Page 90 of Pretend for Me

Matthew and I exchanged a knowing look, and I picked at my fingers just thinking of what those poor children must have had to endure.

“Go. I’ll distract him,” Matthew instructed. He looked back at the caseworker, Neil, who was overwhelmed by his caseload. Too many kids, not enough homes. It was the name of the game.

I knocked once to give whoever was the wicked foster parent a little notice before I turned the doorknob. Of course it was open.

The house was small and dated, much like the homes I knew all too well from my own youth. But it was clean, no doubt because of the kids’ chores. There were no colorful toys or anything that indicated that children lived there.

I sighed and bumped into a little boy with curly hair, steadying him with my hands on his shoulders. He had dimples in both cheeks, a gap-toothed smile, and he was just plain adorable. I tore my gaze away from the boy and then spotted a little girl in pigtails and a too-small dress, who was collecting crumbs with a dustpan.

“Raine, I told you I’d do it,” the little boy scolded as he reached for the dustpan filled with crumbs.

“No, Ryan. I can do it!” She pulled the dustpan away from him.

He tightened his grip and leaned back with force. Crumbs flew everywhere, and I stiffened, knowing making a mess never fared well for children in their position.

“You fuck—” The woman came out from the hallway to see the commotion. Not realizing I was standing there, she was about to backhand the little girl.

“Stop!” I bellowed, revealing myself as Matthew and Neil made their way inside.

The woman smirked slightly, but she relented when she saw the caseworker with us. She mumbled something in the direction of the children toward the effect of “you’re gonna get it.”

I cringed, remembering hearing those words more than once. Matthew made eye contact with me, and we had a silent conversation. I nodded as we finished, happy to see we were on the same page.

I crouched down to the level of the two small children. “How do you guys feel about grilled cheese? I’ve been told it’s my specialty.” My tone was soft and I spoke evenly, not wanting them to be frightened. They needed to feel safe. I wanted nothing more than to give them the childhood we never got.

Matthew started talking to Neil about paperwork and the specific needs of both children. Adopting two children was tougher than one, but Matthew and I were more than hopeful that this would be another little wonder we would be blessed with.

Fate brought us back together when it was nearly impossible. Fate gave us a child when five years ago, the notion couldn’t even be considered. We knew this would be one more obstacle. One more gift of fate granted to us. Well, technically two.

“We love grilled cheese!” they said simultaneously, jumping up and down with the prospect of being adopted.

Matthew and I looked at one another and were overcome with the similarities of our childhood.

There were hugs and promises of the future exchanged. These small moments were what made life worth living. Nothing else mattered. All the trials and tribulations we went through were all worth it. All the regrets, the doubts, the fights—the darkness had a way of blocking out all the little glimmers oflight. Well, it did if we let it. Now, we’d learned to always let the light win.

The hardest part was over. We would only remember the struggle in order to learn and do better.

For our family.

We finally had a family. A real family.

“Hand me that paintbrush, Raine,”I asked my daughter. I reached down to grab the slimmer paintbrush from her hand.

“Mom, should you be up on the ladder right now?” Ryan asked, holding the wooden rails tighter. He reminded me so much of Matty when we were younger, a worrywart. “I mean, you’re pretty big.”

Matthew stifled a chuckle from the doorway, watching our exchange. I shot him a dirty look, not being able to say what I really wanted to say to him.

“Big? Really, kid? I’m nine months pregnant.” I pouted at Ryan’s bluntness.

“Eight and a half, baby,” Matthew corrected, laughing and helping me step down from the ladder. “No more, Cassie. The mural is stunning, just like you.” Matthew put his hand on my tummy to feel our daughter kick.

I had been working on a mural ofThe Velveteen Rabbitfor the baby’s nursery since I found out I was pregnant. I had been itching to paint since taking my sabbatical to help Ryan and Raine adjust to adopted life. This gave me the perfect opportunity. Ryan and Raine loved helping me paint too, giving the room a special touch for their new sister. I never wanted them to feel inferior to our biological baby so we made sure we showered them with love and affection daily.

“Vanessa’s been a soccer player today!” Raine commented, informing Matthew.

We were naming our daughter Vanessa because it meant butterfly or rebirth. All of our growth transformed us into the people we were today. Vanessa was a product of that, so no name was better suited.

Matthew and I navigated life after foster care differently, and our choices almost tore us apart for good. We would never be the same. Nobody would ever know what it was like, but we knew. We also knew what life was like without the other, and under no circumstance would we end up back there.

Life would always be messy. But in that mess, you needed to find the real. Pretending and faking got you nowhere. If you couldn’t be who you really were, who could you be?

Real wonders. Real life. Real love.