Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Three months later
Adam
“How was your day today, Rosebud?” I asked Rosie, who was holding her cow rattle and sucking on the ears as I changed her diaper.
I was expecting Ani, who had stopped by her office for a few hours, to arrive home any minute.
It was the day of her final interview with Children’s Services, and we were both anxious for it to be over.
I kept telling her she had it in the bag, that she was a shoo-in, but neither of us was going to rest until the final documents about making her Rosie’s official foster parent were stamped, signed, and filed.
“Mooo-ooo,” I said with much expression, “That’s what cows say. Mooooooo.”
Rosie kicked her legs vigorously. “Oooooooh” she said.
Wow. Okay. Impressive. “You’re an absolute genius,” I said, taping the tabs on her diaper. “Brilliant.”
I heard the door open and shut. Ani came flying in, depositing her bookbag and purse and running over to the changing table, kissing me quickly on the cheek.
“Hey, Rosie-Posie, how was your day?” Rosie immediately abandoned the cow and beamed at Ani, displaying a giant smile that lit up her entire face. Actually, her entire body, as she excitedly kicked up a storm.
I totally got it. Ani had that effect on me, too.
I picked Rosie up and got ready to hand her off. “She can moo like a cow,” I announced proudly.
“What?” Ani asked Rosie. “You mooo-ed?”
The baby smiled a drooly smile and leaned toward Ani, who took her into her arms in that fluid movement mothers seem to effortlessly master. “You’re perfect,” Ani said to Rosie, kissing her on the head, “whether you are actually mooing or not.”
“It was a moo, I swear.”
“Almost-four-month-olds can imitate sounds,” Dr. Ani said. “Like, she doesn’t actually know that cows moo yet.”
“I prefer to think that her language skills are very advanced. Today we’ll review some farm animal flashcards just to make sure they took. Tomorrow we’ll work on some algebra. I’ll have her ready for med school applications by Christmas.”
Ani gave me a look that might’ve meant you’re ridiculous, but she broke into a big laugh.
Of course I chuckled right back. Our life was like that a lot. For the first time since Liv died, I went days without thinking of death, of endings, of tragedy. I was too busy living life.
Over Ani’s shoulder, out the window, a black sedan pulled into the driveway. Uh oh. I was thinking of how to put a positive, lighthearted spin on the impending interview when Ani spotted the car too.
“Oh, I hope it’s Charity again.” I saw a flicker of worry pass across her face as she held out the baby to me, ran over to the kitchen sink, and began rubbing something on her blouse with a wet paper towel.
I prepped Rosie’s bottle while Ani added soap and kept scrubbing. “Does my blouse look okay?” She inspected the tiny floral print. “When I was seeing patients this afternoon, a baby spit up on me.”
“Very professional, no spit-up in sight,” I said. “I’d definitely hire you.”
“You’re biased,” she said. “I need to look competent. Today is the psychosocial evaluation. It determines my fitness not only to foster but also to ultimately adopt Rosie.”
After assessing her grave expression, I decided to keep things light. “You are so competent.” I shot her my most admiring grin. “And hot.”
“You’re sticking around, right?” she asked. “They’ll be asking me household relationship questions today. Like, to make sure anyone involved in Rosie’s life is safe.”
“That’s why I’m here.” I squeezed her shoulder. “You got this.”
She gave me a look that was half grateful, half worried, and then threw her arms around me in a giant hug. She didn’t need say anything to let me know she was glad I was here.
She did have this. She was an amazing, wonderful mother in every way.
As I fed Rosie, I noticed a car in the driveway.
A woman got out and began walking up the stone path, which I was proud to say was now very tidy and neat, thanks to my new rechargeable weed whacker.
She wore a navy blazer outside, despite the July heat, a long skirt, and rubber-soled shoes, and her hair was tied up in a tight gray bun.
“It’s Ms. Nelson,” Ani said, her tone crestfallen.
I got the concern. The woman looked terrifying. “Does Ms. Nelson have a first name?” I asked. “Ursula? Narissa? Cruella?”
“Glad to see that you’re up on your Disney villains.” Ani walked up behind me and rested her hand on my back as we peered out the window.
“She looks like someone you’d never call by their first name,” I said to be funny.
“I know,” Ani said in a somber tone.
I turned around and grabbed her hands. “You’re going to nail this. You’re an awesome mom.” I kissed each of her hands in turn. I was hoping for a smile, but she immediately teared up instead. “I love her so much, Adam. I don’t want to do anything to screw this up now.”
