Page 63 of The Silence Between

I skimmed through the document, feeling this stupid little bubble of hope that I tried to squash down real quick. This wasn't just another paycheck; it was a first step toward doing something I actually wanted instead of just whatever kept the electricity on. After ten years of “will this cover rent?” being my only career question, the change was awesome and terrifying all at once.

“The healthcare kicks in after ninety days?” I tried to sound casual while my brain was doing cartwheels shouting “DENTAL PLAN! DENTAL PLAN!” like I was in some sitcom.

“Yes. Basic coverage, but includes dental for dependents.” Eleanor always knew exactly what buttons to push with me. “And of course, forty percent employee discount on books starts day one.”

I signed that contract faster than Diego agrees to pizza. This management gig wasn't just about money; it was about possibilities. Learning from Eleanor, actual career development, maybe reconnecting with books and all that literature stuff that got shoved in a mental closet when life went sideways.

“We'll start your training next week,” Eleanor continued, shoving the contract in a folder with my name scrawled on it. “Inventory management first, then ordering systems, event planning, and eventually community partnerships.”

“Community partnerships?” My bullshit detector started pinging loud.

“Mmm.” She nodded with that look in her eye that meant I was about to get railroaded into something. “I've been thinking about working more with the high school English department. Author visits, student writing workshops, book displays tied to what they're reading. Ethan's already shown interest.”

And there it was. Working with Ethan meant regular meetings, planning sessions, actual conversations. Exactly the kind of sustained interaction I'd been doing Olympic-level avoidance to prevent.

Eleanor watched my mental freakout with those knowing eyes. “If you're serious about building actual career experience in book-related fields, this creates resume-worthy projects, Leo. The kind that colleges actually care about when looking at applications from people who didn't go the traditional route.”

The dilemma hit me like a runaway shopping cart. Moving forward career-wise meant dealing with exactly the emotional complications I'd been dodging. Getting ahead required reconsidering my carefully maintained “Ethan-free zones.”

“I can work with him professionally,” I said finally. Already a huge step up from my previous “duck behind the nearest shelf if Ethan enters the store” approach.

“Good.” Eleanor gathered the papers, her face neutral but her eyes saying plenty. “Working together has a way of showing whether those boundaries still make any sense.”

Her comment landed like a direct hit. Was I still avoiding him because I needed to, or just because I was stuck in a habit? Wasn't ready to poke at that question too much.

“We'll see,” I said, not committing to anything.

Eleanor's lips curved into that smile that always made me feel like I was a book she'd already read the ending to. “Training manual's by the register. Take it home, read through it before next week.”

I nodded, tucking the fat binder under my arm as I stood to leave. “Thanks, Eleanor. For everything.”

“You've earned this, Leo. Don't overthink it.”

But overthinking was practically my superpower. I'd been the family overthinking champion since I was sixteen and suddenly responsible for three kids. As I walked the twelve blocks to my next appointment, that binder seemed to get heavier with each step, like it was filled with bricks instead of paper. The bookstore job. Maybe working with Ethan. The college application. Each step forward felt like crossing a frozen lake while carrying a space heater.

By the time I reached the social services building, my mood had sunk low enough to match its depressing gray concrete vibe. No matter what progress I made elsewhere, these walls always yanked me back to reality, reminding me I was still at the mercy of a system that could decide my family's fate on a whim.

The social services building hadn't changed in ten years. Same plastic chairs clearly designed by someone who hated human butts. Same flickering lights that made everyone look like they had some kind of disease. Same fake clean smell trying to cover up the scent of government despair. I sat across from Corinne Sharp's desk, maintaining my practiced “totally responsible adult who definitely has his shit together” posture.

At thirty-two, Corinne had been our caseworker since I first fought for custody. She wasn't exactly an enemy or a friend, but something weird in between. A decent person trying to do good while trapped in a broken system with too many rules and not enough actual help.

“Mari's college applications are moving along,” I reported, answering her usual questions about how the kids were doing. “Diego's school is finally using those learning accommodations we talked about last time, and Sophie's doing great, especially in English and art.”

Corinne nodded, scribbling in our file. “And financial stability?”

“I just accepted a management job at Second Chapter Bookstore on top of my other gigs. Hours are more regular, and it comes with healthcare after ninety days.”

“That's excellent progress, Leo.” She looked up from her notes. “And housing's stable? Utilities paid up?”

“Yes to both. Same apartment for four years now. No issues with rent or bills.”

The familiar dance continued. Me proving I was a decent guardian, her checking boxes on forms. I'd learned how to handle these talks carefully, not showing too many problems that might set off alarms, but not painting such a perfect picture that she'd think I was lying either.

“There is one concern I wanted to discuss,” Corinne said, her voice changing slightly. “We've received information suggesting potential contact between your siblings and your father.”

My stomach dropped like I'd just hit the first big hill on a rollercoaster. “What kind of contact?”

“Apparently Miguel approached Diego outside his school last week. There was also a report of him waiting near Sophie's art class.”

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