"I DO, TOO"
Tobias
I can't officially work in the counseling field until I graduate, but I have been volunteering to be a mentor to some of the children who come through the program I used to attend.
I still meet with Johanna on occasion. We have lunch sometimes and mostly just share stories of our past or what we're up to. She recently met a man named Jack, and they really seem to be hitting it off. She never dated much. I don't really blame her; I imagine it's hard to trust again after someone you loved tried to kill you. But I've met Jack and I see that look in his eye. He's absolutely smitten with her. She's reluctant to admit it, but I think she's beginning to feel the same way. I'm happy for her.
I trust Johanna enough to know that she will always be there for me if I need her, which is why I decided to share my mothers journal with her. She kept it for a few weeks, trying to make heads or tails of it like Tris and I have, but she too could not pinpoint what it was that made Marcus turn into the asshole that he is. I suppose that's a question for him to answer, not that he'll ever get the chance. He'd deny he did any of it until the day he dies anyway.
The last kid I was paired with was placed into a foster home that's too far away to comfortably travel to the center, so I won't be his mentor anymore. But yesterday I was informed that I'll be paired with someone new. As I sit at my table, filling out some paperwork, a small girl grabs my attention. Her eyes are wide and filled with curiosity as she looks around. I've never seen her before, so this could be it. I stand and make my way over to Judy, the leader of this class and the mentoring program.
"Oh good. Tobias, this is Megan," she says as she hands me her file. "Megan, this is Tobias. He's going to be your buddy. Is that okay?" She looks up at me through her long eyelashes and nods.
"Hey, Megan. Why don't we sit at that table over there and get started." She follows me and sits down in the kid sized chair opposite me. "Can you give me just a second to look this over?" She nods again.
I glance through her file and nearly fall out of my seat. The list of times she's been in the hospital —broken bones, cuts, burns— is staggering. And this is coming from me.
"What grade are you in?" I ask her.
"First," she answers quietly.
Jesus.
"Megan, do you have any questions for me?" She looks at me for a long moment and shakes her head. "Okay. Do you feel like talking?" Again, she shakes her head. She seems nervous now and looks like she might be fighting off tears.
"Hey, it's okay. You can cry here. You can cry in front of me." I smile at her. At first she fights it, but the first one falls, and she ends up unleashing a torrent of tears. My heart aches as I watch them stream down her cheeks, her little face contorting in pain. She's so small, even for six years old. I reach across the table and offer my hand to her. I'm surprised how firm her grip is when she takes it. "I grew up like you, you know. I understand better than most people. Do you think you'd like to listen to my story?" She wipes her face and nods.
"My mother died when I was a few years older than you. It wasn't anything that could be stopped. She just got really sick and didn't wake up one morning." I know some kids her age understand what cancer is, but I don't want to burden her with the specifics of it right now.
"Before that, I would see my dad hit her sometimes. I would try to get in between them and stop it, but then he would hit me too. After she died, my dad focused all of his anger on me. He would lock me in a closet when he thought I was being bad, with no food or water and no bathroom all day long. If I had an accident, he would hit me for that, too.
"Other times he would just hit me with his fists for no reason. Eventually I got older and bigger —bigger than him, even— and he started using his belt on me. He would hit me so hard sometimes that I couldn't wear a shirt because it hurt too much. I still have a few scars because of it."
She's stopped crying now, and the look on her face is one I know I've had many times before. It's the look of concern. This small, abused child is concerned for me.
"What happened to your dad?" she asks softly.
"Nothing. I wasn't brave like you. I kept the secrets to myself and just learned to hide it and tried deal with it alone. But then I met a girl and I fell in love with her. She helped me. She was able to show me that I didn't have to live like that, and that I didn't have to do it all alone. So I walked away from my dad, and I haven't talked to him since. I know it's easier for me, because I'm an adult, but I promise you that you can do it too. You don't deserve this, just like I didn't. You can find a family who loves you and treats you with respect." Her eyes well up again, and her little lip starts to quiver. Shit. Did I say something wrong?
"What if I don't?" she squeaks out.
