Waiting on Justin

by Lucy H. Delaney

  “No, not even. They're totally in it for the money. They're letting me stay until the state can find someone who actually wants me. Could be a long time.”

  “I don't understand.”

  “I'm an orphan, Justin. I have no parents. No one wants me.”

  I wanted to cry, but instead I hid my feelings under a cover of apathy. If I didn't care, I didn't have to feel sad or get mad.

  “I'm so sorry.”

  “Really? What did you think was going to happen?”

  “What about your aunt?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Your Aunt Aerin, the one who came to your mom's funeral. Can't she take you?”

  “I don't know. I guess not; she hasn't so far.”

  “But does she know? Are they looking for her? Ask, Haylee. Ask them if they're looking for her. Do you remember where she lived?”

  “No, I didn't talk to her, remember?”

  “I did. It was in Washington State, I'm sure of it.”

  “I don't know, and I don't care. I just wanted to call you so you didn't worry.”

  “Cool. I'm getting a phone next week; the guy is coming out on Tuesday. I have to take the whole morning off—stupid tech can't tell me when he's going to be there; they just gave me a time window.”

  “Yeah, sounds dumb.”

  “I'll let you know as soon as I have a number. Will you write me?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “You haven't yet.”

  “I've been busy,” I lied. The truth was I was still too mad to say anything to him, even though I missed him.

  “Can I write you?”

  “I don't care.”

  “What's the address?”

  “I don't know, let me check.” I put the phone down and asked Kaylee for the address, but she said they didn't want me giving it out.

  “Whatever,” I said. Nothing worked out for me; why would they let Justin write me?

  I picked up the phone again. “She said no.”

  “Who did?”

  “Kaylee, the lady I live with.”

  “Well, write me at least, OK?”

  “Sure.”

  “Haylee ... ” Justin knew me better than anyone; he knew I'd given up.

  “What?”

  “Hold on, OK? It's gotta get better.”

  “Sure. Look, I gotta go. She wants me off the phone,” I lied again. I knew I was going to cry if I stayed on the phone with him. I refused to cry.

  When I hung up, I took out my frustration on Kaylee.

  “How come you won't let me give him the address? All he wants to do is write; he's not going to come and take me.”

  “We've been told you're not supposed to talk to that boy.”

  “Looks like I just did. He didn't call me; I called him. I want to talk to him. There's nothing wrong with that.”

  “Honey, we can't let you ... ”

  “Don't call me ‘Honey,’ OK?”

  After that I sequestered myself in the room they let me share with their little girl. It was decorated for a preschool princess. I was not home. I lay in the bed and faced the wall, but I didn't cry. That's pretty much what I did at their house until I went back to school at a new high school the next Monday.

  CHAPTER 12

  THE GREAT THING about high school—any high school—is there are always stoners who'll smoke out a new kid with a sad story like me. I made friends with a couple kids and ditched class with them more often than I went. Brad and Kaylee were mad about me skipping, so they grounded me and didn't let me go out or use the phone. I feel like they used it as another excuse to keep me from calling Justin. The only days I didn't skip were counseling days. I hated counseling days the most because the counselor was half an hour from my school, and they never had appointments in the afternoon. I always had to leave in the middle of the day and had some weird driver take me there. On those days I had to make sure I didn't skip, but I don't know why. It was more embarrassing to leave half-way through class because of “an appointment” than it was to skip. They made me see him every week. He told me I was depressed and recommended I get on medicine. Even though I was old enough to tell them I didn't want it, the doctor prescribed it anyway. Kaylee said I had to take it, but I didn't want to, so I cheeked it and spit it out in the bathroom later. I can't even remember what that counselor's name was—some guy with toys in his office. Since he knew our time together would be short he said he would give me tools to help me cope instead of having me talk about my life. He taught me about deep breathing and how it calmed down the mind. That's when I realized why Justin always breathed deeply: he must have learned that too.

  The breathing came in handy when I talked to Justin next and he told me I'd be moving to live with my aunt. Once he had his number hooked up I got in the habit of calling him almost every night after Brad, Kaylee and their kids were asleep. I was sure the scuffing sounds of my new pink slippers on their tile floors would wake Brad, but the house always stayed quiet. I never dialed until I was outside where they couldn't hear.

  “Hey,” I said when he answered.

  “Hey,” he sounded funny, I knew something was up.

  “What's up?” I asked, pulling my blanket tight around my legs and shoulders so I could sit on the porch steps.

  “I talked to Clara.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “Reyes, he told me.”

  “She's not even looking for your aunt. Did you tell her about her?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I did, I don't think she could find anything so I went to my dads. Haylee, she wants you.”

  “Yeah, right,”

  “Dead serious. I knew he had to know something. I found a letter she wrote him. She said she'd come and get you anytime.”

  “He never said a word about it to me.” I said.

  “Me either.” he breathed deeply, audibly before continuing, “I thrashed the house.”

  “No way,”

  “Yeah,” he said, remorse thick in his tone. He told me how he ripped the house apart and then spit on the step on his way out. Then he said he called my aunt when he got back to his apartment.

  “She sounds real nice, Haylee.”

  “But she lives so far away.”

