We already went down the hill once and it was great but when you get to the bottom of a hill you have to walk back to the top. There’s no one to bring you back on a bus or to pull you. I ask my Forever Dad if he will pull me back to the top and he says no. There are other dads pulling their kids so I say, “Well why not?”
His breathing is loud. His face is red. “Because you weigh a hundred twenty-five pounds, and those little kids are only four or five years old,” he says.
But I still see lots of kids getting pulled. “This isn’t fair,” I say. “Look at all those kids. They don’t have to walk. This is tedious.”
My Forever Dad keeps walking. The top of the hill is far away. Sometimes he stops to rest and breathe and I see lots of clouds coming out of his mouth. I’d rather be home watching a video or listening to Michael Jackson or reading a book for exactly thirty minutes. Or organizing my backpack for the respite. Walking up the hill is no fun at all. “Can’t you just pick me up in the car or something?” I say. “I’m not having any fun.”
He turns around. “Did we get hot chocolate on the way here?”
“Yes. From Dunkin’ Donuts,” I say. “It was too hot so we said we should probably leave it in the car to cool a little so that it doesn’t burn my tongue.”
“And haven’t you been looking forward to going sledding since summer?”
“Yes.”
“Then can you maybe try to be just a little bit grateful?”
I know that sometimes you have to pretend that you’re grateful or you get hit. But my Forever Parents don’t hit. They say that they don’t believe in it which means I don’t have to pretend. But on Wednesday which was three days ago my Forever Mom hit me when I tried to pick the baby up. So maybe she hits now but my Forever Dad still doesn’t.
Plus grateful means you’re happy about something or that you like it or that you maybe don’t mind. But I mind walking up the hill. “This is so, so tedious,” I say.
My Forever Dad puts his hands up and lets them fall against his legs. “Come on,” he says. “We’ll get to the top faster if we keep walking.” I follow him.
“Isn’t there something more fun we can do?” I say.
He turns around again. “Are you crazy?” he says. “We are here because you want to go sledding, and now you don’t even want to go? Do you have any idea how much bullshit we go through for you? Do you have any idea how high my blood pressure is? Your mother won’t come out of the bedroom and I’m missing a ton of time at work. This isn’t routine, Ginny. This is pretty much unbearable. I’m trying to be as gracious and generous as I can, but I don’t know how much longer we can keep it up.”
Bullshit means poop that comes out of a cow but sometimes it’s an expression. “You’re joking me, right?” I say. I look at him over my glasses.
But my Forever Dad doesn’t laugh or smile like he usually does. “We’re going home,” he says. “No more sledding today. I just can’t do it.”
“But I want to go down one more time!” I say. And I stomp my foot.
“The car is over there,” he says pointing to the side of the hill. “We’ll get there faster if we cut across the trails. Watch out for all the sleds, all right?”
He starts walking across the sled trails. A little girl comes down right in front of him in a blow-up sled shaped like a donut. He waits for her and then crosses. But I still don’t want to go home so I stay where I am. He sees that I haven’t moved and starts coming back toward me. Two more sleds zoom past. When he gets over to me his breathing is really, really hard. “Ginny, you have to come back with me to the car. If you don’t, you won’t be allowed to watch any videos or listen to Michael Jackson for a whole week.”
I cross my arms and start walking next to him. “This is not fun!” I say. I stomp across the snow. “I will not be treated this way! I want to go live with Rick!”
“Ginny!” my Forever Dad shouts. “Look out!”
But I am not listening because I have more to say. “I am going—” I say but then my Forever Dad grabs my arm and pulls me down onto the ground. Some little kids start yelling and laughing. Their voices are right in my ear and then they slide away. From where I am lying in the snow I see a big long wooden sled with four kids on it. It goes down the rest of the hill fast.
I sit up. Then I stand. Snow is on my pants and coat. “I am angry!” I say. Some people stop walking up the hill. They look at me.
My Forever Dad stands up too. “Ginny, that sled almost hit you! And you’re complaining that I moved you out of the way? Let’s just get to the car,” he says and takes my arm.
I recoil. “You are not allowed to touch me,” I tell him when I stand up straight again. “This is my body! Patrice said so! No one is allowed to touch my body unless I say it is okay! And I do not say it is okay!”
Because I don’t like it at all when men touch me. They should all stay upstairs with Gloria in her bedroom and leave me alone.
He puts his hand on his chest and breathes some more. “If you don’t start walking to the car, you can use that damn body of yours to walk home,” he says. “And if I get to the car before you do, I’m going to drink your hot chocolate.”
“Oh no you’re not!” I say. I start walking fast. I go right past him and move out of the way when three more sleds come down the hill. I keep walking and walking and then I get to the place where all the cars are parked. I stand next to ours until my Forever Dad gets there. He unlocks the door and I climb inside. I put my seat belt on and grab my hot chocolate. It is warm, not hot, so I am happy.
53
EXACTLY 3:55 IN THE AFTERNOON,
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 8TH
“So the date will be Friday, January 7th,” says Patrice. I want to ask her for the update but she said a real date and dates are important. When I hear a date I have to put it in my brain and think about it. A lot.
Plus I am excited. January 7th is when I’ll go to Rick’s house. For a respite. He will have a bedroom all set up for me but I’m hoping I don’t have to go see it. I’m hoping he brings me straight up to Canada instead. I will talk with him about it as soon as we get in the car. The social workers will visit Gloria every day to keep my Baby Doll safe and then Gloria will drive it up to Canada to meet us. Then I will take over and take excellent care of it again.
“He’ll pick you up right from school,” says Patrice. “All your things will be in the backseat, ready to go.”
“Will my quilt be there?” I ask. Because if my secret plan works out I won’t be coming back to the Blue House. I’m okay leaving everything else there but not my quilt because my Baby Doll likes my quilt and I’ll need something to wrap it in at night.
“Of course,” says Patrice. “Remember, you’ll help your dad pack everything the night before.”
“On Thursday night,” I say.
Patrice nods. “On Thursday night. You’ll only need enough clothes for two days, but you can certainly bring your quilt. Now, let’s talk about your Forever Mom. I understand that something happened between the two of you this last week. Maura called to explain it.”
“She hit me,” I say.
“Why did she do that?”