Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JASPER
Every part of me wanted to take Isla and run. We weren’t Zero’s kid. We were barely family. Mom’s estranged cousin or whatever. He didn’t know shit about us until the day we showed up on his front steps. I didn’t want anyone lumping us in with him.
Zero lifted his hands in surrender, his expression worried. “Woah, hey. No one said that’s your name. Relax, man.”
If I wasn’t holding Isla, I’d have some choice words to say about him telling me to relax. I held back because I promised our parents I’d be a good influence. They talked to me before getting pregnant again. We all decided together. I told them I’d look out for her. I promised.
I took a step back, the ache in my chest making it hard to breathe. I wouldn’t let them take my sister from me. I’d rather live on the streets than lose her. I could take care of her on my own. I didn’t need help.
The woman who had called us that stupid name narrowed her eyes slightly and offered me her clipboard. When I frowned at it, she explained, “The name on top is the insurance holder. That’s why I used that name. I promise, in the future, I’ll make sure to use your name instead.”
She didn’t tell me I was overreacting or to grow up like some of the foster families did when I wasn’t ‘acting right’.
She just waited patiently, allowing me to take the clipboard and tapping her finger on the top corner where Zero’s information was printed.
It was on top, so I guess it made sense that she used that first. Her finger moved down the paper to where Isla’s and my name was written. Our real names.
“You’re allowed to have preferences about how people refer to you,” she said calmly. “I apologize for assuming.”
I looked up at her suspiciously. What adult apologized to a kid?
She didn’t look like she was lying though.
She tipped her head slightly, giving me an understanding smile.
“Would you prefer if we try again another day? You don’t have to be here, you know.
It’s my job to help you and your guardian communicate.
Making you uncomfortable isn’t going to help with that. ”
I considered for a minute demanding we leave, but then Isla grabbed the string of my hoodie, sticking it in her mouth. Zero mentioned that the therapist might be able to help her. It was messed up that her doctor said she was grieving. I wasn’t here for me. I was here for her.
“No. You’re gonna help Isla.”
The doctor nodded. “Absolutely. Come this way. I’ve got a nice room with lots of toys for her to play with, and we can talk about what’s going on.”
I hesitated for a second, and Zero didn’t move until I did, following behind us with the diaper bag slung over his shoulder.
He was probably getting sick of me and my shit.
It was only a matter of time before he dumped us.
He wasn’t parent material. He wouldn’t stick around, just like the rest of mom’s family hadn’t. He’d send us back eventually.
ZERO
Jasper went quiet when we stepped into the therapist’s office.
That honestly wasn’t surprising since he’d already told me he wasn’t going to talk, but it felt like more than his usual pissed off silence.
Something about being called by my last name freaked him out, and I doubted he would tell me about it.
How the hell was I supposed to help him if he wouldn’t give me the time of day?
The room we were brought to was bright and colorful, with toys for all ages on shelves or on the floor.
Isla squirmed out of Jasper’s lap when he sat on one of the chairs available, so he slid to the floor so he could watch over her while she played with whatever she could get her hands on.
At least one of us was happy to be here.
“Alright, everyone. I’m Addison Torres. I’m a licensed child and family therapist, with a specialization in childhood trauma. So, Mr. Fletcher. Can you tell me why we’re here?”
I felt awkward as shit sitting across from her. Therapy was so far off my radar before the kids showed up that I wasn’t sure what the hell to say to her. I didn’t want to make it all about me. I was here to help the kids.
I told her that, frowning at the pair on the floor like somehow looking at them would give me the answers to this quiz. “Oh, uh, call me Zero… I, uh—The kids have gone through hell recently. A few people suggested therapy to help deal with all that.”
She hummed, leaning back in her seat, a notepad in her lap. “Zero, then. And what do you hope to get out of therapy, Zero?”
“Me?” I asked, confused. This wasn’t about me.
She nodded. “Yes, you. You’re part of this unit as the children’s guardian. Is there anything you hope will come from these sessions?”
Rubbing the back of my neck, I shrugged. “The pediatrician said Isla is grieving. I didn't know babies could grieve and I don’t know the first thing on how to help her. Either of them, really. I’ve never lost a family member before.”
She wrote something in her notebook, then gave her attention back to me. “Anything else?”
“Uh…” My gaze drifted to the kids again.
It felt awkward and maybe a little mushy to admit it out loud, but maybe if I started, Jasper might speak up.
Lead by example or whatever. “I feel like I’m not doing enough to help them.
Everyone keeps telling me to just keep showing up. There’s gotta be more I can do.”
