Chapter 25
Dear July,
When we talked about the future, were you just playing? I can’t imagine you laughing at me, exactly, but I can’t make sense of this. If you can just help me understand why you don’t even want to write to me, maybe I can let go. If you don’t want me, help me figure out how to stop loving you.
Joe
Everyone else is already at the courthouse when I get there on the day of the kids’ emancipation hearing. Sam and Maisie’s lawyer goes into the courtroom with the county caseworker to report them present. Everybody else is gathered in the hallway. Meg and David are here with their kids to show support and act as character witnesses if needed. Angus and Rose are here for the same reasons.
I stopped by the restaurant on my way, but July had already left. Donna and Tina both wanted to come, but with the others out, they’re needed on the day crew. They told me to give the kids a hug for luck.
Sam seems ill at ease, fidgeting, raising his hands to his hair. David and I took him out yesterday for a shorter haircut and court clothes, so today he’s in chinos and a button-down shirt and tie instead of his usual worn jeans and T-shirt. Maisie looks more comfortable. She already had a navy dress Meg and the lawyer declared suitable for court.
July is beautiful, her hair piled up, showing tiny gold knot earrings, a white sweater over her pale yellow dress, her tanned legs bare and smooth. I have to clench my hands and will my feet to stay rooted where I am. She only meets my eye for a second before turning to speak to Angus.
At first we all stand around waiting in a big group, making small talk to fight our nerves, but after an hour, we break into smaller clumps. Meg and David’s kids have brought a board game, and Maisie sits on a bench and plays it with them. She leans some on Sam and he leans back, even though he’s pulled his sketch pad out and is working intently on something bright. His hands seem steady and sure as he shades in the edges of the frame he’s drawing. Art must relieve his stress.
Meg, Rose, Angus, and David are standing together talking near the younger kids.
A woman walking by—a lawyer?—greets July, and they move off down the hall together.
I stand twiddling my thumbs, waiting and trying not to think too hard.
My phone vibrates… Hallelujah! A distraction in the form of a call from Colorado. My former employees pass the phone around at their end, catching me up on how the restaurants are doing and all the gossip and goings-on. I’m actually smiling as I wander down the hall toward the water fountain. I tune out the sounds around me and enjoy their long, convoluted story of how a manager at the Fort Collins store just got engaged to a manager at the Loveland store.
By the time we end our call, I’m in a better mood. I stoop to take a drink from the water fountain just in time to hear a woman out of sight around the corner say, “I heard Jimmy Moran mention seeing you with that guy from high school. I didn’t realize he was back or that you’re with him. Be careful, July. Is he even working anywhere? You sure he’s not looking for a free ride? I heard his dad was a real piece of work back in the day. Real asshole.”
Well, fuck, that was…a lot. I straighten slowly, wiping a water droplet from my mouth, and debate what to do next. The part about my dad was true, but the rest? Harsh and unprovoked and so, so wrong. I don’t get paid for working on my building or reading ahead for my social work program or making notes for a youth shelter, but they still count for something. And I’ve probably got way more money in the bank than July does, at the rate she gives it away.
It totally sucks that this woman’s put July in this awkward situation with her nosy questions.
Should I walk away and pretend I didn’t hear? Stroll around the corner and assure this stranger my intentions are honorable and I don’t need July’s stinkin’ money? Or maybe just tell the truth and let her know she’s got nothing to worry about because July wants no part of me?
Before I can decide, July says, in a voice colder than any I’ve heard her use, “Stacy, this isn’t any of your business, and Jimmy Moran’s a hopeless gossip. I’ll tell you like I told him: Joe and I aren’t together. But I’m not sure why you’d think he’s a user anyway. He’s the most decent guy I’ve ever met, and I know a lot of good guys. He’s not after my money—he’s got his own. What he wants is…a real connection with somebody. A real one. And if I could be the one to give him that, you bet your ass I would, and I would count myself blessed because he is beautiful inside and out. And if you hear any body talking bad about him, please shut that shit down. Joe is not his dad, and he deserves so much better than that.”
There’s a pause, and then the other woman says, “Oh. Well. Okay then. Sorry.”
And I turn and walk back down the hall the way I came, my heart full to bursting from July’s defense. She has my back. She may not want me, but she gets me. She trusts me. And she laid it all out there for everybody (well, a courthouse gossip, which is pretty much the same as everybody) to see. Goddamn.
If I’ve had doubts over the last month—late at night, staring at my ceiling alone, my phone silent—July just removed them. Somehow, through some miracle, I’ve found The Right One twice. And I am just as head over heels this second time as when we were sixteen.
No sooner do I rejoin our group than the doors open and the kids’ lawyer beckons us in. I start back down the hall to fetch July, but she’s already headed this way. When she sees us moving toward the courtroom, she breaks into a sprint, and I linger, wanting to be the one to hold the door and walk in with her. Pretending she’s running toward me. Eager to be with me.
