(6 weeks later)

Jackson got out of rehab. He wasn't able to get into a halfway house, for there were limited spots and a waiting list of fourteen people. So I'm letting him stay in the guest bedroom at my house. He's looking for a job since he no longer has his pizza delivery job. He hasn't seen neither his children, nor Melissa, since he was released.


I wait in the driver's seat as Jackson gets out of the car nervously. I can just barely see him around the tree that is blocking his view of the car. He walks up the porch steps and knocks on the door. He stands there, waiting for almost five seconds, but quickly rushes down the steps and into the passenger's seat.

A woman opens the door to the house, a boy of about eight years standing next to her.

Jackson: She's so beautiful.

The woman looks around, but sees no one. She leads the young child back into the house before closing the door.

Me: What happened?

Jackson: I can't do it.

Me: (respectfully) Why not?

Jackson: What if she doesn't love me? Why would she have given me up if she did? (pauses as he looks at the house) I guess I have a brother. (thinks as he rambles on) I'm not someone that could be his role model. I wouldn't want him to look up to me. I'm a terrible person. And mom~she wouldn't be proud of me if she knew that I'm an addict. She'd just tell me to leave her alone. She never wanted me in the first place. And I wouldn't be able to handle that. I'd relapse.

Me: (listening) Are you sure about this?

Jackson: (unsurely) Yeah.


Daley: I've thought about it. And I decided that being a foster parent could be fun.

Me: (excited) Really?

Daley: Yeah. I mean, we could help kids like who Jackson used to be. It'd be great.