by Amy Piers
“This is my plan,” I say. “And this is what I have so far. It’s only half made, because we ran out of time.”
“Would you like me to help you, or would you like me to just keep you company while you build?” Jen asks. I think for a second, because I am not that good at hammers yet and I would actually like to have help. But also, this was for me and Alicia and not for Jen. If Jen helps me, then I won’t have Alicia anymore; just like when Alicia helped me I stopped having Zoe. Just like how I never saw Rachel again in my whole wide life. I wish I could just have one grown up for all the times. I think that’s how Moms are supposed to be. But, I wouldn't know, because my mom and dad both stopped wanting me.
I shake my head, “No. I want to just build it by myself.”
I grab a nail and start to hammer it, but it falls and I hammer my thumb. I scream and scream, then run into Arrow’s stable to hide. I am crying quieter now, because I don’t want to be found.
“Dallas, it’s not safe to be in the horse stable like that. I know you love Arrow, but he’s an animal, and sometimes animals do unexpected things,” Jen says. For your big fat information, Jen, I don’t care if Arrow kicks me. I am the worst person who needs to be kicked because I can’t do good things. I get the acorn from my pocket and throw it on the ground. My thumb feels like it has a heartbeat inside and it’s turning blue under the fingernail. Jen climbs into the stable and tries to get me out, so I kick her. She needs to be kicked too, because she’s trying to take me away from Alicia. This project isn’t hers. She shouldn’t be in the stable where I spend time with Alicia. She’s NOT ALICIA.
[I see you.]
After Christmas Breakfast we make our way over to Ezra’s parents house. Julia throws open the door when she sees us, and yells, “Thank God you’re here!”
We are handed Mimosas as soon as we walk in, and I savor it like liquid gold. The champagne calms me almost immediately, and I look around to see that Julia has decorated the entire house, just like she did ours at Halloween. It’s a beautiful winter wonderland in sunny California. Their parents swiftly greet us, as we gather around the tree to exchange gifts. I didn’t know what to get them for Christmas, so I’m giving them a candle. Candles are my go-to gift in times like these.
They got me one, too, so I know we’re on the same page.
[I see red.]
Jen picks me up under my arms and throws me over her shoulder. We walk back to the house as I kick and scream, trying to squirm out of her arms. I see Grey running towards me on the snow, and he’s trying to save me. Jen’s going to kill me on Christmas Day; I knew I shouldn’t trust her! I yell out to Grey, and I tell him he needs to finish making the manger because Jesus is born tonight and the baby needs somewhere to sleep. We have to take care of the baby, or he will be all alone! Grey falls into the snow, and the quicksand eats him up, and soon he’s gone. Not even my dead brother will be my friend today.
I deserve this.
#
“He’s going to have to earn the privilege to go back to the stables,” Jen’s boss says. He’s a big fat man who I have seen around Starlight but we’ve never talked. “I’ll shoot an email to Alicia and Dr. Martinez to let them know what happened.”
I am angry and also embarrassed. Why do they have to tell Alicia? I lay on the beanbag with my hood over my head. I’m so still that I start to feel invisible, and I like it. For a minute I wonder if this is what being dead feels like? Then my thumb starts hurting again, and I know the only other heartbeat I’ll hear tonight is the one in my thumb. I want a band-aid, even though I know it won’t take the pain away. I want something on my body to show people that I’m hurt, I’m broken, and I’m all done playing. I know that I am a loser. I admit it.
Jen sits beside me, and I roll into a ball. I hear her all muffled through my beanie and huge snow coat.
“Dallas, I trusted you at the stables. I feel kind of sad that our project time didn’t work out,” she says. I say nothing, nothing, nothing. I stay like a ball, even when my legs hurt, and I start to need to pee. I stay so still until it’s time for Jen to leave, because that’s how people work. They all leave, and if I can be still like I’m dead, she will go more quicker. Then she says goodbye and goes. I don’t mean to, but I pee on myself, on the beanbag too. I cry because I peed in my pants. I cry because I’m not a baby. I cry because I don’t want to be here on Earth anymore, I only want to be with Grey.
