The Adoption of Jackson Whittemore
Rachel and David Whittemore were Melissa's best friends. David and Melissa had gone to college together, and despite the staggering distance in class made apparent by her scholarship, David was always there for her. She'd met Rachel at David's twenty third birthday and took the honour of the My Friend, I Care, He Hurt, You Die speech - named because of how drunk she was when she delivered it. Turns out, it didn't matter because Rachel became her second best friend that night when they dunked David's head in his cake, instead of performing the strip tease his mates were hooting about. It was okay though; the lads graciously apologised by going to the shop around the corner for the good coffee the next morning. Rachel assured Melissa it wasn't because they were scared of her.
While Melissa was studying nursing and David studied law, Rachel's course was in horticulture. At first Melissa didn't understand how someone as practical as David could be interested in someone studying something as hippy as gardening, but then she saw it: love. She was so different to the pair, but her sweet nature was a balm to Melissa's deep rooted sarcasm and David's stoic opinions. She sort of completed the group. Melissa was concerned a jealousy would bloom under Rachel's presence, but she waited patiently – and nothing happened. She didn't feel pushed out, if anything she felt stronger bonds than any friend had offered her before.
Meeting Rafael McCall was a strange moment in Melissa's life. She met him in a coffee house, and he was so charming and polite and fascinated by her. Her! Looking back, she'd try to find something in their early interactions that was an indicator – just to punish herself more – something dark in his smile, something dangerous in his eye but there was nothing. Grudgingly she'd admit yes, he was her Prince Charming and neither of them had a clue.
David didn't like Rafael, nor Rafael, David. Rachel was supportive although Melissa could tell there was something she didn't want to share; all that mattered though was that they grinned and bared it, and pretended so Melissa could at least imagine things were okay between her friends and lover. Rafael didn't really return the curtesy, but he'd buy her flowers or fancy cakes on his evenings off from the academy, apologising for whatever rude exchange had passed between himself and David the night before. That only did it for her for the first few years.
David proposed to Rachel on her birthday just before graduation. Melissa might have cried more than Rachel, but that was an inconsequential detail. He already had a job lined up with a firm, he told her, and although things might start out rocky, he promised he'd give her everything she could ever want and it would be an honour, if he might have her too. God, the tears. Melissa's favourite story from The Saga of Rachel the Care System Kid and David the Orphaned Millionaire however, was the ring toss over her: best woman or maid of honour? It didn't matter that David actually won, Rachel had already picked out the dress so shut up David, she's mine.
Just like Melissa was Rachel's maid of honour, Rachel was Melissa's. David got to walk her down the aisle. It was a far cheaper wedding than the Whittemore's, but that didn't matter because she was so god damn happy. (It didn't last particularly long).
Melissa and Rachel and David were not going to be those friends who lost touch with each other, not on their watch thank you very much, so that found them eating Chinese on Melissa's floor scouring California for prime locations. Melissa didn't have a plan, and David would follow Rachel wherever she went, so really? They could go anywhere. Rachel didn't want to move somewhere on a whim though, she wanted somewhere that David could build up a firm of his own, but somewhere with a child-friendly feel with a good school (because she whispered in Melissa's ear that she had an inkling but they'd go to the pharmacy once David left for work, because she didn't want to jerk him around on a feeling). Melissa tossed in her two cents that it would need a local hospital, and somewhere not too far for Rafael to commute.
Right now though, she wouldn't mind the space. He was being a jerk, accusing David of some pretty nasty things. Rachel had slapped him in the face and Melissa had dragged him out of their apartment by his collar until he'd pushed her away to the floor and stormed off. It was almost a sprain, but he'd had a few beers in him and Rachel had just slapped him. Tensions were high, she didn't blame anyone.
Distinctly, the screams would be painted in Melissa's memories until her dying day. They were pregnant. Rachel was exposing her flat stomach like a coveted jewel, and David was crying through his grin and all Melissa could manage was a grimace because they were so perfect. The last time Rafael had looked at her like that was during their post-marital glow. Suddenly Melissa wasn't thinking about Moses baskets and pastel décor, but all the people who told her she was too young to be married and how right they were. See, they said that to Rachel and David too, but no one had really meant it when they were talking to the couple. Melissa just wanted to be as happy as they were.
As it would turn out, the trio of friends worked in tandem down to disbelief, because Melissa was also pregnant. Raf didn't cry. He asked her if she wanted company down to the clinic. She cried herself to sleep after he slammed the door.
