Page 16 of Vespertine
“He calls it Bible study to keep his superiors happy,” Mrs.Wells said, and Lizzie laughed.
“I’d like to see Lizzie’s room too, if you don’t mind,”Brendan said. “I’ve never been here before and I have to say, Father, you’resomewhat of a legend in theLGBTQfostercommunity. I can be right back if you need me.”
“Take your time.” Jasper opened the door and they all filedthrough. When Mrs. Wells passed by, she pushed something into his chest.
“You might want to take a look at this,” she said under herbreath. “And check your work e-mail when you have the chance.”
“Oh.” He automatically clasped his hand around the glossypages of a trashy magazine. “I will, thank you.”
When he closed the door again he lifted the magazine to lookat the cover and startled to see his own face on it. He remembered the exactmoment when that picture was taken. He’d felt like a complete idiot at the timewith the rosary beads hanging off one hand and a scrunched up Pride flag heldtight in his other fist. It’d been a spur of the moment idea of thephotographer and he’d never in a million years thought they’d use it.
In itself the picture was harmless, but with the blackcassock and the white strip of clerical collar, he looked provocative. It didn’thelp that they’d caught him with his lips parted and his eyes half-lidded.Jasper winced a little. Suddenly he didn’t feel all that eager to check hiswork e-mail after all.
Brendan returned after fifteen minutes and he lookedradiant. “You’re doing great work here, Father. I have to say, it took a lot toconvince Lizzie that this would be a good place for her. From what I can makeout, she had to deal with quite a few Bible thumpers—excuse the phrase—in priorplacements. Especially with regards to her being trans.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Jasper said, indicating for Brendan totake a seat again. “She won’t come across any of that here. All religions—ornone—are welcome, and while I invite them to come to church on Sundays, it’snot a requirement. We also keep a very close eye to make sure there’s no signof any bullying, but we’ve never had much trouble with it. I like to think it’sbecause the kids want to be here.”
“I’m sure they do.”
“All right. On to the difficult part of this, then.” Jasperopened Lizzie’s file again. “Any signs of physical abuse?”
Brendan set a pair of half-moon spectacles on his nose andopened his own file.
“Not that we’re aware. There was one incident at the verybeginning. His—her first foster home, I believe. The social worker noted ablack eye and bruised cheek during a checkup, but all parties involved claimedhigh and low she’d been hit in the face with a soccer ball. We have proof thefoster mother followed up with a doctor’s visit, but there was never a reportmade from the school about an incident. They asked for her to be transferred amonth later based on ‘behavioral issues.’ That’s usually the excuse they use.”He glanced at Jasper over the rim of his glasses. “You’ve met Lizzie. She hasas many behavioral issues as you and me.”
Jasper nodded. It was always ‘behavioral issues’ thatbrought the queer kids here in the end. “Emotional abuse?”
“I think there’s been plenty of that, yes. Especially, likeI said, from the more religious families. If I were you, I wouldn’t push anykind of real Bible study on her because she might get nervous. From what we’veseen so far, she’s not a flight risk, but you never know what can push some ofthese kids over the edge.”
A little pang made itself felt in Jasper’s chest. “No. Wenever know what can push anyone over the edge. Do you think she needs therapy?”
“Nothing beyond the usual. You still have an independentcounselor who comes in and talks to these kids once a month?”
“Yes.” It wasn’t conventional therapy by any means but itworked for them. And Mrs. Wells and he were on top of things enough that theyrecognized early warning signs of anyone who might need more intensivecounseling. If there had been any indication of serious abuse in Lizzie’s case,Jasper would’ve made arrangements, but he thought it might be wise to wait andsee. “They’re not obliged to talk individually every time, but we stronglyencourage it. We have one group therapy session a month too.” Jasper grinned. “Itusually ends up as a giant food fest, but I think it’s a good bondingexperience.”
“I think it’s extraordinary,” Brendan said. “We’d have a lotless kids being shuffled around if everyone went at it with the dedication youdo. I wish you could take more kids.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Well, if you don’t have any more questions, I’d like to saygoodbye to Lizzie and I’ll contact you a week from now to see how she’s doing.”
“Sounds good.” Jasper stood and reached for Brendan’s hand.Somewhere above them a door banged, plumbing creaked and groaned, and laughterdrifted down. The building brimmed with warmth and quiet happiness, and Jasper’sheart swelled. “We’ll take good care of her.”
“I’m counting on it, Father. He’s a special boy. I mean,girl.” Brendan flushed.
“You’re trying. That’s better than most people do.”
Morning rose sweetly, like a long overdue vacation, theday after Nicky’s arrival home. It was peaceful, quiet, and full of nothingmuch he needed to do. He lingered a long time under the blue-and-white stripedcomforter in his parents’ guest room, staring calmly out the window at thelarge maple tree just outside. If he held very still, until all he heard washis heartbeat and breath, he could almost make out a song in the silver andgreen way the leaves rustled in the breeze up from the cove. He sighed, lettinghimself not-think for the first time in ages, as the sun poured white and cleanacross the room.
It couldn’t last, though. Perfect things never did.
First, his father knocked on his door to let him know heshould get up because his mother wanted them to eat breakfast with her beforethey headed into town to buy wood for the dock. Then the call of nature forcedhim into the bathroom. At that point, his brain kicked on, supplying him withthe short list of imperatives to start his day: meds, vitamins, food. So hemade his way downstairs and powered on his cell phone as he crossed the livingroom.
“Morning, Mom,” he murmured as he dropped onto a stool atthe counter.
“Good morning, sweetie. Did you sleep okay?” Miriam asked,already in the middle of preparing breakfast.
“Yeah,” he answered as he watched the little rotating dotson his phone, hoping there weren’t too many messages from people he despised. “Islept great actually.”
