“Because I was going to pick up the baby.”
“Did she say not to pick up the baby?”
“No.”
“What did she tell you, then?”
“She told me to get the hell out of here.”
“It’s wrong to hit people, Ginny. It’s completely unacceptable and it’s never, ever okay. And I know you know that. What your Forever Mom did was wrong, and I’ve already talked with your parents about it. But I still need you to do something for me. I need you to remember that we need to keep some space between ourselves and people who are yelling at us. They just aren’t safe. It wasn’t safe to walk toward your Forever Mom when she was angry. Can you remember that? I mean, can you keep a safe distance from your mom if she gets angry and yells again?”
“No,” I say.
“Why not?”
“Because she might be holding a crying baby. I know how to help crying babies,” I say.
“I believe you,” says Patrice. “But a baby who’s crying isn’t necessarily in danger. Was Baby Wendy in danger when you tried to take her?”
“No,” I say.
“What were you thinking about when you tried to pick her up?”
“I was thinking about my Baby Doll.”
“That’s what I thought,” says Patrice. “So we should probably talk about how to tell the difference between what’s real and what’s in our minds.” She stops and licks her lips. “Ginny, I want to ask how you feel about your Forever Mom. She’s changed a lot since you came home and she had the baby. How do you feel about her?”
I think. I don’t feel happy or sad about my Forever Mom. I just feel excited and anxious about going up to Canada.
Patrice keeps talking. “Ginny, part of my job is to help you attach. Attachment means forming a strong relationship between yourself and someone else. Now, I know you have trouble with emotions because of your autism, but some things have happened that have made it extremely difficult for you and your mom to attach in order to remain close. Your dad is doing a great job of taking care of you and spending time with you. He’s trying hard to keep everyone together, but it’s putting an incredible amount of stress on him. I hate to say it, but I don’t know that attachment is even possible between you and your mom right now. You have to want attachment. I know you’re willing, but if she isn’t...”
She stops. I wait.
“It’s all about Baby Wendy,” Patrice finally says. “You have to show her that you’re safe around the baby. That having you in the house is safe for the baby.”
So I say, “I’m not allowed to touch it whatsoever. That’s the most important rule.”
Patrice looks away. “That’s right,” she says. Her eyes look wet. “Even when it cries. Even when you think it needs something to eat. Even when touching the baby is probably the one thing that would help the most at this point.”
54
EXACTLY 2:51 IN THE AFTERNOON,
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 16TH
We are sitting in the conference room around a big table. Every single chair is filled.
“Part of the purpose of today’s meeting is to let Ginny’s teachers meet Rick,” says Mrs. Lomos. “Rick?”
“I’m pleased to meet you all,” says Rick. He stands up and his chair knocks into the bookcase behind him. He sways and takes his hat off fast with both hands and crumples it and sits down again.
“Hi, Rick,” say all my teachers. All of them are there. Mrs. Winkleman and Ms. Dana and Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Henkel. Ms. Carol and Ms. Merton and Mr. Crew. Even Ms. Devon the principal. Plus my Forever Parents.
“We need everyone here to be aware that Rick is Ginny’s Birth Dad, and that there might be times when he’ll come to school to pick Ginny up,” says Mrs. Lomos. “Right now Ginny takes the bus, but there’ll be times when her Forever Parents will call to say that Rick is picking her up.”
“He has our formal permission,” says my Forever Mom. “All the paperwork is signed in the office. You’re also welcome to talk with him about Ginny’s grades and records, too. Rick is becoming an important part of Ginny’s life.”
“I’m going to his house for a respite on January 7th,” I say.
Everyone smiles and nods except my Forever Dad. His eyes are down and there are wrinkles on his forehead.
“I’m sure you’ll have a great time,” says Mrs. Lomos.
“My Forever Mom says she needs a break,” I say.
Everyone is exactly quiet. “Things have been pretty rough at home and school,” Mrs. Lomos says very fast. She looks at all the faces. “All of us will bend over backward to keep our kids safe, but we all need a break sometimes. Ginny is no exception.”
Rick moves in his chair and makes a noise with his mouth.
“Is there something you want to add?” says Mrs. Lomos.
“I just wish someone would talk about what a delightful young lady she is,” says Rick. “Maybe say how funny and smart she can be. With all this talk about keeping people safe and taking rests, it’s like we’re trying to put her in a box. We’re trying to keep her apart from everything. I’m no psychologist, but I think what she needs is to be closer to people.”
I am confused and my Forever Mom knows it. She puts her hand out to touch my hand but then pulls it back under the table. “It’s an expression, Ginny,” she says. “No one is putting anyone in a box.” Then to Rick she says, “Yes, Rick. Everyone agrees that she’s a creative problem-solver. And extremely resourceful, too. We’re so glad you can be a part of her life so you can see firsthand just what a delight she can be.”
Rick looks down and away. Then back. “I just—” he starts to say but my Forever Mom interrupts him.
“Thank you, Rick,” she says. “Thank you so much.”
55
EXACTLY 3:03 IN THE AFTERNOON,
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 22ND
There will be a Winter Concert tonight and Rick and my Forever Dad are coming to see me play my flute in it. My Forever Mom will stay home with my Forever Sister. Rick is eating over before we leave. We’ll eat early at exactly four-thirty. Then I’ll change into concert attire and we’ll go.
Rick is walking in the door right now.
“Patrice says the social workers went to the apartment,” I tell him. “She says they’re having an investigation. They’ll be going to visit every day.”
“I bet Gloria doesn’t like that,” says Rick. He takes his coat off. My Forever Dad takes it from him and hangs it up in the closet. We go to sit in the living room. I sit on the couch and my Forever Dad sits next to me. Rick sits in the chair by the window. My Forever Mom leans in the doorway. Her hair is longer than I remember it.
“The paper they wrote said upon their arrival my Baby Doll exhibited no unusual signs of stress,” I say. Because Patrice read the paper to me on the phone last night.
“Well, that’s good,” says Rick.