Straighter than Parallel Parking

≈ t h i r t y - t w o ≈

{ Chapter Thirty-Two: Fires of a Woman Scorned }

THE TWENTY MINUTES OF ANXIOUS energy lingers inside of Janice as James pulls into the parking lot of the ageing community adoption centre. Anticlimactic, in a sort, with its red-bricked walls and metal front doors. 

James glances over at Janice, sensing the hesitation in her silence. He gently touches her arm. 

Janice flinches at the sudden contact, her eyes snapping to her manager. 

Flashing what he hopes is a considerably encouraging smile, he squeezes Janice's shoulder. "You need a minute?"

Licking her lips, Janice shakily nods her head. "I-I know that it's not that big of a deal, it's not even where I was in, a-and I'm not going to meet anyone who knew me when I still didn't have teeth, but—"

"But you're not sure what to expect," James finishes her sentence, "and afraid of what you do."

At times like this, Janice finds herself calmed by her friend's understanding. Still struggling to conquer her emotions and strip away the feelings until they're blunt and honest like her personality, James' empathy easily lifts some of the weight off her shoulders (but she'd like to keep his hand on her right one where it is).

"What if it's like school?" Janice asks, relaying her worries one by one. "What if they're all plastic smiles and cautious gazes until your back is turned and they're talking about how unlucky and unfortunate it's like to be adopted? What if the kids don't want me to stop by? What if I'm way over my head and should just leave this alone like—"

Like the Diablo's, who ostracized her like she was a terrible decision made on behalf of a grieving father. 

"I'm still learning how to find myself," Janice says desperately, playing with the bottom of her shirt, "and I'm not even sure how to approach these—I don't think my heritage is lacking." Her voice is a little stronger as she talks about her father and brothers. "I am Latino, I have three brothers and a wonderful father—mi familia, my identity. But these kids, they've never had—"

Janice chokes her endless stream, closing her eyes. She inhales until her chest touches the gasping of her lungs, wondering why such a small building could lodge big pieces of debris into her throat. 

Her skin feels like the slip of paper crammed into her back pocket; paper thin and so easily damaged. Like used goods. Like an unwanted package. Like an abandoned order.

It hurt for her to exhale. 

James doesn't even dwell on boundaries before collecting the small paper woman in his sturdy arms, wrapping them around her tight enough to keep her from floating away in the Spring breeze. "You're not obliged to do anything you're not ready for, you know. I might get you to pay for the metre, but we can head right over to Robin's family pizza parlour and stuff our faces until you're unsure of what it's like to feel empty."

He can feel the tightness taut in Janice's muscle slowly loosen until she's loosely embracing him back, still nervous and full of nerves that she couldn't will away, but better. Stronger. 

I am not less because I was not wanted at first, Janice says to herself, grasping her mother's necklace like a lifeline. I am even more because I was chosen the second time. She waited a beat or two before letting the air rush out of her diaphragm slowly. "Okay. Okay, I think I'm ready now." 

That's my warrior.  "C'mon, Janice, I want to impress these kids with my amazing art skills!"

"You have art skills?"