Part I: PartingChapter 1: ThursdayChapter 2: Intermission Chapter 3: Responsibility Part II: Conditional LoveChapter 4: SalvageChapter 5: Compomise Chapter 6: Appearances Chapter 7: Steadfast Chapter 8: Scorecard Chapter 9: Middle Chapter 10: Haunting Part III: The ReckoningChapter 11: DeparturesChapter 12: Endurance Chapter 13: Letters Chapter 14: Contrition Chapter 15: Waning Chapter 16: Intervening Chapter 17: Detour Chapter 18: Reunion Chapter 19: Exclusive Chapter 20: Gifts Chapter 21: Pennance Part IV: The Third EventChapter 22: ConfidenceChapter 23: Priorities Chapter 24: Dichotomies Chapter 25: Questions Chapter 26: Inattentiveness Chapter 27: Impetuous Chapter 28: Caged Chapter 29: Secrets Chapter 30: Family Chapter 31: Unfulfilled Chapter 32: Drowning Chapter 33: Persistence Chapter 34: Falling Chapter 35: Promises |
Chapter 5: SalvageMeanwhile, having been almost tossed into room 546, Jessica and her social worker were addressing Jessica’s problems.“Jessica, you have to be...” Jessica's social worker was more than a little annoyed with Jessica's attitude. Jessica, however, felt this worn argument was old hat. She lounged on her bed half paying attention to the book in her lap. Her nails were cut short; her hands were rough from her last martial arts expo when she had accidentally over chalked her hands before breaking eighteen bricks with one punch. The end result included scraped knuckles that were just beginning to heal and a general unclean hardened feeling even after washing her hands repeatedly with the powder found in the soap dispenser down the hall. “Jessie. And I didn't insult them.” Her voice was on edge as she convinced herself that this age old argument wasn’t really worth her time. Jessie ran her tongue over the back of her teeth, still getting used to the missing braces. “Less offensive and willing to compromise.” finished the social worker flatly. “And when I have a gut wrenching job like you, which is going to be more valuable?” There was a pause. “I compromise everywhere on everything. It hasn’t changed what’s happened.” There was a sob in her voice that was unmistakable, but the social worker was still upset and ignored it. Besides, it wasn’t her job to deal with Jessica’s problems; she would have to remember to find her a good psychologist. “Jessica, there are a lot of skills that will benefit you in the ‘Adult’ world. You're just too young to understand them.” It came out as a sigh. Without a doubt, the words were going to fall on deaf ears. “Would you care to elaborate?” Jessica’s tone was unmistakably sarcastic. “Civility, politeness...for starters.” The Social worker was worn from saying the same lecture over and over. “So are drinking bottles of acid reducer and cough syrup.” Jessie turned the page in the book she was reading. The social worker highly doubted Jessica was able to comprehend what was on the page, but then again, Jessica was always up for surprising her. “Jessica...” began the Social worker, empathetically trying to find a direction to begin the tirade of manners and civility lecture that Jessica so sorely seemed to misconstrue every time it was given. “Jessie!” she insisted. Why can’t anyone understand that I prefer to be called Jessie? The question itself was as old as the lecture on civility that the social worker believed she needed. “I don't care.” The social worker gave in and lost her calm composure. Jessica was hardly the easiest of her cases. “Sit up and listen to me. If you don't shape up soon, you're going to a group rehab center, even if you don't need to be there. I'm not threatening. I got a memo yesterday, if the Caudills don't work out, you're going.” “I see.” She reluctantly dragged her lean body to a sitting position. “You've exhausted our long term residencies. I can't tell you how hard it was to get the Caudills even this far.” The social worker replaced her exasperated voice with one of understanding and sympathy, forcing herself to regain composure. “Save it. They don't want me. You saw them. We can save everyone the headache if we just don’t pass ‘go’ this time. The group home sounds fine to me.” Jessie looked away stifling her hurt. The different homes were too many to really count each one as eccentric as the last. One had a bedtime at six in the evening; another had guardians who were binge drinkers. A third had too many fosterlings and waited every month for the check, stretching each dollar so thinly, Jessie wondered if the cheap boxes of macaroni and cheese were