House hunting was going badly. All the places Melissa and Rachel found threw Rafael into a tizzy because they were too expensive (although Melissa had checked their combined finances, and he was just being an ass), or they were too far away (from what, that was still a vague answer), or they just weren't what he wanted (she was breaking her back, but this was what marriage was about, right? Compromise?). Of course, she'd have a better idea of what he did want if he'd get his head out of the god damn bottle. Another issue, was Melissa and Raf's difference in budget to Rachel and David. David could spend all the money he wanted on some mansion in the middle of nowhere, and still afford to buy a herd of stallions to compliment a collection of Ferraris in every shade. Melissa could probably buy a My Little Pony and a doll's house. That didn't deter David though; following their Big Baby Announcements, he seemed even more determined for them to stick together, egged by Rafael trying to stick a wrench in the works. That led them to Beacon Hills. It was by no means cheap, but fairly priced so that a fully-fledged FBI agent and his nurse wife could just about get a mortgage from the bank.
So it happened. They weren't next door neighbours, separated by several streets actually, but it was enough. Rachel and Melissa had a good sombre giggle over the location – rather far from where Raf needed to work, but she'd convinced him out of stubborn spite, exhausted by his games. The Whittemore residence was big; big enough to satisfy David's dying uncle that he wasn't sacrificing grandeur for poverty and the future great nephews would be well taken care of. Melissa chortled, and they got down to painting.
Life wasn't fair. Melissa loathed herself, because of course the universe would pull this cruel trick on them, and nothing would be able to fix what had happened. As pregnant women who spent time ridiculous amounts of time in each other's company were ought to do, they went into labour simultaneously. Melissa was holding her baby, Rafael soothing back her hair, while Rachel next door sobbed into David's chest. She loved her son, but Rafael didn't even want him – her friends deserved this baby. Not her. Looking down into her own eyes though, she promised that she would give him the love Rachel and David would have given their son, give him the love Rafael wouldn't, give him everything. She recited David's proposal to him. Her Scott.
They didn't see each other for the longest time. David dropped by with gifts, but Rachel couldn't face it. They called, but beyond asking her to be Scott's godmother, there wasn't much to talk about. It pissed Rafael off (but he had no right to be angry) so he told her to stop calling. Melissa had never been so furious. She desperately wanted to go over, but she couldn't bring a baby into their house, and some deep instinct in her forbid her from leaving Scott with Rafael.
Eventually their wounds scabbed over, and Rachel called. Melissa found herself in Beacon Hills' proudest coffee house with Scott bundled in her arms, Rachel and David looking thin opposite her. It might have been a while, but she knew David like her left and Rachel like her right, so the woman didn't even have to ask for Melissa to offer Scott up into her arms. They had news though, such earth shattering news that Melissa spat out her coffee over her jeans (it complimented the baby puree quite nicely).
There was a woman in the maternity ward at Beacon Hills' hospital – a small ward but a ward none the less. No one knew her, she was just passing through, and she didn't even give them a name past 'Sarah', and she had given birth to a healthy young boy. She died. The nearest care home was four counties over and they weren't a home prepared to deal with children under the age of five. That care home would be another eight counties over from the previous one. The care worker that had been sent was talking to the sheriff when David was passing, after taking care of a client (his new firm was flourishing). Desperate to escape her no doubt, the sheriff called him in and he suddenly found a baby due to be thrust upon him by next week. It was the strangest thing he had ever experienced and undoubtedly broke multiple child protection regulations of the system, but he had asked about being able to adopt (because letting go would be tougher) and no doubt eager to wash her hands of the mess, the woman agreed.
Melissa was worried. Yes, this woman went home with him for an inspection and interview as she was required to, scheduled several more for next week, and the sheriff provided her with background checks for both David and Rachel, and there were no other homes prepared for fostering a baby in Beacon Hills, but Melissa couldn't help feel this was premature. Surely Rachel was far too unstable to care for a baby? She could barely take care of herself right now, but she was always a good actress. It must have been Rachel's own history with the system that convinced the care worker that this would be an okay arrangement for now. There would be endless check-ups of course, but Rachel and David didn't care. Despite everything though, Melissa couldn't help but feel some cosmic injustice had been righted.
His name was Jackson, and he was adorable. 'Sarah' had died before she could name him, and Melissa recognised the name from Rachel's neatly formed baby book, written in silver gel pen on the blue card mounted in the 'boy' half of the first section. Rachel was weird (it was okay). Jackson and Scott didn't quite know what to make of each other at first, but now at a year old, they were comically inseparable. David had used all the connections he had to stall Jackson being relocated to an actual foster family. His wealth was no doubt a key factor in helping him guiltily skip over the lengthy waiting list of people wanting to adopt a baby. He was doing everything in his power to stop their son being taken into the system, and Melissa could only sigh wistfully because last night Rafael had knocked Scott into the table and hadn't even looked back.