Then I remember that baby Jesus will be born tonight. I remember what I learned about Christmas at church. I remember that he’s the King, and he’s a nice king who saves the world at Easter. I cry because I didn’t make the manger in time and baby Jesus will have to sleep on the floor tonight. Jesus will feel lonely on the floor.
[I see you.]
As the sun sets, Ezra and I take our traditional holiday amble to the boardwalk—a tradition we started last month at Thanksgiving. Anxiety rises inside of me, or is it the fifth mimosa? I’m uncomfortable. I’m unsettled. I’m exhausted. I’m gearing up for the red-eye in the morning, when Ezra drops me at the San Francisco airport at 6 am. According to my schedule, we’re leaving Santa Cruz at 4 am just to be on the safe side. I’ll be in Cody by noon, and a couple of hours later at the ranch. Ezra is talking to me, but I’m preoccupied with my own thoughts. I’m going through the steps one by one.
“Hey, space cadet. Are you listening to me?” he teases.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Seeds
[I see red.]
Today is the fifty-second day that I have lived at Starlight, and I have talked to Zoe zero of these days. Today is the first day since Christmas, and I haven’t talked to Alicia in two days if you count today as a day. But it’s just the morning—the clock says 10 am, and that means I ate my breakfast and got dressed already. Everybody knows what clothes I put on, since I only ever wear black shirts, gray sweatshirts with hoods, and cargo shorts (I hate jeans the most). Today my t-shirt has a vampire bat on it. Alicia comes out of nowhere and knocks on my door.
“Hey, Buddy! How was your Christmas?” she says. I fold my arms across my body and face the wall. Looks like she didn’t read her email.
“Let’s go finish our project! You’re going to need longer pants on, it’s snowing outside” she says, like she can’t see how much angry I am with her. The big fat boss of Jen comes to the door and talks to Alicia outside the room. I know what he’s saying and I want him to shut his big fat mouth, so I say BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAHHHHHHH so loudly out the door. The stupid fat man tells me to go back in the room, so I fold my arms and stand like a statue just outside the door. He tells Alicia that she can handle me, but if she needs help she just needs to say the word (I wonder what the word is? Probably ‘hot dog’). Then the man walks away.
“So, the stable’s off limits,” she says, looking down. “We’re going to have to work our way back to that privilege. Want to talk about it?”
I fold my arms even tighter and sit like a ball in the corner of the room. Alicia sits on my bed, which I am mad about because I had to make it properly and it looks nice, and it will look all messy when her stands up, and I will have to make it all over again. I don’t want to talk, so I say nothing. Dr. Martinez comes to the door and tells Alicia something I can’t hear, but I think I should know. Alicia sits back on the bed.
“Dallas, I think today’s going to be a good day for you.”
I frown and make a grunting sound. No days will ever be good for me.
[I see you.]
The drive from Cody Airport to Lovell is around an hour, and I’m beyond grateful to have extra time to warm to this idea. The snow is thick around me, falling from the sky and landing on the windshield. Cinnamon’s face is glued to the window, and he exhales foggy snot on the glass. My toes are frozen inside my boots, and I get the sense they’d warm up faster outside of my shoes. This trip is so awkward—Dr. Martinez sent a janitor from Starlight to come pick me up, and he isn’t talkative at all. I’d half hoped he’d give me an update on Dal
las before I arrived, but I realize he doesn’t know one kid from the next—they’re all demons to him. His eyes are dead, hair disheveled. This guy’s both seen, and cleaned up, some shit.
I fold my hands and pray, looking over the vast plains. I have no idea what I’m about to get myself into. I have no idea why I agreed to stay so long. I want to turn the car around, I want to go back to Ezra.
I want to go back to making coffee.
[I see red.]
I stay in the corner with my arms crossed. I am never ever talking to anyone today. I am not moving, except to eat and use the bathroom. I am going to stay invisible. I hear the Dr. at my door, and I ignore him because that’s what I am doing today.