***
July
The judge asks to see Sam and Maisie one by one in chambers. He has them in there for at least fifteen minutes, ratcheting up the tension for those of us in the courtroom.
I don’t need more tension. I could strangle Stacy Billings for what she said about Joe. And then I’d report the crime to Jimmy Moran so I could strangle him too. Busybody assholes. I could barely look Joe in the eye as we came into the courtroom, and he held the door and gave me one of those knee-melting smiles of his anyway. I could feel the warmth of his hand hovering at my back as I moved past him.
He deserves so much better than to be talked about like he’s some kind of human leech.
I’m still grinding my teeth over that when Judge Fox enters the courtroom and settles at his bench. He’s a lovely, soft-spoken man whose dark skin is smooth despite his white hair. His eyes are tired but kind behind his glasses, and I’m glad he’s our family court judge.
He places his hands on the thick files before him and lets his eyes rove over all of us before turning his gaze to Maisie and Sam. “I have reviewed the facts of your cases and all the materials very carefully, and I’m prepared to rule. Emancipation cases involve one young person at a time, but I want to address you, Maisie, and you, Sam, together today.”
The two kids nod and straighten, visibly bracing themselves.
Beside me, Joe shifts and leans forward a fraction, as if willing them his support and strength. I want to gather all three of them up in my arms.
Judge Fox adjusts his glasses and glances at the files before him. “From these materials, it’s clear that you are two extraordinarily mature and resourceful young people who did an excellent job of taking care of yourselves under circumstances that would severely challenge many adults. You showed clear reasoning ability, fine decision-making skills, and a truly impressive ability to keep your future in mind as you coped with a difficult present. Your grades dipped only briefly last year and then improved again. You have a safe, sturdy place to live, and you have cared for it well. You have obtained the jobs you needed in order to live up to the adult responsibilities of paying bills and keeping yourselves fed. You are dedicated students and reliable workers, and your futures are bright before you.”
Pride wells up in me in the form of tears. I try to be subtle as I swipe at my eyes, but Joe tilts his head to look at me, gives me a small crooked smile, and takes my hand.
Judge Fox clears his throat. “I wanted to speak with you together today to commend you both not only for your ability to care for yourselves, but also for your ability to inspire the love and loyalty necessary to create the support system you have here, as illustrated by the presence of so many people in this courtroom and by the written testaments of so many more who were unable to be here today. You have many fine people showing faith in you and willing to help you in your future as adults.”
Lord, the man is going to have me sobbing. They do—they do have a net. We’ll catch them if they fall. We’ll help them back on their feet again.
Joe squeezes my fingers, his hand a warm, sturdy anchor.
“But the main reason I wanted to rule on your cases together rather than separately, even though your circumstances differ considerably, is the wording you each used when you spoke to me in chambers a little while ago. You did not sound rehearsed. You each told your own story in your own way and your own words. Yet you both ended with a plea that made quite an impression on me. Both of you said some version of, ‘My sibling and I take care of ourselves. We take care of each other. Please let us live together in our own home.’ You did not speak of each other as friends but as family. Family you have chosen, despite the certainty of difficulties ahead, because your relationship matters. The relationship you described to me was one of family members fiercely and loyally looking out for each other. You spoke with great love and great respect for each other…and great faith and trust in each other. You have instilled me with that same faith in you.
“Your path will not always be easy, but you have a strong and loving support system should you need help. Turn to each other in times of trouble, and turn to these wonderful friends.” To my amazement, Judge Fox winks at me, tips the files on end, and raps them on the bench. “I am certain that Ms. Tate in particular will be a formidable advocate. I approve both emancipation requests.”
I’m aware of happy noise rising around me, of squealing and hugging and clapping and backslapping and more hugging, and I’m sure I take part in some of it myself, but the biggest uproar is occurring in my head.
Family you have chosen, despite the certainty of difficulties ahead, because your relationship matters… Fiercely and loyally looking out for each other… Great love and great respect for each other… Great faith and trust in each other. Your path will not always be easy, but you have a strong and loving support system should you need help. Turn to each other in times of trouble and turn to these wonderful friends… Ms. Tate in particular…a formidable advocate.
Judge Fox’s words are like a kick to my head, jarring pieces loose so that they drop clattering into a new pattern.
The ability to love—to handle and survive love and loss—isn’t an innate thing I lack. It’s a choice . A brave choice . A choice about what to value and what to honor.
So what am I going to honor: love or fear? What am I going to value: an empty, false “safety” or the people and relationships I’ve been blessed with?
I’m not a shell-shocked sixteen-year-old kid anymore. I am a grown-ass woman. A formidable grown-ass woman, according to Judge Fox. A formidable grown-ass woman with a wonderful support system to fall back on in times of trouble.
Joe doesn’t threaten what I value; he’s part of it.
Turn to each other…
Beside me, Sam and Joe throw their arms around each other, their grins fierce and triumphant as they pound each other’s backs and Maisie hugs them both. Then the three of them turn and tug me into their circle of love.