by L. N. Cronk
“That’s in one of the boxes I’m keeping,” I told her. “I’m not insane.”
On Monday, Dorito begged me to stay and watch him play at recess again after I’d finished volunteering.
“Okay,” I said, “but just for a few minutes. I’ve got work to do.”
I sat on the bench while Dorito and Amber watched their frosty breath come out of their mouths. The forecast was for snow and I could hardly wait to take Dorito and Lily sledding.
“She’s come a long way since you’ve started working with her,” I heard a voice say. I looked up and saw the teacher’s assistant, Ms. Amy, standing near me.
“Oh,” I said. “Thanks. I’m glad I can help.”
She sat down next to me.
“We had no idea she could read and write,” Ms. Amy said. “That was a good idea . . . using sign language.”
“Dorito thought of it,” I shrugged.
“Mrs. Spell told her foster parents about it,” Ms. Amy went on, “in case they wanted to start taking some sign language classes or something to work with her at home.”
“She’s in foster care?”
“Oh,” Ms. Amy said. “I guess I wasn’t really supposed to say that.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Amber’s in foster care!” I told Laci the second I got home.
“She is?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I want to adopt her!”
“Adopt her?”
“Yeah!”
“You just met her a few weeks ago!” Laci protested.
“So? You wanted to adopt Lily, like, the first second after you saw her.” Laci knew she had no argument for that.
“But I haven’t even met her!” she said.
“Well, then come to school with me and meet her,” I suggested.
“Well, I–”
“You’ll love her, I promise!”
“Well, I’m sure I will, but–”
“I want to adopt her,” I said again.
“What makes you think she’s even up for adoption?”
“I don’t see why she wouldn’t be. I mean, foster care’s for kids that don’t have families . . . right?”
“I don’t know,” Laci said.
“Well, I’m gonna find out. I’m gonna call social services.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious! Of course I’m serious. Why wouldn’t I be serious?”
“Well . . . don’t you think we should talk about it first?”
“What’s there to talk about?” I asked, wrapping my arms around her. “I wanted Dorito, we got Dorito. Then you wanted Lily, we got Lily. Now it’s my turn again and then you’ll get to pick next.”
She stared at me for a minute, curiously.
“If you meet her you’ll be completely smitten, too,” I smiled.
“You’re crazy,” she said, smiling back. That smile told me everything I needed to know.
“I’m calling social services,” I said, squeezing her one more time and letting go. Then I went to find a phone book.
Right after lunch, we dropped Lily off with Laci’s mom and soon found ourselves in the offices of the Department of Social Services – Child Welfare Division. We were assigned a caseworker, Brooke Williams, who met us in the reception area and then led us back to her tiny cubicle.
“Kind of cramped,” she apologized, moving a stack of papers off of a chair so that we’d each have a place to sit down.
“No problem,” I said.
“So, you are interested in adopting a foster child?”
“Yes,” I nodded.
Brooke glanced at Laci, who nodded too and shot me a tiny smile.
“And you already have a specific child in mind?”
“Yes,” I said. “Her name is Amber Patterson.”
“Amber Patterson? That’s not ringing a bell, let me see.”
She started tapping away on her computer.
“She’s in this state?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, “but we don’t have any child by that name who’s eligible for adoption.”
“But she’s in foster care,” I said. “The teacher’s assistant in my son’s class told me so.”
“Oh!” Brooke said. “I assumed you’d found her online through our website.”
“No,” I said.
“Well,” she said. “Let me see what I can find.”
She tapped away some more and then read her computer screen intently.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a moment, turning away from the screen and looking at me. “Amber is not available for adoption.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not allowed to discuss specifics about any of our cases,” she said. “I’m sure you understand.”
“But, if she’s in foster care, then why can’t we adopt her?” I persisted. “I mean, surely it would be better for her to be adopted into a permanent family than to just be in foster care, wouldn’t it?”
“Let me just tell you about how our system works in general, without telling you anything specific about a particular case, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Any time a family is unable to care for a child, or if the state determines that it’s in the best interest of a child for them to be removed from their home, then the child becomes the responsibility of the state. These children are placed with certified foster care families whenever possible, or – if we don’t have a placement available – into a group home.
“Now, you need to understand that our main goal is to return the child to their natural family whenever we can. Of course, sometimes that is not possible. For instance, if the parents are deceased and there were no other family members willing to take them in. Or if the child has been severely abused, it would be rare for the child to be placed back into the home. Usually, in a case like that, parental rights would be terminated by the state and the child then becomes adoptable. Often, the foster care family who has been caring for the child chooses to adopt the child. If not, they are placed on our state list of adoptable children.
