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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The Tull Unification - 5. Chapter 5
div>This chapter focuses on a new player and, as stated originally, this is an ongoing story from different points of view. I encourage you to start with 'Jack in the Green' to get a grasp on all characters.Thanks to Cole for editing and suggestions.
The Tull Unification: G. Ian Bostock
“Look, I just want my money back, pal. Don't give me a hard time about this.”
“I understand your position, sir. Unfortunately, the part is electronic and it's been installed so I can't take it back. I really am sorry.” No, I'm not. This guy is a twat waffle and has already wasted fifteen minutes of my day over something he already knew he couldn't return.
“But it wasn't the problem, there's nothing wrong with it – and it cost a hundred and thirty bucks!” the customer protests.
“Yes sir, I understand your aggravation. Unfortunately, we can't resell this item and I can't take it back.” Fuck puddle. I also know it's store policy that we explain this to every customer before they buy the item. Double fuck puddle.
“I want to speak to the manger!”
I am tempted to agree with him, spin around three times and introduce myself, but that would be juvenile and I have to save that for Colin. “I am the manager sir, but I'd be glad to provide you with my district manager's name and contact information.” Oh, he'd love me for that.
“Yeah, do that! Everyone has a boss,” the man mutters.
True enough. I could have told him my DM would say the same thing, but I didn't want to ruin his fantasy that he could take delicate items, put them in his car and then return them. It's along the same lines as people who buy fancy clothes and then wear them out to a gala or something, only to return them after. I hand the man a business card with the contact info and he huffs out. Well, now he'll go make someone else's day harder. I head into the counter stock aisles, where we keep the stuff we really don't want folks stealing, and resume taking inventory.
When I was in high school, I was a motor head. I took auto shop and thought I was a real bad ass the first time I changed my own oil. When I got the job here at Kingdom Car, I was in hog heaven – ten percent discount on parts and I got paid to help other motor heads. Except that wasn't really how it went. I realized that being a motor head went way beyond oil changes and spark plug replacement. It was about foot pounds and torque, it was about calipers – both the measuring kind and the ones used for brakes. I quickly realized that my previous experience was no more than a mere drop in the automotive bucket.
So the people that come here for a case of oil are not changing it for the first time and not as a stepping stone to larger work. Middle aged guys who wanted to save a buck was who they were. Then there were the ones whose mechanics had, likely, told them their time was worth money – as was their advice -and now they wanted you to diagnose their car for them. That was a game I learned not to play because there is a reason a mechanic gets paid to repair the car. I liken it to the medical profession – if you can put a band aid on it doesn't qualify you for major surgery, ergo changing your oil doesn't mean you can change your own clutch.
If someone has a car with starting problems, we'll test his battery and alternator for free – two likely culprits. But to bring in battery after battery just to see if any of them were any good aggravated me. I don't know if I'm right or being reasonable or not - maybe it was just one of the things I didn't like about my job.
Then there were the kids who were just looking to get some lipstick for their pig. Plastic rims with a shiny coating, furry steering wheel covers and some smelly fake tree to hang from their rear view. They were usually cute in an awkward teenage way, with clean hands and likely to sneer at the grease in the grooves of my skin from my latest project. I used to be indignant but, as I slowly realized that it wasn't going to change, I got over it. Now, I mentally call them names. I try to come up with new ones just for entertainment value. I suppose if I were 16 again with my first car, I might buy some lipstick for it too...
I guess my problem was I wanted to be a mechanic but I lacked the knowledge. Kind of like an English teacher versus the gym coach. The old saying 'Those who can, teach. Those who can't, teach gym'. In my case, it was 'those who can't sell auto parts'.
I went to pull my drawer to count when the phone rang. I picked it up, but continued to log out the drawer and total it. “Thank you for calling Kingdom Car, where your car is king. This is Ian, how can I help you?”
“Ian Bostock? This is Amanda Tillman from social services. Do you have time to talk?”