Jasper glanced at me, some emotion I couldn’t quite catch flashing across his face before he masked it again.
It was him more than Isla that I was worried about.
Isla was just a baby. She wouldn’t remember her moms in the end.
Jasper wasn’t far off from being out on his own.
I didn't want him fighting and hiding his potential the rest of his life.
I wanted to help him feel better, if I could.
“Those are good goals. And Jasper? Do you agree with those goals?”
Jasper pulled a face, and I honestly didn’t expect him to reply, so it surprised me when he spoke up, his voice a low growl that told me he was only doing this because of Isla. “I don’t want my sister to be sad. You’re a therapist or whatever. Tell us what to do to make her happy again.”
Her smile was patient and I was glad she didn’t start getting all gushy about what he said. I was his age once. It was a sure way to get him to refuse to speak again if she drew attention to his feelings.
“We’ll do everything we can to figure out how to make both of you feel more secure in your new environment. Once we do, it’ll go a long way in the grief process, especially with babies Isla’s age.”
Jasper’s lip twitched like he wanted to scowl, but he never did when Isla was around him. He kept his expression neutral, his tone gruff when he said, “Just focus on Isla. I’m fine.”
The therapist didn’t push. Instead, she nodded and wrote something down before asking, “Do you feel comfortable if your guardian tells me what happened to your mothers? We can talk in another room if that’s easier.”
Jasper’s expression darkened, but he didn't make eye contact with her. “I don’t want Isla hearing about that.”
Honestly, I felt the same way. Apparently, we didn’t know shit about babies and what was going on inside their heads.
If she could grieve like everyone else, who was to say she couldn’t understand every word we were saying.
I wasn’t ever going to hide where she came from, but she didn't need to know the gory details. It was bad enough that Jasper knew.
“Thank you for telling me that, Jasper. We’ll absolutely keep any discussion of what happened away from Isla. If you’re comfortable waiting here, I’ll take Zero to another room to talk briefly. My coworker works across the hall. We’ll leave the door open so she can help you if needed, alright?”
He waved us away, barely masking his frown as he gave his full focus to his sister. My heart ached for them and when I pushed to my feet, I tapped my pocket to make sure I had my phone on me.
“You can text if you don’t want to talk to someone else,” I offered. “I keep the ringer on.”
He grunted, but didn’t reply. That was normal Jasper, though, and I figured he was good being left alone for a few minutes. We went into another office right next door and I tried to make it quick so the kids wouldn’t be gone too long.
“So, uh, I don’t know how much is relevant or whatever,” I began. Addison nodded.
“Just tell me the basics. I’ll ask questions if I feel the information is necessary.”
“Sure. The social worker told me Hannah and her wife were running an errand when they got into a car accident. The kids were in foster care for a few weeks while the social worker tried to get ahold of family who might take them in. They all turned them away.”
“Until you,” she added.
I grimaced. “Yeah, I guess. I was the last one on the list. If I didn’t take them in, they’d end up being split up and I didn’t want that for them.
Not sure I’m really cut out for the parenting gig, but I figured it was better than splitting them up.
He won’t admit it right now, but Jasper’s been struggling with it all.
I know he doesn’t like me. He’s made that perfectly clear.
And honestly, I get it. But I want to help if I can.
I just don’t know how.” And because I was tired of people telling me just to keep showing up, I added, “If you’ve got more advice than just ‘keep showing up’ I’m all ears. ”
When I looked up at her, expecting to see concern or maybe the realization that I wasn’t cut out for this, I was surprised to see her smiling at me instead.
“I’m sure we can come up with some concrete plans on how to help the children, but first of all, I think you might not realize how much ‘showing up’ matters in situations like this.
I know it might not feel like you’re doing enough, but every day that those kids wake up in a safe environment, still together, with someone stable nearby who’s so determined to help them that they are willing to ask for help, you’re showing them that they matter.
That you care. And that after such a tragic loss, they don’t have to face it all alone.
Your presence is a balm to them. And as long as you keep showing up, it’ll make a world of difference.
But—” she pushed to her feet, giving me a reassuring look “—if you want to do more, that’ll only help them come to rely on you.
Let’s go talk to Jasper, and I’ll spend a little time with Isla.
We’ll come up with a game plan on how to make them more secure in your home. ”
Finally. After hearing from literally everyone that showing up was what the kids needed, I got the picture, but I was glad someone was willing to go past that. I’d keep showing up, that was a given. I wanted to do more than that. Those kids deserved more.