by Nan Higgins
The kids each took a spot behind a chair, bowing their heads. This time, it wasn’t one of them but Joan who spoke. “I’m grateful tonight for all of you. The volunteers who made this meal possible and each of you kids, who amaze me every day with your strength, your honesty, and your bravery. Thank you for being real and true to who you are, even in the face of adversity. You are deeply loved and appreciated.”
“Let’s eat!” Quentin said after several moments of silence. The other kids laughed, sat, and started passing food. Michael went over and carved the turkey.
“London, Reggie,” Joan said. “May I have a word?”
“Uh, sure.”
They followed her down the long familiar hallway, and London felt as if she were going to the principal’s office. She tried to shake it off. It had been such a pleasant day, and she’d made the decision to give Joan the benefit of the doubt.
Joan closed the door behind them in her office, the first time she’d done so since London’s initial interview. London stared at Reggie with a “we’re in trouble” look, and Reggie swatted her arm and sat in one of the chairs facing Joan’s desk. London took the other chair.
“Thank you both for coming tonight,” Joan said. “London, I know we’ve had our challenges, but I appreciate you coming back and helping on such a critical day.”
“No problem.”
“And, Regina, please tell your parents I appreciate them sharing you with us so you could be a part of it, as well.”
“I will.”
“Now,” Joan said, drawing her shoulders back, “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re in my office.”
“No more than any other time,” London muttered. Reggie rested the tip of her shoe on top of London’s, and London closed her mouth. She was still tender from their last interaction, but she pinched her lips to keep her sarcasm under wraps. Joan seemed to have left the tension from their last meeting in the past, and London had to at least try to do the same.
“As you saw out there, we are completely full tonight. To get right to the point, we are beyond max capacity, which is not a huge deal for a dinner, but it is a very, very big deal in terms of sleeping arrangements. We simply don’t have enough beds for all the children here right now, and that’s not just a less than ideal situation; it is absolutely dire. While we obviously can’t turn a child away, we also can’t be overcrowded. If word got out, it could affect our licensing, and that could mean no housing at all for any child in need.
“We already have an emergency family in place for one child. We just need one more.” She sat back in her chair and stared at Reggie and London.
“Wait a minute,” London said, “you’re not suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”
“I believe I am. There are no other options at the moment.”
“But…but don’t foster families need to be trained? Parenting classes and stuff?”
“Ideally, yes, but as I said, this is a crisis. And you wouldn’t be a foster family per se; you’d simply be providing temporary housing on a very short-term basis.”
“But we aren’t even trained in CPR,” London sputtered. “How can we possibly be responsible for a kid?”
“Actually,” Reggie said, “I’m CPR certified.”
London gaped at Reggie. “Seriously?”
“We sponsor youth events at Stonewall. We all took the class.”
“Good,” Joan said. “There are, of course, a few forms to fill out: release forms, an agreement to take the child for up to six months if needed—”
“Six months?” Reggie seemed uncomfortable for the first time since this conversation started. “I thought we were talking about a few nights.”
“Most likely, it won’t be six months, but it could be a month or two,” Joan said. “Things are tough during this time of year. Kids get into the holiday spirit, all the glad tidings and good cheer, and they start to think their parents will be more accepting. So they come out and end up on the street just before Christmas. We make it a six-month contract, just to be sure we don’t take a child out of a home to put them back into it a week later.”
London took a deep breath. “Okay. I understand all this, and I definitely don’t want any of these kids to have to spend Christmas on the streets. And Reggie and I, we do want to help. But…you’re sure there’s nobody more qualified and who knows these kids better? What about Michael? Or you?” She felt quite certain there had to be a more qualified candidate. In this moment, it seemed almost anyone was more qualified than she was. What did she know about kids?
Joan looked baffled for the first time. “I thought you knew about my living arrangements. Certainly, Regina does.”
Reggie nodded.
“What are your living arrangements?”
“Why, I live here. So does Michael. We have our own living quarters, each adjoining one of the sleep rooms we provide for the children.”
“What?”
“A bunch of preteens and teenagers in a room together all night? The only way to keep them out of trouble is to have someone right there within hearing distance.”
“But you?”
Joan smiled. “When Compass opened, there was no one else to do it. And now…it’s my place in the world.” She stood. “Listen, I know this is a lot to ask. I’ll go check on the kids and give you two time to discuss. You can give me your answer when I come back.”
London took this in. She knew Joan must not have much of a life outside this place, but she hadn’t realized the extent of her commitment to her vision and to these kids.
“London?” Reggie asked. “I’m willing to do this, if you are. Together.”
This pulled London out of her thoughts. “Together? You’ll come home?”
Reggie nodded.
London’s heart swam in what seemed like an ocean of emotions. This was what she’d wanted for months, for Reggie to come home. On the other hand, this wasn’t the right way, was it? She felt as if she might get carried away in her desire to be back with Reggie, but before she did, she wanted to grab onto something and think clearly. “But this would be the only reason?”
