“See you soon,” I said at Luke’s bedside.
“Yeah,” he said, and mumbled something that indicated he didn’t believe me.
Lorraine called a few days later. “I figured out something about your brother,” she said. “He needs a purpose in life. I could get him an apprenticeship with some Harley guys. Do you think he might go for that? He’s gotta get out of that situation and away from those people.”
“Sure, why not try it?”
Luke called me later that day. “Lorraine said I can go to her place when I get out.”
“That might be a good idea.” After a long pause I said, “I’ll go with her to pick you up.”
The next day Lorraine met me at a shopping center not far from where I lived, which happened to be the halfway point in her trip. Erick and I were very private about our address, for fostering and other reasons.
“Hi,” Lorraine said as I got into her front seat. “Pretty weird, huh?”
I nodded. This was the first time I had been alone with her since I was three years old. I plugged in my GPS to help find Angel’s home. Lorraine was driving a friend’s car, because hers was having “tranny trouble.” It started to drizzle, and I had to help her find the windshield-wiper controls.
“How’s the baby?” she asked.
I started to say something about Skyler’s first words before realizing she didn’t know about him. “Ethan’s teething,” I said.
“Poor baby.” She was thoughtful. “You ran a fever but never cried.”
Just like Ethan, I thought, reveling in the genetic information, the first I’d ever had linking Lorraine to my baby. I was about to say, What about Luke? when I realized he had not lived with her long enough for her to see his first tooth.
Angel’s driveway was jammed with two new pickup trucks and three motorcycles. I wondered whether any—or all—had been purchased by Luke.
The interior was filled with the most expensive Rooms To Go furniture, which also spilled into the garage and back patio. “I’ve moved all my stuff here,” Luke explained. “I’ve got a pool table and a hot tub and two more TVs and nowhere to put them. Want ’em?”
I wasn’t going to accept anything that put me on Luke’s list of takers.
Angel was dressed in too-tight black jeans and a low-cut blouse. She wore elaborately tooled cowboy boots.
Luke shifted his feet. “Come see my room.”
A huge carved bed frame took up almost all the floor space. He lifted a stack of files and threw them on the bed. “This is my legal pile. I want you to read it.” He grabbed a shopping bag in the closet, dumped out some sneakers, and started to load it with the paperwork.
Angel stood in the doorway. “Leave that here, hon.”
“I want Ashley’s advice.”
“I’ll go over them with you again when you get back.” Luke’s eyes shifted from me to Angel. If I moved in to take the bag, I would have been marking a line in the sand. Angel shot a warning look at Lorraine that said, Where the hell have you been, lady, when I’ve been picking up the pieces?
“Here’s my card,” Angel said to me. “Call or text if you have any questions—or problems.” She gave me a sly smile that indicated she would be needed sooner rather than later.
We drove out to the main road. “Stop at the 7-Eleven!” Luke shouted.
Lorraine pulled in. “Need a drink,” he said.
I went inside to the restroom and Lorraine got out to smoke a cigarette. When I returned, mother and son were standing in front of the soda cooler, discussing the merits of Mountain Dew versus Monster for a quick caffeine buzz. “What do you want?” Lorraine asked me. I chose a bottle of water, and she paid for all three drinks. To an outsider this looked like just another family outing, not the first reunion in Luke’s life.
When we got back in the car, Luke stumbled from one topic to another, hardly taking a breath. “My leg—three antibiotics . . . another lawsuit—the tires . . . my lawyer can’t get the electronic part for his BMW . . . Ed sent me a bill for painting my room because he had to replace the drywall—I mean, how can you ask your son to pay for repairs to a house he bought with his money?—Yum, barbecue ribs . . . could go for some now—I’d rather have a Bud Light—cool blue lighting under that rice burner . . .”
I listened as if I were the social worker trying to make clinical sense of his manic mouth. This felt more like supervising a family visit than being with relatives.
“I’m hungry,” Lorraine said when we got back to my car.
I pointed to the restaurant Erick and I frequented, hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone we knew. Luke asked for a triple burger, fries, and a Caesar salad. My stomach was in knots, so I just ordered soup. Lorraine wanted fried chicken.
After a few bites, Luke said, “That car trip made me sick.” He took a teaspoon and started to taste my soup without asking. “Gross!” He gagged and headed for the restroom. He returned and inhaled his sandwich. “Better,” he said, looking droopy-eyed. “My leg . . . the pain . . .” He took out a tiny aluminum tube that was attached to a key ring.
“I’m sorry,” Lorraine said. “We’ll get you feeling better and back on your feet.”
Luke’s eyes locked with hers. They’re connecting! I thought happily. Maybe something good might come out of this after all.
“You coming to Lorraine’s house?” Luke asked me.
“Well . . .” I felt as if I was a good buffer between the two. “I have to check with Erick and would need to go home and pack a bag. I’ll be a few hours behind you.” I paid the tab and stood up.
“I’m leading AA tonight,” Lorraine said when we got outside. “Why don’t you just come straight to the meeting?”
Luke spun around and started vomiting in the bushes alongside the restaurant. People dining on the patio looked on with disgust.