[I see you.]
I see the sign outside the ranch, Starlight Children’s Residential Home. I see no evidence of actual children, though, just a big ranch house in the distance and a horse stable even farther away. It looks like the pictures on the website, but with more snow. We drive to the house, and the car stops. I remind myself that nothing good has ever come from comfort zones. Bravery is what I need; I’m grateful for the necklace that Ezra gave me, and I kiss it before getting out of the car.
Cinnamon doesn’t know what to make of the snow beneath his paws, as he clumsily dances on the ice like a fancy, furry horse. The janitor takes my suitcase inside for me, as a well-dressed middle-aged man meets me at the door.
“Zoe!” he says. “I’m Luis Martinez—so glad to meet you in person. Come on in—we’ll have a chat in my office first.”
“This is Dallas’s dog, Cinnamon,” I add.
“He’s sweet,” the Dr. says, petting him on the head. Cinnamon’s just excited to be running free after five hours of transit today.
“Will Dallas see me if I walk through?” I check.
“No, he’s in his room right now which is at the other end of the house. Kids aren’t allowed anywhere near the exit points without supervision.”
Duh. I should’ve realized—this is a step before juvie—there’s no way anyone’s letting kids near the door. I don’t know where they’d go if they ran, anyway. There’s no civilization as far as the eye can see. Unless they rode a horse to town, which they totally could do if they had a sense of how to do that—I wonder if there are guards here? Ugh, my Behavior Specialist instincts are kicking back in. I’m twenty steps ahead of myself, and I need to scale it back. As we walk through to Dr. Martinez’s office, I’m struck by how charming and homely this place is, and I’m relieved to know Dallas has somewhere nice to live. Next minute, a child screams like a banshee and an alarm sounds… suddenly we’re not in Kansas anymore.
“By the way,” he says, “Dallas doesn’t know you’re coming. We weren’t sure how he would react, so we are going to have him reunite with you in a more controlled environment.”
The knot in my stomach tightens. He invites me into the small office, one of the few places I’ve seen in the house that is geared toward adults. Crossing one leg over the other, Luis leans back slightly, which makes his chair bounce a little. I can't work out if he's stretching or using a power pose.
“Thanks for coming,” he acknowledges. “I know this must be hard for you.”
I try to act natural, “How’s Dallas doing?”
The Dr. breaks eye contact, and his mouth becomes an ominous line across his face. Then he admits, “Dallas...Well… he has his ups and downs. We’re having a hard time seeing progress.”
“He’s lost everything,” I say, as the hair stands up on the back of my neck.
“I know,” he assures. “It’s going to take a while for us to see a consistent upward trend with him. We’re hoping you’ll help him turn a corner.”
“Don’t you think it’s kind of a bad idea for me to come in and out of his life like this? Don’t you think a clean break would have been better for both of us?” I snap.
“No,” he rebuts. “I don’t think that at all. That’s why we have you here for so many days, Zoe. It’s a significant chunk of time for both of you to heal. Neither you, nor Dallas, have had any closure since the theme park incident.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” I lie. “I’ve moved on with my life.”
“With all due respect,” he clears his throat, “I don’t believe that for a second.”
My heart races and I’m sweating like a pig. I remove my jacket and start fanning myself with a brochure that says, “RAD Kids: Healing Attachment at Starlight.” I scoff at the irony.
“Why didn’t you bring his mom out?” I hiss, knowing exactly why she isn’t here. Dr. Martinez has already told me, and here I am feigning amnesia. Anything to stall the inevitable moment where I will be face to face with my literal demon. I’ve learned a lot of manipulation strategies from my clients over the years: from the artful young dodgers, the sly foxes, the charming snakes.
“His mom relinquished him to the state, Zoe,” the Dr. says sternly.
“Yeah, but that’s not immediate. It’s a process. Why aren’t you getting her here? Why aren’t you changing her mind?”
“We are keeping him here for two years, in the hope that she takes him back, but we’re not holding our breath. And even if she does take him back—do you honestly believe she’s the best caregiver for Dallas?”
