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Julie
Hunter seemed quiet. He was usually a quiet kid, but it was worse today. I had taken him to his favorite parks to cheer him up. But nothing worked.
He avoided my questions about what happened when he made it back to the home last night. I got it—he didn’t want to talk about his great escape. I didn’t want to keep bringing it up either. We had to move past it. He was safe, and that was what mattered most.
“Hey, want to try the air and space museum today?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Hmm. What about the science expo? I read that kids can do all kinds of experiments. You could be a mad scientist.”
He had barely taken two bites of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had made for him. I had finished my lunch. I was famished after my all morning sexfest.
A family of three walked past us. The mom looked up at the father and they exchanged a knowing look as their son skipped ahead of them and they locked hands. I sighed louder than I meant to.
“I know something that might cheer you up.” I turned toward Hunter, hoping he hadn’t seen the happy trio breeze past us with their perfect life.
He looked up at me. “What?”
“Well, I talked to Hawk this morning.” I wasn’t about to say it was while he was feeding me pancakes after we’d had life-altering sex. “And he’s invited you and me to watch him play tomorrow.”
The smile was instantaneous. “What?”
I laughed. “I thought that might turn your day around.”
“And they’ll let me go?”
I nodded. “I already got permission to check you out of the home for the day tomorrow.” I’d never spent a Sunday with Hunter. It would be another first.
“You did?” I could see all his teeth, he was smiling so hard.
“And we get to sit in Hawk’s private box. Just the two of us.”
Hunter hopped from the park bench. “All right.”
“Well, it’s tomorrow. We can’t go right now.”
He shook his head. “No, all right we can go to the air and space museum.”
“Oh, the museum.” I scrambled to grab my bag and the backpack he carried everywhere. He had already started walking. “Ok. Yes. We can do the museum now.”
Hunter and I darted through the park. The November wind kicked up and I pulled my scarf closer to my neck. The leaves danced over his little feet.
“Come on, Miss Bristow. Hurry up.”
I chased after him. And it hit me how odd it sounded when he said that. I wanted to tell him to say something more personal. But what? Julie? Aunt Julie? Mom? My heart thudded. Because that was what I wanted. I wanted to be his parent. His mom.
But I was a teacher. A volunteer. Someone who tried to show him love and friendship. And I knew how dangerous it was to get any closer to him than I already was. What if his next foster family was twenty miles away? He’d have to change schools. I prayed that wouldn’t happen. Yet, I prayed for him to have a family.
Hunter deserved that. He deserved that mom and dad I saw in the park. He deserved his own room that he could cram full of seashells from beach trips and rocks and sticks he found outside. A place that was his own. Not a cot he shared in a room with six other boys. He needed clothes and shoes he could be proud to wear. He needed a lunchbox and his own pencil case.
And I knew what was looming ahead of us… Christmas. The thought of this child waking up in the group home without family and with no one to hug him killed me. The tears stung the corners of my eyes.
I was wracked with guilt and love. It was an odd combination that tugged my heart to my ribs.
“Miss Bristow, can I do the flight stimulator this time?”
I blinked. “Did you stay stimulator?”