“Oh, yeah, sure. Let me change phones, though.” So saying I put her on hold and carried my cash drawer in back and picked up the phone there for the relative privacy it provided. “Okay, do you have a placement for me?”
“As it happens,” she laughed, “I do have one for you to consider. He's nine and his name is Roberto, he prefers to be called Robby. He's had a rough time of it – he's been in care before; this is his fourth trip. He was originally taken from his mother when he was five. She duct taped him to a chair and beat him.”
“Holy shit,” I said softly.
“He does have several meds, and he also deals with enuresis which one of his meds is supposed to help prevent. He's very eager to please but suffers from a lack of trust in adults, and he compensates by asking questions in order to feel comfortable. He was removed this time because his mother wasn't giving him his medication. He should only be with you for about six weeks, if you choose to take him, because we are planning to transition him to a foster home he was in previously where he found great success.”
“Why doesn't he go there now?” I asked.
“The lady is in Europe visiting relatives, and we'd like to limit his moves during the school year. It will provide him more stability if he can stay in one place until the end of the school year.”
“Oh, okay, I understand. If he's going to another foster home, does that mean he hasn't been freed?”
“That is correct, he is not freed for adoption. The current plan is for him to return to his mother.” Her tone of voice told me all I needed to know about what she thought of that. “Robby is diagnosed with ADHD and General Anxiety Disorder and the majority of his meds are for those conditions.”
“Okay. Are those typical diagnosis for foster kids?”
“Actually, yes. The unfortunate fact is that kids need a diagnosis to get services, but those diagnosis don't always fit. In this case, I think the documentation is pretty clear that the diagnoses do fit.”
“All right. So, when would this happen?”
“This evening, if possible. Say about six thirty?”
“Okay, yeah that will work. I have to get a few things for the room,” I said. Like a mattress.
“See you then.”
A placement! I hurriedly counted out the rest of my drawer, filled out the paperwork and stopped to harass my assistant manager for a minute, just to aggravate her, before I left. She never put up with my crap, though, and gave it back to me in spades with a grin. Admitting defeat, but promising to get even later I headed out. I called Mike from the car and was supremely disappointed to get his voice mail. When he'd gotten Colin I'd nearly come out of my skin waiting to meet him. Mike told me about all the hesitancy, the slow thaw and the outright fear the kid probably thought he'd hidden so well. Once I met him, I couldn't get enough of playing house with them.
Being honest with myself, I had to admit, I'd been insanely jealous on top of it. Colin was a great kid and I was hoping for a really good experience with the child that would be placed with me now. I headed over to the warehouse club I belonged to and bought a mattress for the bed and a leak proof cover. It looked a little funny tied to my car with twine, but everyone expects to see a '68 Dodge Coronet 440 with primer and a mattress on top. Right? I kept telling myself this as my car growled the whole way home, likely from irritation with being reduced to this.
I got the mattress in place, swept out the room and then tried to get the apartment spiffed up a little bit. I wandered aimlessly afterward, discovering one more thing that could be set right before Amanda's arrival with Roberto. I decided to lay out some coffee and cookies, and then limited it to coffee when I saw the expiration date on the cookies. Oh man, I had to get rid of these things! Then the doorbell rang.
Amanda stood on my stoop and was pulling an enormous vintage suitcase – one that had been made before wheels were common on luggage. I should be thankful it wasn't a garbage bag.
“Ian, I'd like you to meet Roberto,” Amanda said while placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.
“Hi,” I said to him with a smile. He was tall for his age and slim, with short curls on the top of his head and a complexion that hinted at his mixed-race parentage.
“Hi,” he said loudly and, I thought, a little aggressively – if it's possible to greet someone aggressively. “Is this where you live?”
“Yes, yes it is,” I replied with a smile.
“Do you have a dog?”
“No,” I said as Amanda maneuvered him into the living room. “They don't allow pets in the complex.”