“Does that matter?”
“To me it does.”
Reggie sighed. “Okay, maybe it’s the only reason I’m coming home tonight. But I want to help one of these kids, and I think you do too. I can’t take them back to my parents’ house, and I don’t think you’re prepared to take care of a kid on your own. It would be temporary, and even if you aren’t crazy about the reason why I’m coming back, it will still give us a chance to have a trial run of sorts.”
“A trial run, huh? A trial run to see if the relationship that worked beautifully for over six years is still going to work?”
Reggie’s mouth tightened. “Do you want to do this or not?”
“I do, but I’m scared of getting my heart broken.” London thought of all she’d suffered in the last few months and all she’d lost. She’d reached her limit of the heartbreak she could sustain for a long time. She loved Reggie and wanted her back, but not if it meant they would be back to a separation in a few months because they hadn’t worked things out.
“I’m scared of the same thing. Look, I’ve been thinking a lot about our situation. My pride and my heart were really hurt after I proposed, and I needed some distance and time. I’ve been working my way back to you and to us. If you agree to this, then yes, we’ll be back together, but it’s only an acceleration of what would have happened eventually, as far as I’m concerned.”
London stared a long time. “Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes, let’s do it.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Joan stood behind them, her hands clasped.
“How do you do that?” London asked, and this time she paid no attention to the tip of Reggie’s shoe on her foot.
Joan looked puzzled. “Do what?”
“Come out of nowhere like a ninja.”
“A ninja.” Joan chortled. “My, that’s a first.” She mo
ved to the credenza to London’s left and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Here we are.”
London realized her question wasn’t going to be answered.
“Michael will be here in a few minutes to assist us.” Joan pulled a pen from her inner coat pocket. “He’s a notary public and can make these papers official until we’re able to get them filed at court. The two of you will have to agree to take a class for temporary custody within forty-eight hours, but it’s an online class that only takes a few hours.”
“That’s all the time it takes to get certified to take a kid home?” Reggie asked.
“In a pinch, yes,” Joan said. “Upon my recommendation, which I am obviously giving.”
“What’s the child’s name?” London asked.
“Quentin.”
“Quentin! But he’s been here for a while. I thought we’d be taking one of the newer kids.”
“We try to place the younger children with less experienced caretakers,” Joan said. “It seems counterintuitive, but older kids bring older kid problems, so we like to place them with more seasoned families. And you’ll love Quentin; he’s a doll.” She saw London’s panicked face. “What’s the matter?”
“Quentin and I have a history, remember?” Her voice sounded shrill in her own ears, a reflection of her anxiety. Joan was asking her take home the boy she’d sent running from the room in tears. Her nervousness was turning into full-fledged panic.
“I do. And I wouldn’t be sending him home with you if I wasn’t absolutely certain that history isn’t going to affect your relationship. He was having a hard day when the incident happened, and he’s truly a sweetheart.” Joan smiled, and London noticed for the first time how maternal she looked when she talked about the kids. “I’m not supposed to play favorites, you understand, but Quentin? It’s hard not to love him a little harder than the others.”
Michael appeared, and they went through all the paperwork. London was astonished at how quickly it all went once they made the decision. Could it really be this easy to take someone else’s child home? Apparently, it was.
Joan and Michael stood with Reggie, and London followed suit. “Now that we’ve gotten all that done, why don’t we go talk to Quentin?”
“Does he know about these arrangements?” Reggie asked.
“I told him it wasn’t certain,” Joan said, “but, yes, he has an idea. I wanted to prepare him, either way.”
“Okay.” London grabbed Reggie’s hand and tried to sound more confident than she felt. “Let’s go.”
* * *
“Here we are,” London said when they arrived home.
Joan had been right; things had gone smoothly when they told Quentin. It had taken only minutes for him to gather his few possessions and say good-bye and Happy Thanksgiving to his friends. He had the most difficult time saying good-bye to Joan.
“We’ll see each other again soon.” She got teary eyed as she hugged him. “And I wouldn’t let you go if I didn’t know you’d be in good hands.”
“I know,” he said.
Now Quentin stood in the living room, surveying everything. “It’s nice. Where will I sleep?”
“Shit,” London said. “Shoot, I mean. Shoot.” Quentin grinned. “Sorry, I’ll tone down the potty mouth.”
“I don’t mind, Nothing I haven’t heard before.”
“Right, of course. You’re twelve, not five. Reg, would you mind showing Quentin around? I need to step out and make a call real quick.”
“Sure. Everything okay?”
“Grant,” London mouthed.
“Shit,” Reggie said.
Quentin looked up from the book he’d grabbed from the coffee table. “Is this just something you guys do at night? Curse for a little bit? Because I have earbuds; I can listen to some music while you get it all out.”
Reggie laughed. “I like you, kid. Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”
London stepped onto the tiny slab of concrete that the condo association called a patio and called Grant.
“London?” He was breathless. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said in a low voice.
