Pushing Send (22 page)

“Okay. Well, we will have you stay there for a couple weeks and then get a visit scheduled. You can call your father anytime, understand?”

“Yes,” I answer, as I feel a storm of emotions building down deep.

“Hads,” Dad sighs. “That feeling, I have it, too. I’m not gonna sugar coat anything. I am terrified that I am never gonna be able to make these past fifteen months seem worth it, make you feel there was a damn lesson learned, or spin it so it is at least something you can push away someday. It hurts. We’ve lost the foundation that held us up and the glue that kept us together, but we have each other, Hads. We have that, and I’ll make sure I get better at being more like her for you.”

I choke back my tears. “Okay, Dad.”

“I love you, Hadley Asher.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“See you soon? Talk even sooner?” His question makes my mind move back to the dark corner it has been living in when it was tempted to peek out into the light. “Hads?”

“Yes, Dad. Talk to and see you soon.”

When we disconnect, I look at Mrs. Keller, and she gives me another sad smile.

“Hadley”—she closes her eyes and shakes her head—“I have never had someone touch my life as deeply as you have. I know this seems like a hopeless situation right now, but I promise you it’s not. I can’t promise you will ever be able to forget, because you won’t. I can’t promise that, each time you remember this brief but desolate time of your life, you won’t want to curl up in a ball and cry, because you will. But what I will promise you is that, someday, you’ll smile again. Someday, you’ll trust again. Someday, you’ll believe that you are worth loving. Someday, you will allow yourself to hope, dream, and laugh again. Someday, Hadley, you will be okay.”

She is immediately by my side, and I stand to hug her. I can’t tell her I know, because I don’t.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” is all I can give her, and it’s completely sincere.

~*~

At eight o’clock the next morning, I walk out of Tryon with my personal belongings in hand. I am unshackled, un-cuffed, and as I turn around to see the metal doors close behind us, I let out a breath that may have been held for fourteen months.

It is a humid, early August morning, and the sun is shining down on me. I rub my wrists as I follow Mrs. Keller to the white minivan with the OCFS seal on the outside. She opens the sliding side door, and I get in. She pulls her black sunglasses down from her head and covers her eyes then shuts the door.

“It’s freedom day, Miss Asher.” Mr. Keller smiles at me through the rearview mirror and I nod. “Don’t look back, only forward. You feel me?”

“Yeah.” I nod again.
Impossible
, I think.

We stop at McDonalds for lunch when we reach Auburn, NY, and Mrs. Keller smiles as she looks back at me. “What will you have?”

“Not really hungry.”

“You will eat,” she says in a much less professional voice that leans toward maternal.

“Fries?”

“And a cheeseburger and Coke,” she says to Mr. Keller as he pulls up to the window.

I eat, even though I feel sick to my stomach doing so. After an hour, my stomach seems to settle down. However, an hour later, when we pull down a long, dirt driveway, and a grey house with red shutters that have peeling paint comes into view, it starts again.

We pull next to the left side of the house, and Mrs. Keller hops out and opens my door. “This is a temporary home, but I think you’ll be happier here than at Tryon.”

I get out and am greeted by an old, black lab who licks my hand.

“They have four other foster kids, as well: two girls, two boys.” She hands me a duffel bag. “Mr. Keller and I got you some things. We hope you like them.”

“Thank you.” I look at her, wanting to say more, to tell her I am more grateful to her than I have allowed her to know. I want to hug her, and she must sense it. She pulls me toward her with an arm around my shoulders and hugs me.

“Sweet girl, you don’t have to thank me. I wish there was more I could do for you.”

“You’ve done more than you know.”

“Oh, Hadley.” She sniffs and hugs me tighter. “I wish great things for you and hope you can do the same.”

After a few moments, Mr. Keller comes out of the house. “Netta, professional—”

“Isaiah, I’m trying.” She pulls away and places a kiss on my forehead. “Want me to walk you in?”