“My mom says I'm allergic,” he stated. Amanda made a line in the air with her hand, indicating this may not be entirely true. “Can I use the bathroom?”
“Yes, sure. Right down the hall on your right. I mean left, left!” I said while holding a hand to my head. My phone buzzed and I glanced at the text; it was from Mike – they were on the way with a pizza. Oh, that was a good idea considering I didn't cook.
“I'll stay a bit and get you up to speed, and get him as comfortable as we can.” Amanda said as she lay her bag on the dinette. “I'm sure you have some questions and I need to cover these medications with you. This sheet is your medicinal log, you'll be required to record each med you administer to him.”
“Yeah,” I said as I took a chair across from her. “You mentioned something about that on the phone. How many medicines are we talking about here?”
“Well...” she shuffled through her bag and pulled out a metal box that rattled. Unlocking it revealed pill containers – a lot of them. “Her mom made a cheat sheet. Looks like the morning is the heaviest time with Methlyphenidate, Ritalin, Risperidone – but a small dose...” She set each container down as she named it and then she must have noticed my jaw hanging agape. “Relax. Get a pill organizer, set it up for a week at a time.”
“I'm just....” I counted the containers before speaking again. “That little boy is on eight pills? And what is this thing?”
“My inhaler. Look,” Robby said as he re-entered the room and took the bullet shaped chunk of plastic from my hands. He removed the cap, which looked much like a tube of lipstick, and twisted the bottom twice. He did this with the skill of much practice. The tube clicked once with each twist and he placed his lips to the tip, shaped like the mouthpiece of a clarinet, and he inhaled. After repeating the process, he capped the tube and returned it to me with an air of nonchalance.
“Did you find the bathroom?” Amanda asked Robby while replacing the medications and cheat sheet in the metal box. After locking it she looked at him expectantly for an answer.
“Is that red room yours?” he replied instead, facing me.
“Uh, yeah. Please don't go in there, that's my private space.”
“But you can go in mine, because you're a parent, right?” he said brightly.
"Well, yes. But I'll try to respect your privacy.”
“What's that?”
“Well,” I replied, “It's having some space to yourself, a place where you can go to think and not be disturbed.”
“Think about what?”
“Anything you like. If you go back down the hall, your room is across from the red room,” I said to him, hoping to send him off so I could try and get a handle on the meds.
“Is there a light? It's too dark by the red room.”
“But...you were just there. Why would you be afraid to go back?”
“It's dark, duh,” he said rolling his eyes and then laughing at me. I glanced at Amanda and she was grinning as if to say 'you set yourself up for that one'. He did, however, head back down the hallway and found the light and proceeded to his room.
“So, as I said, the plan at this time is to return to parent. His law guardian and Unified Health, his mental health counselors, don't think he should have been removed and are fighting us on this. Here,” she said, dragging the word out as she dug in her bag again, “are his appointments for next week – feel free to schedule subsequent visits for times that are more convenient for you. Can you make all of those? We can help transport the first week, since these were made without your knowledge.”
“Oh. Okay,” I replied as I studied the paper. “I'll have to do some schedule swapping to make this work, but I'll keep you posted.” A knock at the door and the smell of pizza interrupted me as Mike and Colin arrived. Robby came down the hall and attached right to Colin.
“I'm Robby. Want to see my room?”
“Oh, uh, sure. I've seen it before though.” Colin replied uncertainly and glancing at me to see if this was all right – or perhaps looking for an excuse not to go. I was assuming this was a manifestation of the shyness Mike had told me about. He hadn't displayed much of it with me, but then I'd come bearing a cell phone. In this case he had an enthusiastic child, a strange child, looking to drag him down the hall.
“Not like it is now. Now it's mine,” Robby stated confidently and turned away under the assumption that Colin would follow. Colin raised his eyebrows at Mike and turned to follow Robby.
