so close to hope

II

You're not good at trusting people. You know that.

Well, that's what the therapist told you, anyway, back during your mandated weekly sessions in the group home. He said it's not uncommon for foster children, like yourself, to have difficulty with trust, and went on to wax poetic about needing to open your heart' and learn to rely on other people.'

You sort of shrugged and nodded -- you never really talked during those sessions -- itching for your half-hour to be up so you could go find Leo in the common room. What your therapist didn't know is that you actually trusted Leo.

Back when you met him -- years ago now -- he gave you his hoodie so you could change out of the emergency DCF t-shirt you were wearing when you first stepped foot in the group home, and you'll never forget that rare act of kindness. Over the years you'd both get placed in foster homes, but when you'd inevitably wind up back in group home -- you for being too quiet, him for sounding off at the mouth -- neither of you minded, much.

You made your own kind of family, and you lived by one rule: friends don't lie.

***

You've been living at Roseanne and Lisa's house for a few weeks, now, and they're great. Like, really really unbelievably great. And they've given you so much more than a spare sweatshirt -- you practically have a whole new wardrobe, and you can barely remember what hunger pangs feel like -- but it's still hard to completely let your guard down.

They seem to get it. Lisa, especially -- she gives you your space, but you know you can always go to her, if you need to.

The only trouble is, you don't want to need to.

It hasn't been an issue until now, on your third consecutive day of seeing an ant walk across the hardwood floor of your bedroom and disappear under your bed. You don't have to look to know where it's going -- you know it's heading for the shoe box (Roseanne brought you to the store during your first week here and you chose a pair of yellow Keds, with sequins on the sides, and they're your most prized possession, next to your walkie-talkie) where you keep bits of food.

You're kind of mad at yourself about it because, like you mentioned, you never go hungry anymore, but this must be one of those habits that die hard. Leo is the one who taught you to squirrel food away, and it really came in handy at your third foster home, where there was a heavy padlock on the pantry door.

But Roseanne and Lisa aren't like that -- they're the opposite of that -- and so you can't help but feel guilty for hiding a shoe box of crackers and a half-eaten cereal bar in your room. So the fourth time you see an ant scurrying across your bedroom floor, you just ignore it.

***

A few days later Roseanne and Lisa are waiting for you in the kitchen when you come home from school, and you're instantly nervous -- because Lisa usually doesn't get home until it's nearly dinner time -- and then you see the shoe box on the table.

You feel like either bursting into tears or running out the door, but Lisa catches your eye and smiles at you, and you relax a little bit.

"Hey Rami," Roseanne says, and you're relived that her voice sounds cheerful. "Take a load off and join us."

She stands and goes to the refrigerator to pour you a glass of strawberry lemonade -- something that's become a bit of an after school routine for the two of you. Lisa pulls out the chair next to her at the kitchen table and you sit on the edge of the seat, in case you decide to bolt after all.

Roseanne puts the glass of lemonade in front of you but you don't take it, because you don't think you can swallow around the lump in your throat. You glance at the shoe box again and Roseanne must notice, because she decides to put you out of your misery.

"So, I was vacuuming the upstairs hallway when I saw a little train of ants marching one-by-one right under your bedroom door," she says, smiling at you, and just the thought of ants marching makes you almost smile back. "And, like we told you when you first came to live with us, we respect your privacy and won't go into your room without your permission unless it's an emergency, but, well we had a pretty bad ant infestation last year, so I went in see where the ants were heading."

She stops there, and that's one of the things you really like about Roseanne -- she knows you're smart, knows you don't need her to finish the story because you figured it out on your own.

"There were a lot of ants in the shoe box," Lisa says, placing her hand on the table halfway between you. "We had to throw your food away. I'm sorry."

You blink slowly a few times. Hot tears are gathering in your eyes because you're embarrassed and mad at yourself, because, somehow, they're apologizing to you, the sneak who brought insects into their house.

Roseanne must notice that you're feeling pretty miserable because an instant later she's on her feet and clasping her hands together.

"But, we have a solution!" She walks to the counter and picks something up, which she then sets down before you. It's a tupperware box -- the kind with snaps on the lid -- and it's filled with single-serving bags of cookies and crackers and gummies -- all your favorite snacks. "It's big enough so that the shoe box can fit inside it, if you like keeping your snacks in there. Up to you."

You reach out to touch the plastic, open and close one of the snaps a couple times, because it doesn't seem real that people could possibly be this kind.

"Oh, and..." Lisa stands and opens one of the cabinets next to the fridge, gesturing to the bottom shelf, which is completely empty. "This is all yours -- if there's any food you don't want to keep in your room but you don't want anyone else to eat, just put it here. We promise we won't touch it. Okay?"

You nod and smile, though your bottom lip is trembling a little. And it doesn't happen a lot but, sometimes, you wish words came more easily to you. The therapist called your silence a 'defense mechanism' and you're not really sure what that means, but you think it comes from the same bit of you that likes to hold on to food.

And Roseanne and Lisa just made a promise to you and you want to repay it in kind, but the words are stuck under the lump in your throat. So you stand from your chair, grab the tupperware container, and walk to slide it inside your new shelf.

You shut the cabinet door quietly and take a minute before you turn back around. When you do you see Lisa standing behind Roseanne's chair with her hand on her shoulder, and they're both looking at you like... like you're special.

It feels like a lot, so you glance down at your shoes and, without fail, the yellow sequins make you smile. Then Roseanne shrieks, and you look up to see Lisa tickling her neck with two fingers.

"Lis!" Roseanne tries to swat her away as she bursts into a peal of giggles. "Get off!"

Lisa sighs, but she stops right away. "Sorry, I thought there was an ant on you," she says, winking at you. "Actually wait -- Ami, I think I see one on you too."

She starts toward you, her hand outstretched with wiggling fingers, and though she gives you plenty of time to get away you stay put as long as you can. Lisa's about to pounce when you yelp, an unfamiliar laugh escaping from your throat, and you dart around her to hide behind Roseanne's chair.

"Wait a minute..." Roseanne says, and you widen your eyes as big as you can, smiling with teeth. "I think I see one too!"

Roseanne's fingers tickle your ribs and you practically squeal as you twist away. Then the three of you are just standing there -- beaming at each other -- and it's what Leo would call a 'pinch me moment.'

All you can do is take a step forward and wrap your arms around Roseanne's shoulders, burying your face into her neck. You feel her arms wrap around you a second later and then Lisa's hand is on your shoulder, and it's not the same kind of family that you and Leo built, but you feel your guard start to come down just the same.