“Really? Because you sound like a Bond girl on a secret mission a few scenes before she gets killed and dumped into a pool.”
“I’d love to banter about double-oh-seven, but I only have a few minutes and a long story to tell you, so could you please let me talk?”
“Okay, go.”
“Thank you.” As quickly as she could, London told Grant the entire story, leaving out the part where both she and Reggie had completely forgotten Grant was staying with her. When she finished, she said, “What are we gonna do? Would you be willing to crash on the couch for a while? Quentin needs his own bed, according to the contract. We’re pushing it a little with him staying in the alcove, but it’s okay as long as he has his own bed to sleep in.”
Grant said nothing.
“Oh, sweetie, I am so, so sorry.” She felt terrible. “If this hadn’t been a completely desperate situation, I would never have—”
“No, it’s really okay. The truth is…well, the truth is, Thomas moved out of our apartment a few days ago. That place is mine, you know.”
“I’d forgotten.”
“Yeah. Well, he’s out. Out of the apartment, out of the relationship, out of my life.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wasn’t ready for it to be real yet. Apparently, I’m in the denial stage of my grieving. Besides, you and I have so much fun together, and I didn’t worry about you as much when I was there.”
“You don’t need to worry about me at all.”
“That’s not how we work, and you know it,” Grant said.
“True story.” They’d saved each other the last few months. She was grateful that he had been there with her, and she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to find the words to tell him how very much he’d helped her stay earthbound when she felt in danger of floating away.
“This is just the prompting I need to get back to real life. I had painters come after Thomas moved out, so it’ll have a fresh smell that doesn’t remind me of him. It’s time.”
“Are you sure? Because regardless of everything else that’s going on, my couch is still free.”
“I’m sure,” he said. “It’ll be a clean start for everyone. I’ll swing by and grab my stuff when I get back into town tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night is our slumber party.”
“You still wanna have it?”
“Sure. Reggie wants to take Quentin to meet her family tomorrow. I’d like him to meet mine too.”
London could hear the smile in Grant’s voice when he said, “I’d love that.”
Chapter Thirteen
“I’ll just be gone for a few hours.” Reggie pulled her jacket on over her T-shirt. “I promised I’d check up on a few things this morning, but I’ll leave as soon as I can, and I’ll take Quentin over to visit my family afterward so you can get some work done too.”
“Okay.” London hugged a pillow as she sat on the bed, legs tucked under her, looking at the time on her phone. Eight o’clock. She hadn’t been prepared to be with Quentin alone so soon. It was hard to admit that she was afraid of being alone with a little boy all morning, but her shaky hands and palpitating heart confirmed it.
“You’ll be fine,” Reggie said. “Just give him some breakfast, hang out for a little bit, and I’ll be home soon.”
“What if he hates me?”
“He doesn’t.”
“What if he gets hurt?”
“Give him a Band-Aid.”
“What if I poison him with my cooking?”
At this, Reggie paused. “Maybe take him out for breakfast.”
London threw the pillow. “Get out of here!”
“I’m going. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
A few minutes after Reggie left, London pulled on her robe and went out into the living area. It was quiet,
and she assumed Quentin was still sleeping. She went to the kitchen and began making coffee as quietly as possible. She heard movement from the living room and turned around. A very sleepy-looking Quentin was coming into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning.” He crawled onto one of the stools, crossed his arms on the counter, and rested his head on top of them, facedown.
A kid after my own heart. “Are you hungry?”
Quentin nodded without picking up his head.
“Me too. And since, as you probably remember, I’m the girl who burned the can of corn, I thought maybe I’d take you out for breakfast.”
This brought Quentin’s head halfway up, and he opened one eye. “Really?”
“Really. Anywhere you want to go.”
Head fully off the counter, Quentin nodded. “Okay!”
“Cool. You know where the bathroom is; towels are in the closet by the tub. Go ahead and shower. I took one last night before bed. As soon as you’re ready, we’ll go.”
Twenty minutes later, they locked the door and started the walk to London’s car. “So, where am I taking you to eat?”
“Can we go to Tee Jaye’s?”
London laughed. “I love that place. Are you sure? We can go someplace fancier or hipper if you want.”
“I’m sure.” Quentin nodded emphatically. “Tee Jaye’s has my favorite pancakes.”
“Mine too.” London unlocked the car, and they got in. “Tee Jaye’s, here we come.”
* * *
To say that Tee Jaye’s wasn’t fancy or hip was a vast exercise in understatement. The local chain offered restaurants that looked as if they’d traveled back in time to a rural area in the 1950s. From the hostess wearing a gingham dress and saying, “Howdy, folks,” when they walked in to the old-timey furnishings and ancient menus with food like grits and mush—probably the only place in Columbus you could find them—it was like doing the time warp…but not The Rocky Horror Picture Show variety.
There was only one other table occupied when they took one of the deep, comfortable booths. London ordered coffee, and Quentin asked for orange juice.