“Hi, a pleasure,” Mike said, introducing himself to Amanda as he placed the box on the table.
“I remember you from class It's nice to see you again,” Amanda smiled as she shook his hand. “Here to offer moral support?”
“That and pizza,” he laughed. “Ian was so excited when I got my first placement, and he's been so looking forward to getting a call himself – it's kind of funny to watch.”
“Enthusiastic parents are always good to see,” Amanda smiled and began to gather more papers from her bag. “Let me just get through these forms so you can get on with dinner and the rest of your evening.
“His school is transporting him, even though he's out of district now,” she said while organizing papers. “They have been great and they are well aware of his ongoing issues. The bus should be here by 7:45, and it will drop him off here at 2:50.”
Mike must have seen me frown because he jumped in, “I'll meet him here tomorrow, if you can't make it, Ian. You'll have to arrange some after - school care, though.”
Amanda picked up as if Mike hadn't said anything. “We do cover that, and here is a list of places nearby that we have accounts with already. It does take a few weeks to get set up and your check comes once a month, so you may have to put some out-of-pocket costs into that before your check arrives – usually they are pretty good about working with you when kids are in care.”
“Wow, I hadn't even thought about child care,” I muttered.
“Well, we encourage you to see what kind of resources are available, just to be prepared since you never know what kind of a placement you'll be offered – or accept.” Amanda replied. She then began placing forms in front of me and telling me what each one was for, but I wasn't listening anymore, just signing. Once done she gathered all the forms - leaving me with one for inventorying his clothes – and went down the hall to say goodbye to him and see his sleeping arrangement first hand.
“Overwhelmed?” Mike asked with a grin.
“A little. Look at this list of medications!” I said, handing the sheet to Mike. He ran his eyes over it and let out a breath.
“That's a lot. Don't worry, I'll help you out,” he said with a smile and handed the sheet back to me. “I'll get some plates. Do you want to pick him up from my house tomorrow? I want to get back before Colin gets home. Oh, what time are you getting out?”
“Not until six, but I'll have to try and move the schedule around. These appointments next week might be a little tough. Hey, don't you have to work tomorrow?”
“Yeah, but I'm taking advantage of a work-from-home program, makes some things easier. I like being home when Colin gets back. You know,” Mike said from the kitchen where he was pulling plates out from a cupboard, “this would be so much easier if we lived together.”
“What?”
“Yeah,” Mike said with a sly smile, returning to the room with a stack of plates. “Scheduling, child care, appointments...kissing. The kids even go to the same school district, so literally everything is easier if we were together under one roof.”
“I...” It wasn't that I hadn't thought about it; I certainly had. His place was bigger, my lease renewal was coming in the next few weeks – maybe a month away or so – and they had hiked the rent up. Not an ungodly amount, but there was nothing improved about the place to justify any increases. There wasn't even a pool here.
Mike continued. “I know, we haven't really talked about it but...I don't – no, yes I do know – I think it's a good idea. I want to see more of you and it would be easier on both of us to have a relationship and take care of these kids if we were together.”
“I don't know what to say,” I replied. To tell the truth I was scared and not least because this was moving a little fast. Actually, no, it wasn't really – it was more that I hadn't seen it coming, at least not tonight. I had fantasized about it a few times. Mike was easy to be with and I could see myself being with him for a long time, even though we'd only been dating about five months at this point. So, yes, it was a little fast. Would we gain anything if I stayed here for another year?
“Don't say anything, just give it some thought. It has to be right for you, too,” Mike said.
“Okay,” Amanda said as she appeared in the hallway, two kids trailing behind her. “If you don't have any more questions for me tonight I'm going to head home.”
“We have food; there's plenty,” I said.
“Pizza!” Robby screamed and rushed to the table.
“Oh, thank you,” Amanda said with a smile. “Tonight is my boyfriend's night off and he has to cook those nights. I'm not missing that for anything,” she said with a wink.