"Find someone? A family?" She nods, the tears coming again.
"Oh, Megan. You will. I promise you will. Me, and Miss Judy and the other adults here. We've all been through the same thing. We will never let you go anywhere that you won't be loved. The most important thing you need to remember though, is you need to love yourself. This is not your fault, so don't ever, ever, take the blame." She nods again and sniffles, and it makes me smile. I hand her a tissue so she can blow her nose.
"Do you want to share now?" I ask, testing the waters.
"Okay." She stands and drags her chair around the table, sitting right next to me. This is definitely a first, and I chuckle as she gets herself situated.
"My mom hurts me. My daddy left us when I was littler. They would fight. A lot. He would hit her, just like your daddy did. She told me that it was all my fault that daddy left and that she didn't love me anymore. I broke my leg but I don't 'member how. But I 'member she was mad. And then when I got this," she lifts her arm and shows me a large scar on her forearm, "She was mad then too. Mama said it was my fault because I was too stupid to know that I shouldn't touch things on the stove. I 'member that it hurt all night, and mama didn't want to take me to the doctor because I was stupid." She stops now, like she's lost in a memory, and I find myself getting angry at the things she's saying. Who allows a small child to suffer with a serious burn all night long? Well…
"Hey, Megan?" I say, interrupting her thoughts. "Would you like to go and do something fun?" Her eyes are uncertain, but she nods her head slowly. "Okay. Wait here for just a minute." I search the room for Judy and get her attention as I walk over to her.
"Have you read her file?" I ask. I know just from the look on her face that she has.
"It's why I picked you," she says. "You two have a lot in common." I didn't realize she had purposely picked me.
"Oh," I say. "Well, thank you, I think? Anyways, listen, do you think I could take her to the park and get an ice cream. I'm almost willing to bet she's never had anyone take her to do something like that." She cranes her neck and looks at the clock.
"Sure. Just have her back in an hour. Social services is stopping by for another meeting."
"Not a problem."
I grab a booster seat on my way out and make sure she is buckled safely into it before we drive the few miles down the road to the nearest ice cream shop. Her eyes light up when she sees where we are, but she doesn't say anything.
"Do you like ice cream?" She nods vigorously. "Okay," I chuckle. "Let's go get you some then." She undoes her seatbelt and and patiently waits for me to come around and open the door for her.
She takes her time looking over the different flavors, and when the guy behind the counter asks her if she wants a sample, she looks at me with wide eyes.
"You can try one, if you're not sure."
"That one," she says, pointing to the pink one — strawberry. She smiles when I take the little plastic sample spoon and hand it to her.
"I want this one," she says, licking it clean.
"Okay. You want it in a cone or a cup?" Her eyes get wide again, and now I'm certain nobody has ever given her a choice about anything.
"Is a cone okay?"
"A cone is fine." I tell the guy to make it two orders and pay. The park is just a few blocks away, so I buckle her in and tell her to hold onto them tightly while I drive.
When we arrive, I hear her whimper, and look back to see tears running down her face.
"Hey. What is it? What's wrong?"
"It spilled," she says. She looks at her hand, which has a little melted ice cream on it.
"That's it? That's nothing. That's why they invented napkins." I smile and hop out of the car, running around to the back to take the cone from her and wipe her hand. "Now come on. We have some ice cream to eat."
We sit on a bench near the playground and eat our cones. She's messy and devours it like every other kid her age. When she's done wiping her hands and face, I catch her eyeballing the rest of mine, and offer it to her. She hesitates for just a moment and takes it, greedily eating the tail end of my cone. She watches the other kids play for a moment; I nudge her and tell her to have a good time.
She climbs and runs and slides like she's testing everything out for the first time, but when she reaches the swings, she stands there, staring. I get up and walk over to her.
"Do you know how to do it?" She shakes her head. "That's okay. I'll teach you." I lift her up, setting her down in the seat and help her grip onto the chains tight. I pull the swing back and let go, and for the first time, I hear her laugh. It's light and carefree and it makes my heart beat faster.
