was just..." Will gestures vaguely to kitchen. "Why are you eating right now?"

Jonathan shrugs.

"Didn't eat earlier. Figured now was as good a time as any."

"Are you high?" Will probes. Because honestly, Jonathan spends so much time high now that sometimes it's a little hard to tell.

"No, not really. Just hungry. I don't usually smoke by myself in the middle of the night."

"Oh, okay."

"You sure you're alright?"

And Jonathan's making that face, that concerned, almost fatherly one, the one that's always been able to get Will to open up about anything.

"Yeah, I mean...no...well..." Will sighs, shoulders drooping.

Jonathan gestures to the seat next to him with his fork.

"Wanna sit?"

Will patters over to the chair and slumps into it, staring hard at the woodgrain of the table rather than at his brother.

"So, what's going on?"

Will ponders for a for a long moment, the seconds dragging on for what feels like eons as he contemplates how to phrase his dilemma without getting Boris into any trouble.

"If you knew something about someone," he starts, "something bad, should you tell someone?"

"What kind of bad? Are we talking about drugs or murder here?"

"Nothing like that, more like..." Will chews on his lower lip for a second, "if someone you knew was being hurt."

"Ah," Jonathan nods his head. "This about your friend? And his eye?"

He doesn't respond, too overwhelmed with the pounding of his heart in his chest and the prickling of fear and worry in his stomach.

"Will," his brother reaches his hand out to pat his arm soothingly, "talk to me."

The dam breaks and Will sniffles, tears flooding forward.

"His dad...he hits him. And then he leaves, sometimes for days. And Boris can't tell anyone or else he'll be deported. I mean, he doesn't go without, his dad leaves him with money and stuff, but he...he...he hits him, Jonathan. And there's nowhere he can go, and there's nothing I can do."

And then he's sobbing, full-bodied and painful.

Jonathan tugs him close, bringing him into a warm hug, shushing him gently while promising him it'll all be okay.

"You can't tell anyone!" Will insists, pulling away. "You can't tell anyone or they'll take him away!"

"It's alright. Hey, it's gonna be alright. You said he's alone a lot right?"

Will nods his head, finally staring Jonathan in the face. His eyes are clear and determined.

"Well, he'll always be safe here, right? So, he'll just have to come here more often. Mom'll love it. She loves that you have friends. So anytime his dad is home or anytime he's lonely, just tell him to come here. It'll all be fine, Will. And I know you don't want to, but maybe consider telling Mom this, okay?"

Will's already shaking his head in protest.

"No, just hear me out. If she knows what's going on, she can keep him safe. Trust me, she's good at that. She'll know what to do. Just...consider it, okay?"

"Okay," Will concedes.

"Good. Is there anything else?"

"No. I was just gonna get water and try to sleep."

Jonathan pats him on the shoulder.

"Do that then. Try to get some rest. Everything will feel better in the morning. Hey, you wanna hear some good news? Mom was gonna tell us in the morning. I only found out because I had a phone call with Nancy earlier."

"What?" Will asks. He can't imagine what good news could possibly come from Nancy that his mom would want to tell him.

"Mike and Nancy are supposed to spend spring break with us."

Will's heart freezes in his chest.