“Okay then, let me walk you out,” I said as I stood up from the table.
“Daddy, can I eat pizza now? Can Colin stay overnight?”
“What? Whoa!” Colin exclaimed.
“Who – uh, yes you can eat, no Colin won't be staying tonight.” I headed towards my door but got no more than a few steps before Amanda held up a hand.
“I can manage, and you have your hands full,” she said with a smile. “Call me when you have time and we'll set up a schedule for me to come visit. Bye Robby!”
Robby waved, his mouth full of a slice. Colin was accepting a plate from Mike and I just froze for a moment, wondering if this is what a family felt like. It was odd, not unpleasant but not all warm and fuzzy either – maybe a little scary, a little out of control. It brought to mind the first time I'd been on a roller coaster, that moment when your stomach was suspended before the car went barreling down the rails. But scary good, undeniably good. I took a seat at the table with everyone and Mike put a slice in front of me. The room was filled with the small sounds of eating and drinking, only broken by Robby.
“I've learned,” he said suddenly.
“You learned what?” Colin asked after a few beats. Robby looked at him with a frown.
“What? Why would you say that?”
“Well,” Mike replied, “You just said 'I've learned'. What did you learn?”
“I don't know.”
I sat silently, concerned about the conversation. Robby had said something and seemed at a loss to know why. Was this a manifestation of the ADHD? Or was it a symptom of all those medications?
I woke up and glanced at my clock, which read 3:05. There was too much light in my room and I glanced around in confusion. My bedroom had a door directly to the bathroom, and light flooded in around the edges of the door. I got up and shut off the blinding light, only to realize the hall light was on too. Hitting that switch I noticed the light also on in Robby's room so I opened the door to find him fast asleep. I hit the light and, as I closed the door, realized that the lights were also on in the living room and kitchen. I made a circuit of the apartment, shutting off lights and making sure the doors were locked. I was tired and feeling a little cranky, but resolved to go to bed and try to get some more rest even though I was concerned about Robby wandering my apartment unsupervised.
I woke at 5:56 to the sounds of clinking. As opposed to clanking, which is deeper and has a more mechanical tone to it. Clinking is higher and could be from glasses touching to metal on glass or...why was there a clinking in my house? I pulled my head from the pillow, my mind filled with a pre-coffee fog, and I sat up. Getting to my feet I found I was wobbly, another side effect of not really being awake. I stumbled into the bathroom and was nearly rendered blind by the bright bulbs that had been left on. My hand reached out and slapped the switch and spots danced in front of my eyes as I made my way to the toilet.
Shuffling to the kitchen I discovered not only the clinking but a larger mess than has ever been in my apartment – except for that time I rebuilt the carburetor on the table; that was legendary. The TV was on and there was cereal all over the floor. The milk jug was open and upright on the carpet and Robby was planted in front of the TV with a bowl that had slopped over onto the carpet in a few places. How did he get the milk all over? I voiced my question in a scratchy voice and Robby turned and replied in a voice that was far, far too loud.
“It got wet when it spilled, so I moved. But then it spilled again so I had to move again. And then...”
“Right, got it, spilled. Okay, Robby, eat at the table and pick this mess up.” I said with more than a trace of irritation in my voice.
“Okay!” He said brightly. Loudly, as well - can't forget the volume. Speaking of volume...
“Robby, please turn the TV down. The neighbors don't want to watch...what is that, anyway?”
“The 700 Club. I don't think I want to join, it's just old people talking,” he said as he picked up individual bits of cereal and popped them into his mouth.
“You're up kind of early,” I said as I assembled the ingredients for my morning coffee.
“No, I always get up so I can watch TV. Oops!”
I sighed, not wanting to know, but equally sure I'd better investigate an 'Oops'. Poking my head out of the kitchen I took in the sight of Robby wiping down the sides of the milk, sans cap, and the large, new wet spot now on the carpet. Christ. Coffee first, then deal with spilled milk and any other disasters after, I decided.
