Kiki’s girlfriend, Marj, was a brand-new associate at a law firm downtown and apparently had become a huge stressball over navigating the hierarchies and networking events. It was even harder given that they were in an openly gay relationship and Marj, who was Korean, was the only associate of color at her law firm. Lauren knew it had been causing tension in their relationship, which sucked because Kiki seemed to really care about Marj, from everything she’d heard.
“I can bring it to work tomorrow,” Lauren said.
“I was hoping to get it tonight, if that’s not too much trouble,” Kiki said. “When does your thing end? Text me and I can come over.”
Lauren hesitated. In theory, that sounded fine. Nice, even. She’d never had anyone from work over to her apartment. She’d barely had anyone not from work over to her apartment, unless you counted her landlord that time her faucet kept leaking.
Kiki must’ve read her reluctance, though, because she said, “Or you can stop by my place. Asa won’t get home from his shift until after nine, if you’re worried.”
Lauren made an incredulous expression that she knew without a mirror just looked like bad acting. “Why would I be worried about that?”
“Um,” Kiki said. “Okay. Maybe I misread into why you didn’t come to our Thanksgiving, even though I totally invited you and I happen to know you spent yours watching that documentary about the McDonald’s Monopoly scam again.”
“The again seems unnecessary,” Lauren muttered. “Anyway, I really have to get out of here—but text me your address and I’ll drop by later.”
She thought about Kiki’s words all the way to her car, though, and kept thinking about them as she pulled onto the highway and let her phone’s GPS guide her to the address where she would be meeting her guardian ad litem kid for the first time. Maybe knowing that Kiki and Asa were housemates had been partially behind her decision to skip Thanksgiving over there, although she hated the idea that her antipathy toward him was that obvious. Or that she might’ve hurt Kiki’s feelings by turning down an invitation that had been made in friendship.
The truth was, Lauren never quite knew how to handle the holidays. Her memories of Christmas with her mother were that it was always a stressful time—cold, sleeping in the car, or hectic as they moved from one motel to another. There had never been enough money, or food, or joy, and then the state had removed Lauren from her mom’s care. She understood why it had happened—the drugs in the car, the long nights nine-year-old Lauren had been left alone—but she still sometimes wondered if she’d really been better off. She’d been safer, for sure. But she’d never seen her mother again.
And she’d been one of the lucky ones, relatively speaking. She’d landed in a foster home with Miss Bianca, who’d provided structure and stability and if not quite love, then a type of care that seemed awfully close to it. Every Christmas, Miss Bianca would send Lauren a card, just a quick note to wish her a happy holiday. It made Lauren feel valued and remembered, reminded her of what Miss Bianca had done for her. It also reminded her that Miss Bianca had already moved on, and there wasn’t a place for Lauren back there anymore.
Lauren’s background was definitely the reason why, when she’d seen a flyer in her building’s lobby about becoming a guardian ad litem, she decided to volunteer. She’d never had one, but other foster kids who’d lived in the home with her had. If she could help a kid out, be their advocate in court, monitor their placements and whether their parents were working their case plans, ensure that their schools were following any education plan needed . . . she wanted to do that.
Of course, when she’d signed up and completed the training, she hadn’t focused on the part where she’d have to actually interact with a child. A child who might be defensive or closed off or jaded in ways that she’d have a hard time breaking through. She’d gotten a short blurb on the child she’d be working with—his name was Eddie, he was nine years old, he liked Avengers, and he’d already witnessed more abuse from his stepfather than anyone should have to, much less a child.
She pulled up ten minutes late to the suburban house where Eddie was staying, which wasn’t ideal but wasn’t as bad as she’d been fearing. She agonized over where to park before finding a spot halfway down the street, then slid her badge on its lanyard around her neck. She hadn’t been expecting the flash when they took the picture, and it made her look wide-eyed and surprised.