“There’s nothing to screw up. We have seven smoke alarms, four carbon monoxide detectors, and you can’t even plug in the coffee pot without removing a child safety cover.”
She laughed a little at that. “You know that’s not what I’m worried about.”
I knew she was worried about what she called her “imperfect relationship history.” “No one’s perfect,” I said in my most reassuring voice. Then I kissed her on the nose. “But you come close.”
I wanted to tell her not to look back. To keep moving forward. That had been the mantra for both of us these past few months. But I figured she didn’t need me to spell it out. The doorbell rang, and I tapped her playfully on the butt as she ran to let Ms. Nelson in.
She looked back and smiled.
I shot her a two-thumbs-up as I went to put the baby down for her nap. I knew that Ani would be great. This was a no-brainer. What could go wrong?
Ani
On the way to the door, I rehearsed my past mishaps, my past failed relationships, and tried to figure out the best way to explain Adam’s presence in my life. I was blowing things out of proportion thinking the worst. No one had a perfect life, right?
Surely, I would gain points for being a responsible human and for working so diligently to make this happen. I truly believed that I was the one to be Rosalie’s mother, and that belief gave me strength. What else really mattered?
Why, oh why couldn’t I have gotten Ms. Charity this time instead of Ms. Nelson?
As if in response to all my wild thoughts, Arnie bounded up from his bed and raced me to the door, skidding to a frantic stop right in front of it and letting out a loud bark.
I sent him a warning look as in Please be a good doggie, and he answered by barking again in adolescent rebellion.
“Come in, Ms. Nelson,” I said, waving her in. “May I get you some coffee, water, a Diet Coke?”
“I don’t use caffeine or artificial sweeteners, but thank you,” she said as I guided her to the couch. Arnold followed on her heels, and once she sat down, he sniffed her legs. She ignored him. Arnold, offput, growled.
He never growled. Like, never.
Ms. Nelson, looking offended and maybe even a little disgusted, said, “Does he bite?”
“Oh, no,” I said. “Arnold is the sweetest dog.”
He growled again.
“Ice water it is,” Adam said, suddenly appearing after putting Rosie down and beelining for the kitchen.
“My teeth are sensitive, so no ice, please,” she called after him.
“Adam, will you please get Arnold a treat while you’re in there?” I called.
Mention of Arnold’s favorite word usually sent him bolting into the kitchen to stand in front of the broom closet where we kept his dog cookies. But not this time. He remained parked in front of Ms. Nelson, standing guard and emitting an occasional low growl.
“Arnie, come here,” I said, to see if I could get him over to me where I could give him a nice calming rubdown.
However, Arnie wouldn’t budge. The muscles around my mouth hurt from smiling already.
Inside, I felt total dread vibes that I couldn’t shake.
Ms. Nelson hadn’t even begun her questions, yet all signs indicated that she was uncompromising and inflexible.
What if I lost Rosalie? I couldn’t bear it. She was everything to me. I loved her with all my heart. I would do anything to keep her.
Ms. Nelson ran a finger along the coffee table and examined it for dust. I’m certain she found plenty. Out of the corner of my eye, I spied a giant clump of dust bunnies clearly visible under the couch. There was an old bottle of Rosie’s on the table too. Points off for bad housekeeping.
Strike two, strike one being our fierce dog. She was literally looking for flaws. This could not possibly go well. My blood pressure was skyrocketing, and I felt exactly like I did right before my last Peds board exam.
I scored in the 90th percentile on that, I reminded myself.
Maybe I was flawed. Maybe I’d made some mistakes. But I was the right person to raise Rosalie. Me. I would fight for that privilege with my last breath.
Adam cleared his throat as he sat down, placing two waters on the table, one apparently for me. As he introduced himself, he gave me a half-hidden thumbs-up. You got this, he mouthed.
That calmed me—a little. And reminded me that he was perfect.
Wonderful. The best part of my life. How lucky I’d been to be a distressed, failed bride that day a year ago on the plane.
I just worried that Ms. Nelson would ask me to define a relationship that we ourselves hadn’t yet formally defined.
Ms. Nelson opened a fat navy binder full of all the minute details of my life—my financial history, my house loan, my 401K, my health history, the house safety inspection, the classes I’d taken online, and the passing scores of the exams I’d had to take. So far, so good.
She opened the binder to a page and neatly folded her hands over it. “As you know, today is the psychosocial evaluation. We’ll be talking about your emotional health, relationships, and your motivations for fostering and adopting Rosalie.”