“Hey, can we talk for a minute?”
After all this time, his whole body prepared for bad news. “About what?”
“Nothing bad.”
His eyes moved toward Josie. I hated how fast he checked for her.
His whole body prepared for bad news.
We sat at the table.
I told him Marlene had called. His expression changed immediately.
“Oh.”
“She said something strange,” I told him. “She asked if you’d ever told us why you picked us.” Jace looked down.
“She said something strange,”
“Rebecca said you were the one who told her you wanted our family.” “I did.”
“Would you mind telling us why?”
He glanced toward the living room, where Josie was coloring. “Because Josie picked you.” Of all the answers I’d imagined, that wasn’t one of them.
“Because Josie picked you.”
The person who had barely reached my waist had apparently made the biggest decision in the room. “Josie? But she’s four.”
Jace rubbed his thumb along the edge of the table. “Exactly. Nobody listens to her about important stuff because she’s little. They ask what toy she wants or what color cup she wants, but when it’s something real, adults decide for her.”
“Nobody listens to her about important stuff.”
He looked toward his sister again. “So when Josie told me she wanted you guys, I made sure Rebecca listened.” Suddenly, that sounded exactly like Jace. He’d spent a month barely asking for anything for himself. But when Josie wanted something, he’d made sure an adult heard her. She must’ve heard her name because Josie looked up.
Suddenly, that sounded exactly like Jace.
“What?” Jace motioned her over. She came running and squeezed herself between us.
“Jace says you picked us,” I said. She nodded as if this were obvious. “Why?”
Jace motioned her over.
Josie pointed at her brother. “You talked to him.” I almost smiled.
“That was it?”
Josie frowned at me like I was missing something obvious. “Everybody talks to me,” she said. “They play with me and give me snacks. But they don’t talk TO Jace. They talk ABOUT him.”
I was missing something obvious.
Jace stared at the table. “What do they say?” I asked.
“They ask if he’s bad. If he gets mad. If he can stay somewhere else.”
Jace’s jaw tightened. “One lady said she wanted me, but her house was too small for Jace.”
“What do they say?”
“After that, Josie wouldn’t talk to her anymore,” Jace said quietly. Josie shrugged.
“She didn’t want my brother.”
There was nothing childish about the certainty in her voice. Josie leaned against her brother. “So I stopped caring if people were nice to me.”
There was nothing childish about the certainty in her voice.
Daniel swallowed. “What did you care about?” “If they were nice to him.” She looked at me.
“You asked what he wanted for dinner.”
Then at Daniel.
“You talked basketball with him.”
“What did you care about?”
I remembered how surprised Jace had looked when I’d asked him what he wanted to eat.
And I remembered Josie watching us. Josie wrapped both arms around his waist. “Everybody wanted me,” she said. Then she looked up at us. “But I only wanted somebody who wanted him just as much.”
And I remembered Josie watching us.
For a moment, nobody spoke. Then I looked at Jace. There was still one thing I didn’t understand. “If Josie chose us, and you told Rebecca yes… why didn’t you unpack?” Jace went still.
There was still one thing I didn’t understand.
“Because people change their minds.” Daniel leaned forward. “We weren’t going to.”
“You know that now.”
That stopped him.
Jace looked down. “People always want her at first. Sometimes they think they can deal with me too. Then they get tired of me being there.”
“Because people change their minds.”
My throat tightened. “So I figured I’d wait.”
“For what?”
He finally looked at me. “For the moment you decided you didn’t want me anymore.” The worst part was how calmly he said it.
“So I figured I’d wait.”
He wasn’t accusing us. He was describing what he had prepared himself for. And suddenly the packed bags didn’t look like an escape plan. They looked like armor. I wanted to promise him we would never change our minds.
But I suspected he’d heard enough promises from adults.
And suddenly the packed bags didn’t look like an escape plan.
So I nodded toward the hallway. “You know that dresser in your room?” He looked at me. “Yeah.”
“I bought it because somebody lives there. The closet, too.”
His mouth tightened. “But I get it now. Whenever you’re ready, you can unpack,” I said.
So I nodded toward the hallway.
He didn’t answer. And the next morning, the bags were still exactly where they’d been. So were they the morning after that. I made myself stop checking. If unpacking was going to mean anything, it had to be his decision. ***
A week later, I walked past Jace’s bedroom and stopped.
If unpacking was going to mean anything, it had to be his decision.
The duffel bags were empty. One had been folded into the closet. His books were on the shelf. Shoes were scattered under the bed, and a hoodie hung badly from his chair. For anyone else, it would’ve looked like a messy teenager’s room. To me, it looked like an answer. Jace appeared behind me with a bowl of cereal.
The duffel bags were empty.
“What?” “You unpacked.” His ears turned red.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not.” “You look like you’re going to cry.”
His ears turned red.
I wiped my cheek. “Go eat your cereal.” He smiled and went downstairs. For the first time since he’d arrived, there wasn’t a packed bag in his room waiting for someone to change their mind.
I wiped my cheek.