  “In Washington, it's the best place remember?”

  “For you, not for me.”

  “Just try it out.”

  What I tried out were the deep breaths, breathe in the good, deep, long, full breaths. And breathe out the bad, pushing it as far as I could away from me. The rest of that night we talked about his work, my school and the new people I had on my “team.” That's what they called all the people who were up in my business.

  There were so many people to keep track of. I had Clara in California, but when I moved to Washington there were even more. I had a new social worker named Krista—she was nice and saw me every month at Aunt Aerin's home. Then there was Thomas, my court-appointed lawyer; I never really saw him outside of court, but he was the one who petitioned the court to allow Justin and me to talk to each other.

  Michelle was my CASA—Court-Appointed Special Advocate. I liked her best. She was older, probably forty, and had the most beautiful brown eyes I had ever seen. She would meet me at home with Aunt Aerin like Krista did, but sometimes she surprised me at school too, and before I gave up on sports, she even came to some of my volleyball games.

  Michelle told me that our county, Chelan County, made sure every single kid in foster care had a CASA. The CASAs were volunteers who wanted to help kids. I wondered where they had been all my life. Maybe California didn't have them. She said their job was to tell the court what they thought was in the best interests of the children. She wasn't like a lawyer who did exactly what I wanted, but she wasn't like a social worker either. She was a little bit of both and would tell the court what she felt was truly best for me, no matter what my lawyer or the state said. She also promised to tell the judge what I wanted, even if it was differen
t from what she thought was best. She was the first person I asked about being able to talk to Justin—actually it was Aunt Aerin who asked.

  “It sounds like you two care about each other a lot,” Michelle said.

  “Yep. We grew up together.”

  “So, he's like a brother to you?”

  “No ... ” I hesitated and shuffled to reposition myself on Aunt Aerin's overstuffed cigar chair. I didn't know what to say. I was afraid if I said we loved each other she, like everyone else, would think we shouldn't talk, but I was afraid to lose a chance to talk to him if she could help. “We're really good friends,” I continued, “but not like brother and sister.”

  “Oh ... ” I saw a look of understanding pass between her and Aunt Aerin.

  “Justin is the one who first called me to let me know Haylee needed a place to go.”

  “I'll have to look into it before I can make a recommendation or enter a motion. Do you have a way for me to contact him and talk to him?”

  I gave her his new number and crossed my fingers that it would work out.

  “I have to also tell you that you have a lawyer appointed for your personal interests. Do you know who it is?”

  “Yeah, Thomas something, I think.”

  “Thomas Johnson. He's one of the public defenders in family court. Do you have his number?”

  “Um ... somewhere ... maybe, I think ... ”

  “OK, I'll find it for you in case you don't and pass it on. He'll be the best person to petition the court, but give me time to check Justin out too, and I'll be able to make an informed recommendation to the court. Remember, I can't promise I'll say what you want like your lawyer, so he's best.”

  “But you won't say no, will you?” I asked, upset that I said anything in the first place. I was sure she was just like the rest of them.

  “I can't make that promise right now. What I can promise is I'll be honest and tell the court what I believe is best for you, OK?”

  “Whatever ... ” I folded my arms and checked out of the rest of the conversation. I let Aunt Aerin finish up with her. Michelle was cool. The very next day she called with my lawyer's number and said she had left a message for Justin to call her. She also told me she had called Serrano and talked to Mr. Reyes and that Mr. Reyes said Justin was a great kid.

  “Did you talk to anyone else?” I asked, worried that Sipe or another teacher would ruin it for us.

  “I spoke with the receptionist, Mrs. Solis; she said the best person for me to talk to would be Mr. Reyes. Is there anyone else I should ask for?”

  “No, Mr. Reyes probably knows us best,” I answered honestly, wondering why Mrs. Solis hadn't given the phone to Sipe—or anyone else who would have said bad stuff about Justin. Maybe Mrs. Solis had a heart after all.

  “OK then, you give Mr. Johnson a call, and I'll keep on researching until it gets to court. How about it?”

  “Alright ... ”

  “Alright.”

  “Um ... Michelle?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks. He really is one of my only friends. I really need to talk to him.”

  “I know you want to. Keep your chin up, sweetie. Talk to you soon.”

  “K, bye.”

  As soon as we hung up, I called my lawyer and left a message. It took forever for him to get back to me, and when he did, he did exactly what Michelle said he would do: he filed a petition and got us a court date. Then all I had to do is what I had always done: wait. Only now, instead of waiting on Justin, I was waiting on the court to allow me to talk to him.

  The state said they wanted to find me a “forever home,” so I thought when they found Aunt Aerin they would go away, but it didn't work that way. I kept Krista and Michelle and Thomas around for a long time until the court finally decided Aunt Aerin, my own flesh-and-blood aunt, was good enough to keep me.

  It didn't take me long at all to figure out she was cool. Mom lied about her—she was nice and thoughtful; she didn't like Mom's lifestyle was all, and Mom was the one who stopped talking to her, not the other way around.

