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It was only then that I realized I was standing in Dr. Pierce’s office. I don’t know what blew me away more.
The fact that Jackson covered for me or that the picture his father threw across the room was one of him and his wife…
On their wedding day.
18
AIDEN
Then: Seventeen-years-old
“Bailey,” I warned as she kissed along the side of my neck. “We’re not doing this.”
“Aiden…” She slowly pecked her way down my body. “Please. We’ve waited so long.”
“Bay, the other kids are right outside the door and so are my foster parents.”
“Actually, Mario got called into work, and the only kid here is Everly.”
“That still leaves Eva.”
She gazed up at me through her long lashes, smirking like a fool. “Your foster mom is in her room on the other side of the house. She’s too pregnant with a baby of her own to move. Besides, I locked the door.”
“I refuse to disrespect them in any way, Bay. Not after everything they’ve done for me. For us.”
I spoke nothing but the truth. This was the first family I’d been placed with who was worth a damn. At first, when my umpteenth caseworker assigned me to them a little less than a year ago, I didn’t believe it, but they proved themselves more times than I could count. It was as insignificant as meals on the table several times a day, where everyone talked about the peak of their day.
To them always taking an interest in their foster kids doing their homework, studying for exams, just making sure we were ready for the school day ahead. Eva would pack lunches, take and pick up everyone from school on time, while Mario went to work. We were made a priority for once.
My fondest memory was when Mario helped me restore my 1964 Chevelle I found in an old junkyard nearby. She was still a work in progress, but we were able to get her started and drivable. I was lucky he knew some mechanics in the neighborhood who found used parts we needed dirt cheap. We’d spent months working on rebuilding her engine and replacing her tires, when the day finally came to get her to start.
“Okay, Aiden, start her up!” Mario hollered from under the hood.
I sat in the driver’s seat and pushed in the clutch with my left foot, turning over the ignition.
Putt, putt, putt.
“Give her some gas!”
I tried again, this time pressing my right foot on the gas and sure enough she rumbled to life.
“You hear that, Mario?! My girl can purr!”
He laughed, shutting the hood to walk over to me. “How’s it feel?”
“Like she was made just for me.”
I’d wanted a hotrod for as long as I could remember. One day, I’d have a garage full of them. This was one of the many accomplishments I set for myself.
He patted my back, gripping onto my shoulder. “You did it, son. I’m so proud of you.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d said he was proud of me, but the more I heard it, the easier it was to believe.
I wrapped my arm around his shoulder, emphasizing, “We did it.”
Our dynamic was very much of a father and son. He knew I never had a dad, or a good example of an honorable man in my life, so he tried the best he could to provide that for me. Mario set the bar high, knowing it was what I needed without me ever having to ask. He spent weeks teaching me how to drive, going through how to shift and which gear was which. How to parallel park, so I could get my license and wouldn’t have to rely on the city bus to take me to and from work after school anymore.
Every free second I had, when I wasn’t with Bailey, was spent helping Mario and Eva with my foster siblings. It was the least I could do for all they provided. From clean clothes, to toothbrushes, to beds with clean sheets and a pillow, and so much more.