I don’t. Sarah tried her best, but her best doesn’t meet his needs.
“She’s better than a revolving door of caregivers at a residential home. How do you think he’ll respond to more abandonment?” I acknowledge.
“Dallas has one assigned support professional at Starlight. Her name is Alicia and for the next year she is committed to his rehabilitation,” the Dr. explains.
“But she goes home at night, doesn’t she? He’s six years old, Luis. Who’s tucking him in bed every night and reading him stories? Who’s cuddling him? Who’s telling him they love him? Where does he go when he wakes up after a nightmare?”
“We have house “parents” if you will. They look after a group of six, and are available throughout the night. I assure you, we are providing the most normal experience that we possibly can.”
“Is he the youngest kid here?” I ask.
“Yes,” he admits. “He’s the youngest by a year.”
“How many are eight or younger?”
“Just two, and they’re in a room together—right beside the house parents’ room. Zoe, I know you’re coming from a place of protection for Dallas, but I assure you we are giving him the best we can.”
I nod, then I kind of regret my outburst. He probably thinks I’m crazy.
“Would you like some coffee or tea before we see him?”
“How about a horse tranquilizer?” I joke. I don’t think that helped me look less crazy. He smiles, and pity laughs. “No, I’m ready. No time like the present.”
“Great,” he says, standing up. I also stand, like my legs are operating without permission from my mind. I’m not ready; I’ll never be ready. I grab a hold of my necklace, trying to channel courage from Ezra. We pass through five security gates before Dr. Martinez asks me to wait. Cinnamon is losing his shit, tugging at the leash in anticipation. My heart beats loudly as I wait. The Dr. brings a petite girl towards me, who appears to be in her early twenties—she has velvety brown skin and long hair set in twisted braids. The woman is beautiful, but she looks tired. I can't help but see myself in her face.
“Zoe, Alicia. Alicia, Zoe,” he introduces us.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Alicia says with a smile.
“Likewise,” I lie, mostly because I only found out about her ten minutes ago. “How’s Dallas doing today?”
“Well, yesterday being Christmas, I wasn’t here… and as you know, he’s not great with new people,” she starts. I glare at Dr. Martinez, and he doesn’t make eye contact on purpose.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Apparently, he was building pretty good rapport with Jen, one of our supports who usually works with a different child. He ate breakfast with her, which has been a
struggle since he arrived. He lost a lot of weight for a minute there, but he’s getting healthier now. He just refused to eat, and one of our medical doctors told me he would need a nasogastric feed tube unless he started getting adequate nutrition. Anyway, after breakfast, they went out to the stables to finish a project he and I had started. So that you know, going to the stables is a privilege that Dallas had to earn through good behavior -”
I zone out as she speaks, because I'm having an out-of-body experience. I feel like I can finally see who I became with Dallas, from a new and fresh angle. Alicia clearly knows everything about Dallas, because she is with him eight hours a day, five days a week. She’s walking in my old shoes, and begging for someone to understand where she’s going with this. I understand more than anyone ever could.
“Anyway,” she continues, “He apparently freaked out "out of the blue" on Jen, but I don’t think any behaviors are "out of the blue." It’s more likely that something triggered him, but we’re not sure what. He hid in the stables, and she brought him back. Last night he wet his pants, too, which is something he did when he first got here, and he stopped for a while, but it’s started again.”
“Wow,” I nod. “So has there been any progress?”
“Yeah, absolutely,” Alicia says. I remember being asked the same thing when I was with Dallas, and I would clutch at straws when it came to progress reports. Anything that wasn’t negative became a positive. The smallest of victories is celebrated, and I am glad to see that Alicia does this too.
“We’ve been talking about acorns and oaks, and Dallas has been keeping an acorn in his pocket to remind him that big things come from things that are small. He’s been deciding when he’s ready to plant the acorn, knowing that seeds need to break before they’re able to grow.”
“That’s… abstract,” I say, doubtful that it’s a developmentally appropriate lesson.