Author's Note: I'll say it again… I know nothing about how the foster care system works in this country, but it seemed plausible at the time.
Second Chance
Tell my mother, tell my father I've done the best I can
To make them realize this is my life, I hope they understand
I'm not angry, I'm just saying
Sometimes goodbye is a second chance
Please don't cry one tear for me
I'm not afraid of what I have to say
This is my one and only voice
So listen close, it's only for today
Travis hated the thought that Wes was only going to be here with him for a few days, a month at the most. He'd already been here for five days now, who knew how many more they had left before the courts moved him to something more permanent? The very idea that he could be leaving made him ill.
It was Tuesday, so his foster mom, Maria, was working the night shift, leaving the two of them alone, cuddled in Travis' bed. She wouldn't be home until early the next morning and it both reassured and frightened Travis. He liked being alone with Wes, especially now that he knew he was safe, but he also worried that he'd have another nightmare and not be able to comfort the younger boy.
Wes had spent nearly a week in the hospital after his father's latest beating. His father had spent the same amount of time in the county jail. Every night since he'd come to stay with Travis and his foster mom, he'd woken in the dead of night, flailing and screaming. That first night, Maria had been there to comfort Wes, she'd known exactly what do to and say to calm him down. But the second night, they'd been alone and Travis had been paralyzed. He was terrified that tonight it would happen again. And that he'd fail Wes when he needed him the most.
It didn't matter how many times Travis asked either, Wes refused to discuss his nightmares. Travis figured they had to have something to do with that last awful night with his father, but Wes refused to discuss that, too. So, Travis was at a loss. He'd just have to play it by ear and do the best he could.
A sharp kick to the thigh acted as Travis' late-night wake up call.
"No. Nonononono… NO!" Wes screamed the last word, thrashing and striking Travis in the face with a fist. Sweat beaded his forehead, his hair damp with exertion.
"Shit," Travis muttered, rolling to his knees and attempting to pin Wes' arms to the mattress. "Baby, it's me, relax." Wes struggled more strongly, kicking and screaming. "Wes! Stop!"
One pale arm broke free and started battering at its perceived enemy. "NO! You won't hurt me any longer!"
Travis took the left hook to the face like a pro. Wrangling Wes' arms down to his side, he threw one leg across his midsection, climbing onto him. Wes struggled against the bigger boy, tears streaming from his eyes. Fear was overwhelming him and the screams and shouts were slowly turning to whimpers. It was breaking Travis' heart, but he had to calm him down before he hurt himself. "Baby, it's Travis, stop, please."
"NO!" he sobbed, choking on his fear.
Desperate and out of ideas, Travis leaned in between Wes' struggling arms and pressed his mouth against the blonde's. Wes fought for a moment before his limbs slowed, then stopped scuffling. Tears flowed freely down his pale cheeks. "Please don't hurt me," he begged.
"Oh baby, I'm never going to hurt you…" Pain squeezed at Travis' heart so he kissed Wes again and then a third time, just because it felt right. "You're safe here." He rolled onto his side and pulled him into the circle of his arms, holding tightly until the trembling stopped.
"Travis," he whispered. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't know. I…"
"Shhh," he breathed against Wes' temple. "It's okay, I understand baby."
Gradually, his breathing returned to normal, his heartbeat slowing. Eventually, Wes fell asleep in Travis' arms, head on his shoulder, hand clinging to one bicep. The soft snoring sound coming from the exhausted body next to him made him smile. Maybe he'll sleep through the rest of the night.
He couldn't be sure, but he knew he'd be here if it happened again.
Almost three weeks had passed since Wes had come to stay at Maria Escalante's foster home and he had the nagging feeling that his time here was just about up. He'd known from the beginning that it was only a temporary solution and that he shouldn't get so attached to his afternoons with Travis or the indulgent ethnic food he'd been eating. But he couldn't stop the feeling of loss welling in his soul. For the first time ever, he felt like he was a part of something. A family even. And it was killing him to think that he was going to have to leave it soon.
He'd tried to keep it from Travis, but Marks being who he was made that impossible. Between nagging, teasing, and cajoling, he'd ultimately ferreted out the truth. Wes was more than a little surprised to hear that Travis was having the same worries.
"The last thing I want is to lose you," he'd admitted one night over a bowl of Cheerios. "Losing you to another foster family would be bad enough. But if you wound up at another school? That would be too much."
Wes agreed. Travis made him feel safe, loved even. The idea that he might have to find a way to make it without the obnoxious bully at his side petrified him. They had become ingrained in each other's lives, intertwined with one another in a way he'd never experienced. Being without Travis would be like being without his right arm. A very brash, insufferable right arm.
