She explained anyway, and then asked to see his room. She’d hoped to segue into that more gradually—had had a fantasy that their bond would be so immediate, his eagerness to share his life with her so natural, that he’d pull her by the hand, chattering happily the whole time. Instead, he opened a door off the landing to a small room with a twin bed, plastic set of drawers, clothes spilling out, and a single lamp set on the floor.
It was hardly Pinterest-worthy, but it was clean, and a space that was all his. At least for now.
“You like Avengers?” she asked, pointing to his Marvel-themed sneakers on the floor. Of course she already knew the answer, but she was hoping to get him to open up a little.
“Yeah.”
“Me, too,” she said. Was it wrong to lie to a kid, if it was about something as innocuous as a superhero franchise? The truth was that Lauren seemed to be one of the only people in the modern world who’d never seen any of the movies, who still had trouble distinguishing which characters were in which universe. Asa had made a comment once, about how she was a pop culture wasteland. It had stung more than it probably should’ve.
She attempted more awkward small talk, about how school was going, how he liked living with Jolene, about the other foster kid who lived in the house, to mostly monosyllabic answers. When Jolene called up the stairs that dinner was ready, Lauren felt guilty when her first feeling was . . . relief. Relief that the visit could be over, and she could retreat back to her car, where she could finally breathe again.
Worst guardian ad litem in the world.
She said her goodbyes to Jolene, waved to the other kid who was already seated at the dinner table, and made arrangements to visit the next week. As she was on her way out, Eddie followed her into the front hallway.
“Miss Lauren?”
“Yeah?”
“When is my mom coming to get me?”
Lauren wished she’d had a chance to role-play this exact scenario. Not something like it, not a hypothetical, but this exact one. Where a tough-looking boy with shadowed eyes strung together the most words she’d heard so far, asking the one question she didn’t have an answer for. She remembered asking that question over and over when she’d first arrived in care, and she never remembered getting a satisfactory answer, because there wasn’t one. Lauren couldn’t say soon because she didn’t know that; she couldn’t even say she’s working on her case plan because she didn’t know that, either.
“I don’t know,” she said finally.
She’d lied about the Avengers, but she couldn’t lie about this.
* * *
? ? ?
Afterward, Lauren swung by her apartment to eat a quick dinner of leftover takeout and grab Kiki’s dress, then headed over to her friend’s house. It looked older than she’d expected, with a wraparound front porch with rocking chairs on it and a rainbow flag hanging from the railing. Lauren tried to rack her brain to remember the names of Kiki’s other housemates other than Asa, in case any of them opened the door, but luckily it was Kiki who ushered her in.
“Turns out Marj is working late again,” Kiki said, “so she’s not even coming over tonight. Sorry. How was your visit?”
More emotionally exhausting than expected. Not only had it brought memories rushing back that Lauren would rather leave behind, of those early days when she’d been put in the system, but it was also surprisingly tiring having to navigate a conversation with a nine-year-old who didn’t want to talk. But she didn’t feel like getting into all of it, so she just waved the question away. “This place is really nice,” she said instead.
“Thanks,” Kiki said. “Asa already lived here with other housemates when he heard I was looking for somewhere to live relatively cheap and close to Cold World. I met with everyone and we just clicked. Elliot is a freelance writer, and they’re home a lot but mostly holed up in their room under deadline. John is super quiet—like, even when he plays his guitar he plugs it in and wears headphones. It’s a lot more chill than I worried it would be.”
“Mmm,” Lauren said, glancing around. Two strange houses in one night. This had to be a record.
The living room featured two overstuffed leather couches, arranged in an L around a large-screen TV, paused on some slick-looking show that wasn’t familiar to Lauren. There was a bike propped against one wall. An IKEA shelf unit packed with records. And a Christmas tree, already decorated, a star on top and everything.
“It’s been up since the day after Thanksgiving,” Kiki said. “If you think Asa is only like that at work, you’re wrong. The boy loves Christmas. By the way, what was that whole thing all about, where Dolores asked you guys to stay after the meeting?”
Lauren hesitated, not sure if it was supposed to be a secret or not. Eventually, she just decided to answer the question but keep it vague.
“She’s looking for some suggestions on ways to improve for the holidays,” she said. “Not a big deal.”
“Huh.” Kiki was clearly not convinced by the explanation, and Lauren pointed at some artwork hanging on the wall to change the subject.
“That’s really cool,” she said. “Where’d you get it?”
It was the size of a movie poster, the colors vibrant and saturated. Magenta background, stairs painted in gradients of purple leading diagonally up to nowhere. A boy leaned from the stairs on tiptoes, reaching out toward a hand of someone out of the composition. In his other hand, he clutched a tangle of lines and swirls that seemed to lead to balloons, or vines, or jellyfish—something abstract that Lauren couldn’t quite make out. The picture made her feel happy, her spirits buoyed by the colors and the whimsy, but then the more she looked at it the more that she felt like there was something sad about the boy, painted in shades of light blue and reaching for someone he might not be able to grasp before falling off the stairs. She wished she could see the expression on his face, but it was turned away.
“It’s Asa’s,” Kiki said. “You want to see the other outfits I’m considering for Marj’s work party?”
Lauren gave the picture one last look before scooping the red dress off the back of the couch where she’d set it and following Kiki into her room. There were two other dresses laid out on Kiki’s bed—one sparkly as a disco ball, the other a rather severe black—and a green jumpsuit. Lauren knew Kiki would look amazing in any of them. She was one of those people who had natural style, on whom everything looked intentional and cool and easy. In the end, Lauren hadn’t even tried on the red dress. It had seemed like the kind of thing she could never pull off.
“Too much?” Kiki asked, pointing at the sparkly dress.
Lauren bit her lip, considering. “Maybe? For a conservative law firm party.”
Kiki nodded, like the answer was pretty much what she’d been expecting. “This is probably the one,” she said, picking up the black dress. It had a high collar and long sleeves, although the swingy skirt saved it from seeming totally puritanical.
“I kinda like the jumpsuit,” Lauren said, reaching out to rub the silky green fabric between her fingers. “I bet it looks great on you.”
“You don’t think it’s too . . . gay?”
Lauren grinned. “Considering you’ll be at the party with your girlfriend, I say lean in.”
She thought back to what Asa had said earlier, about having dated dudes before. She’d had a vague idea that his relationship history was more varied than hers, but she didn’t know exactly what that meant for how he defined himself now, or who he was interested in. A part of her was dying just to ask Kiki, but she knew that it wasn’t really any of her business, and it would be squirrelly to put Kiki on the spot just to satisfy her idle curiosity. Because that was all it was—his comment had made her curious.
Another comment from Kiki that afternoon also kept sticking in her brain. “What did you mean earlier, when you said you’d read into my reason for not coming to Thanksgiving?”