Lorraine pulled me aside. “He’s detoxing from something. He was chain-smoking at the gas station, but he tried to hide it from you and told me not to say anything.”
I thought, but didn’t say, You would know.
“Also, Angel is an addict too. I think he scores for her and she’s dependent on him, which is why he’s there. She said she couldn’t work right now because she’s had shoulder surgery. They’re probably all just sharing their pain meds.”
Whoa, I thought, what den of vipers am I walking into? “Those people are just using him like everyone else, and probably none of them are clean,” Lorraine said. “We need to get him into treatment.”
When I went home to pack, Erick said, “While you were having a family reunion, I decided to see what your brother has been up to.” He handed me a printout of Luke’s recent criminal record.
“I know he’s been in trouble a few times as a juvenile—like that knife incident on the Fourth of July— ”
“It’s much worse than that. He’s had several felony arrests every year since he turned eighteen, six years ago.” Erick read aloud, “Leaving the scene of a crash involving damage, criminal mischief, domestic battery, aggravated battery, strong-arm robbery, possession of carisoprodol—”
“What’s that?”
“Soma, a powerful muscle relaxant. Druggies mix it with Vicodin and sell it as a Las Vegas Cocktail. When mixed with codeine, it’s a Soma Coma.”
He scanned the sheet again. “There’s a burglary of an occupied structure and resisting an officer without violence.” Erick whistled. “Operating an unregistered motor vehicle plus fleeing or eluding at high speed with wanton disregard. He has over a dozen felony charges and nearly twenty misdemeanors . . . and counting!”
“Why isn’t he locked up?”
“He can probably afford good lawyers.”
The rest seemed to all be serious traffic violations, including no license to operate a motorcycle, leaving the scene of yet another accident, driving while license suspended or revoked, and last—but not least—another domestic violence that seemed to coincide with his breakup with Paige.
“Okay, the kid�
�s a mess, which is why I’m offering to help. Lorraine says he has a substance abuse problem. Maybe we can get him into treatment. He can afford to pay for one of these country-club places.” I kissed him. “Sorry to leave you with the kids.”
“No worries. Only two kids seems like a vacation.”
We hugged good-bye far longer than usual. “Gotta run,” I said. “I have an AA meeting to get to.”
I met Luke in a church parking lot. He was talking to a guy in a wife-beater shirt who had used half a tube of gel on his hair. “That’s my sister,” Luke said.
“Your mom is the greatest,” the guy said. “She’s talked me off the ledge a few times.” He pointed to where people crowded around.
Lorraine was holding a cell phone. “Anyone able to go pick up some guys?” She handed her phone to the volunteer. “Okay, people, meeting’s starting in five.”
We filed into a church classroom. I took a seat toward the front and made Luke sit by me.
Lorraine opened the meeting. “Good evening. My name is Lorraine and I’m an alcoholic.”
I thought the whole purpose of AA was to be completely anonymous, so I was surprised that she gave her name. “Welcome to Alcoholics Anonymous, a worldwide fellowship of men and women who help each other to stay sober.” After reading some general information, she said, “If there’s anyone who is here for their first meeting, please introduce yourself by your first name—or made-up name—only.”
A few people spoke. “Anyone else?” she directed her glance to Luke.
Luke shifted in his seat. “Yeah well, I’m only here because that lady is my mom.”
“Give a name,” another woman coaxed.
“Oh, yeah,” he coughed. “My name is Luke, but I’m not an alcoholic or anything like that. I don’t really belong here. I make good money and do investments and real estate.”
A man on the aisle reached over and touched his arm. “Don’t worry, son,” he said, “you are in the right place.”
I was riveted by the way Lorraine commanded the room like a presenter. She projected her voice, fielded questions smartly, tuned into each person’s need, reflected back their feelings, and had that inner glow that couldn’t be bottled and sold. Then it hit me: This was the genesis of my talent. What people called my charisma had come from her.
Autumn was away for the weekend, so Luke took her room. I was only planning to stay the night, so I camped out on the couch and would share the guest bath with Luke down the hall. Lorraine had bought some hot dogs and hamburgers to grill outside and handed me a bag of chips to put in a bowl.
Luke grabbed some from the bag and smashed them into his mouth. “Starving.”
Once the food was on the table, Lorraine sat down but did not eat. “My dad—your grandfather Rhodes—passed on last week.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said.
“In the end he died from booze and drugs and hard living,” she said. “Runs in our family—and your dad’s, too.” She nodded toward Luke. “There’s another way, a healthier way. I know I’m not one to talk, but I’m trying—finally—but I can only do it one day at a time with the support of my family and friends.”
“I’m doing fine on my own,” Luke said.
“Except for all your arrests.” I stared at him.
“People are always trying to get me in trouble. Like Paige. She runs me over and calls it domestic violence on her!”
“Addicts find it hard to admit they’re at fault for anything,” Lorraine said patiently. “We bury our self-hatred in our drug of choice.”
I fell asleep on the couch while they were still going at it. As I dozed off, I thought, Maybe she can get through to him . . . maybe she is the only one who can.