They made a silent pact that night to spend as much time together as they could. Unable to know when things were going to change for the worst, they had to live in the here and now. And make it worth every moment.
"Boys? BOYS!"
This hadn't been the first time Maria had hollered for them, but it had been the first time they'd heard her. They'd been too wrapped up in each other's arms to pay much attention to anything but what they were feeling. The third time, her shrill voice had cut through it all and brought them running.
"It's about time you two. I'd ask what took you so long, but judging by your guilty faces, I'm sure I don't want to know."
She was teasing them, but Wes' ingrained sense of guilt got the better of him. "I'm sorry, we're sorry. We were…"
Her musical laugh filled the room. "I told you, honey, no explanations when it's only going to make your little pink cheeks even pinker."
"She's got you on that one, buttercup," Travis agreed.
"Oh shut up, would you? You are not helping things," Wes defended.
"As much as I'd love to watch you two continue your lover's quarrel, I do have something to talk to you about. Have a seat, boys."
Wes hated those words. We need to talk. It never ended well, as far as he was concerned. But she was a good and kind lady, strict but fair, and they both respected that. Usually. Mostly. She wouldn't let him down. What she had to say might not make Wes happy, but he knew that whatever the result, it was deserved and that she'd tried her hardest to do what she felt was best for them all.
"What's up, Mama? I think we've been behaving ourselves."
"You think, you silly boy. Travis, if you don't know if you've been good or not, then you probably haven't. But no, it's not about that at all."
Wes cocked his head, studying her. Her face was set in a serious manner, but her eyes were lively, darting happily from one to the other. "Then what is it? Am I being shipped off already?"
"That's the question, isn't it?" She watched his face as a mix of emotions washed over it. Fear, anticipation, anxiety, so many more. "But more importantly, I have a question for you: where do you want to be, Wesley?"
Hope surged through his veins, followed quickly by a tsunami of fear. "I want to be here for as long as I can be. I don't want to have to start all over again and again." Then, more quietly, "I don't think I could endure that."
"I couldn't either," Travis admitted. "Seeing him go somewhere more permanent would be good for him. But in the state he's in now, so soon after all… all of that, seeing him bounce around like I did for so many years would wreck him."
"I agree," Maria said. "This is why I have asked to be his permanent foster mother. As permanent as a foster mom can be, anyway." Travis stood and whooped loudly, doing his famous touchdown dance in the middle of the living room. Maria laughed at her exuberant charge. "Now Travis, settle down. It isn't for certain yet and depends on two things."
"And those things are?" Wes was terrified to know, but he had to, didn't he? Had to know what he was up against.
"Well, the first is you, of course, but we've already jumped that hurdle. The other is my approval. They assured me I'm a shoe-in because I've been doing this for so long, but you never know."
"We can hope though, right?" Travis squeezed Wes' shoulder, encouraging him.
"And pray. Lots and lots of prayer, boys."
It was six long weeks before the Escalante-Marks-Mitchell household got their answer. As far as Wes was concerned, it was the longest damn six weeks of his life. When the letter announcing Wes' fate arrived in the mail, it was nearly enough to send even the normally unflappable Travis Marks into a full-fledged panic attack.
"What do we do," Wes asked, voice low.
"Wait for Mama Maria to get home. She's just at the store, she shouldn't be long."
"Should we open it?" He knew better, she'd given them strict instructions to not even think of doing that, but he couldn't help but ask all the same.
Travis studied the official looking envelope, frowning. "Hell no! As much as I want to now, I don't want to be finding out from the grave whether you get to stay or not."
Wes laughed, some of the stress escaping with the sound. He didn't know what he'd do without Travis by his side, always ready with a wisecrack or hug when he needed it. Hopefully, he wouldn't ever have to find out. The sound of the front door creaking open sent the boys running.
"Mama," Travis began.
"It arrived," Wes interrupted.
"Okay, okay," she shouted over the two exuberant boys trying to talk over the other, "I see it's arrived. Give me that letter and go get the groceries, pronto."
"But Mama," they said in unison, defeated.
"Now," she reminded them.
Griping and grumbling, the two teens reluctantly shuffled off to drag in the week's groceries and commenced putting them in their proper places while she perused the contents of the officious envelope.
"She's frowning," Travis commented, sneaking a look over his shoulder.
"It's probably laden with legal terms and double-speak," Wes assured him. "It can be confusing reading that type of missive even when you know what you're reading."
"I hope you're right because she looks even unhappier now."
