“What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Karen.”
“Emily, breathe.”
I stood in the kitchen with one hand gripping the counter.
“Tell me.”
“The permanency review happened this morning.”
I waited.
“There are no viable reunification options remaining.”
The room went strangely still.
I knew what she was saying.
But knowing and hearing are different things.
Karen continued.
“The department is prepared to support adoption.”
I sat down.
Hard.
The chair scraped against the floor.
“What?”
“If that’s something you’re still willing to consider.”
Still willing.
I looked toward the hallway.
Alan’s backpack hung from the second hook.
His sneakers were by the door.
A grocery list sat beneath a magnet.
WAFFLES.
BANANAS.
NO RAISINS.
I laughed once.
It came out like a sob.
“Still willing?”
Karen went quiet.
“Yes.”
“Of course I am.”
Then fear hit.
“What about Alan?”
“He’s old enough that his wishes will matter significantly.”
“He doesn’t speak.”
“He doesn’t have to verbally consent. He can write. His attorney can present his position. The judge may ask him questions, but accommodations can be made.”
“Does he know?”
“Not yet. I wanted to speak to you first.”
I looked toward the stairs.
My heart was beating so violently it hurt.
“What if he doesn’t want it?”
Karen’s voice softened.
“Then you’ll need to let him tell you that.”
That was the most frightening sentence anyone had ever spoken to me.
Not because I believed Alan didn’t love me.
But love and adoption were not identical.
A child could love a home and still fear permanence.
He could love me and still refuse the word mother.
He could want to stay without wanting to belong on paper.
He could have reasons he had never told me.
And if I truly meant everything I’d said about respecting his communication, I had to respect that answer too.
Even if it broke me.
That night, I made spaghetti.
Alan knew immediately something was wrong.
Of course he did.
He sat across from me without eating.
“I’m okay.”
He stared.
“Mostly.”
Still staring.
I put my fork down.
“Karen called.”
His shoulders tightened.
I hated how quickly fear moved through him at her name.
“It’s not bad.”
He waited.
“The court is considering adoption.”
He did not move.
I could hear the refrigerator humming.
