Far from the Tree(72)

Maya shrugged. “I feel like they understand what I mean when I say things like that.”

Lauren’s eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, Laur,” Maya sighed. “Seriously? Why are you crying?”

Lauren wiped at her eyes, but that didn’t help much. “Because you loved Claire so much and then you just pushed her away as soon as you had one little fight—”

“It wasn’t little.”

“—and now you have these other siblings and this other sister and Mom’s gone and it’s just . . . I don’t want to lose you, too! You’re my big sister. I don’t care where you came from and I don’t care what you look like. You’re mine, you know? I don’t have anyone else except you.”

“Laur,” Maya said quietly, “you’re not going to lose me as your sister.”

“You wouldn’t even talk to me for a week!” Lauren sobbed. “You wouldn’t even look at me. It was like what you did to Claire all over again!”

Maya paused, then hopped off her bar stool and put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “I didn’t . . . I’m not . . . fuck, okay. I’m not leaving our family, okay? I’m not,” she said when Lauren just cried harder. “I don’t want to leave. But I like getting to know Grace and Joaquin. I’m not sure if I even want to meet my bio mom or not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“It’d be easier to believe you if you’d stop ignoring me,” Lauren sniffled.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I was just mad that you texted Claire. It felt like—”

“Like I broke the rules. I know. Will you just promise to tell me if you go looking for your bio mom?”

“Absolutely.”

“And will you stop ignoring me?”

“Will you stop texting my ex-girlfriend information about my personal life?”

“That was one time! But yes.”

“Okay.”

“I love you,” Lauren whispered. “Even when you act like a brat sometimes.”

“And I love you, even when you call me a brat.”

It wasn’t the best as far as apologies go, but at two in the morning, with the world spinning faster than either of them could control, it felt like it could be the start of just enough.





JOAQUIN


Joaquin’s weekend was not off to the best of starts.

On Friday, just as he was about to leave school and head home, the guidance counselor poked her head out of her office. “Joaquin?” she said. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Joaquin glanced around just to make sure that there wasn’t another Joaquin standing behind him. He’d had no idea that the guidance counselor even knew who he was. She normally spent her time with the kids who were applying and going to colleges. Joaquin had watched the flurry of college applications from afar, everyone getting ready to leave home for the next phase of their lives.

He thought it was ironic that everyone was trying so hard to leave home, when all he wanted to do was stay in one.

“I saw this,” the guidance counselor said to him when he was finally in her office, ignoring all the inspirational posters that told Joaquin that he could do it! “And of course, I thought of you. I thought you might be able to use it!” She smiled at him.

Joaquin glanced down at the paper she handed him. It was printed out from the internet, and the date above said that the article was written almost five years earlier. “Tips for Phasing Out of Foster Care” it said in bold letters at the top, and then below, “What You Need to Know for a Successful Adulthood . . . and Beyond!” There was a picture of a rocket next to the headline.

“You thought of me,” Joaquin said, trying to keep from laughing or crying or whatever that reaction was that was bubbling up in his chest, pressing down on his lungs.

“I did,” she said.

“Of course you did,” he replied.

Joaquin knew very well that he was turning eighteen in three months. He didn’t need the guidance counselor to remind him of that. He also knew that there were services that he could use until he was twenty-one: rent and food subsidies, possible scholarships for school, job assistance. But Joaquin had spent a literal lifetime in the system, being promised things that were always just out of reach, and he didn’t want to spend the next three years chasing the white rabbit down the hole. He had always just assumed he’d join the army, but then he’d think about leaving Mark and Linda’s house and his stomach would flip.

As soon as he was out of the guidance counselor’s office, he threw the article in the trash.

When he met Ana at their diner, someone was already seated in their normal booth, and there were kids running around, and Joaquin felt like he wanted to peel off his skin, it felt so tight.

“I told Mark and Linda that I didn’t want to go through with the adoption,” he said as soon as the waiter brought their drinks. “There, now you can yell at me for the rest of the hour.”

Ana widened her eyes but then just started tearing the paper wrapper off her straw. “I’m not going to yell at you,” she said, in a voice that was a little too steady. “If that’s truly what you want, then I’m not upset. In fact, I’d congratulate you on asking for what you want.”