Her mother was dead. Melissa had never been that close to the woman, the bat did spout some bullshit, but her mother was her mother. Scott was staying with Rachel and Jackson for a sleepover, while David attended the funeral with her. (Rafael hated her mother since the drinking – Melissa was concerned he might spit on her grave or something). The woman had met David multiple times, called him the son she never had, and while she was crossing her fingers for Melissa to 'snap him up' so to speak, she respected their platonic friendship. The place was filled with her mother's drinking buddies and poker opponents and even some hustlers the old croak was prone to escapade with, but in between the dead beats of fake rings and stolen Rolexes (she made David leave his at the house) she could see glimpses of family. Aunt Jeanie. Great Uncle Todd. Even cousin Betty. None of them spared her a glance though, and she was perfectly okay with that. David softly took her hand though, and in that moment staring down at the coffin being swallowed by the earth, the revelation hit her. There was family; ones that shared a weird nose, or wonky fingers, or an aggressive shade of pasty, but then there was also family; the ones she chose for the light in their heart and not the squint of their jaw.
Rachel was not the kind of girl to directly address an issue. She was the kind to give you a bouquet and a latte and let the topic roll in by itself. That's why this came as a shock: a very formal, very organised, very concerning intervention. Concerning because Rachel actually called it an intervention and she wasn't a straight forward person, despite the stereotypes of her father's Chinese culture. "Rafael doesn't treat you right. Those are bruises on your arm, I'm not stupid. We want you and Scott to be okay, we just care about you; we're like family." Some part of Melissa understood what Rachel and David were doing, but an intervention? They were married, they didn't need an intervention, all they needed was a little bit of therapy and they'd get that when the time was right. Melissa, Rachel and David had argued before – not like this.
Melissa soon-to be-divorced McCall, was a crier. She just couldn't handle overwhelming emotions. As she sat in the graveyard with her back against the gravestone, she decided she didn't care if the whole town heard her scream because those memories… God, those memories were cruel. They flashed through her mind like a freight train, intercepted by obscurities of the funeral, and then painfully slowly like pythons squeezing the life out of her. It was burning rubber that squeezed the life out of David and Rachel Whittemore. He wasn't drunk, neither was she, but the driver of the Prius claimed he wasn't either. Filthy lying bastard. Melissa was an empathetic person though, so no doubt by next week she'd pity him. One small nudge at the intersection. That was all it took to wrap their BMW around a tree. They'd bought a new one last week – it was supposed to arrive tomorrow. The moon hung from the sky, the last pearl on a broken necklace and then delicately, like a gentle hand, a memory emerged crisp and clear, out from the ravaging fog of the others. They were sitting on the grass on campus. It was after midnight and they'd no doubt get in trouble, but you could just about see stars through the bubble of light encompassing the city, dotted around the wholesome full moon. David had never stargazed before much to Melissa's horror, and it seemed to be transforming him into a romantic. "I met this girl."
"God help her."
"I'm serious! She's amazing. I think I love her."
"Oh Jesus, here we go, - never thought you were one for love - what's her name then?"
"Rachel."
"Just Rachel? Wait, not Rachel Spencer?"
"She's a lesbian, I aim out of my league, but I'm not that full of myself."
They'd spent the rest of the night passing back a box of Oreos.
Melissa thumped her feet against the damp grass, as if she could get a little louder then she might be able to wake them out of their graves. She'd moved the expensive flowers to the side to allow herself a little mourning space without feeling the presence of other people, lying against the inscribed names of her only family now gone, but then she caught their bright touch in the corner of her eye. The reds and pinks and whites, all co-ordinated in honour of Rachel's perfectionism, they were from her own god damn shop. Melissa once got a bouquet of flowers from Rafael for her birthday because he couldn't be there – Rachel raised a perfectly arched brow at them before snorting at Melissa's attempts to cut them down for the vase. She hip bumped her out of the way to take over.
Melissa's hand snagged out at the white orchids she'd laid, tearing at them, shredding them, gasping through her sobs.
She thumped the ground with her fists, tearing out the grass in favour of her hair. Twelve hours ago, Rafael stood not more than three feet from here. She didn't have the energy to slap him, she was too busy holding up six year old Jackson with Scott while making sure her own ribcage didn't collapse in on itself. Rachel and David and Jackson, he wasn't there for them – he was there to get under her skin. She thumped the ground with her fists, tearing out the grass in favour of her hair, because she'd hacked it all off already. She wasted the relief that came with a good savage cut on her divorce. So the grass would have to do. It was okay though – there was more grass than hair.
And thus, Melissa McCall found herself legal guardian of Jackson Whittemore.