I shake my head. I can’t speak, or I will cry, and I don’t want the new people to see me like that. I’m sure they will hear the cries I can’t control at night soon enough.

I stand and wave as they back out, and I see Mrs. Keller wipe a tear and Mr. Keller look at her lovingly. When the dust from the road clears, and I can no longer see the taillights on the car, I turn and face the house, my temporary home.

But it’s not home. Home is gone forever.

I walk up to the steps where there is a little girl sitting on the creaky, wooden front porch, playing with two Barbies and wearing overalls with a pink shirt underneath. She has dark skin and dark hair.

As I step on the porch, she gives me a toothy smile. “Are you, Hadley? I’m Roni, and I like pizza,” she says, as she looks away and continues playing with her dolls.

“Yes, I am Hadley. Nice to meet you, Roni.” The words surprise me. I’m being nice. It comes easy with her, though. “Do you know where I can find Mr. and Mrs. Willow?”

“They’re in the kitchen. They’re fightin’, though. Have fun with that,” she says rather blankly, continuing to play with her dolls.

“Thank you?”

She looks at me and smiles again. “Totally normal.”

I nod and even smile a little before I walk in and take a deep breath as I shut the door behind me. I look around and see the boots and shoes scattered against the wall. I am relieved that everything isn’t perfect, very un-institutionalized.

“Hello, Miss Asher.” A middle-aged woman peeks her head out from a room and wipes her hands on a hand towel. “Come on in for a minute before you go exploring.”

I walk into the kitchen that has a large, wooden table with two benches on each side.

“Have a seat. Lemonade, tea, water?”

“Water is fine, thank you.”

“We want you to be comfortable here, Hadley. Our home is yours while you live here. We only live by a few rules here: treat others how you want to be treated, pitch in and help, do the right thing, and be kind. Sound fair?” she asks, as she sets my water in front of me.

I nod.

“Good. Now you’ll be sharing a room with the other two girls on the second floor. My husband, Mr. Willow or Dan, has a farm down the road where he spends most of his time, and you’ll be expected to pitch in every once in a while. He just left for the day.”

“May I ask what the girls’ names are?” I ask.

“Eliza is twelve, and Veronica is six. There are two boys in the room across the hall. Adam is ten, and Zachery is fifteen,” she tells me.

“Okay, thanks.” I nod.

She turns back to what I must have interrupted, dumping a white mixture into a bowl from a bag and cracking two eggs into the same bowl, then dumping some milk in. The kitchen is white with red cupboards. The countertops are fake granite.

“Feel free to look around. Oh, there’s a bag on your bed, sweetie,” she says, as she just keeps working and whistling.

The house is homey, not a museum. There is a large living room; a dining room that looks like it’s never used; a bedroom, which I assume is the master; a bathroom; and a laundry room. It is large and lived in, very country.

After I have looked around, I head upstairs and find three rooms. One is at the end of the hall, not across from any rooms, so not mine. The other two have the doors propped open, and one of the rooms has sleeping boys, probably not Eliza. The other room has a girl on a bed who has blonde hair, tan skin, and blue eyes. She must be Eliza.

“Hello?” I say, as I enter the room.

“Hi. You’re Hadley, right?”

“And you’re Eliza?”

“Liza. I’m Eliza, but my friends call me Liza.” She stands and walks over to me. “I’m assuming you met Roni on the porch, right?”

“Little girl with deep brown hair and eyes? Yeah, I think I have,” I say.

“Okay, well, your bed is in the corner, Roni in the middle, and I’m by the door.” She smiles.

“Good to know. Thanks.”

She nods and I set my bag on “my” bed. Then I sit down and start to go through the bag Dad must have sent for me.