even a luxury item once. Not all of them had been bad, a few times, she even really honestly like the families, but they all were too afraid to let her get close. Jessie had outgrown the ‘what if’ game. Life as she saw it, was out of her control, and she would have to wait until she was eighteen to figure out how to make all the pieces she had fit together. Without a doubt, Jessie knew how important first impressions were. But having grown tired of being shuttled from place to place without a second thought, Jessie didn’t want to be anyone’s poster child, let alone the burnt out social worker who had grown so tired of her case that she was willing to put Jessie anywhere so she didn’t have to think about her. There was a time when Jessie dreamed that there was a place that would be her last foster home that she wouldn’t have to change schools. Maybe even make a couple of friends her age. But nearly eight years later, Jessie forced her hopes elsewhere. Now she was the state’s prized puppy, paraded around in some dog show, hoping that they’d find her acceptable long enough so she might just be forgotten. A smile of amusement almost crept across her face as she remembered the last social worker that actually cared. He had tried to get Abbie’s parental rights revoked, therefore creating the possibility of permanently placing Jessie. But Abbie’s requests that Jessie remain in foster care until Abbie approved of Jessie’s placement prevailed. Dad and Olivia were no where to be heard of. They just might have abandoned Jessie. In fact, they were still listed as missing persons. There uneasy silence was sliced by a knock at the door. “Come on in.” Jessie called. It was her room any way, or at least half of it. “Are we interrupting anything?” It was Mrs. Caudill. “Nothing incredibly important or interesting.” Muttered Jessie. “We were wondering if we could have a moment with Jessica?” she asked hopefully. “Of course, take as long as you need.” Again, the Social Worker left. “Have a seat, anywhere.” Jessie offered the sterile government room’s comforts of the two beds and two stiff wood chairs. Jessie picked up a schoolbook off her desk and began to leaf through the pages. Mr. Caudill found this not only irritating; he found it quite rude that she seemed to be ignoring their very presence. “So...Jessica, how old are you.” Mrs. Caudill broke the silence, hoping to draw the gap between them closed. “Fourteen.” She looked up as Mrs. Caudill addressed her. Another uneasy silence came, lingering for nearly ten minutes and then Mr. Caudill spoke up. “What book are you reading?” “A collection of Peter Singer’s essays.” Jessie looked at the couple. It was very apparent that Mrs. Caudill was going to do all the talking. He just probably wanted to help his wife, but also wanted out of this horrendous room. Jessie smiled to herself; at least they had some of the same things in mind. “We thought you'd be much younger.” They didn't know her and already, they were complaining. “You're looking to adopt.” Jessie nodded and turned the page. “To be honest, Jessica, we are looking to share our home with someone.” Mrs. Caudill tried to open the scope to make their home appealing to Jessica. Little did she know, Jessica had very little say in where she did go. “Yes, the opportunity would be for all of us...” Started Mr. Caudill gruffly. “What do you say? Will you come with us?” Mrs. Caudill brightened at the prompting of her husband. Making this crucial step was so very important to becoming adoptive parents. “I don't promise anything.” There was a hint of warning in Jessie’s voice, but Jessie knew that the Caudills were ignoring it. “We don't expect you too. I'm sure we'll become great friends.” Mrs. Caudill predicted without pretense. Dear Lord, why can’t Nancy be happy without children? “I don't promise anything.” Jessie insisted yet again. Jessie hoped her words would be taken to heart. The last five foster homes had been very trying. Things would have been a lot more efficient on both parts if they had taken time to listen to her every now and then. She was sick of having to do everything their way and then getting blamed for it if it didn't go right. “Come along Jessica; we have a lot to do.” Mrs. Caudill was so excited for this chance; she offered her hand as if Jessie needed help to cross the street. Jessie ignored the hand and picked up a book. At least she didn't have to pay attention to all of the formalities she could recite by heart.
Posted 200311.30-RHM |