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“Hello?”
“Mr. Davidson?” a woman asks. Her voice is raspy, like she’s smoked a pack a day for the last thirty years.
“Yes?”
“This is Connie with the Department of Children and Family Services in New York City. I’m sorry to call this early, but there’s an emergency. Amelia and Adam Farley passed away tonight, leaving their son, Evan. Right now, he’s currently in the custody of DCFS, but we are reaching out to you about placement. You are the next of kin in Amelia’s family, as her husband, Adam, has no living relatives that we are able to locate. From my understanding, he was a child of the foster system as well.”
My throat runs dry. “Okay. I just spoke with Robert. Is he okay?”
“Right now, he is. He’s only three, so he doesn’t have a full grasp on what is happening. That might be both a blessing and a curse. Mr. Davidson, I’m very sorry for your loss. I have spoken with your father, and it has been determined that he is unable to care for Evan because he is terminally ill. If the next of kin is not an able caregiver, we move to the next in line. We always look at the available relatives and try to place the minor in the most stable and fit home possible. It seems as if you are the next in line for guardianship as his uncle. You have the choice to accept the responsibility or you may decline.”
Holy. Fuck. This cannot be happening. Sweat forms on my brow, and I wipe it away with the back of my hand. The kitchen seems to spin around me, so I grip the counter, frozen in place. Shit just got way more real with this phone call.
“But, I- I… I’ve never even met this child. I didn’t even know about him until ten minutes ago.”
Connie pauses, and I hear paperwork shuffling around in the background. “I understand, but aside from Mr. Davidson, you are the child’s only stable next of kin. If you decline to take Evan, he will become a ward of the state and be placed in foster care. It seems your sister Emery is not financially-able to care for Evan, which would mean Evan would ultimately have no other option.”
While I hear everything the woman is saying, my brain refuses to process it. Instead, my stomach clenches and knots. Sweat drips down my forehead while my clammy hand struggles to keep hold of my phone.
“The choice is yours, Mr. Davidson, but please understand the dire circumstances. You are his only option.”
“Ma’am, I hear what you are saying. Loud and clear. I just… there has to be someone else to take him.”
“You are the next and only living relative, aside from your father and sister. We cannot place a child in a temporary home with someone who has a terminal illness. Or with a guardian who lives with someone and has no paying job. Evan will remain in the care of the state tonight, but we will need an answer from you within twenty-four hours, Mr. Davidson. I know this is a lot to process, and I apologize for having to be the one to deliver this news, but it’s my job to make sure Evan will have a safe place now that his parents are deceased. You have my number, please call me once you’ve made your decision.”
I mumble a half-hearted thank you, and drop my phone onto the counter.
I can’t believe this. Any of it. Amelia, Robert dying, Evan… All of it seems unreal.
I have a feeling that this phone call just changed the rest of my life. Fuck.
