30. April 4, Monday #2
“I believe you,” Hanna said quickly. “I do. But the risk isn’t only what you post. It’s what others post. The organization.
Event attendees. Fans. The media. Your professional world lives under a spotlight.
Jayden cannot meaningfully consent to being adjacent to that spotlight, even indirectly. That makes me cautious.”
Cautious.
Somehow worse than nervous.
“And then there’s the question of time,” Hanna continued.
“If you’re at evening events, games, clinics, or on the road, who is with him?
What is his routine? Kids like Jayden often do better with very consistent structure, especially at first. Bedtime, meals, homework, therapy, school meetings.
Can your current life accommodate that, realistically? ”
Zoey pressed her thumb against the edge of the table until it hurt.
“I’d make it work,” she said. “I wouldn’t just dump him with sitters or expect him to roll with chaos.”
“I’m not accusing you of that. I’m asking you to think concretely. Who is in your support network? Who can pick him up if you get stuck at the arena until eleven? Who tucks him in if a game runs into overtime and you’re working afterward? Who is allowed to be part of his safety plan?”
Zoey’s brain spat out names.
Kayla, who was already stretched thin and barely home lately.
Kira, whose nonprofit had swallowed her whole and whose texts had become breezy little drive-bys instead of conversations.
Ty and Ashley, who had their own jobs, and lives.
Babs, who was absolutely not a babysitting service no matter how much Zoey loved her.
Ilya.
Her throat closed.
No.
Not Ilya.
Not the man who looked her in the eye and told her he couldn’t be the guy in that future.
“I don’t have family nearby,” Zoey admitted. “My family and I have never been especially close. But I’m not alone. I have people. I’d build a plan. If a child was part of the equation, I’d adjust my work schedule.”
Not quite sure how.
Or whether she’d even have a job once Nina finished deciding whether Zoey was a person or a liability with a lanyard.
“I’m not saying you’re alone,” Hanna’s voice stayed quiet, but steady. “But part of my job is to be the person who sits across from a child later, if things fall apart, and tries to explain why we thought a placement could hold when the support underneath it wasn’t ready yet.”
Zoey closed her eyes.
“I have to look long and hard at whether your current life is aligned with what Jayden needs right now,” Hanna continued.
“Especially because his mother is making progress on her plan, he has relatives still being assessed, and he is doing better than expected in his current setting. Disrupting that for a placement that may not match his permanency goal or practical needs would be a serious decision.”
The kitchen felt smaller.
Colder.
“So, what are you saying?” Zoey asked, even though she already knew. “Bottom line.”
Another small pause.
Zoey could almost hear Hanna choosing her words.
“I’m saying that as of right now, I am not ready to recommend matching you with Jayden,” Hanna said. “I don’t want to rush into something that could make things harder for him when so much is still in flux.”
The words landed with stunning, quiet violence.
Not ready.
Not a no, precisely.
But it felt like one.
Zoey stared at the cabinet across from her, heart thudding.
She clung to one shard of hope. “So, what does this mean? Is my license at a standstill? Am I off the radar entirely?”
“No,” Hanna answered immediately. “Your licensing process is still moving forward. Your approval as a foster parent is still on track. None of that changes. You’ve done excellent work to get here.”
It took a second for that to sink in.
“But,” Hanna added, “for this specific child, at this specific moment, my professional opinion is that we need to slow down and reassess. I can’t, in good conscience, tell a judge, my supervisor, or my team that I’m confident this is the right match. Not yet.”
Not yet.
The two words almost hurt worse than a clean no.
They dangled over the void.
Zoey swallowed. “And if I try to address the concerns? Make a schedule. Build a support plan. Prove I’m not just chasing a fantasy?” Her voice cracked on the last word. “Would you reconsider?”
Hanna was quiet for a heartbeat.
“I’m not closing the door. I’m not saying it will never be you.
I’m saying Jayden’s case is moving, and there are several possible directions it may take.
He may return to his mother. He may go to relatives.
He may need another kind of placement. I don’t know yet.
What I do know is that your next step should not be trying to force your life around one specific child whose legal and family situation is not settled. ”
The words sliced, clean and merciless.
Another beat.
Softer.
“I know this is not what you wanted to hear,” Hanna added. “And I’m sorry to be the one saying it. You clearly care deeply. But caring is not the same thing as being ready to hold everything he would bring with him, especially while you are also holding everything already on your plate.”
Caring is not the same thing as being ready.
Zoey almost laughed.
Of course.
Of course those were the words.
After last night, after Ilya, after all his I can’t and I’m not that guy and you deserve someone steady, of course the universe had decided to echo the same sentiment through a woman with a calm voice and access to her home study.
“Thank you for being honest,” Zoey said, aiming for normal and landing somewhere brittle.
It was either that or scream.
“I would rather hurt you now with honesty than hurt him later with regret,” Hanna said gently.
“Take some time. Talk with your support network. Talk with your therapist, if you have one. Really think through what you want your life to look like and how a child—any child, not just Jayden—fits into that. When you’re ready, we can revisit what kinds of placements make sense. ”
Zoey stared at the Spider-Man cup behind the cabinet glass. The little cartoon eyes stared back at her like an accusation.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Do you have any questions?” Hanna asked.
“A few thousand,” Zoey said, a wild little laugh bubbling up. “But I don’t think my brain works well enough right now to ask them.”
“That’s fair. I’m going to email you my direct line.
When you’ve had time to breathe and think, call me.
We’ll talk more. Not just about Jayden, but about what placement types might fit the life you’re actually able to offer right now.
You are not out of this process, Zoey. You are at a bend in the road you didn’t expect. ”
A bend in the road.
It sounded nicer than it felt.
“Okay,” Zoey said again, because it was the only word she could get past the ache in her throat.
“I’m sorry,” Hanna said one more time. “Truly.”
“Yeah,” Zoey murmured. “Me too.”
They hung up.
The kitchen went very quiet.