“I don’t give a crap that it’s four on a Sunday morning. Tell him to call me. I’ve got to talk about my investments today,” I heard Luke saying. His voice was coming from the bathroom.
I stumbled off the couch and stood outside the open door. “I know, but my cash is tied up in those damn houses, and I think Paige has the paperwork. Right, they’re in her name. I did that after the accident so nobody could come after me. Yeah, I know, I know . . . I’ll get it fixed.” He saw me and said, “Gotta go.”
“Luke, it’s the middle of the night. Who are you talking to at this hour?”
“My lawyer. I have court on the twenty-fifth and there are some complications.” He popped open the top of a prescription drug bottle and shook several into his mouth, swallowing them without water.
“What’s that?”
“My antibiotic.”
“How many are you supposed to take at a time?”
“I need an extra dose, because only seventeen percent stays in your body.”
“I’ve never heard anything like that.”
He opened a second bottle and took one pill out. Then he looked at me defiantly and took another and downed them both.
I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him, so I went back to the couch. Luke sat in the chair opposite me and started playing a game on his phone that went plink, plink, ding, ding!
“Luke! Do that in your room and close the door!”
I fell into the hard sleep of a parent who hadn’t slept more than three hours in a row for what seemed like forever. The smell of breakfast was my alarm clock.
“This looks great,” I said, and took a crisp piece of toast off a paper towel. I told Lorraine about the pills in the middle of the night.
She became alarmed. “I’ll check on him.”
“He’s out cold, and there’s puke all over the toilet seat,” she reported. “He’ll need a medical detox because of his leg.”
“I’m going to have to head home. It’s not fair to leave Erick much longer.”
“I’ve got this, Ashley,” she said.
That night Lorraine texted me that Angel and her husband were on their way to take Luke back.
I called Luke. “Think about the rehab. You need it,” I pleaded.
“I’m a grown man, and I can make my own damn decisions.”
“Yes, and you’re doing a great job so far.” My tone was sarcastic.
“Angel has always been there for me. She does whatever I want.” He started laughing. “I got Dusty’s phone number, and I called him and told him where I was at.”
Dusty was his birth father, who had been in prison for as long as I could remember. “He’s out?”
“Some halfway place. He’s going to buy me a phone. Like I need him to buy me crap, but it was fun to get his hopes up.”
“What did Lorraine say about this?”
“She’s pissed. She doesn’t want anything to do with him.”
My cheek began to twitch with a long-forgotten childhood tic. Erick had been right. I was wading in a pond so murky and polluted that I had better get out before I absorbed any more poison. I hung up abruptly.
I called Angel. “You know that my brother is taking a lot more than just some antibiotics,” I said. “He needs professional help.”
“We’re working on it from our end too. We’ve always cared deeply about him.”
“What about this mess with Paige? Does she really control his money?”
“Not now. We’ve got all his powers of attorney, and he’s putting some of his property in our name.”
“Why doesn’t he just own it outright?”
“He needs to clear up some other legal matters first.”
“What’s the court date that he has coming up all about?”
She coughed. “That’s his business.”
A week later Lorraine called. “Good news! All our efforts paid off. Luke checked himself into one of the rehabs I recommended.”
“Really?”
“Our intervention was successful. Angel took him yesterday and he signed himself in. I think he’s going to work the program.”
“I hope so.”
Three days after that I wrote a check and noticed it was the twenty-fifth of the month. Two days after that Lorraine called. �
��He busted out of rehab. It was all a scam to get out of a court date.”
“I’m sorry,” I said to Lorraine. “You gave it your best shot.”
“One day he’ll go back and it will work. Look at me. I’m finally sober, although every day is a struggle.”
“You’ve been through a lot of hardship,” I said, which was the closest I had ever come to giving her a break.
“What AA has taught me is that no matter how far I have fallen, I know my experience can benefit others.” She cleared her throat. “Hey . . . maybe I should write a book.”
17.
the white flag of surrender
There are no unwanted children . . .
just unfound families.
—The National Adoption Center
Now our little family consisted of Ethan and Skyler, and everything hummed along as if it were meant to be. “I’d be happy if Skyler never left,” Erick said, skirting the forbidden words about love and adoption.
Skyler had come to us with a plan to be reunited with his mother. We had to be prepared to relinquish him at any moment. Friends asked us all the time, though, whether we would keep him—as if that was our decision. They also asked the secret to adopting a baby from a child welfare agency.
“If you ask,” I would explain, “they will tell you—and rightly so—that none are available.” Then I’d go on to explain how one of our friends adopted a sibling group of three under age three and another has two boys—one raised from four weeks and the other from nine months. Each had been a foster child like Skyler who was destined to return to his reformed parent or, like Lance, find a home with a relative. When neither works out, the long-term foster parents then have the first opportunity to adopt.
Until the moment it is decided that both biological parents cannot care for their children, they have ownership. When a child is in state custody, the parents are still in control of medical decisions and grooming, and they have the right to visit. Social service agencies are required to assist the parents with drug treatment, counseling, and parenting classes to help rehabilitate them over the course of approximately a year.
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