I tell her when to pump her legs in and out, and before I know it, she's doing it on her own. I'm enjoying watching her have fun and learn something new, when it dawns on me that I taught her this. I'm doing something a parent would do.
I panic for just a moment, not just for that realization, but because she looks enough like me with her long dark hair and her olive skin to actually pass for my child. She flashes a beaming smile at me as she glides by, and I relax. I put that smile on her face. I feel that warm feeling spread throughout me; I'm so glad that I got the opportunity to do this for her. I smile back, and check my watch.
"I hate to be a party pooper, but we have to get going. You have a meeting to get to." She throws me a quick pouty face, but hops off the swing as soon as it slows.
We get back just in time. Judy motions for Megan to follow her, but she hesitates, hovering just behind me.
"Hey. You okay?" I ask. She nods. "Go with Miss Judy then. You don't want to be late to your very important meeting. I won't be here tomorrow, but I will be the day after." I look up at Judy who nods. "So I'll see you then. Be good." She reaches both her little hands out and grabs one of mine, squeezing it tight.
"Bye, Tobias." She takes off towards Judy, who just raises her eyebrows at me. I shrug and watch the two of them walk down the hallway until they disappear.
After a nice dinner with Tris, we get ready for bed. I spent the rest of my day —and most of the evening— thinking about Megan and the paperwork I filed when I first signed on to be a mentor. I'd never given it much thought before now, but with Megan, it's kind of hard to ignore.
"Hey," I say while she's brushing her teeth. "I got a new kid today."
"Oh? Is that why you've been so quiet?"
"Yeah. She almost makes my childhood look like a walk in the park." Tris stops what she's doing and turns to face me.
"I just…I feel like I'm her mentor for a reason. I mean, she went from crying and not talking, to having ice cream with me and holding my hand." Tris smiles at this.
"So what's this really about?" she asks when I don't continue.
"Honestly? I'm not sure. I just…feel something, you know?" She nods, still waiting for me to elaborate. But the thing is, I'm not sure what all these feelings running through me mean. I shrug and shove my toothbrush in my mouth.
It's only when Tris opens the medicine cabinet that I fully understand. She takes out the little compact, and I reach out and take it before she can even open it.
"Tobias," she says, looking at me in confusion. "What has gotten into you?"
"I fink id ime."
"What?" she says, giggling. I take the toothbrush out of my mouth and spit.
"I said, I think it's time." Her eyes flick back and forth between me and the pack of birth control pills.
"Are you sure?" she asks quietly.
"Yes. No. I don't know. I'm scared as hell, but I…I want this."
"You do?" she says, a smile creeping onto her face.
"Yeah, I do."
"I do, too."
"Where's Megan?" I ask Judy when she hasn't shown up for our normal meeting time. She has made tremendous progress in the months that we've been together, and I was looking forward to taking her out to lunch today.
"She's…her foster family decided that they weren't a good match. All she did lately was cry and she refused to talk to them anymore." Judy watches me carefully, trying to judge my reaction. What I'd like to do is go to that family and smack all of them, but I keep my cool.
"So where is she?"
"She was placed into a group setting last night." I run my hand through my hair. I was afraid that they would have given her back to her mother. I know they've been trying to start the process of stripping away all her rights, but it's happened in situations like this before, with disastrous consequences. "They're just waiting on a new family. Right now they can't seem to find a good match for her."
"Me," I say without hesitation. "I already filed the paperwork when I first started."
Judy stands there, silent for a long time. I already know the man she called daddy is a non-option. The mother doesn't know who Megan's real father is, and the rest of her family is estranged or just as fucked up as she is. There is no way in hell I'm letting Megan be put back into any situation like that. I don't know what is coming over me lately, but I have to make sure she is safe, and I can do that if she's with me.
"I know. Everyone does it. Do you think it's a good match?"
"You know it is. You put us together yourself." She eyes me for a moment before pulling out her phone.
"Well then, I suggest you let your wife know." I smile so wide it hurts, and and run back to my desk to call Tris.