Wes shot his temporary mother a quick look. Travis was right, she did not look happy at all. Breathe, Wesley, he reminded himself. He realized he had said the words aloud when he felt Travis' gentle touch on the back of his neck, reassuring and calming.
Maria folded the letter and placed it and the envelope on the coffee table. "Okay boys, come on in and sit down." Travis almost trampled Wes in his efforts to get out of the kitchen and on the couch as quickly as possible. Wes, however, was determined to beat him there. "Try not to maul each other on your way to the couch," she teased.
"So, what's the good word," Travis asked, moving over so Wes could sit beside him. "And if the word's not good, let's just pretend we never received the letter."
Maria smiled, wishing it were that easy to get around. "Not going to happen, baby. I ignore something like that," she waved a hand in the direction of the letter, "and they'll not only come and take our Wesley, but you, too. And we can't have that."
No, definitely not. Not when Travis only had a year left before he was turned out anyway. Starting over at eighteen was going to be rough enough on him. He didn't want to have to start again with a new foster family only to get kicked back out onto the streets in a few months. "No, Mama, we can't."
"Are we ready to know now?" Both boys eagerly nodded their heads, too anxious to speak the word. Wes extended his hand for support and Travis instinctively reached for it. Fingers clasped tightly, they sat as one, waiting for the verdict that would decide Wes' fate. "Well," she began somberly, "I have bad news."
Travis' face fell at the same rate that Wes' heart plummeted to his feet. "No," Wes whispered, unbelieving.
"Yes," Maria said, a slight twitch itching at the corner of her mouth. "It's true. You're stuck with us indefinitely."
"I can't – cant' belive – wait. What?" Wes' eyes widened, the blue depths shining with confusion. He stood and reached for the letter on the coffee table.
"Hold up, Mama," Travis broke in, finally finding his voice. "Are you saying that…"
She was unable to hold the smile back any longer. "Yes, baby, I am. He can stay until he's eighteen."
"YES!" Travis leapt to his feet and began dancing. Pulling Wes into his arms, he chortled with relief. "Did you hear that, blondie? You're mine – ours – indefinitely. However long that is, not that I know or anything…"
Wes chuckled and turned into Travis' embrace. "It's indefinite, you idiot. It means 'not definite' as in no set date."
"I know what it means, you know-it-all punk, I was just messing with you." Travis planted a loud kiss on the side of Wes' face, raising a lovely blush almost immediately.
"He says that," Maria joined in, hugging both her boys tightly, "but I think he may be lying."
"Hey," Travis protested, giving his foster mom a kiss on the cheek, "I pay attention. And believe me, I have to with the extensive vocabulary buttercup here has. I might as well carry a dictionary around with me."
"So I really get to stay," Wes asked from between the crushing arms of his new mother and his boyfriend. "I don't have to leave?"
"No, you don't have to leave unless you want to. Either of you. And I hope that, by the time you want to, you're both old and grey and I'm long gone."
"How are you holding up?" Travis traced the line of Wes' jaw with a finger, watching him truly relax for the first time since they'd met.
"I'd be much better if your – our – foster mother didn't have such an evil streak. How could she do that to us? No wonder she was the first to put you in your place."
"Ha, ha, very funny, blondie. And not true." He played with a lock of fair hair, thinking for a moment about what might have been. "So you're gonna be okay?"
Wes nodded against Travis' chest before speaking. "Yeah, I think finally I might be."
"Good," Travis announced, cuddling Wes to his chest. "If you're okay, then I'm happy."
"I'm okay, Travis." Because you're here with me. "I never dreamed I'd get a chance at a real life. A happy life. You and Mama Maria have given me a second chance. I can never repay either of you."
"Yeah ya can, baby," Travis countered.
"How?" He turned his blue eyes up to meet Travis'.
"By living your life to its fullest. By being happy. By being you as you were meant to be."
Wes frowned. "I don't know if I can do that."
"Neither did I when I first came here to Maria. But she's helped me learn how. And we can both help you. Matter of fact," he said, tickling Wes's stomach, eliciting a delicious squirm out of him, "we insist."
"Why am I not surprised you're insisting on showing me how to live my life," Wes teased.
"Because I plan on being in it for the long haul, Wes, and if I'm gonna be tagging along, mooching off your soon to be educated rich ass, I want to be sure you're living your life right – in style."
Hearty laughter filled the room. Wes couldn't even argue that statement because it was too true to even debate the issue. Instead, he captured Travis' mouth with his own, celebrating his new, undecided future. No more living in the past or hiding from the future. From this day forward, he was going to exist fully in the present.
With Travis.