Counting by 7s(63)

Plus, he wasn’t just holding down a job; he was possibly getting better at it.

Wasn’t he the one who supervised the biggest transformation that had ever happened at the apartment building?

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t supervised, but he was at least a part of it. He did operate the Rototiller.

Dell shut his laptop.

But his legs kept twitching.



No one knew that they had gotten close.

And now Jairo was the first person Pattie needed to talk to.

His cell phone rang but he didn’t answer. She knew that if he was driving, he couldn’t pick up.

But he would. He’d call her back and they would figure out—the two of them—what to do.

It was December, and the brutal heat that was the only real constant for months had finally broken the week before. It was like someone flipped a switch and changed the season.

Nights were now suddenly cool, and fans and air conditioners had finally been put away for their four-month-long electronic hibernation.

Pattie slipped out of her too-tight shoes (her feet seemed to be growing) and stared at the letter from the state of California.

It was for the custody hearing.

It had twice been postponed.

Now it was for real.

Decisions had to be made.

She folded the letter in half and promised herself that she’d do the right thing.





Chapter 55





As we are climbing into the bunk beds, I explain to Mai that everything is in shock, which happens when a plant is first put down into new soil.

I know from experience that some things will thrive and others will wither.

Only time will expose the difference.

Balance is critical in the natural world.



I’m still feeling the triumph of the garden the next day when I get the news.

I don’t like Lenore Cole from Jamison, but in the name of fairness, I admit it would be hard to build a case that she isn’t doing her job.

She has found a place for me.

It’s permanent.

She has come over today to the nail salon to tell me in person. She then asks me if there is anything that I need.

We’ve been speaking outside in the parking lot, but Pattie must know.

I have been with them for almost three months.

It was always temporary.

Pattie had never met me until the day a hospital supply truck drove through a red light.

I understand better than anybody how much she’s done for me.

These are the facts.

I’m going to be placed in a group foster care home on 7th Street.

It figures that it wouldn’t be Eighth Street or Ninth Street.

She says it’s okay for me to cry.

I tell her that I’m fine.

I say that I would like to go to the library, and she volunteers to take me.

I’d like to be around books.



When Lenore and I are ready to leave, Pattie tells me that Dell will pick me up at the library after work.

I won’t have to take the bus.

I say thank you and we go to Lenore’s car.

I feel numb.

But I’m moving on.

That’s how Lenore puts it when we get into her car. Her exact words are: “It’s time to move on.”

It feels like something I might hear in a cafeteria lunch line when I’ve stared too long at a mysterious noodle dish.

And then Lenore adds:

“Transitions are important. We want you to spend the morning at Jamison tomorrow and then go to the hearing in the afternoon.”

So that’s moving on.

It means this is happening right away.

This surprises me.

I thought when she told me, she meant in five days or two weeks.

Not tomorrow.

Lenore is a professional and she must have some experience in all of this.

It might be like ripping off a Band-Aid quickly.

It doesn’t hurt as much because a large component in pain has to do with anticipation.

So maybe that’s why she didn’t tell me until now.

I say good-bye to Lenore and go into the library.

Once I get inside, I hold my hands right up close to my face.

I’m breathing too fast. But I’m not crying.

I’m thinking about Mai and Quang-ha and Pattie and Dell.

They are taking me away from these people.

And I don’t think I can live now without them.



I go straight to my favorite area, which is upstairs in the corner next to the window.

The light floods this spot.

I get a book on astrophysics. I haven’t thought of big-picture concepts in a long time.

Maybe I’ve been too focused on the smaller things. I’ve had my mind wrapped around specifics.

Reading about galaxies and cosmic microwaves helps me to breathe more easily.

I’m putting my place in the universe into perspective.

I’m stardust.

I’m golden brown.

I’m just one small bit in a vast expanse.



When the time is right, I go sit outside on the steps.

I think about the Nguyens.

Will they move out of the Gardens? Will Dell go back to #28? Maybe they can rent another apartment and stay in the complex.

Mai won’t miss just me; she’s going to really miss the bunk beds and the closet.