When I first started mentoring, I filled out paperwork to become a foster parent. It's mostly for emergency circumstances when we have run out of families to place children with that aren't really able to be placed in any sort of group setting. It's temporary until the child can be placed somewhere that's best for them. I never imagined I would have to use it, but now I'm happier than ever to put it to good use.
When we pull up to the house, Tris is waiting on the porch. She was more than receptive to the idea when we discussed it the other day, and Megan seemed to be too. Judy told me to take a couple weeks off, and Tori let me take vacation even on such short notice. I want to make sure Megan can acclimate with no problems. I only have school a few hours a day, so Tris arranged her schedule with the University to be home when I couldn't. Luckily she works with a good team, and her lead supervisor was more than understanding. She even arranged for Tris to bring home some of the research they're working on to show Megan, which right now involves a 3-D printer and a new way to make a better, faster healing cast. I think Megan will love it.
"This is where you live?" she asks.
"It is," I say, looking back at her. "And that's Tris, my wife." I wave, and Tris waves back. "She's really nice. I think you'll like her." She's quiet for a moment.
"Is that who helped you?" She still hasn't moved to take her seatbelt off, and her eyes have been glued to Tris the entire time.
"It is."
"Okay."
That seemed to be enough for her to feel comfortable. She unbuckles and waits for me to grab her bag and come around to let her out. I reach out for her, and as we walk up to my house hand in hand, every range of emotion —from excitement to nervousness to happiness— courses through me.
I show Megan to her room, and Tris and I help her decide where to put her things. She's still a bit hesitant, but overall she seems to be doing fine.
"Is there anything special you would like for dinner?" Tris asks. Megan looks like she's never been asked a question like that before.
"I like macaroni and cheese."
"Mac and cheese it is, then." Tris winks at me and leaves the two of us alone. I sit on the floor, patting the spot next to me. Megan sits.
"I just want you to know that you can ask me or Tris anything, okay? Don't be afraid, we're not going to be upset if you have questions or anything like that. It's as new to us as it is to you." She nods her head. "Do you have anything you want to ask me now?"
"Do you have a kid?" She stares up at me, and I don't know what to make of this question.
"No, not yet. Tris and I are actually trying to have a baby right now."
"Oh." Her little face deflates.
"Hey. Talk to me. Tell me why you wanted to know that." She stares off for a few moments before speaking up.
"The other house I was at, I heard the lady say that she wanted her own baby, not someone else's." Oh.
"Well, some people can't have kids, so they foster or adopt one. And some people can have kids, but they still foster or adopt because they love them so much. But sometimes, those people who can't have kids? They're just really sad that they can't. They think they're not a real parent, but that's just not true. I don't think she meant to hurt you by saying that." I make a mental note to bring this up when I get back.
She crawls into my lap as soon as I stop talking and wraps her little arms around my neck. I hesitate a moment, but when I hear her sniffle, I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into me.
"It's okay, Megan. You're safe here," I whisper into her hair. I rest my cheek on top of her little head and squeeze tighter, willing her to know that. We sit there for a while, not talking. Her little fingers play with the buttons on my shirt, but she manages to keep one arm wrapped around me at all times.
I hear Tris' footsteps and look up to see her standing in the doorway. She watches the two of us, a small smile on her face. It doesn't take long for tears to form in her eyes, and I can feel them starting in mine too.
"Tobias?" Her voice is quiet as she settles back into me, nuzzling her cheek into my chest.
"Yeah, Megan?"
"I want you to be my family."
I see Tris move a hand up to her chest and touch the necklace that rests under her shirt, the smile on her face widening. She looks so full of love standing there, and my heart feels so full of love looking at her, Megan in my lap. She's always been my rock; my true north. With a small nod of her head, the emotions and the words I've been wanting to say come tumbling out.
"I want you to be my family, too."
A/N:
Song: Greg Holden - The Lost Boy (Such a great song if you've never heard it.)
Four years, 7 months
Not gonna lie, I cried writing this. And every time I opened it up to edit it. And just now giving it one last look.
Thank you for all the comments and favorites. You guys are awesome. Only two chapters left.