Page 32 of Chosen Road

“Playing Minecraft.”

I knew all about Minecraft. Alex collected the figurines of the characters, and he and Jace spent a ridiculous number of hours playing. “I can’t believe how hugely popular Minecraft is. It’s almost ageless!”

“It is.”

By the end of our session, she shared that she played online with her new friend, David, who was twenty-two, every night.

She was fifteen.

I knew I couldn’t criticize him, or she would close up. The best I could hope for was the opportunity to make sure she kept her eyes open to manipulations and hopefully educate her about internet safety.

Over the past year she’d also revealed a penchant for gift-giving. The first and only thing she ever asked for from my shelf was a small stuffed bunny for a new foster sister who had cried herself sick the first few nights she was in care. This was several months ago, before she had a job.

“They’re moving her to a foster home with no younger kids so she can get more attention,” she complained. “I mean, maybe it will be good for her, but here she has me.”

Mallory had settled down somewhat, and so long as her foster parents gave her a minimal framework for behavior, mainly around safety issues, she could control her anger. Too many demands or expectations sent her off the rails.

“Will you miss her?”

She looked at me defiantly. “Maybe she’ll miss me.”

“I don’t doubt that. You’ve been very good to her.”

Her eyes scanned the shelf with the stuffies. She zeroed in on one and I watched her eyes dart to mine as she thought things through. “Um…”

“Yes, Mallory?”

She looked down into her lap.

“Mallory, if it’s in my power to say yes, I’ll say yes.”

She held her breath. “CanIhavethatbunny?”

It took me a moment to decipher what she said and then I rose and crossed to the shelf. “Pink, blue, or brown?”

“Pink,” she whispered.

I plucked it off the shelf and handed it to her.

She turned it over in her hands, her chin tipped down. “Um… her name is Nicole.”

It took me another moment to interpret her meaning. “Do you want me to put her name on it?”

She looked up, relieved. “Yes. They might give it to another kid if her name’s not on it.”

I carefully stitched out the letters of the little one’s name, listening to Mallory prattle on about Minecraft, and fought to quell the boiling anger over the ‘they’ that took things from those who had nothing.

Later that night, after Alex was in bed, I retired to mine, and I cried for all the good I could not do.

For all the good I left behind.

For this no man’s land where I only half existed.

Gus

So, this was purgatory.

I wasn’t sure if I believed in purgatory before, but I definitely believed now because I was in it.

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