Sometimes We Build Walls

Chapter Two

"And you are?"

The lady was tall; her hair in a tight bun. She pulled a simple black pen out of her hair and positioned her clipboard on her forearm. I was at the Social Services again.

I never picked my name in the moment; it always came to me.

"Charlotte." I said.

I liked it. Simple, two syllables.

I sat in a meeting room, explaining the answers to the same questions I'd been asked plenty of times before. The first one, I'd always answer truthfully; my parents were nowhere to be found.

I answered basic questions after that; age, birthday, parents' names. Finally, the dreaded question was asked, and I explained as best I could as to why I was hopping from foster home to foster home.

"Listen." I told the lady, Tauna. "I only have another year until I turn eighteen. None of this is going to matter."

But it did, according to her, and it didn't matter how much I'd argue about it. I had to find a home.

I listened to her conversations with potential adopters; they all sounded doubtful. Picking at the chipped wood coming off of the table in the meeting room, I listened to her conversations with these people; this was so ridiculous, a waste of my time.

I knew something was going on when Tauna had asked me to leave the meeting room; for an hour, I sat outside the door of her office.

Tauna was ecstatic as she opened the door. I dragged myself off the floor, coming back into her office, plopping down into a seat.

"I've found a family, up north, in upper Idaho."

The man who'd called; his name was George. He had a wife, Adeline, and two sons around my age. And after hearing my sob story, Tauna had convinced him to take me in. She liked to call it "adopting", and this family was completely ideal.

"You didn't ask for my input?" I crossed my arms.

She frowned. "Are you opposing to this adoption?"

"Well, yes." I said. "It's not happening. I'll be eighteen in nine months, so I suggest you call this guy back and-"

"Charlotte," She said, almost startling me with that name. "I know this is painful for you, but you're going to pack your things." She said. "You're going to have to get a grip and settle down somewhere."

The next morning, Tauna was bubbly and enthusiastic, more than usual on our ride to the airport. Everything was happening so fast, these changes.

"Can I trust you not to runaway?" Tauna asked me, exiting off of the interstate.

I looked at her. "No."

Tauna kept her face blank, she didn't tear her gaze from mine, and all she said was, "I'll be calling George frequently to check on you."

Slamming the door shut after hearing her close instructions of which flights and terminals to go on, I swung my duffel bag over my shoulder, wiped away a few tears, and walked into the airport. Never in a million years would I imagine this day. I tore through the maze of people waiting outside of the terminals; some awaiting family members and some tourists waiting to be flown to see the Rocky Mountains. But I wasn't going on a dream vacation. This was going to be the never-ending vacation from hell.

As I stood in line at the check in desks, I could hear people talking about their upcoming vacations. This flight was going to Boise, Idaho, and from there, I'd take a three hour car ride north. I stepped onto the overcrowded, humid plane ten minutes before nine. Lucky for me, seat 193 was next to the window; which was covered by a small, white blind. I relaxed into the uncomfortable blue chair and watched the other passengers walk down the aisle, looking for their seats as well. An older woman took a seat next to me without a word.