Chương 2
They wanted confidence.
They wanted a man standing in court to announce that love would reorganize payroll, cure trauma, stretch twenty-four hours, and teach him how to get applesauce out of upholstery.
I had spent three weeks learning enough to know that confidence would have been evidence against me.
“My shop foreman can open without me,” I said.
“For a while.”
“For a while,” Hale repeated.
“Yes.”
“And after that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly.”
“No.”
He frowned.
“No?”
“I mean I don’t know isn’t the same thing as I haven’t planned.”
Rachel looked up.
I turned toward Judge Lawson.
“I have a proposed work schedule in the supplemental packet.”
“My foreman, Luis Ortega, signed an affidavit agreeing to handle opening and customer pickups for ninety days.”
“My neighbor Mrs. Ellis is licensed for in-home childcare and has agreed to provide backup care, but she can’t take the baby full-time.”
“The community center director gave me six weeks of unpaid leave.”
“I’ve applied for the state assistance the caseworker told me I may qualify for.”
“I’ve also got a list of things that can go wrong that I don’t have answers for yet.”
Hale said, “That list must be considerable.”
“It’s getting longer.”
Judge Lawson looked down.
“Where is this list?”
Rachel hesitated.
“It is not in evidence, Your Honor.”
“Why not?”
She gave me a look.
“Because my client did not tell me he had made one.”
I cleared my throat.
“It’s on my refrigerator.”
The judge removed his glasses.
For the first time that morning, he looked tired rather than judicial.
“What is on it?”
“Stuff I don’t know.”
“Such as?”
“How to get Leo to stop hiding food.”
Hale’s expression changed.
I continued.
“How to wash Maya’s bear without her thinking I’m taking it away.”
“How to tell whether the twins are ignoring me because they’re scared or because they’re four.”
“Probably both,” someone murmured behind me.
Judge Lawson glanced toward the gallery.
The room went quiet again.
I said, “How to sleep when the baby only sleeps forty minutes at a time.”
“How to make five children feel safe in a house they’ve never seen.”
“And what I’m supposed to say when they ask for their mother.”
That one took the humor out of the room.
The side door moved.
Leo had pushed it wider.
A court officer crouched beside him, whispering that he needed to wait outside.
Leo ignored her.
His sister Maya stood behind him with the damaged stuffed bear pressed against her chest.
The bear had lost its head in the fire.
She refused every replacement offered by the emergency foster center and slept with the scorched body tucked under her chin.
Leo looked directly at me.
“Are we going now?”
The bailiff stepped forward.
Judge Lawson raised his hand again.
“Let him answer.”
I turned around.
“I don’t know yet, buddy.”
Leo’s mouth tightened.
He hated that answer.
During my supervised visits, I had learned that he hated maybe even more.
Adults had apparently filled his last three weeks with both words.
“Together?” he asked.
I could not answer that one.
Not truthfully.
Leo looked at the judge instead.
“My sisters cry if I’m not there.”
Hale sat down.
Judge Lawson said, “Leo, there are adults whose job is to take care of your sisters.”
Leo considered this with the grave suspicion of a man reviewing a bad contract.
“They don’t know June.”
June was one of the four-year-old twins.
“What don’t they know about her?”
“She says she wants the hallway light off.”
Leo shifted his weight.
“But she doesn’t.”
A woman in the gallery covered her mouth.
Leo continued because nobody had told him he was saying anything extraordinary.
“And Ben needs his blue cup.”
“He’ll use green, but then he won’t drink much.”
“Ellie likes when you pat twice.”
He demonstrated against his own shoulder.
“Not lots.”
He looked irritated now.
“People do lots.”
Judge Lawson’s eyes stayed on him.
“How do you know all of that?”
Leo shrugged.
“I’m their brother.”
Something inside me folded.
Not broke.
Breaking would have been cleaner.
I saw myself at eight years old tying my sister’s shoelaces because she would not let the foster mother touch them.
I had called it helping.
The adults had called me mature.
Nobody had called it what it was.
A child adapting to the failure of adults.
Judge Lawson turned to the court officer.
“Please take the children back to the waiting room.”
Leo did not move.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No,” the judge said.
“Mr. Vance?”
I stepped toward him.
Leo watched my hands.
He always watched adults’ hands first.
“You’re not in trouble.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
That was reckless too.
But some promises needed to be made before you knew exactly how you would keep them.
Leo finally let the officer guide him out.
Maya followed, dragging one shoelace.
The door closed.
Judge Lawson remained silent for several seconds.
Then he looked at me.
“Mr. Vance, if I approve an emergency placement, I am not giving you five children.”
“I understand.”
“I don’t think you do.”
His voice sharpened.
“You will be accepting five separate human beings with separate medical needs, developmental needs, grief responses, attachments, fears, and legal interests.”
“This court will not turn those children into a package deal merely because separation is painful.”
“I understand.”
“No,” he said.
“You understand separation.”
The words landed harder than Hale’s entire argument.
Judge Lawson leaned forward.
“What I need to determine is whether you understand care.”
I had no answer ready.
Rachel’s pen stayed motionless.
Finally I said, “Then don’t trust my answer.”
Hale looked over.
I reached for the thick folder Rachel had assembled.
“Trust the home inspection.”
I placed one page on the table.
“Trust the background check.”
Another.
“The financial records.”
Another.
“The letters from people who’ve known me longer than three weeks.”
I stopped.
May you like
“And if those aren’t enough, don’t approve me because I had a bad childhood.”
My throat tightened, but I kept my voice level.