  Even though she was so much better than my mom or Clayton had ever been, the state made her take classes and tests and have her home studied to prove it. I didn't get why they cared so much about someone like Aunt Aerin but let me live with my mom and Clayton for so long and didn't bother. It didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out Aunt Aerin was safe, but we had to go through all their hoops. She told me we had to play the state's game too. All of us played their game.

  The only thing I didn't like about my aunt after I got to know her was that she looked so much like my mom. I wanted her to have a face that was all her own. It was easier to look past it on good days—and we had lots of good days—but on the bad days all I could see was my mom, and I would take it out on her.

  She was single and probably could have been called a spinster except that she had been married four times.

  “Never took,” she told me once, smiling, over dinner at a restaurant in town. We rarely ate at home. Aunt Aerin wasn't rich like I imagined her to be, but she lived comfortably. She admitted to being “well-off” but certainly not rich; it was just that she was single for ten years before she took me in, so she had a lot saved up. She took the money the state gave her for me—every single dime of it, until she officially became my adopted aunt-mom—and put it into a college fund.

  “I don't want to go to college,” I had argued when she made a point to deposit the first check into her savings account with me in the car.

  “Oh my, of course you do; you just don't know it yet.”

  “No I don't.”

  “Well, I'm not going to argue with you like a school girl; we'll just leave it there until you're ready to go, or until I'm dead, and you can spend it on whatever you want.” Then she patted me on the hand. I loved it when she did that, even when I was mad at her.

  I wanted to hate her, and for the first couple weeks I tried. But like she said about marriage, it never took. Aunt Aerin lived in a magical little village in the Pacific Northwest called Leavenworth. It was a made-up Bavarian town at the base of the Cascade Mountains, just inside Central Washington. Most of the residents either worked in one of the hundred or so tourist shops or owned them. Aunt Aerin owned one.

  Her last husband was “the one that got away,” and it had been his shop. She loved him and talked about him the way I talked about Justin, and her eyes always got soft and faraway-looking when she talked about his death. I knew how she felt because I felt that way about Justin. I think that's why she let Justin and me write even before I got permission from the court.

  “Just have him put a secret name on it until everything is taken care of with the state. Mailman's nosy, you know, and might snitch on us.”

  That's what we did until the court granted permission for us to talk—only it wasn't a secret name he used, it was Lizzie's, whom I also wrote off and on. Aunt Aerin let me call him once. She didn't want the long distance charges to eat up her phone, so she discouraged frequent calls out, but he could call in.

  I was lucky to call when I did because he was working even more hours for Coffee and finishing up his college classes too. That's when he told me he had enlisted and was almost officially an Airman in the U.S. Air Force. He was so excited—all he had to do was finish the classes, and at the end of June he would be in.

  “I'm gonna do it, Haylee! I'm gonna fly.”

  He told me he went straight to the recruiting office after he got done talking to my aunt. As soon as he knew I would have a place to go, he did what he needed to do to make the best life for us in the future. In our first phone call after I moved in with Aunt Aerin, he promised that four years would fly by, and then we would be together forever.

  That's when I grew up and saw outside myself for the first time in my life. Until then, it had always been about me: how Justin made me feel, how my mom and Clayton made me feel, how I liked or didn't like some people, places, and things. I thought it was about them, but it was
all about me. As soon as I was gone, Justin had nothing to wait for, so he started to chase his dreams. For our whole lives I thought he wanted to be with me—and he did, but it had cost him his dreams, and I never even cared about it. I wanted him there for me—to keep me safe, to be my guy—and I was willing to let him give up on himself so I could have him. I felt so bad, but I didn't know how to tell him that I realized how selfish I had been.

  I was happy he was going after what he wanted, but I was afraid, too, that life would tear us apart. I worried that while I waited to be grown-up, he would leave me for some older girl or a better life than the one he could have with a pity case like me. In practically every letter I told him I was scared he would leave me. He always answered back promising that would never happen and ended every note the same way: The best things come to those who wait. Wait for me, Haylee.

  I waited a long time, too, but it didn't take.

  All of my fears about him leaving were unrealistic. It wasn't him I had to worry about; it was me—just as he had always known. That's why he begged me to wait: he knew it was me who would leave. And he was right. They all were. I was too young; I didn't know what I wanted, and I let the best thing that ever happened to me slip slowly through my fingers. It wasn't his fault—he would have waited forever for me.

  I could blame Aunt Aerin, even though I know she didn't mean for anything to come between me and Justin. All she wanted was for me to have the chance to be a kid. She used to take me for walks with her Great Dane, Pepper. Pepper was huge, the size of a small horse, but she treated him like a lap dog: she fed him from the table, and he even had his own bedroom. Pepper had to be walked regularly so he wouldn't tear up the house, so we took him out every day, sometimes twice. Aunt Aerin made me go at least once a week, but at first, since I liked her company and since she didn't yell at me like Clayton and my mom, I went more often than that.

  Her favorite place to walk Pepper after the snow melted was called Ski Hill, a bygone site for fancy winter-time competitions. Remnants of the old, wooden ski jumps were still erect, though disintegrating, on the western hills. Since then it had become a forested cross-country ski trail in the winter, an amphitheater where “The Sound of Music” played in the summer, and an all-around good recreational nature hike area.