the end of the hall. There was a daybed lined against one wall and a big L-shaped desk took up the rest of the room. A desktop computer with one of those old monitors covered a quarter of the desk. I felt like I’d walked into a museum display of a room from before I was born.
“Ian bought you the bed, Livy. Wasn’t that nice of him? Before it was just his office.” Aunt Nell’s brow rose in expectation.
Before I could thank him, Ian interrupted, “I’ll still need to do some work in here, but I’ll knock before I come in.”
This wouldn’t be the first time I had to share a room, but it would be the first time I shared it with an adult. That was even worse than the bathroom arrangement. I swallowed the heavy lump again. This time it wasn’t sadness at leaving Briony and M. This time it was because everything changed the moment I walked through that door, and for the first time, I didn’t feel grateful that I wasn’t in the group home.
I nodded and let him take my bag to the closet. When he opened it I saw that it was packed to the gills. I wouldn’t be able to hang any of my clothes. I might not even be able to fit my duffle on the ground. I wish I could stop comparing things to how it was at Briony and M’s. I should be happy that my mom’s sister finally wanted me. Maybe we could talk about her more. Maybe we could remember the times we spent together. Maybe that would make this easier.
“We’ll let you get settled in. Dinner is in two hours,” Ian said and reached for Aunt Nell’s hand to pull her from the room with him.
I almost started crying when he closed the door behind them. I was pretty sure that meant that I couldn’t bother them until dinner two hours from now. Not that I felt like leaving the room, but it was different from being able to leave the room if I wanted.
Everything was different now. The sooner I accepted that, the easier this would be.
M / 15
Silence never seemed so loud. I used to welcome it, used to crave it. In this house, it meant something was off. I never thought I’d get used to voices or laughter or the noise of everyday happenings at home. Never wanted it. Now I missed it.
I set my cereal bowl in the dishwasher and glanced out at the empty living room. Briony was at a meeting with the dean. Caleb was at soccer day camp, dropped off by his mom. And Olivia was gone. Taken from us.
Pain squeezed my heart. I did this to myself. To my family. Brought in someone to love and laugh with, knowing full well that something like this could happen. It was a stupid move on my part. To think I could make up for my past, honor Kathryn with this one child. I thought I could care for her, give her a safe place to live, a loving home but know in my heart and mind that she wasn’t ours. Instead I grew to love her, and I’d forced it on my family, too. It was unforgivable.
Loading everyone’s dishes into the dishwasher, I shook off the melancholy. Nothing could be done to fix this situation. If I really wanted to do something, I’d tell child services that we were ready for another foster child, but I couldn’t. And I wouldn’t do that to Briony or Caleb. They were already upset enough, angry even. At me. They didn’t realize it, but they were angry with me for suggesting this. It didn’t matter that we were careful to choose a child who didn’t have parents, who had family that had refused to take her in. I thought we were safe from this very thing. I’d been wrong.
But it wouldn’t get any easier if I continued to dwell on it. Hopefully time would make this easier.
I left for campus at exactly the same time as yesterday. I still had my precisions that I couldn’t give up, no matter how much having a family sometimes impinged on that. Caleb wasn’t exactly precise, but a countdown clock helped the morning routine. He preferred an impersonal timer that looked like it came from one of his favorite action movies over his mom and me yelling out reminders of how
“Ian bought you the bed, Livy. Wasn’t that nice of him? Before it was just his office.” Aunt Nell’s brow rose in expectation.
Before I could thank him, Ian interrupted, “I’ll still need to do some work in here, but I’ll knock before I come in.”
This wouldn’t be the first time I had to share a room, but it would be the first time I shared it with an adult. That was even worse than the bathroom arrangement. I swallowed the heavy lump again. This time it wasn’t sadness at leaving Briony and M. This time it was because everything changed the moment I walked through that door, and for the first time, I didn’t feel grateful that I wasn’t in the group home.
I nodded and let him take my bag to the closet. When he opened it I saw that it was packed to the gills. I wouldn’t be able to hang any of my clothes. I might not even be able to fit my duffle on the ground. I wish I could stop comparing things to how it was at Briony and M’s. I should be happy that my mom’s sister finally wanted me. Maybe we could talk about her more. Maybe we could remember the times we spent together. Maybe that would make this easier.
“We’ll let you get settled in. Dinner is in two hours,” Ian said and reached for Aunt Nell’s hand to pull her from the room with him.
I almost started crying when he closed the door behind them. I was pretty sure that meant that I couldn’t bother them until dinner two hours from now. Not that I felt like leaving the room, but it was different from being able to leave the room if I wanted.
Everything was different now. The sooner I accepted that, the easier this would be.
M / 15
Silence never seemed so loud. I used to welcome it, used to crave it. In this house, it meant something was off. I never thought I’d get used to voices or laughter or the noise of everyday happenings at home. Never wanted it. Now I missed it.
I set my cereal bowl in the dishwasher and glanced out at the empty living room. Briony was at a meeting with the dean. Caleb was at soccer day camp, dropped off by his mom. And Olivia was gone. Taken from us.
Pain squeezed my heart. I did this to myself. To my family. Brought in someone to love and laugh with, knowing full well that something like this could happen. It was a stupid move on my part. To think I could make up for my past, honor Kathryn with this one child. I thought I could care for her, give her a safe place to live, a loving home but know in my heart and mind that she wasn’t ours. Instead I grew to love her, and I’d forced it on my family, too. It was unforgivable.
Loading everyone’s dishes into the dishwasher, I shook off the melancholy. Nothing could be done to fix this situation. If I really wanted to do something, I’d tell child services that we were ready for another foster child, but I couldn’t. And I wouldn’t do that to Briony or Caleb. They were already upset enough, angry even. At me. They didn’t realize it, but they were angry with me for suggesting this. It didn’t matter that we were careful to choose a child who didn’t have parents, who had family that had refused to take her in. I thought we were safe from this very thing. I’d been wrong.
But it wouldn’t get any easier if I continued to dwell on it. Hopefully time would make this easier.
I left for campus at exactly the same time as yesterday. I still had my precisions that I couldn’t give up, no matter how much having a family sometimes impinged on that. Caleb wasn’t exactly precise, but a countdown clock helped the morning routine. He preferred an impersonal timer that looked like it came from one of his favorite action movies over his mom and me yelling out reminders of how
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