“We have many, many children who are in foster care that are not adoptable. Remember, our main goal – whenever possible – is to return the child to their home. Unless parental rights have been terminated, foster children cannot be adopted.”
“Can we become foster care parents?” I asked.
“We’d love to have you apply to be foster care providers, but not if you’re only doing it because you hope to take Amber in. That’s not going to be possible.”
“Why not?”
“Children who are placed in the care of social services have usually been through a lot of trauma already. When we place a child, it’s with the expectation that the child will remain with the same family until foster care services are no longer needed – either because they have been returned to their natural family or because they have aged out of the system. We avoid additional upheavals at all costs. We never move a child from one foster care family to another unless there’s some kind of substantial justification for doing so.”
“What kind of justification?”
“If the family requests that the child be removed, or if there’s evidence that the child would be better off with another family.”
“We still want to become a foster care family,” I said, purposefully not looking in Laci’s direction.
“Would you like to look through our list of adoptable children and see if maybe there’s another child who–”
“No,” I said. “But we want to become a foster care family.”
“It’s a rather lengthy process,” she warned.
“That’s okay.”
“And you understand that even if you become certified, Amber won’t be placed with your family?”
“Yes.”
She looked at Laci.
“Are you both in agreement that you want to begin this process?”
; I glanced at Laci, watched her nod, and breathed a silent sigh of relief.
“Okay, then,” Brooke said, looking back to me. “Let’s get started.”
“What was that all about?” Laci cried as soon as we were outside.
“What d’ya mean?” I asked innocently.
“Why do you want to go through all this when you know we can’t get Amber?” Laci asked, waving the thick packet of paperwork that Brooke had given us in front of her.
“She didn’t say we couldn’t get Amber,” I said as we reached the car.
“Yes, she did! Honestly, David . . . what conversation were you a part of in there?”
“No,” I corrected, holding the door open for her. “She said we couldn’t get Amber unless there was justification to remove her from her current home.”
Laci got in, and I closed her door and then jogged around to the other side.
“But there is no justification,” Laci said after I climbed in.
“Not yet,” I argued, as I started the car, “but there will be.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know what’s going on in that house, but I’d bet my life that something’s not right. Amber does not need to be there.”
“David,” Laci said, “don’t you think that maybe you’re overreacting just a little bit?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean . . . I think you really like this little girl for some reason and I think that you’d like to have her live with us, and so maybe you’re kind of imagining that she’s worse off than she really is? You know, convincing yourself that she needs to be with us?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Something is wrong.”
I glanced at Laci and she looked at me dubiously.
“Look,” I said. “Why don’t we have lunch with Dorito tomorrow in the cafeteria? Then you can meet Amber and see for yourself. If you think things are great, I’ll drop it.”
“No, you won’t,” she laughed.
“Okay,” I shrugged, “you’re probably right, but why don’t you come and meet her anyway?”
“Okay,” Laci agreed. “I’d love to.”
~ ~ ~
DORITO WAS ECSTATIC that Laci and I were both going to have lunch with him.
“Is Lily coming too?” he wanted to know.
“No,” Laci explained, “Grandma’s going to watch her so we can spend some time with you.”
And Amber.
Tuesday morning, I met with my group and told Amber that Dorito’s mommy was coming for lunch.
“Would you like to sit with us?” I asked, and she nodded.
I got home and started rifling through our filing cabinet, looking for everybody’s immunization records.
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Laci asked.
“I just wanted to get started on finding some of this stuff that DSS needs.”
“I’ll fill that stuff out,” she said. “You get to work and earn some money.”
“When are you going to fill it out?” I wanted to know.
“Soon.”
“When?”
“You promised I could meet her first and see what I think,” she reminded me.
I sighed, went into my office, and tried to concentrate on my job. About thirty minutes before we needed to leave, I saved the file I was working on and went downstairs to bug Laci.
“I wish you’d relax,” Laci said after I’d paced around for a while. She was sitting on the couch with Lily, reading a book to her. “What’s this, Lily? What’s this?”
“Cow,” Lily said.
“That’s right. What’s a cow say?”
“Mooooo.”
“That’s right. Good girl!”
“I can’t relax,” I said as Laci turned the page. “I can’t wait for you to meet her!”
“Your daddy’s silly,” Laci whispered in Lily’s ear, and Lily giggled.
Finally it was time to go. We loaded Lily up and dropped her off with Laci’s mom again.
“Enjoy your lunch,” she called as we were leaving.
“Obviously she hasn’t had school cafeteria food in a while,” I muttered as we closed the door.
After we arrived at the school, Laci and I checked in at the office, got our “Visitor” stickers, and headed down to the second grade hall. The kids were lining up as we arrived. Dorito and Amber were next to each other and I introduced Amber to Laci.
