Finding Jaime

Chapter 3

The social worker drove me back to the apartment. I let myself in with my key. Mrs. Walker came out of her apartment as I walked into mine. 

"Jaime," she said. "I'm so sorry, love." 

I just looked at her and continued into the apartment. I went into my room and closed the door.  I sat on my bed and cried. 

What was happening now? Where was I going to go? I was supposed to go live with some loser who hadn't bothered to be in my life in the last 15 years? Some stranger?

I pulled out a duffle bag and started putting clothes in. I grabbed my laptop, my chargers and a few things from my room. I took a picture of Mom and I that was taken on my 15th birthday. Two days before she'd told me about the cancer. Two months before she died. 

I looked around my small room, and looked down at the back pack and two duffle bags that held all my worldly possessions. Everything I owned in the world fit into two bags. 

Back in the living room, the social worker stood talking with Mrs. Walker. She was saying that she'd pack up the rest of the apartment, Mrs. Walker, and that she'd hold on to photo albums and anything of Mom's she thought I might want. When I came out into the living room, Mrs. Walker came up to me. 

"Again, Jaime, I'm so sorry. You keep in touch with me, okay? You ever need anything, or you want to come get some of your Mom's stuff, you just call me, okay, love?" 

I nodded. 

The social worker led me out of the apartment and helped me load my bags into the trunk of her car. We drove away from the only home I'd ever known. The small apartment complex where I'd made my first friend, Emanuel, who I was still friends with.  Where Mrs. Walker had babysat me when I started school and Mom went back to work.  With the pool that was usually empty, but new ownership in the past couple of years had put money into the complex, and had fixed the pool.  I'd  learned to swim in that pool when I was six, and then after five years without water, had spent lazy weekends floating in the water or racing Emanuel when it was reopened. 

We drove away from what really was a comfortable life. The only life I'd ever known. I found myself wishing I'd been nicer to my mom in the past few months.  I'd been so mad that she was sick. I'd blamed her for getting sick. And now she was gone. 

The social worker stopped the car outside a house. It wasn't a very large house, and there were kids' toys all over the front lawn.  The social worker opened the door for me and helped me take my bags out of the car. 

"You're only here overnight. Tomorrow morning I'll pick you up at nine and we'll go to the courthouse for ten. Your dad is going to meet you  to pick you up there."

I didn't say anything. 

The social worker led me up the walkway and rang the doorbell. A small boy with glasses opened the door. He couldn't have been older than eight. 

"Hi!" he said. "I'm Charlie. Are you here to adopt me?"

"Hi there, Charlie. I'm Mrs. Brown. I'm a social worker, so no, I'm sorry. I'm not here to adopt you. Is Mrs. Kingston home?"

"Of course Mama Kingston is home," the kid said. "I'm only seven. I can't stay home by myself!"

He turned around and shouted into the house. 

"MAMA KINGSTON!!! THERE'S A SOCIAL WORKER HERE WITH A BIG BOY!"

A woman came down the stairs. She was wearing jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt.  She had blonde hair, and blue eyes. They were kind eyes. 

"You  must be Jaime," she said, extending her hand. "And I see you've met Charlie."

I shook her hand and she laughed, shaking mine back. 

"You have nice manners, Jaime, but I was actually reaching for one of your bags.  I just got your room made up and your bed made. I know you're just here overnight, but I wanted to make sure you were comfortable.  Come on in."

She stepped out of the way and let us in the house. She led me upstairs first and down a hallway. Charlie followed us upstairs. 

"There are four other children here besides yourself and Charlie," Mrs. Kingston said. "Sasha, she's 12, should be home around four. She usually stays after school for either music, sports or to help tutor.  Evan who is ten, will be home any minute. Tristan, who is also ten, should be home about the same time. Erin, who is 13 will be home at six. And you've met Charlie. He's seven. He had a fever this morning, so he got to stay home from school. Dinner will be at six. Are you hungry now? I could make you a sandwich. I'm guessing you haven't had lunch yet."

I shook my head. I wasn't hungry. 

"Okay. Well, here's your room. Because you're the oldest, I'm giving you your own room. Please keep it clean. That shouldn't be hard, being that you're only here tonight. Make yourself comfortable. I'm going to chat with Mrs. Brown," 

I nodded and she left the room. I dumped my bags on the floor and flopped onto the bed. It was a pretty small room. A bed, a desk and a dresser. The walls were painted yellow, the curtains were white and the bedspread was blue.  Charlie came in and sat on the end of the bed and stared at me. 

"What do you want?" I growled at him. 

"What happened to your Mama?" he asked. 

"None of your business," I said. 

"What about your Papa?" he asked. 

"I don't have a 'Papa'," I said. 

"Me neither. My Mama went to jail, and my Papa is gone," Charlie said. 

"Too bad," I said. "Now go away."

"You're not very nice," Charlie said. 

"Stick around if you want to see how not very nice I can be," I said, sitting up and showing the little kid my fist. He jumped up and ran out the door. 

"Mama Kingston! The new boy is mean!" I heard him shouting as he ran down the stairs. I got up and slammed the door behind him, and lay back down on the bed. 

One night. And then what? Some stranger was going to whisk me away to live with him?

There was a knock on the door and the social worker came in again. 

"Jaime, I'll be back tomorrow morning at nine. Please try to get along for the night, will you?"

I rolled my eyes at her and she left.  A few minutes later there was another knock on the door and Mrs. Kingston opened the door. 

"Alright, Jaime. I know you've had a bad day, but I won't tolerate bullying."

I glared at her, but I didn't say anything. 

"Dinner is at six. If you want something to eat before then, feel free to come downstairs. I'll be in the kitchen. Charlie's in the living room watching TV if you want to come down.  Evan and Tristan just came home if you'd like to meet them. 

I rolled my eyes and then rolled over, turning my back to her. 

One night. I only had to make it through one night. Then, my deadbeat 'dad' and I would meet. And I could figure things out after that.