“Robby, why don't you go get dressed?” Even though it was far too early, I felt that at least I could get enough quiet time to make my coffee and then deal with the milk in the carpet.
“Okay.”
I walked to the garbage to put the old coffee grounds in and, when I popped the top, I was hit with the smell of urine and noted with dismay the sheets wadded up in the can.
“Robby! Are these your sheets?” I asked. Well, of course they are his sheets you idiot! Did you think the sheet fairy put them here and then pissed on them as a gift?
“What?”
“Why are your sheets in the trash?” I called, revising my question.
“I don't know,” he called back.
I smoldered and walked down the hall to his room. Pointing at his bed I asked, “Where are your sheets?”
“I don't know,” he said in a voice that sounded honestly confused. “I had them here last night.”
I couldn't tell if he was lying. Did Amanda say anything about sleepwalking? I couldn't think! I grumbled to myself as I realized I was wandering about in my underpants. After I pulled on sweats and grabbed a laundry basket I pulled out the pissy sheets and took them to the apartment sized washer and dryer, one stacked on top of the other. Great start to the day, no doubt.
I made my coffee and Robby was unfocused, coming out of his room still in his pajamas and asking if he could go play outside. I told him no, and to get dressed but that ended up taking nearly forty minutes. I nursed my coffee and focused on modulating my tone as he was frustrating the hell out of me. Once my coffee was down I put towels over the milk and stepped on them to soak some up from the carpet. I wondered if Mike had a steam cleaner? At last it was time to put Robby on the bus and as he pulled away I realized I hadn't given him his morning medicine. Shit!
I called Mike as I headed to Robby's school with his meds. His tone of voice upon answering indicated his morning was going much better than mine.
“Good morning,” he said, sounding positively chipper. “How is your first morning of parenting?”
“I'm a mess, Mike,” I said to him with a forced laugh. I described the broken sleep, the mess and the sheets and finished with the reason I was in the car now, heading to his school.
“Whoa,” Mike said and sighed deeply. “That's far different than my experience.”
“I know,” I said with a sigh. “I was kind of hoping for someone similar to Colin.”
“Well, our classes kind of 'shotgun' you with information and you never know what will apply to your placement and what won't. It doesn't cover every situation, either,” he paused before continuing. “Take a deep breath – he's probably nervous about a new place, even if he didn't really show it, and that's probably what you're seeing. Call that lady – Alice was it?”
“Amanda,” I said.
“Right, Amanda. Call her up and fill her in on the behaviors. I'm sure she didn't tell you everything, so she might be able to help you with some tips to manage some of it.”
“I just...I felt so out of control this morning. I was so tired from being woken up in the middle of the night and...”
“Deep breath, babe,” Mike said soothingly. “You need some rules to help out, some structure. Last night was kind of a whirlwind so let's figure out some rules to help. Kids actually like rules, they can avoid getting in trouble that way – no matter what they say!”
“Mike...what if I stink at this?” I said, voicing the doubt in my mind.
“Ian,” he said with a chuckle, “it's the first night! Everything he does is new and you have to give yourselves time to adapt. I'll help you, don't panic.”
I brooded on this at work for most of the day. I was used to doing things a certain way – getting up with enough time to get myself ready for work and having that quiet time with a hot cup of coffee, for instance. Now I needed to adjust to include time to get him ready, and with my schedule not being set in stone I would have to be more flexible. I kicked myself mentally for not thinking of this earlier.
I called Amanda on my lunch break, but got her voice mail. I left her a short message describing Robby's first night and morning. My tone was much different, softer and more reasonable, than it might have been had I not had Mike to reign me back in. I saw I'd need to make some adjustments and I felt a little bad about my level of aggravation this morning.