“Amber,” I said, squatting down next to her, “this is Dorito’s mommy. Her name is Laci.”
“Hi, Amber,” Laci said. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Can you say ‘Hi’ to Laci?” I asked.
Amber took a loose strand of hair and put it in her mouth and looked at the floor.
“That’s okay,” I said, taking her hand. “Will you still eat with us?”
She looked at me and nodded.
“Good,” I smiled, patting her on the back.
In the food line, we surveyed our options.
“Mmmm,” Dorito said. “Tacos!”
“Mmmm,” I agreed sarcastically, raising a knowing eyebrow at Laci.
“These are not tacos,” Laci observed.
We weaved our way to the second grade table and sat down – Amber and Dorito directly across from me and Laci. I opened up one of my chocolate milks and smiled at Amber.
“Aren’t we going to say grace?” Laci asked.
“Are we allowed to do that here?” I wondered.
Laci glared at me. “We’re saying grace.”
I peeked during grace and watched Amber. She didn’t bow her head or close her eyes. She just eyed us curiously.
After we were finished, Amber leaned toward Dorito and pulled him to her. She cupped her hands around his ear and put her mouth to them.
“Oh,” Dorito said after she sat back. “Because this isn’t how they make tacos in Mexico.”
Amber looked at Dorito questioningly and Dorito looked at Laci.
“My mom makes ’em like they do in Mexico,” he explained. “She uses a . . . what do you use, Mommy?”
“Tortilla,” Laci said.
“Yeah, tortilla,” Dorito nodded. “And she doesn’t use hamburger. What do you use, Mommy?”
“Well, you can use beef, but it isn’t usually ground up like hamburger is. I usually use chicken, but a lot of people use pork.”
Amber cupped her hand to Dorito’s ear again and then Dorito asked, “What’s pork?”
“Pig,” Laci answered.
“Yeah,” Dorito said. “Pig. And she puts the meat in this bowl with all this stuff that smells really good, and then she cooks it and puts it on the . . .”
He looked at Laci again.
“Tortilla,” she smiled.
“Yeah. And then she chops up all this stuff and puts it on there, and then she puts this green stuff on there . . .”
“Guacamole.”
“Yeah, guacamole. And then she makes this sauce to put on it. It’s really good.”
“You should come to our house sometime and Dorito’s mommy could make you some,” I suggested. “Would you like that?”
Amber nodded.
“You can come home one day with Dorito and have tacos with us. Okay?”
She nodded again.
“Her hair looks awful!” Laci exclaimed in a low voice as we left the school. I should have known that would be the first thing she zeroed in on.
“At least she’s been keeping it in a ponytail,” I said. “Trust me, it looks a whole lot better than it did.”
“Why would her foster parents not take her to a beauty shop or something and get it fixed?” Laci asked.
“I don’t know, Laci,” I said. “Why would they let a giant rat’s nest get in her hair in the first place? Why would they not make sure that she bathes or brushes her teeth? Did you smell her?”
“It was kind of hard to smell anything in that cafeteria.”
“I bet she lives in a meth house,” I said.
&nbs
p; “Why do you think that?”
“Because I’ve heard about kids who live in meth houses smelling really bad like that.”
“It could just be neglect.”
“Just be neglect?”
“You know what I mean,” she said.
“Meth, neglect, whatever. Don’t you agree that she doesn’t belong in that house?”
“Yeah,” Laci nodded. “Something’s wrong.”
~ ~ ~
WEDNESDAY WE SET up an appointment for our first home inspection and after that we went down to the police station and had our fingerprints taken so that DSS could do a background check on us. Later I went to my dad’s office (who also happened to be our accountant) and got all of our tax records, and that night we attended the first of seven classes required for families hoping to be certified.
One of the things they did in class that night was to show us a video dramatizing some of the things that kids might have gone through before they became a ward of the state. Both Laci and I were pretty quiet on the way home.
“I . . . I hate that she went through something like that,” Laci finally said.
“I hate to think that she’s going through something like that right now!” I said. “We’ve got to get her out of there.”
“I don’t understand how you’re going to convince DSS that she needs to be out of that house.”
“I’m going to find some kind of evidence to show them that they’re not taking good care of her!”
“How?”
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, “but we need to get the rest of that paperwork filled out because after I get her out of there, she’s coming home to live with us.”
I truly didn’t know what to do to obtain the evidence that I needed, but I started by offering to pick up Dorito after school on Thursday. I got there early . . . very, very early. The procedure at the elementary school was to load up all the kids who rode the bus first and then to start calling kids out who were car riders. I was third in line and had a front row seat to watch the kids as they boarded the bus.
I had taken note of what Amber was wearing that morning and I easily recognized her as she came out of the building and trudged up the steps of her bus.