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“Okay. I’ll order dinner. Any preference?”
“Whatever you want is fine with me.”
I left him in the office and went into the kitchen. Pulling out the take-out menus, I sifted through them, trying to decide what I wanted to eat and hoping something would catch my eye.
In the end, I settled on Mexican and placed the order. I was just about to head into the living room to watch some TV when an alert dinged on my phone, indicating I had a new email in an account I only used for one purpose.
Years ago, without Jase’s knowledge, I had signed up for the newsletter issued by the congregation our former foster parents were members of. I’d done it under a fake name and email address so they wouldn’t know it was me.
Every month, I read the newsletter sent out. In it were updates on the families who were part of the church. Not once, in all the years since we’d left the Johnson household, had Jase and I been mentioned.
Not once.
No mention of our incredible success and everything we’d achieved since leaving. While I knew they would never have approved of the nature of our businesses, I’d thought we’d might have at least gotten a mention for the foundation that had helped so many kids who’d grown up in foster care like we had.
I knew they were aware of everything we’d accomplished. They couldn’t not be. Some years ago, Jase and I had appeared on the cover of a business magazine which had labeled us ‘Shooting Stars’ and I had secretly sent them a copy of it. I hadn’t included a note, just placed it in an envelope and mailed it to their house.
The following month, I’d opened the church newsletter, holding my breath. Certain that we’d finally get the recognition I so desperately craved, although I had no idea why.
But no. Month after month went by and I never saw our names. Gary and Angela had certainly appeared in their fair share of newsletters, but none of their foster children had ever been mentioned by name.
I don’t know why I was surprised every month. It wasn’t as though they’d given a shit about either of us when we’d lived with them. They’d never once made any attempt to take any interest in our lives, make us feel like we mattered to them. That we were more than a paycheck.
For children who’d already bounced from place to place, the emotional neglect was devastating in its own way. If I hadn’t had Jase, I don’t know how I would have made it to eighteen without completely falling apart.
So I was curious to see a newsletter in the inbox, because the regular monthly one wasn’t due for another week.
Turned out, this wasn’t a regular newsletter. It was a communication passing on the sad news about the sudden and tragic deaths of two of their most beloved members.
Gary and Angela Johnson.
I sank to the ground of the kitchen, my back against the cupboards, as I read the email in disbelief. Earlier that morning, our former foster parents had been on their way to church when their car had been hit by a truck. They’d both been killed on impact.
I don’t know how long I sat there, completely numb. I heard Jase call my name and opened my mouth to answer, but no sound came out.
He walked into the kitchen and suddenly, he was on his knees in front of me. “Emilia.” I could hear the panic in his voice. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“They’re dead.”
He cupped my face in his hands and tilted my head up so he could look into my eyes. “Who’s dead?”
“Gary and Angela.”
Blood drained from his face as his eyes widened. I knew he had to be feeling as conflicted as I did. Although our foster parents had never shown us any real love or affection, it was because of them Jase and I had met, and for that we’d be forever grateful that they took us into their home.
“What happened?”
I handed him my phone so he could read the email. Once he was done, he pulled me to him and held me tightly, rocking me in his arms when I started to cry.
He stroked my hair, something that always soothed me, and he didn’t let me go until the tears abated. “I know our life with them wasn’t great.” He kissed my forehead, then rested his against mine. “But if it hadn’t been for them, I wouldn’t have you in my life, so tonight I’ll have a drink in their honor.”
He let me go and stood, pulling me up with him, and led me into the living room. I sat on the sofa while he poured us both a glass of whiskey. “To Gary and Angela.” We clinked our glasses together and drained the liquid inside them.
I curled my feet up underneath and tucked myself into Jase’s side, sliding my arms around him. His warmth and nearness calmed me, and he held me to him until dinner arrived and he got up to get it.
Despite not being all that hungry, I managed to eat everything he put on my plate with a little coaxing on his part. We sat on the sofa and watched television for a little while afterward, but I wasn’t really paying attention to the screen. I just didn’t want to stray far from his side.
Eventually we stood up to get ready for bed. He cupped my cheek and ran his thumb over it softly. “Go get your pajamas on and come sleep with me tonight.”