We had dinner with Mike and Colin, and I noted Colin was looking at me with some guilt. I don't know what he could possibly think of that would connect to that emotion – especially towards me – but I let it go. I realized that as fond as I was of Colin, I needed to try and focus on Robby. He was my responsibility, now.
“Buckled up?” I asked him as we settled into the car for the short ride home.
“Yep!” he replied with enthusiasm. “I'm riding shotgun!”
“Yes, you are,” I smiled at him.
“Let's burn rubber!”
I made the tires chirp as we pulled out onto the main street and Robby hooted his enthusiasm. As we drove with the windows down I switched the radio off and decided I should talk a bit about the new rules I'd come up with.
“Robby, I'd like to talk to you for a minute.”
“Am I in trouble? I had a good day at school!”
“No, no trouble,” I assured him. “We just need a few rules to make things easier.”
“Okay,” Robby replied.
“First rule, no wandering the house while I'm asleep. Wait for me to get you up, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” he replied. I felt very weird right then, the second time he'd called me that. I'd need to talk to Amanda about that as well.
“Second is all food is eaten at the table, nothing in the living room.”
“Okay,” he nodded. “Can I watch TV when we get home?”
“Sure,” I replied. I was slightly annoyed at the sudden change in the direction of the conversation, which made me wonder if he'd been paying attention, but I think that was the ADHD manifesting itself.
The rest of the week was little better, except that I got child care in place and that made my schedule easier. Robby largely obeyed the rule to stay in his room until I got up, and he was usually standing in his doorway when I opened my door, offering a loud greeting. The nightly lighting event began to taper off mid-week. By the end of the week I had turned into my father, constantly grousing at Robby to turn the lights off, to quiet down, and I was getting awful tired of washing his sheets every morning. On the bright side, I was sleeping through the night which made my mornings more manageable.
Amanda called me on Friday to check in and I filled her in on the events, in detail.
“His mother didn't say anything about him turning on lights, but she has said he gets into things. I'm not surprised he has started calling you 'daddy'. He has a habit of giving people titles like that – his last placement was with an older woman he calls 'grandma'.” She sighed and continued. “His mother remarried, but the step father is more interested in his natural children with his wife than he is with Robby. Mind you,” she said while snorting into the phone, “that isn't saying much. Do you know she still can't admit that taping him to a chair was wrong?” she sighed into the phone. “She just keeps saying 'He wouldn't hold still' like that explains the whole thing away.”
“I...I just don't know what to say. That's so incredibly wrong it simply boggles my mind.”
“I know, and the court wants to send him back to her.”
“Beautiful,” I said with a heavy sigh. “Oh, by the way, I changed my schedule for next week and the appointments aren't a problem,” I said while counting parts on the shelf.
“Oh, I'm glad you mentioned that. I'm going to email you his mom's contact information, she likes to go to all of his appointments.”
“Wait, I'm going to meet his mother?”
“Yeah,” she said, dragging out the word. “Things should go smoothly. The one thing I can say is that she really does care about him and she wants him back. She won't make any trouble.”
“Okay,” I replied. In truth I felt pretty uncomfortable but didn't see a way around it.
“Also there has been a change in plans. We had court yesterday morning and it looks like they are going to want to send him home, maybe in about three weeks. We're going to start once-a-week family visits next Wednesday and the county will transport him for you.”
“Uh, okay. What time is that supposed to happen?” I asked while heading to my desk to write things down.
“Should get to the after - school care about 3:30 and should get back about 6:30; the visit is two hours and there is a half an hour of transport time factored in.”
After we hung up I brooded for a moment, thinking that children that were freed came with less strings attached than kids in care. Mike had to take Colin to counseling but he had no dealings with the parents or former family and there was no birth family to speak of. Now I had to navigate waters in the best interests of this child even though I was biased against his mother coupled with the difficulties I was having adjusting to him – not to mention I'd have to deal with the parent directly.
This, I thought to myself, is not going to be easy.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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