One of the shirts is a Hunger Games one. There’s a Mockingjay symbol on it with a white base color, but instead of the symbol being gold, it’s a galaxy print. Much better than the state issued clothes, not that I care much. The next shirt is navy blue with the white Aéro logo on it. The next shirt has a stack of cartoon books on it.
Someone must have helped him pick this out
, I think. Then there are two plain gray Under Armor T-shirts. There are also two pairs of denim, skinny jeans; a pair of grey sweatpants; and a pair of black leggings. My old shoes and Converse sneakers made the cut, I see. They are pretty worn and probably don’t fit, but I take an odd comfort in seeing them.

Liza hands me some hangers. “Closet next to your bed. You can hang clothes in there.”

“Thanks,” I tell her as she sets them down, pops her ear buds in her ears, and walks away.

I open the bag Mrs. Keller gave me to find there’s a pair of black and white Converse, a pair of plain white flip-flops, and a pair of Nike black and white sneakers. Inside is a black and white Under Armor sweatshirt. I wonder if I ever mentioned they are now my favorite colors since everything seems to be black and white. There are three white camis, two white bras, and seven pairs of underwear. Then there are two pairs of fuzzy pajama pants and two pairs of pajama shorts. Next, I see seven pairs of socks that vary from black to white to grey. At the bottom of the bag, there’s a gallon-sized Ziploc bag that contains deodorant, a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, a washcloth, and some other stuff.

I go back to Dad’s bag and begin putting things into the closet. When it’s empty, I find a letter.

Dear Hads,

I miss you so much. I wish you could be here with me right now. Soon, very soon. I have been working overtime to keep my mind off of things and make more money. Did they give you the stationary and money I sent? I hope so, hate to ruin the surprise if the Willows didn’t.

I wish I could tell you this in person. I met the Willows, and they seem nice. Are they nice to you? If they aren’t, I can push for another placement. Anyway, I miss you a lot and can’t wait for your first visit. I love you a lot. If anyone is mean to you, just remember tails every time.

~Love you bunches,

Dad

“I’m gonna head downstairs. Come down when you’re done?” Liza asks.

I nod and then she walks out the door, closing it behind her.

I re-read the letter about five times, neatly fold it, and put it back in the bottom of the bag, then put the bag on the closet floor.

I walk over and look out the window overlooking the backyard. It’s quiet here, and there are no fences topped with wire. It might be better than Tryon, but it will never be home.

I silently go downstairs to the kitchen where Liza, Roni, and Mrs. Willow are sitting at the table, eating pancakes.

“Breakfast for dinner.” Liza gives me a smile I know is fake. “Come sit with us.”

I join them quietly and tear apart a single small pancake with my knife.

“You smelled food, huh?” Liza laughs as the two sleeping boys sit at the large, wooden table.

It is obvious the two are brothers.

“Adam, Zach, meet Hadley.”

They are both blond-haired and blue-eyed. Both seem nice from their smiles after just waking up. My half-brother JJ takes much longer to warm up.

They eat like boys, too. I notice Roni watching them, and then she mimics the shoveling of food. Liza smiles and winks at her.

They all seem like they get along, and so far, no one has hit or threatened me, so this is a step up from Tryon, for sure.

When we are done eating, the boys ask me to go outside and throw around a ball, so I do. I want to blend in. It was easier to do this in Tryon than here, though. Odd.

While Adam and Zach toss the ball back and forth, Adam has a hard time catching it, but Zach is patient. Occasionally, I get the ball.

“When we go home, do you think Dad will play ball with us?” Adam asks him.

“Doesn’t matter. I will play with you,” Zach says to him. “Then, someday, you can play on the team.”

“With you?” He sounds hopeful.

“Probably not, bud. I’m a little older than you.” He winks at him, tossing the ball back.

“Evening chores, boys,” a tall, thin man calls out from a beat up, old, red Ford truck. “Hop in the back.”

“Wanna come?” Adam smiles at me.

“No, she doesn’t wanna come.” Zach laughs.

“Sure.”

Zach looks at me curiously.

“You ever pitch cow dung before?” Adam chuckles as he hops in the back of the truck.

“No.”

They both laugh as I sit on the wheel well on the opposite side of the truck from them.